Heading into her second week in Hell Central, Santana was pretty positive that she was scarily close to drowning herself in the lake before she even got close to an answer to why she was even here. A day or two ago, it would have been because she was convinced that she was going to die anyway, and wanted to be in control of her own destiny.
Today? Today, it would have been out of Sheer. Fucking. Boredom.
The communicator, while useful for getting all up in everybody's business, was about two beeps from getting tossed out of her hotel room window. While some of the conversations managed to not be monotonous, people showing up every day meant that there was a freaking 'where am I' post every five minutes.
Turning off, though, just meant that she'd lost all contact to the outside world, and no. That so wasn't her. If she didn't insult someone daily, she broke out in hives.
So, making sure she had her razorblades on he should shit get real, she escaped the hotel and made her way around the town.
It took her awhile to find a place that didn't make her feel like she was about to get murdered, and she was kind of disappointed to see that it was the library. But, still - not murdered was a her favorite way to be. And hey, if she thought it was marginally less murdery, then someone else had to too, right?
She had found her way to the biographies, curious to see if they had anyone that was born in the past century, when she noticed a girl with dreads poking around the shelf over. See? Mission accomplished.
"Good god - it's a nerd in her natural habitat! Man, I was beginning to believe that those were extinct in this town. Can I tag you and send you back out with your friends?"