claire dearing is an olympic sprinter (heels) wrote in witchinghour,
Claire had maps, many copies - what she used to put together 'welcome' packages for new arrivals (in addition to being pinged about them on the ancient devices, which was a work in progress but it'd come together), and she'd circle some places and assign teams. People that seemed to frequent those places anyway, so it wouldn't look like as much of a...threat? At least not to the dark evil of this city.
"No, not everyone at once. The more casual we can make this look, the better," she said thoughtfully, taking out a pad to flip open, and a pen, to write some of this down - she always carried both with her, in case moments of inspirational organization struck. "Because otherwise? We might end up setting off some 'time to kill you' alarm and I am not okay with that. But let's see...the river, the civil service buildings, the hospital..."
Claire jotted quickly. "We can start there for now. I'll see about coordinating this via private messages and then people can share their findings." At whatever council meeting there was, maybe?
An hour for film too, fair enough. She could be patient. "Thanks for your help with all this, by the way. I know it's been...rough." What with the death and dying and his friends dying and just - a mess of depressing things, really.