Murphy bit her tongue, swallowing the retort that Harry was some friend, keeping her locked up in his tiny little closet bedroom when he barely even spoke to her--and didn't seem to communicate much better with his new squeeze either.
Was the fact that Harry had moved on so quickly, while she'd been left in Chicago, thinking he was dead--or the fact that she knew, in her gut, that she'd been sleeping with the man who'd shot him--a sore point? Oh, yeah. But it was also a moot one.
She frowned at Jesse's next question. The truth was, she didn't really have a plan. Not for how to settle things with Harry. Not for where to live, or what to do with her life here in the city. Not for how to go about fighting evil. But would she ever admit that?
Murphy shook her head. "This whole...go wherever the Spirit leads you thing isn't nearly as hard as it sounds," she quipped, "It's harder."