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Kennedy Bradford (slayer_brat) wrote in utr_logs,

"I'll have someone at the door to enforce a strict 'no clowns allowed' policy." Kennedy shrugged it off. Why would some high profile criminal who blew up the Times building bother with their club? That's right, he wouldn't. But still, just in case she would make sure they were set for security both visible and undercover. Apparently even in this alternate universe, money was no object for her. Which was a good thing, she wouldn't know what to do without it.

"Oh yeah." Kennedy replied when Grace reminded her that the pasta she'd been cooking had almost burned. Though, for the record, she would still eaten it. Slightly burned and all.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion when her girlfriend reached past her, sliding a black envelope off the counter, questioning where it came from. "Don't ask me." Kennedy shrugged, taking it from Grace's hand and opening it up. Pulling the paper from inside, she unfolded it and started to read. The confusion gave way to a raised brow and her eyes widened as she looked back up at Grace. "Oh."