Log: Bruce & "Leena" Who: Bruce W & "Leena B" What: Ice cream, talking, swab Where: Ice cream shop When: The day after this Rating: Low, probably
Right, so. Meeting Bruce. It had acquired capital letters in her head, not full caps, but more like the title of a chapter and subtitled 'Possibly Dad.' Like everything else, the subtitle was taken with a healthy dose of skepticism and paranoia, which is why it was happening at the ice cream shop. She liked ice cream, but if she had to avoid it because this went south or he freaked her out, she wasn't going to miss it like she was going to miss C&C. Not that she'd been going much since the blonde baker wasn't there anymore, but rumor had it that she was back and so she'd have to make the rounds soon. She made the best blueberry muffins - totally worth the splurge.
This was going to be a splurge too, but mostly because she didn't have to pay for it. Not that ice cream was really going to put a dent in the amount she had now, but she liked to keep as much of that as possible just in case. In case she had to run, in case she had to pay full price for her meds, in case she eventually settled down and wanted an actual house instead of her little cave made a home from other people's discarded items. Prudence was paranoia's bedmate in her life.
Prudence dictated her second hand clothes - jeans, sneakers, t-shirt, jacket even though the day was warm (swab in her jacket pocket, also with a name that wasn't his). Paranoia dictated the dagger strapped to her calf - the blessed one given to her by Claire and the small folding knife in the front pocket of her jeans. Prudence said walking, no Uber or taxi; and paranoia led her around the town without giving up the direction she'd came from before she finally entered the ice cream place a little early, the fog of sleep cleared from her by the walk (cause even though it was late afternoon, she still couldn't sleep when it was dark outside). She sat at one of the small tables, barely bug enough for two though there were for hard plastic chairs clustered around it. Nothing to - to think too much about. Just going to get a swab. Talk a little. She rolled her shoulders because there was nothing to worry about. No, nothing at all - that's why she'd quartered her Ativan before she left her cave - just enough to take the edge of her nerves off, but not enough to slow her down. It'd be fine. They were in public.