Who: Kate Bishop and John Mitchell When: Friday evening Where: Mitchell's place What: Trying to figure out this memory stuff Warnings: High due to the memory content of both parties Status: Closed/In-Progress
Son of a bitch.
That had been Kate's mantra since she had left her apartment. Lucky was with her as usual. There was no way that her trusted pup was going to let her go out when Kate was pacing the way she had been. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Once again, people weren't allowed to have a nice, quiet holiday together without something screwing with their lives.
It was getting frustrating and Kate really wanted to punch something. Or someone. Seeing as she couldn't seek out the ones who had constructed the dome and everything within it, Kate had done the next best thing. She punched a pillow. A few pillows. Very hard.
She'd clean the feathers up later. Maybe. Right now, she was practically running to Mitchell's. A notebook in hand as promised, they needed to get their memories cleared up before something else happened. It was bad enough that she now knew things Mitchell obviously did not want her to know. He also knew things that, while Kate wasn't opposed to him knowing, she didn't go announcing to the world on a whim.
There were topics that needed to be discussed in person. They needed to be eased into the lives of others. Not dumped on them without warning.
Not to mention Barry having no recollection of almost an entire year it seemed.
"I got here as fast as I could," she said, out of breath and looking just as frazzled as she suspected Mitchell looked.