SOMNIA | INBOX

[vixenish]

LORTEL KEHELLAND

You feel a presence through the Murmur. It is sly, and sweet, and dangerous. For you, it will smile.

[ action ] . voice . text . “video”/apparition

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sometime mid july

[merged]

[ The next time Lortel puts on her mask, she'll be greeted with a somewhat familiar connection gently reaching out to her. There's a sense of hesitancy, as if she doesn't wish to intrude. ]

Hey, Lortel? It's Sharon. [ It's been a while since they last spoke, but she remembers Lortel's request: tell her when she finds a safe place. ]

[vixenish]

Sharon! [ Lortel's reply is quick, a bright and relieved chirp of sound.

she is genuinely glad to hear from her, and that gladness threads into the murmur. ]

I'm glad to hear from you. Are you well? Safe?

[merged]

[ Lortel feels like a pop of color in a gray landscape of noise. When they'd first spoke, she'd found it unsettling. Now? It's pleasant. Friendly without any bite to it. Sharon warms instantly. ]

I'm good. I thought I'd call, for lack of a better term, to tell you I found a place. Safe, and only three stories. [ Lortel already knows she's wary of the skyscrapers and towering apartments. ] Are you? Safe and well, I mean.

[vixenish]

[ if you asked her straight out, she probably couldn't tell you why she's fond of Sharon. maybe it's that the other girl seems so free of pretension or agenda. that she's straightforward and quietly kind, without putting too fine a point on it.

she's an easy person for Lortel to like. it's nice, not to have to keep her guard up a mile high for a simple conversation.

a sort of pleased relief blooms in the murmur. ]

Good. I'm glad to hear it. I was going to share with you a ground-level dormitory I've been holding onto, if you hadn't found something solid yet.

I am. I'm in... it's called a penthouse, I believe? It's a bit of a pain to get to, but that it's so remote makes it a little more secure. We haven't had to worry about many animals.

How have you been getting by?

Sometime late at night through October

[sculptedash]

[It's vague and hard to make out but with some effort a voice can heard whispering across tethered connection between Lortel and Ash. It's a low gravely voice that certainly isn't something Ash could mimic.]

I freed him from his binds, can you not feel him? Oh poor girl, you aren't free either.

[vixenish]

What in the world...

[ it's not Ash's voice, but it is her presence. Lortel would know her anywhere, at this point. ]

Ash? Ash, is that you? Are you alright?

[sculptedash]

[Ash doesn't respond at first. The prodding eventually hits back with a dull sense of awareness.]

Huh? Lortel?

Tired- And kind of wish someone was smothering me with a pillow, but okay otherwise.

...What about you? Why are you up so late?

in response to her "homeward" network post

[pointedlook]

[ Her tether is unmistakable; the sticky sweetness of taffy, the smoke of caramel left too long on the burner. Underneath it, the sharp edge of a blade. Thin, like the smile she gives when she's pretending, when she's conducting business. This time, there's a brittleness to the steel he'd grown accustomed to from her. Maybe it's in how her words have looped back, how she asks the same question she did so many months ago, but the color of them has changed.

In any other circumstance, he'd solely be impressed and amused she'd managed such a cyclical thing. Except this isn't normal, not even by the changeable standards in this place. Instead, he feels like someone's poured ice water into his veins, the rekindling of their connection stark enough of a shock he finds himself gasping.

Seconds later, fear slithers up his spine, like the buried version of hers is catching. Struggling with the assortment of emotion, he doesn't respond to her speech on the mental network, instead reaching out individually. ]

And is this a dream or reality for you, now?

[vixenish]

[ the savor of coffee, the precision of a perfectly crafted timepiece, and something subtler, darker, like a far storm off the coast. these are the feelings that come with his presence in the murmur, and the familiarity of it makes her smile. ]

What an interesting question to ask me.

[ down in the tunnels, legs tucked to her side as she sits in the gloom, respirator on her face beneath shut eyes, Lortel is, nominally, resting. of course, far be it from her to ever truly rest; it's far more natural to her to keep exercising her mind even when her body craves time to recover.

keeping busy keeps her just ahead of the nightmares, too. the ones she won't, hasn't, admitted she has, to anyone.

were it anyone but Arthur she would lie, or at least simply demur.

but it is him. and so she smiles a little, an inscrutable kind of feeling, and murmurs, ]

I wish I were more sure of the answer to that. Have I truly woken up this time, I wonder...?

[pointedlook]

[ By years, he really hasn't been in dreamshare too long. Just about a decade; considering the earlier attempts at the PASIV technology and the pioneers of such, it isn't a lifetime. And some of the time within those years, he hadn't even been actively dreaming–either taking time off or trying to claw his way into the savory underbelly of the craft, after being discharged from the military.

Still, the time he has spent under the effects of Somnacin has accumulated into decades, if not more. He's become used to listening for specific words, to trimming away the spoken flourishes other people will use to couch their feelings.

So he pauses, a hush falling over his limbs and along the connection; like the breath before a plunge. ]

This time?

[vixenish]

... I dreamt of the banquet, then awoke here in the city. Then I dreamt of home before awaking here again. Then... well, I was told it's been two months. And I've been dreaming all that time.

[ down in the tunnels her eyes open; though there's little to see in the darkness, she nevertheless glances around, making out the faint shapes of other people and the tunnels themselves. ]

I hope I'm truly awake, this time. I'm tired of dreams.

backdated to lortel's return

[saudades]

[It comes rather without warning. Like a burned out light suddenly flickering back on, the buzz of electricity where there has only been dead, cold silence for months.

Her presence seeps into his mind, his soul, like it has always belonged there -- like it never left, but on his end, it's not so gentle or soft a sensation. He floods her like a tsunami, like a hurricane, and she is at the eye of the storm, yet anything but safe. Lightning crackles through every inch of the thread that connects them within the Murmur, capsizing and sinking any ships that seek safe harbor.

And in the static that coalesces with each bolt --



S̷̫̻͓̹̊͋̾̍̓̓̿̌̌ͅḧ̴̨̭̞̲̬̞́͑é̵͈̱͕͍͇̟͇̟̖̙̲̪ ̸͔̘̣͙̮͈͈̥̙̬͇̘̺̏̐̄̊͂̀̅̿̄̈́̕͜͝͝ș̷̛̱͔̖̠̭̰̦͍̓̔͗͊͑͂̔͊͐̀́͑̏͜t̴̡̢̺̝͓̬̫͚̹̮͙̪̙̯̄̏̌̆̐͗̓͛͑ͅi̶̩̠̪̯̓̐͒̎̽͊̅̍͊͑̈l̴̢͉͖͓͈̭͇̱̦͉̮͚̱̙͔̾l̶̨͕̜̲̗͚͔̫̦̈̐͌̌̏͛̈́̎͊̿ ̴̟̦̝̙̙͑̈̊l̷͈̬͚͖͉̞͇̹̬̋̋̿í̴͍͈͉̉̈́̃́́̀̈̇̀̂̒̄v̶͔͈̖͖̖̞̟̯͊̎̇͋̔̾ȩ̶͔͕̞̘͔͙̣̎͛ş̵̧͔̱̳͉̝̮͎͋͆̀̍̈́̈́̃͂͘͝ͅ.̴̖͈̌̇̀͠ͅ ̸̨͖̤̝̻̙̅̎͗̐̆͋͝Į̸̢͇̱̫͖̽̒͠͝'̸͍̪͇̲̰̎̏͊̊́̊̃̕̚m̵̨̢̘̲̲͎̰͈̣̪̯̙̜̿͆͑̊̃́̓͘͝ ̴̳̤̲͒̂͋́͑̈̏̅̔̉̚͝c̴̡̧̛̥̣̩̩̤̭̠͉͚̬̏́̆͋́́̽̐̍̂̕͘͝e̵̲͖͕̭̤͈͌̽͋́̑͝͠ͅŗ̶̟̻̼͍͈̜̟̀̄͂̋͜ẗ̸̬͉̤͙̳̱̰́̎̇̀̅̇́̒̑̍̾̉̏̇a̵̢͚̼̠̦̪̩̜̬̤͈̘͋͜i̵̫̫̗̗̭͌̅͘ṋ̴̢̧̨̛͇̟̺̟̳̲̞̦͍̙̯̋͒̒͑́̆͑́̄̈́͝ ̸̺́͒͐͋͂͐͆̋̂̈́͊̕͝͝o̸̡̫̭̤͕̿̃͐͆͋͋͆͘͠f̵̡̙̃̂̽̉̈̈́̚͘ ̶̦̪̃t̷͚̻̔̀̅̆́̓́̉͝h̵̡̛͈͚̱̦͕̜͉̖̖͇͔̥̹́͆̋̇̍̉̾̕͠ͅā̷̰͙̜̒͌͗͒̀̈́͛̕t̷̨͍̥͉̟͖̤͎̞̼̊̉̄̑̉͆̏͋̑̉͊͊̓.̸̧̘͕͉͕̤̯̯͉̝̓͛͌͑̋̍̐

S̷̨̡̨̝̲̜͙͎̮͎̪̀͗̽̏͋̋͌̈́̀̏́̓ͅͅḥ̷͍͖͓͚̳̾͊͊̋̓͆̓̃͂̎̕͜ë̸̢̼̦̦͓͉̂̍̕͝͝ ̶͙͑͘s̶̢̧̛̞͔͉̝̤̋̏̀̈́̊̒̿́́̕̕͝ţ̵̢̹̥̱̳͈͙̞̱̏̿̇͛͘i̸̫̭̫̤͉̯͕̣͔̍̐͂̎̅̒̓̓͆̎͘̚͠ͅl̴̜̫̬͐͊̉͐̍̍͒̈́̀̕͝l̶̢̨̪̤͈̥̝̤̙̜̿̒̆ ̵̧̨̛̮͉̼͍͉̝͕͈̝̠̯͌̋̀̉̓̕ļ̶̮̺̖͙̹͓̐̂ͅi̸̢̡̲͇̜̙̦̟̥̺͚͈̓͊̚ͅv̵̪̮̭̼̰̺͇̻̗̋͒̔͛͆́̊̈́̒́͠ȩ̸̙̭̦̩̦̼̝̘͉͈͔̫̔̎̂ș̴̫͖͈̭͉̭̮͗̂͒

S̶̡̡̧̧̲̩̗̖̼̰̖̫̣̖̖̜̤͖̥͕̯͈̼̼̬͎͔͉̱̞̲͉̹͔̤̝͕̣͈̃̃̉̿̎̆̂͗́́͝h̴̡̡̧̥̜̙̞͍̠͚̰͚̰̟̜̠̱̹͈̤̰̟̠̥̞̗̓̀̓̎̊̓́̅̊̽̈́̀̇͊̑͐̃̽̈́̇̀̈́̀̐́͆̽̌́̅̇̈̒̽͘͘̕͝͠ͅͅe̴̛̲̼͍̝͍̣̬͐̀̓̀̈͋͒̇̍̎̌́̀̈́͒̎̊̽̉̾̐́̄̊͋̓̂̂͌̿̚̕̕ ̷̨̨̠̺͈͉̗͇̙̘̩͇̼̻̥̜̯͇͇̘̮͋̌̔̊h̴̨̡̨̢̡̡͉̠͓̯̦̰͉̯̰̲̦͖͕̮͕̱̳͔̗̼̰͉̬̙̻̘̺̯̳̍̈́́̊̍͌̈́͆̓̄̓̊̈̈́̚̕͜͝͠͠ă̶̛͔̮͓͚͖̬͈̮̲͔̤̖̋̒̆͛͗͛̎͂̐̈́͂̋̇͊͗̓̊̇͊͛̂̑̇̆̒̈́̈́̀̄̓̕͜͝ş̸̨̢̨̧̗̘̜̞͇̬̠̘̭͙͍̹̭͖̭͓͕̣͓͔̘̖̝̺̪͖̣͍̦̥̭̤̼̭͉̩̆͆̊̔̽̏͋͘̚͜͝ͅ ̶̨̨̡̫͕̩̥̖̗͓̥̘̤̠̟͕͓͎̥͉̮̣͖̻̥̺͍̪͕͇̼̻̤͇̱̱̭͉̭̏͊̊͐̾͋̇̇̈̊͘͜͠͝ṡ̵̢̢̛͕͕̮͕͍͕̥̺̯̻͚̦̱̥̟̮̣̰̜̫͚̺̱̖̰̭̞̠̬͙̋͊̈́̎̽̒̆̃̾̾͒̓̈́͐̂̌̏͐̽̊̐͛͊̈́̀͐́̔̂̓̔̓̑̓̉̚͘̕͜͜͝͠ͅo̵̧̥̥̼͓̻̪̩͉͈͔͓͙͍̻͙͕̲̯̬͓̪̜̻̘̪͎̲̫̭͈̱̙̹̎̌͘͜ ̸͔͙̩͚̟͈̖̟̤̩̞̯͙͍͖͈̬̗̱̻͈̹̈́̾̅͗͛͂̈̓͐̒͌̂́̕͘͝͝m̷̨̢̢̩̮̥̙͈͕̯̻̻̠͚̬͚̮̳͓̼͍͌͊̏͋͋̊͌͋̀̑͘̚͘͠͝u̵̧̪̖̻͖̲̙̜͖̱̖̽̐͌̊̇̓̉̓̅͑̏̉̆̇̌̐͑̅̊̓̏͆͊̆̓̋́̀̂̓́̆̂̀͋̎̋͘̕̕͝͝͝c̶̡̛̫̘̅͛̄͗̅͂̀͛̎͌̎̇͐͌́̓͛͌̅͛̈́̍͐͘̕͠ḧ̶̨̰̖̺̦̩̮̥͔̮̺̥̺͍͍̪͙͈͉̹͉̞̻̘͓͚̗͔̺͓͙̰̭̠́͋͗̈̃͌̓̓̒̓̚͜ͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̨̠͙̳̭̬̣̍̿̐̅̀̇̈́̉̿͑̅̉̂̅̎̚͜͝l̸̢̨̡̧̢͎̼̩̱͚͔͕̜̟̺̱͈̲̘͇̹̟̙͔̲̲̙̫͈̞͈̱͇̟̼͛̈́͗̃́̎̑͋̐̽̀̂̏̂̆͊̔͊̾͐́̋̃̓́̒̿͆̌̓̄̚̚͜͜͝͠ę̸̧̛̬̞͎̣͇̜̜͎͖̜̓̈̓̎̓͐́͊̈́͑͒̔̿̈̃̊́̀͗͊̑͑̈́̈́̓͂̊͛̌̄̚̕̕͠f̴̦̔ţ̴̢̰͖͕̼͓̤͇͒̔͊̌̿̅̏̂͒́̈̀̍̋̍͆̓͜͜͝͝͝ͅ ̷̧̨̨͎̰̞̪̹̠̟̝͉̫̱̳̙͙̦͔̠̦͖̱̪̫̗͍̖̳̭̥̩͍̽̾̾͊̓̋̽͑̑͜͠t̷̨̢̡̛̞̥̺͇͚̥͍̬̠̫̦̦̩͕͕̖̱̝̺͎̱̻̰̞̞̫̙͇̱̞̝̅̑̄̉̒͋̃̚͠ͅͅo̴̻̼̞̰͍̗͓̞͑̀̈́̆͂̈́̀̈́̍̈́̓͋̀̀̌͗̃̽͘͝ ̶̡̛̦̯͖̣̪̝̲̗̞̱̜͕̌̓̐͊̋̀̄̌̾͗̋̐̉͂͋̓́̔̒̃̔͗̓̑͋̎͒͛͘̕͜͝͝͠ḑ̷̛̦̠͓̬̜̗̬̘͈̞͖̜̲̃̽̔̿̊̀́̆̚͝͝͠ǫ̵̢̣̱̠͙̭̳̘̲̺̜͕̭̲̟̬̬̳̙̯̗̙̟̈́͜ͅ







The background plays a single long, discordant note, too sharp and too flat all at once. It's wrong. It's wrong. Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrongwrong she isn't s̷̨̡̟̱̓͂̓̃͆̄u̶͉̱̽̅̓͠ṕ̵̡̞̝̦̱̻͕̰p̵̧̥͖͔͕͖͎̙̩̣̩͙͍̫͊̈̕ͅo̶̡̟̞̜͓̣͝s̶̙͍̬̗͈̩̣͛̔͛̍́̋͠ẹ̸̢̣͍̹̳͖̮̜̆͒ḍ̷͊̽̌͆ ̴̰̫̹̗̝̼̞̙̉͊̆ṭ̷̫͖̣͉̤̘̺͍̘̮̂̒͆͑͘͝o̸̧̠͇̮͖̫̠̯͕̯̦̖̲̜͋̉̏͊̎̆̆̚ ̸̻̻̹͎̜̂̌̄̊͜͠b̵͔͇͓̭̃̽̐̎̓̄̈́͌̒ȇ̷̦̱̽̓̊̆͛̚ ̶̞͙̰͑h̶̛̬̖̠̫̽̓̅̍̎͑͑̽͂͝͠e̸̗̮͊͆̒͗̑̔͛̉̇͊̚r̴̩̭̖̈́̈́̈́̔̋̕͜ě̸̛̠͇̘̲̣̖̭̣̥͙̘̞̇̈́̑͝

The storm waters surge. But it's not water. Black ink crawls up her legs and arms and up to her throat before they suddenly ....... recede. Everything recedes, fades as though someone has pulled a drainage plug, until at last there is --

-- nothing. Nothing at all.

In the void where emotion should be, a tether tears with all the force of a gunshot. She's left to bleed alone.]

[vixenish]

[ suffocating

drowning

screaming:

NO

NO

NO

DON'T




he does, and the snap of their tether tears at her soul. down in the tunnels she scrambles to get away from the others so she can retch in private. it is horrific in a deeply, profoundly uncomfortable way. heart still racing, she drops into a crouch and wraps her arms around her knees, trying to will herself to breathe normally. it takes some time.

something darker blooms from the calm that eventually follows.

ｒａｇｅ．

that insane man and his broken head. why allow their tether to exist at all if he'd treat it, her, like this upon her return?!

how dare he throw her out like this? like she is so much garbage.

grinding her teeth, she forcefully, absolutely ignores—no, outright rejects his thoughts of her living. she will not accept them if he's going to—



... they'll talk when she gets back.

she will make sure of it. ]

february, week 2ish \ cw: megumi-typical levels of suicidal ideation

[potentialman]

[ It's starting to become a familiar routine, especially as the month wears on and things get worse. Sometimes at her place, more often at his; one of them decides that they're done with suffering through the night alone and turns up to join the other.

Ever since Sukuna, trying to sleep has turned into a coin flip, for Megumi. Will he stay awake and stare at the ceiling while his thoughts run wild, or will exhaustion get the better of him and drag him under so his dreams can do their worst?

Either way, he's realized that a completely dark room only makes it easier for him to slip, to mentally wander back there to the bottom of his soul, where there was nothing to do but watch Sukuna destroy everything he loved and wish he could die and get it over with.

Thankfully, Manhattan is not without a Home Depot, and a couple strings of soft white Christmas lights now line the shelves on the perimeter of the room. It helps.

Not as much as not being alone helps, though, so when he hears the door open, he sits up. ]

Hey.

[vixenish]

[ though she was nervous about it at first, she no longer cares too much how she looks when she turns up to join him, or vice versa. all they do is cuddle and talk, hoping against hope for restful sleep to take them. (some of their nights are punctuated much more by breathing silences and the soft sounds their mouths make together; in this way, too, they've simply fallen asleep eventually.)

all that really matters is being wrapped up in each other.

not alone.

she's wrapped in a light jacket, which she doffs onto a chair and which hides only comfy pajamas. even her hair is down, loose on her shoulders.

she looks tired. the last few nights, she's slept no better than he. but her expression gentles as she regards him, and she steps in close, standing before him so she can cup his face in her hands. ]

Hey. [ one of her thumbs strokes his cheekbone. ] You didn't have to sit up. I would have just crawled in next to you. [ as he likely knows by now, she thinks, finally smiling. ]

[potentialman]

I know that. [ He still did it, though. ] It's not like getting up is ruining my sleep or anything.

[ Because his sleep, as usual, is already ruined enough on its own.

He scoots back to make a bit more room for her on the mattress. ]

[vixenish]

Such a gentleman.

[ she'll press a kiss to his forehead before he scoots away from her, and get one knee on the bed before pausing, watching his face. ]

... would some tea help?

[ she's been here enough to know where it is, by now. ]

February - sometime after the Murmur post

[cursedvessel]

[Yuji wakes up mid-morning, like usual, and stumbles down to the kitchen with messy bed hair before he's even properly opened his eyes. He's already standing in front of the refrigerator, yawning and rubbing his eyes, before he realizes he's not alone.

Blinking blearily, he freezes when he catches sight of Lortel. But only for a moment. She's become a bit of a familiar sight around the dorms lately, much to his increasing curiosity and excitement. It doesn't take a genius to see how close she and Megumi are, and if Toji's response to their recent census is any evidence, Yuji isn't the only one who has noticed.

It also hasn't escaped him that she's been sleeping in Megumi's room. Kugisaki and Gojo-sensei would be shocked if they were here. Who knew Megumi could move so fast?]

Morning! [Yuji greets her in a bright, if slightly sleepy tone.]

Did you sleep okay? Hopefully Megumi didn't hog all the covers.

[Is Megumi a blanket hog? Probably not. But Yuji is willing to implicate him if it gives him an opening.]

[vixenish]

[ in contrast to Yuji, Lortel is already dressed and put together for the day, though her hair is still loose, falling softly just past her shoulders. likely because she clearly has no intention of leaving anytime soon: she's sipping tea as she moves about putting together a breakfast clearly meant for two, a light blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

she's becoming accustomed, too, to seeing Yuji like this. she's about to return his greeting when he hits her with—well, with that. her brows leap up, and she turns a crooked, canny smile on him.

well. if Toji, somehow, could call them out publicly before they'd even agreed to anything, then Yuji was certainly entitled to wonder. more entitled than most, arguably. Lortel pauses in what she's doing to face him instead, holding her cup of tea close to her face and watching him over the rim. ]

He doesn't, [ she replies simply, well knowing exactly what he's up to. ] He's very conscientious of me, in fact. He's sweet that way, [ she'll murmur, and there is an unmistakable gentleness in her voice and in the shape of her eyes.

girl's down bad. ]

[cursedvessel]

[A grin tugs at his lips and grows, slowly, with her response. Yuji might not be the most perceptive person in a room usually, but he still has pretty good instincts about people. And he can tell from Lortel's expression that she's in deep. A burst of warmth and relief fills his chest. Megumi deserves this. To have someone who cares about him so much. Who makes him happy.]

Sweet? Now I'm not sure we're talking about the same person. [His tone is light and teasing.]

You must be pretty special to him if you get to see his sweet side.

[vixenish]

[ the teasing gets a fleeting grin out of her. ]

Maybe it's better to say I think he's sweet.

[ Megumi wouldn't think it of himself, she knows that much. he'd be more confused by the descriptor than Yuji, if anything.

but as much as he insists that she's been good for him, she can't help but think, quietly, that the reverse is far more true. ]

I don't want to speak for him, [ she'll demur, more because it still feels unreal that he'd care this way for her than her having any doubts about his sincerity. ] But he did say he wants to take me on a date.

[ somewhat reflexively she glances at the doorway, in the direction she knows his room to be in. ]

... he's special to me, [ she'll admit, much more vulnerable than she'd normally be with someone she doesn't know well.

but he's Megumi's best friend. surely she can tell him this much. if anyone deserves to know, it's him. ]

And, selfishly, I want him to be happy.

[ her expression—somber, tight around the eyes like she's trying not to show how worried she is—suggests she knows exactly why that's not a simple thing for him, right now. ]

February- sometime in the middle of the month.

[dustyroad]

[There was a lot in Sleephattan that Shelley did not yet fully understand- but bitter nostalgia had led him on a strange pilgrimage that anyone who was on the edge of adulthood during a certain timeframe on his version of Earth needed to take, which led to a bit of curiosity and...

a conversation that he was still digesting.

But he knew someone who might know more, someone that he had made an arrangement with.

As such, Shelley donned his moth-like mask and took to the scooter he had found to make travel a little faster. A bike would have been ideal but... So it goes.

Still caught on the edge of the bitter confirmation of some details of this reality that he had found, a song ran on loop in part of his headspace while he reached out on the Murmur to fulfill his part of the arrangement.]

Hey, Lortel? If you've got a minute, I'd like to meet you somewhere to share something I learned about our friend who's keeping the lights on.

It's probs safer in person. I don't trust anything that she could snoop on.

[vixenish]

Shelley? [ she registers some mild surprise—she wasn't expecting him to reach out to her so soon.

and certainly not about something quite so interesting as this. ]

Our friend, hm... [ how interesting. Lortel will smile. ]

Let's. Sooner rather than later. Where are you right now? ... and do you mind terribly if I bring Megumi with me?

[ since he's, you know, currently sitting next to her right now. she'll glance at him, nudging Shelley's message at him through the murmur so he can hear it, too. ]

[potentialman]

[ Oh.

That does sound interesting.

While Megumi normally wouldn't mind if Lortel needed to take care of business without him around, he's pretty sure he would mind not hearing about this. ]

[dustyroad]

Meg- the serious guy. Your partner, right?

[Partner in crime, business partner- but the teens would take it however they would, Shelley didn't care.

He didn't make deals that he couldn't keep.]

Yeah, bring him along. More brains and insights are great for this.

I'm...hmm..


[He scanned for landmarks, because the street signs were useless in times like these. ]

There's a memorial about six miles south of Central Park that I needed to check out for myself.

Uh. You need to be a certain age and from a certain place to get it, it doesn't matter.

Going by scooter...

Uh. I'll be at the Park soon enough.