NFG Season One - Mustang Sally

[Toggle Names]

Description: The NFG's social media accounts are set ablaze with rumors as Hawksley departs with Chevy, rather than Constance Coalbridge. But what could be the story -behind- the thunderous clamor?

All Professional Fighting Worldwide events have some sort of first aid team near by to deal with injuries. It's... professional; that's in their very name. Thankfully, as Hawksley was able to escort Chevelle to the first aid station in a relatively quick amount of time, she was able to get patched up and sent along her way. The prescription: Hydrocodone to keep the coughing, pain, and swelling to a minimum, and a stern warning to get a chest X-ray as soon as possible to examine for possible hairline rib fractures. And also, a bag of frozen Great Value peas, to apply to the bruised areas of Chevy's face.

So, after a brief stop at her borrowed Blazer to swap out her shirt for a "Pretty Kitty" t-shirt, a bruised and not-quite-as-bloodied Chevy makes her way over to the shiny new Mustang. Hawksley might notice her jaw tense as she looks over the vehicle -- and yet, with resignation, she admits about the Race Red Mustang...
"It don't look half bad, up close an' personal." With one hand holding the bag of peas to her face, she reaches for the passenger door with the other. "Heh. Sorry. It's a nice ride, Hawksley, it's just... you know about me an' Fords, right?" In Miss Beaumont's worldview, after all, -everyone- knows about the rivalry between Ford owners and Chevy owners.

Hawksley had been worried about Chevy since the fight, not to mention Coco. Whereas one was on the receiving end of a brutal after match attack, the other was behaving out of character for the girl he'd got to know. Could she be playful? Yes. Could she be downright rude? Yes. Was she vengeful and spiteful? He hadn't thought so but her behaviour at the garage had seemed nothing short of unhinged.

He'd stuck around to look after Chevy. He'd insisted on carrying her to be cared for, cautiously of course given her fragile state. Despite the damage, it seemed she had managed to escape a hospital visit for now, albeit temporarily.

"It's just a name, Chevy. A car is a car as far as I'm concerned. Some of them look better than others but besides that, I couldn't give a feck. Maybe I'd feel differently if I'd been christened Bentley or something."

He glances across at the girl in the passenger seat "You sure you don't wanna go for that X-Ray now? It might be sensible to get sorted sooner rather than later."

The two young fighters are heading through the city's early evening traffic in the direction of Team Thunder's hotel. Little known to them, fans of the New Fighting Generation are already hotly debating the match that took place today. Some are siding with Coco but the majority feel that Chevy was the wronged party.

"I can take the next turn off if you wanna change your mind."

It certainly isn't the first time she's ridden in a Mustang on this trip -- and it's unlikely to be the last. To see the look on her face, the initial launch note had been -quite- unsettling to her. It may have been the drugs. But it definitely wasn't the drugs. After closing her eyes and repeating a few words to herself, though... her stress had dissipated.

"I mean..." Chevy -does- have to laugh, as Hawksley both says something that demands a response, and then immediately fills in the response with the words she would have given. "/Chevrolet/ cars are definitely in the family blood. I won't go so far's to say it was a blood feud on the schoolyard or anything, but only because I ain't heard of any Hatfield versus McCoy flareups so long's I've been kickin'. Fords versus Chevies is a pretty charged fight, and though I love him, my Paw put me right on the battlefield there."

She does take a moment to brush her fingers along her armrest, before switching the bag of peas to the passenger-side of her face. Which gives Hawksley a clearer look of the swollen bruises on the driver-side.

"It ain't nothin' I can't get over. It's just... I have to make an -effort-. It's like when I made up your mind as a kid that broccoli's terrible, because every friend of mine thought broccoli was terrible, and then I actually went on an tried it and went..." She pauses for a moment, pursing her lips and nodding with approval: "... hey, this ain't half bad." Of course, the sudden facial contortion jolts a spike of pain through her, drawing a hiss. But she's determined to not let it stop her rambling. "Somethin' like that, y'know?"

She watches the street signs go by, and the nice big blue square with the H directing towards the hospital. "... Aww... nah. I appreciate it. Those kinda things take a while to set up around here... you go to an emergency room for somethin' that routine, you'll be payin' for it for years." Old habits from her rural upbringing die hard -- and with the particular analgesic swimming around in her head, she doesn't consider the impact her new status as a fighter might have on medical queues.

"I'll schedule somethin' once I'm situated, I promise."

She glances over towards Hawksley, with a grin. "... But see, I told you I'd be fine takin' a punch to the face." She offers a brief chuckle. "Doctor was sayin' I managed to turn e'er so slight with each punch so't nothin' got broken. I warn't even thinkin' about it, to be honest."

"Jesus, that sounds hardcore" the brawler blinks. "Fighting over cars and all. Although I come from a place where there's been some fighting over all kinds of fecked up things, so I'm not one to judge."

He steals another swift glance at her. "You're looking like a real fighter there, Chevy Beaumont" he grins. "Look at ya, with your bruises and all. I'm glad nothing is broken though. That should make it easier to mend. I thought I'd broken my nose when I fought Jay Dee with all the blood, but it was just busted up a bit. Of course this does mean I'll have to try even harder to get one over on Coco" he teases.

"Seriously though, it's not like I'm gonna try and mess your face up for a laugh. I just won't hold back, which might mean you taking a few blows there."

He makes a right turn as he spots the sign for their destination. "So I finally get to see the famous Team Thunder hotel. Will I be coming inside now or do you want me to just place you on the pavement?"

Chevy hesitates at the description of the manufacturer rivalries as 'hardcore'. She laughs -- realizing she's probably oversold the whole dispute. "Oh, it ain't nothin' like -violent-. Just like, namecallin' and stuff. Got t'the point some people just picked Ram trucks or foreign makes just to stay out of it all." Another laugh echoes -- though she pays the price as it starts a small coughing fit.

Her face may be swollen, but Hawksley calling her a 'real fighter' gives her chest cause to swell in pride as well. Compliments add up! "Yeah, nosebleeds are always rough. It looks so vicious, but those blood vessels are so small, they break all the time. It hurt before but I guess the drugs are doin' the heavy liftin' there..."

There was one word she'd glossed over. But as she looks forward, at the lights of Sunshine City buildings and cars flashing by, she finds herself turning back to the one topic that landed her in the passenger seat. The humiliating moment seared into her memory.

After a few moments of distracted listening, it takes a moment to get back on track. "... Ah, I mean, yeah. I'm -fine- takin' hits. It's just, dang."

Chevy closes her eyes, lowering her hand holding the bag of peas to her lap. She seems to be stuck in a moment -- a moment which the pertinent question of what to do upon stopping would need to take priority. "Oh. There's a garage 'round the corner." She plucks a paper hangtag from her purse, holding it near the mirror stalk as an offer to hang it up there. "You ain't tried sweet tea yet, have you? Got some up in the room if you wanna come up. Hotel gave us some free coffee and tea too!" [note from the editor: it's not free]

But even still -- her eyes seem a little glassier than usual, as she looks up at the hotel sign.

"Yeah, I'll come up with you" Hawksley decides, not wanting Chevy to be alone when she's dazed and doped up on the drugs. "I can try some of that sweet tea I'm so suspicious of. I better lay off the rest of my cans if I'm gonna be driving back home afterwards."

The garage seems easy enough to find and he chooses a parking place as close to the elevator as possible. He takes a moment to check the hangtag, curious about what's on it and then gets out of the car, before making his way around to the passenger side. Opening the door, he bends at the knees as he moves to lift Chevy from the seat. If she allows it, he will pick her up with ease, seeming comfortably to manage her weight.

"Which floor are you on?" he wonders. "Do we need to fetch anything else before heading to your room?"

"Heh, probably a good idea... I know a lot of folks back home who drink like a fish, I ain't ever give it much thought." There's a good chance that Chevy hasn't realized how much stronger her accent is showing through in her current state. But there is less to say as the garage is negotiated -- the garage still seems like a foreign and unknown place to her.

The hangtag isn't much -- it just gives the name of the hotel and the previous day's date. Most likely it was one she'd carried around with the Blazer from Sunset Cove that she'd driven to the event.

Chevy nods slowly at his offer to lift her out of the car. It's... a prudent gesture considering the unknown state of her ribs. But she does seem to insist on standing as soon as she's clear, though.

"Third floor," she comments, reaching for her purse. It's all she'd brought with her; everything else was locked in the Blazer. "They was gonna set us up on the fourth but I done told 'em Ichika and Ayame-sensei would say no. Somethin' funny 'bout fours in Japan."

She starts to make her way with Hawksley to the elevator, though... she finds herself looking down. After the afternoon's excitement, it's hard -not- to feel a bit of a downswing.

"I really appreciate you doin' all this, Hawksley. I hain't got my bell rung -that- hard in the other fights. I feel bad you gotta spend your night tendin' to me." She offers a brief smile, though her left eye twitches as she keeps forgetting how much that can hurt.

She seems to be okay, mostly. But it wouldn't be hard for Hawksley to notice how easy it would be to lead Chevy around, as she doesn't seem to know -where- the elevator is at first.

As Chevy finds her feet, Hawksley shifts from carrying her to supporting her, heading towards the main hotel building via the elevator.

"Third floor it is then." His accent makes it sound more like he's saying turd floor.

"Don't you be worrying about me looking after you. It's the decent thing to do and you're saving me from a night in the pub or rowing with Coco. This is probably a healthier option."

He guides her in the direction of the elevator, the pair attracting several stares from other guests. Hawksley lifts his free hand to wave at them cheerily before closing the doors with a push of the button and then selecting the correct floor.

"Lean against the wall if you need to" he suggests. There speaks the man who has felt woozy in a few lifts in his time. As they ascend upwards, he can't help but recall the lift in the Hotel Southtown that would take him back to his small but perfectly formed room. He has fond memories of his time there.

"Once we get to your room, feel free to order me around. You just get yourself nice and comfy on the bed and rest up."

Accents are fun. Chevy's been having great fun getting used to people all over the globe -- Hawksley in particular of course. She smiles back at Hawksley, perfectly content to have him lead her about. And when he reassures her that he's okay with the time expenditure, it seems like her smile grows even more. Pain? It seems she's okay with that now. Especially knowing that he's chosen to spend his night with -her- and not... /her/.

With the purse slung onto her shoulder, she follows Hawksley's lead -- only noticing that there are other hotel guests when he specifically waves them off. "Oh..." Glancing from one to the other, she bites her lip in concern. How many of these guests would have cameras? How likely is it that there might be fans present, that this innocent little exchange would find its way onto the Internet somehow? Her cheeks start to turn a bit red -- though perhaps not as red as the farm girl's shoulders. She slips into the elevator, turning around to face the guests -- and, she seems grateful that the pair gets a quiet ride up to the third floor.

She does as bidden, putting her weight on the rail installed for just such a purpose. "Aww, that's super sweet of you... -thank- you, Hawksley!" She straightens herself up, putting more of her weight on the rail, as the car lurches to a start.

"... Mm... I ran my mouth a bit there about her, didn't I...? I meant to get her riled up, sure, but... " She trails off for a moment, but gives a little cough as she looks sincerely to Hawksley. "Do you two really fight all that much?"

For his part, Hawksley cares little about the opinions of others. This goes for the hotel guests, as was probably evident by his actions, but also in general in life. If his conscience is clear and he's living by his own moral code, then the judgement of others holds little weight on the way he lives his life.

This said, he knows not everyone is as immune to the influence of others. He's also realistic enough to know that women are often judged more harshly, even if this shouldn't be the case. So he notices the redhead's reddening cheeks and he gives her a sympathetic smile. "I'm not gonna say they won't talk, because they probably will. But we can handle it, can't we? We know the truth."

He nods his head approvingly as she takes his advice to rest against the rail. "You did run your mouth, yeah but she's hardly innocent. From what I could see and hear, you both give as good as you got. Until that final kick to your ribs, it seemed like all was fair from my point of view. A bit of violence, a bit of verbals, it's all part of the fun."

He moves his hand over the back of his neck, rubbing the skin where his hair is shorn shorter. "Yeah, we fight a lot" he laughs. "I get under her skin for some reason and she's so easy to wind up. The truth is I think she enjoys being mad at me and I must like making her that way, because I'm always messing with her. I mistook her for my ex girlfriend, I refused to avoid hitting her in the face, I went to her yoga class and I pushed her over. We went for a walk on the beach and I pushed her in the water. There's been a fair bit of pushing over. Gawd. I'm a bit of an arse aren't I?"

The grin on his face suggests he doesn't feel too guilty about this. "You know what I'm like though with the whole flour thing, which is something else that pissed her off. I can't win with the woman."

We know the truth, he says. Chevy barks out a chuckle, at that. For in one way, she's glad he was able to fill in the blanks on what she had been thinking in that moment. And in another... well, if she had to put it in words, what -is- the truth? Can it even be true if it's not spoken aloud?

"Yeah," she agrees with a shy smile. "That's how my agent recommended it. Just let them run wild with theories to their heart's content..." She laughs, but, locked in thought, there's no true conviction.

Inside the elevator car, though, Chevy feels a bit more confident. Drawing in her breath, she begins to take note of the aromas. Sure, there's the mild dinginess of a metal elevator, the lingering odors brought by previous guests. But now without the overpowering New Ford Car Scent(tm) filling her nostrils, she can more fully appreciate the fact that Hawksley is, for the moment, right here with her.

Straightening up to look at Hawksley more directly, it becomes clear he has her full attention again. Which is good -- because she -wants- to be honest at the moment, to stand up and take the criticism she'd kind of worked herself towards. "Yeah -- that's... what I was hopin' for. I didn't wanna be outright -mean- to her, and I didn't think I -was-, but..." She grits her teeth. "It's tough. She just keeps layin' it on so -thick-."

Chevy finds herself nodding in agreement -- Coco -is- easy to wind up. "Haha, yeah..." When he asks if he's a bit of an arse, her answer is pretty clear: "-- You're *fun*. I like that." She tosses the bag of peas in her hand, and feels the good, solid weight there. And it seems that she seems to appreciate how no, he -isn't- guilty about teasing Coco. Or herself.

Away from the public, and standing on her own two feet again, Chevy is feeling pretty confident. And when Hawksley admits that he feels he can't win with Coco?

Her mouth gets ahead of her.
"... Well. You won *me* over."
She blinks for a moment, looking down.
Was that something she said aloud?
She shifts nervously. Then looks up again.
Time to double down.

Her cheeks redden again. "I mean, you *knew* that, right? I'm kinda crazy about you."

"You have an agent?" Hawksley asks, his tone one of surprise. "Well you must be a bigger deal than me, because I ain't got one."

"I can't imagine such a thing. What do they do for you? Do you have to pay them? Do they try and boss you around?"

Apparently Chevy's chatter has got him curious.

As she breathes in the scent of him, which is somewhere between whiskey and soap, his dark eyes look back at her. "I'm glad you think I'm fun. I'm not trying to be mean you know? I just like getting a reaction out of people and it's not always a good one."

When the redhead starts to reveal her feelings, at first he thinks she's playing and his lips start to turn up at the corners to show he's in on the joke. The more she talks though, he starts to realise she's sincere about the words she's saying.

"Oh gawd, Chevy. No. I didn't know you were crazy about me or even thought of me that way at all. I know you were bantering with Coco and all, but I thought you were trying to get in her head, because you knew it bothered her when you came over for the cooking."

He exhales loudly and reaches out to grab the girl's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I'm flattered you feel this way because you're gorgeous and just an utterly lovely lass in every way. I've been loving your friendship, but..."

He stops as if to gather his thoughts. "It's so fecking complicated and I don't even know if I can explain it."

There's a ping as they reach the right floor and the Irishman presses the button to open the doors. "Which way?" he wonders. "We can talk more when we get to your room."

It isn't till Chevy takes note of Hawksley's presence that she starts to realize, well, she could probably use a shower, to get rid of the secents of medical-grade alcohol wipes and suntan lotion. So eager to get back.

"Oh, yeah, my mother had a friend who introduced me to Dev. I didn't want him, but Momma said I'd a bit too much Southern girl in me and I'd need someone to rein that in." She grins. "And I warn't about to tell Momma no." She shakes her head slowly. "He don't cost that much. But he don't -do- that much either, he ain't ever left Metro."

Reactions are fun. And Chevy's quick to nod in agreement. "Y'ain't gonna know unless you try."

The big moment, though -- that's when Chevy's light blue eyes linger on Hawksley's reaction. She's still in disbelief that she's said anything at all -- but it makes sense, considering the perfectly relaxed state that the medications had placed her in. Still...

Chevy grins, shrugging her reddened shoulders slightly. "Eh, don't stress it none! I... I'd been thinkin', I oughta just..."

She falls silent, letting her words trail off as the elevator dings. She nods her head towards the right. "Oh, it's this way." She makes her way out of the elevator with Hawksley, heading in the indicated direction.

A ways ahead, another trio of hotel guests exits their room, slowly making their way towards the two. Chevy notices them, but lowers her eyes, sifting through her purse for the card key to her room as the others walk past.

A moment later, with relative quiet in the hall, she finally adds: "... Sorry. Didn't mean to unload that on ya, Hawksley." She laughs, in an afterthought. "I mean, is it too late to blame the drugs for that?"

She slips the key in. And with a beep, the door unlocks. She steps inside, holding the door open for Hawksley and gesturing him inside. "My home away from home. C'mon in?"

The room itself is fairly clean for the most part; a large duffel bag sits zipped up by a closet. There is a Japanese-style stationery set on the table, along with a couple cutesy pens. A box of poptarts sits on the counter alongside a bowl of fresh peaches and a bunch of bananas. The hotel room is... lived in, but like with most things, Chevy tends to keep things prim and proper.

She sets the bag of peas and her purse on the counter. And then rests her palms on the counter, turning her blue eyes back to Hawksley.

"Complicated is fine. I don't..." She drops her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength again. "I -do- care what you think." But then she raises her eyes again, grinning with the same girl-next-door outspokenness she's known for. Mitigated only slightly by the discolored bruises, of course.

"But I'm terrible at secrets. And honestly, you deserved to hear it from me insteada second-hand."

Hawksley hasn't noticed any scents that bother him and even if he had, he'd be unlikely to care. He has no response to Chevy's description of Dev either, he's too busy thinking about what the Southern girl has just said.

He follows her direction, turning right towards her room, stopping to support her if she needs it, but he remains strangely silent, which is out of character for someone who usually has so much to say.

It's only when they reach the privacy of the hotel room that he relaxes again. He looks around the space, finding it soothing and homely. It causes his voice to catch in his throat. "This is lovely, Chevy. I can tell you're staying here."

He takes a seat on the bed, patting it to invite her to join him there. "You have nothing to be sorry for and you don't have to blame it on the drugs either. Although I've blamed plenty on the drink in my time" he admits.

"I could do with a drink now as it happens" he laughs, lamenting the fact he has to drive back to the dojo later.

"You've been good enough to tell me the truth, so I'm gonna show you the same courtesy and feck the consequences."

He swallows hard, finding his throat suddenly dry. "Me and Coco. We do fight all the time, as I said, but we've been doing other stuff too."

His brown eyes seek out Chevy's blue ones, checking for her reaction. "It started after the party in Southtown, then it happened again when we were cleaning the dojo, then after her fight with Sarah at the Noise Factory and then when she was helping me dress my wound after Kenzo had messed up my stomach."

His hand moves instinctively to touch the scar there through his clothing.

"So maybe you can understand more why she was so jealous and maybe you can understand now why it's complicated. We've not made any promises to each other or anything, but we fight and we fuck and it's all kinds of messed up. I don't think someone like you would want to be in the middle of all that. You've been dragged into enough danger because of me already."

"The other thing is that she didn't want me to tell anyone about us. She was worried about what people would think, so I had to swear to keep it a secret. Maybe she doesn't want to get a reputation or maybe I'm just not fancy enough for a posh girl like her. Whatever the reason, I've broke that confidence now, but you deserve to know the truth, just as you were good enough to be honest about your feelings for me."

"Now if you wanna kick me out of your room for being a selfish eejit, then fair play to you, but at least let me find one of your friends first. You need someone to watch over you."

Chevy smiles at the compliment, eyes tracking Hawksley as he makes his way around her space. She's glad she -has- been keeping her place in good order, particularly for times like this; her comfort registers in the warm smile she flashes back at him.

She pushes away from the countertop and takes steps to follow -- though she stops in her tracks when he mentions he could use a drink. Her smile takes an uptick at that -- she knew what he meant, but she goes to the cupboard anyway and pulls out a couple glasses. She goes about fixing two glasses of sweet tea from a pitcher from the fridge, as Hawksley shares the unvarnished truth.

It's bittersweet to hear it stated so plainly, for his words to graft additional layers of meaning onto the notable events and occurrences of the past few weeks. Some she was present for -- and some she was not. She nods, listening intently... and perhaps in anticipation, she stays at the countertop with the full drinks, before joining him. Which ends up being a good decision, as a certain word of truth might have stung a bit more otherwise. She draws in her breath, pressing against the counter for support.

What draws a bigger reaction, though, is the revelation of a sworn secret. If he'd just said 'not to tell anyone' she might not have been moved at all. Bt when he admits swearing to keep it a secret -- and yet, here she is hearing it? She presses her lips into a firm line, looking downwards at his chest.

And yet, when Hawksley turns the proverbial microphone to her, she responds with a slow shake of her head. And that line turns to a smile, as she wraps her fingertips around the chilled glasses.

"They say the truth can set you free, Hawksley. And I really think it... kinda -does- here?"

She sidles past the counter, making her way to the bed. Offering one glass to Hawksley, she then sits down to accept, however belatedly, his invitation.

"I think..." She laughs lightly. "Sorry. I just think, heck, that's a lot to digest. Try the tea. I can get you somethin' else if you ain't crazy about it."

She wraps both hands around her own glass, taking a good long draw on it as she gathers her thoughts.

Breathing out, she leans forward to place her elbows on her knees. She turns her head to face Hawksley with a faint grin. "One, ain't gonna tell a soul. Your secret's safe with me."

Her thumbs nudge against the glass, smearing away the condensation with a squeak. "Two, it's totally sweet that you wanna stay here with me, but you're puttin' yourself on the line with Coco, and gosh, I dunno if you noticed, but she can get -violent- when she's angry." She flashes a self-deprecating smile, drawing in her breath.

"And three. Heck, full honesty, it's... probably just a crush. I mean, I done told you, you remind me of my Paw. It was already cursed to be weird from the get-go." She rocks her shoulder into Hawksley, letting a snort of laughter escape her.

"I'm glad you told me all that. I don't think you're the least bit selfish at all, Hawksley. You're one of the nicest gentlemen I ever did come across."

She looks back at her glass of tea. And rubs her thumbs against the frosted glass again. "Heh. Knowin Coco, she'd probably think this tea's a crime against humanity. Iced, not -hot?- Sweet, instead of bitter like regret?"

Hawksley looks back at Chevy with gratitude. She's handling this whole situation with grace and class. If anything it only raises his opinion of her further. He accepts the drink without complaint. He can barely taste it anyway and it serves the purpose of providing some much needed lubrication.

"I'm sure Coco will appreciate that. About you keeping the secret and all. I don't care much what people think about it myself, but you know, I'm sure she has her reasons to. I won't tell her about this either. About what you told me."

He takes another swig of the sweet liquid and then nudges her back, as her shoulder rocks into him. "Yeah, you weirdo. A psychcologist would have a field day."

He's only teasing however, which will be evident from his expression and the laughter that follows. "Well whatever this is or was, you've got a place in my heart, Chevelle Beaumont. I don't want you avoiding me or any of that crap. We'll be friends, yeah? And I will stay if you need me to. Don't worry about Coco, I'm capable of handling her."

It's perhaps not the best way he could have phrased that, but he's doing his best here.

Grace and class. Well... if nothing else, Chevy's been a victim of the rumor mill herself, for as long back as she can remember. Even at the tender age of nineteen, she's made personal resolutions to step past this sort of thing and just be as good a person as her Paw would have wanted her to be.

That said... Chevy arches an eyebrow at Hawksley when he mentions that Coco would appreciate this.

"Oh, don't get me wrong, it ain't for Coco's benefit." She punctuates that statement with a laugh, looking back to her tea with a tired look. "She said I like draggin people through the mud. I ain't 'bout to prove her right on that, s'all."

Even after all the unfiltered honesty of the evening, it's still easier to deflect than to address the complexity of her thoughts on the subject. While Hawksley can admit the truth so readily, the -whole- truth isn't something that... she feels would be particularly helpful here.

She looks back to Hawksley, as he states his desire to remain friends. "Maybe a -little- selfish of you," she admits with a grin. "But it's for the right reasons. And that's a thing I like about you."

She hums for a moment, looking forward... and then she rocks her shoulders forward slightly. This would -normally- be the prelude to standing up, but from the sudden flare of tension in her expression, that might not have been wise with her injury.

"... Okay, yeah: point taken, self!" She laughs, admitting through tensely-closed eyes: "... Alright, I *was* gonna be a good hostess and ask if you wanted somethin' to eat, but I done got myself stuck. So I guess I need to lie back for a spell."

She's able to relax, finally, and turns to address Hawksley more directly. "I... ain't got much to do here, but if you wanna save yourself on data, the wifi password is Thunder57." She gestures to the counter: "Poptarts are on the counter, fruits in the bowl, and fridge has... well, my first... -two- attempts at a stack cake are in the fridge."

Her brow creases for a moment as she remembers something else. Raising the glass of tea to him, she adds, "Oh, and there's some steak and gravy. Which I honestly think you'd -love-."

Log created on 10:03:00 07/16/2023 by Chevy, and last modified on 04:54:24 07/17/2023.