Doors

[Email to Tiffani R]

Hey, I'm Tristan's sister. I'm going to be at the Gardens for a day or two while I do some work here, but she said I could email you with anything I need. Since my darling sister doesn't believe in eating anything green, could you bring by something later? Salad, or frak, anything that's not processed?

[Private: Jaime L/Tyrion L]
[The writing is a terrible scrawl, scribbled out in haste with a hand he had never learned to write with. It takes no small effort to not let dyslexia destroy the coherency of his words amidst the frustration of not having a mobile phone like everyone does in Vegas.]

Tyrion you must leave King's Landing at once. It doesn't matter if the rumours are false. In the future you will be ac [This lingers on the page before he draws a line through the words.]

I can open you a door to Pennytree but you are safer back in Casterly Rock.

[He doesn't sign his name to it, and it comes anon, as that's the way Zee has sent most of his messages so it's habit now. It's a small drawing that has an angular, almost abstract style to it, but is very obviously a gas station along the side of a flat road. There's a giant chicken standing out front and next to it, too small to have any detail, two small people, one taller than the other. It looks like a drawn version of a tourist photo from middle America. Down at the very bottom corner, where a signature would most likely go, is a quick scribble of letters: You okay still, H?]

[Maren W]

A file folder is left on the kitchen counter in her apartment while she's out.  There are no signs of forced entry and nothing is amiss in the apartment.  The folder has a photo of Hailey Fulton (no name, no reason, nothing) and the location of the garage she works at as well as the house she shares with her family.  It also includes Hailey's daily routine.  The note is on a plain white business card left inside the folder, typed in block letters.

Kill her.

I do pray that Petyr is truly not dead, he is a dear friend of mine.

[Locked to Iris R and Alfred Pennyworth.]
Time's up, baby. How about showing your pretty face so I don't have to hunt down a Gotham key?

[Delivered to Daniel W]
[Finding his address is easy enough, and the sculpture is delivered days after Simon's party. It fits into the palm, and it's smooth, pale metal worked until it's almost white, with veins of rusted red running through it. The sculpture itself is a globe, and the veins of red rise in relief against the pale steel, the dark curved lines visible beneath an even thinner layer of pale perfection. The name is etched in the base, "ribs," and the artist's mark is scrawled beneath it. It comes with no note, no explanation, and no expectation of any contact. A thank you in metal.]

[Locked to Neil D]
I'm running a special on background checks. Need any? I would send you what I've been working on but Fuck
[Not posted.]

[Locked to Damian W]
[A few comments into her conversation with Alfred.] Hey, you. Got a sec?

[Voicemail left for Ezra]
"Ezra, is Nikolai. Sisterfucker in head told me that bird pimp in your head did stupid thing. If you are still alive, call me back. If you are dead, can I have your Aston Martin?"

There shouldn't be any reason I can't write in here, right?

I've got a lot of time found myself with extra time on my hands, and I'd like to catch up on some reading. Limited to e-books at the moment.

What would you recommend? I'm open to all genres.

[locked to raoul c.]

Monsieur. If it won't cause you great trouble, I'd like to speak with you about your [ ... ] plans for the Opera House.

[Locked to Theo W/Eddard S]

I believe

Lord Stark

[...]

I would have words with Lord Stark.

[As Superman.]

I'm told to ask what the metal thing sculpture is for.