Re: Upper West Side: West 81st.
[Pepper likes boats. Sailing, air salt-clean and the world nothing but blue (and usually, working with the sun hitting her shoulders and the usual stream of consciousness and nonsense, it's serene). This isn't polished wood and chrome and a captain. The hulk is seamless curved steel, ugly and stained and the wave of sound as they approach makes her go limp.
One minute she's in hands, the second she's flung, and the interior is dark, dank and smells like piss and fear in equal increments, the soft quaver of sobs beneath all the screaming as she comes down hard, temple struck against the far wall before she's hands, knees.
A hand out in the darkness, but the boat - it's a boat, for the foreseeable future, and maybe she'll hate the yacht after this but she's trying to think about blue and serenity and stay present at the same time, hauling in a lungful of stench at the same time with each yogic breath. Score one for Manhattan yoga studios.]