Doors

[Locked to Kara]

[A link to a back up server at the Micronesia home that can be copied to a computer if Kara can't access it for her journal. It contains multiple files with the schematics on the quantum tunneler.]

Username is Zor-El with the hyphen. Password is aB00mtubeg0tushere, and it is case sensitive. You'll need to change it when you log in. Let me know if you have any problems accessing the files.

[After several observant days.]

And here I was thinking the MVP twist on Big Brother was going to be the most entertaining shitshow this summer.

[Locked to Snow W]
I can't find Faust. Have you seen his hat anywhere?

[Locked to Wolf]
We're moving.

[Locked to Draco M]
I need your help with something.

[After news reports, and journals]

so you left your shit down the back of the couch. Miguel had his lady drop by, nearly fucking broke it. cd, some fucker named Puccini? what the fuck Sam are they all Italian?

[locked to ian r.

as miles c.:]

I always figured that I'd be the one with the federal warrant and ensuing manhunt on my ass, not you. My general line of work being that much more public than yours until recently.

You haven't changed a bit, old friend.

[What the hell. While between Henry times. Still from the hotel.]

Lin. Stop painting your nails. You'll kill the cat with the acetone fumes.

[Private to Betty W.]

Hypotthheettically speaking if you figured out someone's secret identity what would you do?

[Public as Edi Nashton]

Gotham University has the biggest freshman crybabies.

[Locked to the Suspenders/Barber anon]
[After a protracted fight with her doctors about not needing a Healthcare Surrogate, and about paying her own way, even if it's using some $5 dollar a week payment plan until she's five hundred years dead.]

Hey. [...] You around?

[As "Marta D".]

So here's a tip, guys, for those of you that visit your local friendly strip club. When you're watching a girl on stage, or getting a lapdance, or ordering a drink from the fucking waitress, she wants your money. Not your greasy, come-crusty hands on her tits. Or her waist. Or trying to worm into her fucking G-string. She doesn't want to be your girlfriend. She doesn't want to go home with you. And she sure as hell doesn't want anything of hers to touch your unimpressively tiny dick. So shut up, pay up, and keep your parts to yourself.