January 21

who: brett and eris
where: her place
when: wee hours
(nsfw)

Brett's world, which had never run to a real timetable that normal people would recognise, had, in the past day or so, completely ceased to run to any timetable at all.

Who: Ian and Sam
Where: Sam's place
When: Evening

Who: Dutch and Evelyn
Where: Dutch's place
When: Dinner-times!

Nervous? Dutch? No. Maybe. It wasn't like he found himself here often, after all. He rarely cooked in his apartment, either eating out from Nighthawk's or making the barest of sandwiches for himself, but there he was. Clad in an a-shirt for the moment, Dutch smiled in amazement at his entire situation as he gave the contents of a sizzling skillet a toss, breathing deep of the aroma that rose up from it. If his place had been clean before? It was somehow cleaner tonight, better lit, more welcoming with the radio on low in the living room near an open window that vented the heat of the kitchen out to the streets beyond.

Still, it was strange... he was having a guest, one he'd invited all on his own. Even stranger was the fact that Evelyn had said yes, but Dutch wasn't going to decry the chance. The young woman was sweet, raising up protective urges in Dutch for the first time (aside from Cheyenne) in years now. She'd bought him a delicious bottle of wine, remembering his fondness for it, and tonight? He wanted to share it with a friend. Were they friends? Dutch certainly thought so, or else he might have never made the offer.

Moving to turn the heat down on the stovetop, he tugged the refrigerator open to pull the wine out, gauging the temperature critically as the bottle sat in a gnarled hand. It felt nicely chilled, but Dutch slipped it back into the fridge as he scowled at the clock, moving to grab the new flannel Evelyn had bought him and pull it on over his a-shirt. She was due sometime soon, he knew, but it had been so long since he'd done anything like this that he could only hope he'd timed his preparation of the meal close enough.

I don't think I've ever felt so relieved. Just sitting here watching her breathe feels like cool hand against my forehead. At least she's safe. At least she's alive.

Still. I didn't find her. No, she found me, broken, bruised and battered, half asleep on her bed. I still failed her. What if it happens again? When she's not actually safe? Or if next time I don't fail her but fail the boys, those who rely on me for everything.

Who: Angelo and Shoshannah
When: Jan. 21, early evening through the night.
Where: Nighthawk's, then Angelo's apartment.

Who: Evelyn and Ian
Where: The Drake (main lobby)
When: Late late morning/noon-ish

Evelyn was ignoring Dolores' pointed speculations and side-glances as she went about consulting yet another directory for her most recent request. She had left one of the guests and returned to the main lobby in time to see Ian escorting a young lady up. Seeing the hotel manager escorting a guest to a room was nothing unusual. But escorting a pretty young lady, hand on the lower back, up to a room she apparently couldn't pay for? Evelyn was no idiot, and pretty damn observant when it came down to it. She had enough experience with men to know that a hand on the lower back was no professional gesture or a sign of being 'just friends'.

And she found that with that thought she had to fight the straight line her mouth threatened to turn into. It was stupid, really; Evelyn had never had and never will have any intentions of sleeping with her boss. Or any boss. Ever. So she should have felt relieved at seeing Sullivan escorting some guest with the attention of an admirer. But she didn't feel relieved; instead she felt another irriation piled on to the general state of worry she had woken up in. And, had she been anywhere but work, she might've let her face betray her. But she didn't. Evelyn made sure she didn't; not with Dolores and the rest of the staff eying her so closely; not when everyone here suspected it had been some 'thing' with Ian that had gotten her this job. She wouldn't let a case of wounded pride prove them right.

Who: Danny and Janey
Where: The McKinnon apartment
When: Early morning

Danny had woken up feeling disoriented from dreaming, but after a moment realized the ringing wasn't a phone, just the alarm going off. Another day of work awaited him. The girl had snuck out the day before, not that he really minded but he knew that Janey was upset. Rolling over, he didn't want to tell her about the job, but Hollis was right, it was dangerous. Gently he stroked her hair, listening to her breathing briefly before speaking. "You awake honey?"

Who: Janey and Zhen
Where: The police station
When: Midafternoon

Who: Dodge and Maddy
Where: Maddy's place
When: late morning

Dodge hadn't headed home from Evie's the night before. Still reeling on an afterwave of being rejected and drudging up more memories of ways he'd fallen short for those under him, he'd headed towards Maddy's hoping perhaps to find her at home. Just as before though, she was still missing, the wooden duck Dodge had picked up for her was still sitting on the vanity where he'd left it for her when he'd first came by.

Sighing heavily and picking up her can of soda again, Gertie looked at the scrolling words on the computer screen. She'd been entering in data earlier on her charge, not that there was anything new to put down about the comatose lunk in the other room. She'd found the website a few weeks ago, while she'd been bored and had played a little too much solitaire. So she'd been randomly surfing the net, looking for information that might be fun or helpful for someone in her position.

Who: Marian and Maddy
Where: Roy's Bank Vault and the walk home
When: Morning

Who: Arden and Janey
Where: Church! Potluck-dinner-thingie
When: Evening

If there was one thing Arden hated more than going to church on Sundays, it was going to church on any other day of the week. Right now she was very much not-the-happy-camper, shooting dirty and occasionally threatening looks at her schoolmates; and adopting the air of a grumpy cat whose displeased glaring went unnoticed by the ladies that pinched her cheeks and cooed "my, how you've grown" ...as if they didn't see her every Sunday. And the stupid dress she had to wear was annoying too: it was all white and frilly and itchy -- this was just a dumb dinner, not her First Communion.

Yet even though it was supposed to be a dinner, they hadn't been able to eat anything! Seriously, what was that about? Her dad had been telling her not eat anything at home because they were coming here, yet the food was just splayed across the table and covered up and she was stuck standing around having to smell it!

She broke away from the gaggle of touchy-feely ladies now talking to her father, pausing only to shoot them a look reminiscent of a hissing cat before inching her way towards the table. As she got close, Arden kept her eyes on the chubby priest who stood guard over the food, shooing away and threatening excommunication at any kid who glanced too long. Of all the priests, he was her least favorite. In fact, when her Sunday school teacher prattled on about the battle between Good and Evil and and picking sides, Arden imagined it happened much like a kickball match where the Devil and Jesus were Team Captains -- and she was pretty sure it was only because Jesus got Last Pick that the chubby priest was here.

As the Chubster became distracted with an angry red-face lecturing at a pair of twin boys, Arden's hands went to work behind her as she stood innocently in front of the table, facing the crowd. It took a second or so for her hand to grab hold of a small mini-sandwich, but when it did she couldn't help the wide, not-so-innocent grin at her triumph. Ha, success!

Who: Elle and Sam
Where: Nighthawk's Diner
When: Evening

The radio hadn't provided its usual comfort that night. Most days she spent at least a few moments dancing along to the music in the privacy of her living room. Listening to chatter in the evenings, mouthing the words to the bouncy jingles. It was less lonely that way.

It had only been on as background noise when a few words caught her attention. Turning up the volume, she had peered at the device and waited for more information. The rallying of search parties told her nothing.

who: mina and open(can be a large group scene for cops and others)
where: the bodies site
when: noonish

Mina was standing inside the treeline, though she was visible from the street. The rain falling down onto her umbrella was loud in her ears, even beneath the trees. Though really, when the wind kicked up, it just meant it fell harder for a few seconds as the trees shook the rain free. Or, as much of it that hadn't frozen yet. She was calf deep in snow as well, gazing down at the bodies that were so perfectly frozen beneath their coating of ice. She didn't want people disturbing the scene, of course, and the Bedlam officials had wanted her to attempt to identify the corpses, just in case the rumors already floating about were correct.

Identification of people encased in ice was rather easier said than done, however. The ice was clear as glass in some places, but cloudy and obfuscated in others. Add on top of that that the rain hadn't stopped, and they kept getting even more ice accumulating on them....well. The authorities were going to have to do something. Like stick them in a warm room to melt before anyone could actually tell who the human icicles were.

Still, she was staying there with them, being their little deathwatch guardian, so the scene wasn't terribly disturbed by the time the police decided to arrive. Finding a fallen log to lay a blanket over, she sat, keeping her umbrella up as she remained with the frozen corpses.

Who: Ian and Shoshannah
Where: The Drake
When: late morning

Shoshannah should have been prepared for this. She'd been out since 2 A.M. last night and while she'd thought of it as a very productive first day out, her parents didn't agree. The fight itself escalated at around 9 A.M., causing Shoshannah to grab her jacket and a large duffel-bag, stuffing it with a pair of her favorite pajamas and a change of day clothes, her camera, her purse, and a scrapbook that she kept most of her developed photos in.