Rooms

[The voice is dark with sleep, throatier]

Good morning, NYC. We got ourselves a 10-38 with a 10-70 this morning. Going to need you to get yourselves out to 632 East 9th Street.

[Fuzzy timelines, post-this]

[The tent out by the lake wasn't permanent, and Graham knew that. Only lasted as long as it did because of the nazis or whoever the hell, sending Joy and Penny and Jake, and somebody else's little girl too, out to the same place. The days were hot and lazy but when it was time to go he was expecting it, yeah? Didn't surprise him none. He'd decided to move in with Penny, settle into the half of the house she wasn't using; the baby needed stable. A real house, a daddy who could provide, take care of her, and he was ready now.

Thing was, he didn't know what Shane planned on doing. He wanted him to come, so he figured he'd come right out and ask, instead of assuming. In the hotel, between the other door and Marvel, he leaned against the doorframe.] So, you coming?

[Public, but locked away from Cris, Sam, and Neil.]

Is there a safe door that someone can go to that isn't heavily populated? Or perhaps just entirely deserted?

[Clementine had a bag of clothes in the back of the borrowed red Vette she was driving on over to Jake's, just in case. The boy'd said he wanted real nice French food, but he mentioned wearing his work clothes for eating, and she wasn't sure those two things matched up right. She had some things could fit that she'd bought, tags still on and intended for Shane. But truth was, Clementine wasn't real sure she'd been seeing that damn man anytime soon, and Jake might as well have things to wear that didn't smell like fryer.

The internet said Le Provençal Bistro was real nice, and it was near the water and the sailing boats Clementine wanted to get a look at before driving down with Declan come morning.

Seven p.m. and her hand heavy against the horn outside Jake's place, she was dressed in bright pink, a snug cocktail dress and real expensive Louboutins in tutulle. Top down, and Melissa Etheridge blaring loud as she texted her nephew and told him to get his ass shaking.]

[Locked to Neil D]

Houston, girl, we have a problem. Check this shit out: [he inserts a screenshot of this post.]

Bitches be running. (Which I say with the utmost respect.)

(I'm in the turban.)

[locked to cris m]

I hear you ran into Meredith.

[locked to stone anon]

Hello again.