5830/Coming in for a Landing

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Coming in for a Landing
Date of Scene: 02 April 2021
Location: JFK Airport
Synopsis: Elena arrives back in New York after a brief sojourn in Colombia, only to discover that SHIELD is in shambles and her friends have been put through the wringer. And the one to break it all to her? May.
Cast of Characters: Melinda May, Elena Rodriguez

Melinda May has posed:
JFK Airport is one of the busiest in the country. May weaves her way through the throngs of people, heading for arrivals. She got a text a little while ago, telling her about Elena's arrival -- back from a brief sojourn in Colombia. She almost wishes the woman had stayed in South America. It would be safer for her.

That said, it's good to have an extra, trusted pair of boots on deck.

Thus, May braves the crowds, keeping a tight, tight rein on her emotions and trying very, very hard not to touch anybody. There are very few people, these days, May would stick her neck out quite this far for. Elena is one of them.

She's still the Colombian's SO, after all. Even if SHIELD isn't operating openly, at the moment.

Her dark eyes scan the faces emerging from arrivals, looking for her friend.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
There was still another two weeks left on her vacation time, but Elena had seen a report on a television about the situation back in the states. SHIELD was a big deal world wide, the fact that it had taken her so long to hear anything was kind of surprising. It's also the reason she jumped the first plane back and had sent a text on a very unconnected flip phone provided her several weeks ago for just such a situation.

She's her hair up in a bun, a red turtleneck under usual jacket, and jeans over tennis shoes. She could be any tourist coming to America on Vacation as she carries her only bag, carryon size, towards the arrivals terminal.

Up on her toes to try and spy May amongst those waiting for loved ones and friends. She offers only a tight smile and a demure wave when she sees her. Making her way over with a glance over both shoulders as if they're being watched or there might be an arrest team waiting in disguise around any corner.

Melinda May has posed:
May returns the wave with a nod and an equally tight smile. That it's there at all is a testament to the high level of excitment and joy in the room as people greet loved ones they haven't seen in ages. It all feeds into the empath's system, whether she wants it to or not. It's only years of practice and mindfulness that give her a fighting chance, now.

"Car's in Blue," she says, referring to the parking garage nearby. Then she adds, "Really good to see you again."

There doesn't appear to be anyone tracking them. May has dressed slightly differently than her norm -- blue jeans instead of black, a two-toned printed blouse under a dark grey jacket. Her hair is up beneath a logoless sports cap, hanging out the back like a pony tail. She has small sunglasses on and her makeup is a little stronger than usual, changing the contours of her cheeks sufficiently to make her a little harder to casually ID.

She smiles as she passes people, playing up the idea that she's picking up a good friend -- just like everyone else. It's not a huge ruse, really. That is, after all, what she's doing. But it's out of her habit to have such open expressions on her face.

When they do finally reach the car, a fairly generic-looking sedan rather than a heavy SUV, she circles around it once fully, checking the backseat and scanning the surrounds before she pops the locks to let either of them into it.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena isn't so obviously checking over her shoulders as she had several weeks prior on her first mission with May. While she'd been gone, before that she'd been taking lessons pretty seriously from the Boss, and while she's not ready for secret agent life alone, she's definitely showing signs of improvement. Even hugging May because that's what old friends would do! Even though it could end up getting one of her arms broken!

Clever girl.

She doesn't mention a thing about what she'd seen on the news, not until they're good and safe inside the sedan. Bag tossed over her shoulder into the back seat, checking the glove box for a pistol, which she genuinely hopes is there. Honestly, she almost never goes anywhere without one, but they're next to impossible to get through a commericial flight.

"What is going on, May?"

Melinda May has posed:
The fact May accepts the hug either proves how serious the situation is, that she'd engage in such a display; how professional she is, which is to say *very*, or how glad she is to see Elena. Frankly, there's likely some combination thereof at work.

There's a pistol, to be sure. A compact Baretta. Not an ICER. May pulls the one she was concealing out from beneath the steering column and slides it into the holster under her jacket. She eases the car out of its spot, heading for the exit.

"Someone got their hands on footage from almost every single one of our big missions over the past year and gave it to the Secretary of Defense, spinning HYDRA's actions as ours." The nuke in the Amazon, for instance, or how Daisy brought down the underground fortress in Saudi Arabia. "SHIELD is now classifed as a terrorist organization and most of our highest level agents are on the government's most wanted list. Quake among them."

She scowls openly, now. "It all happened after we wrapped up the Iron Fortitude case." A beat. "And after we captured Vogel and hit the Pacifica Complex in LA to try to nab List." I.e. After Peggy's secret investigation into HYDRA elements in SHIELD hit the big time and attracted a little too much notice from their enemies.

She gives her friend a sidelong glance. "And that's the Cliff's Notes version of the Cliff's Notes version. It's just the tip of the iceburg."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena checks the baretta, held down between her legs out of view, then slides it into the back of her waistband bneath her coat. Everything she lacks in espionage training she more than makes up for in weapons handling and obviously feels more comfortable when armed. With everything she'd seen, is that even a surprise?

Silently, she listens to the very bridged version of events with a growing scowl curling the corners of her mouth. "Dios mio." She murmurs with a quieted sigh, "How they get all this footage? Why is there footage at all... I know there is a leak in SHIELD, but how-..." She sighs again and shakes her head.

"Where does everyone hide now? Daisy is okay?" Glancing over at May with a frown, "Peggy too, si?"

Melinda May has posed:
May nods quickly. "Yeah," she says, reassuring her. "They're fine. We've regrouped at a place in Long Island." A beat. She gives a loaded half-laugh. "Peggy and her husband bought the place back in the early fifties. He... died in '56. She kept the house but closed it up. It's come in handy now."

Another beat and another rueful laugh, just a hint of stress crawling up the edges of it. "Oh. And her husband -- Daniel Sousa? -- he just appeared here, too. Him and, we think, some long dead HYDRA leader. Possibly the guy who commissioned the temple under the Vatican. So there's that."

Yeah. Elena picked a helluva time to go on vacation.

"Daniel and Peggy are both fine and adjusting. I don't think Peggy's registered, yet, that, at some point, we're going to have to send him back home." Where he's going to die. Yeah. She's really not happy about that. "Daisy and Jemma are sharing one of the spare bedrooms. I have the other, but you're welcome to it. I've got a place in Chinatown I can hide in, in the meantime." She inhales a deep breath. "It gives me breathing room. I can't handle that many high emotions packed ito such a tight space. Especially not with Vogel imprisonned in the basement."

Did she forget to mention that part, too?

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
This is a whole lot to unpack.

Elena stares out the windshield as May both drives and drops all the bombshells. Her hands sit against the inside of her legs and one could almost see her getting older by the shadows around her eyes with each new piece of information. "I picked a very bad time to go on vacation." Mirroring what May was probably indirectly thinking, if not overtly so.

Not that she'd have made even a snowballs chance in hell of a difference.

She'd have been here and that've been important.

"No, maybe... si. I want to see everyone, but I do not know if it is good to put all of the eggs in a basket?" Glancing over with a small frown. Vogel imprisonned in the basement. No, she had definitely not mentioned that part at all.

"You guys do not half ass anything."

Melinda May has posed:
"No, we do not," May agrees, easing out into traffic to begin the trek back into the city. "You're welcome to bunk with me in Chinatown. There's space. We'll need to check in at Long Island regularly -- it's all hands on deck right now, especially guarding the one HYDRA head we've got access to."

She shakes her head. "It's a more secure holding situation than you'd think. The basement is a fallout shelter and panic room. We stripped it of anything personal, anything the man could use against us or himself, reversed the locks, and put him in there. Barton is acting as his handler."

She gives a mild shrug, merging lanes onto the freeway. "The Triskellion fell to the US armed forces a week ago, now. Glenn Talbot is the man holding it, though we understand General Hale's the woman in charge. His taskforce is hunting us. So far, he hasn't turned up much. We'd like to keep it that way. But it's only a matter of time."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"Si, that would be good." Elena agrees after a moments thought of Chinatown, "Do not want to make it easy to find us." What a shit show that would turn out to be, though. Right in the middle of Long Island? The collateral damage would be extensive. It's enough that she frowns, even as she's nodding to the explanation of how secure the facilities are holding Vogel.

"Do we have plan? Hard to keep investigating HYDRA if we are always on the run. What about Captain America and Avengers? They are hunting us too? Are they //being// hunted?" That's clearly a terrifying thought, no matter which of those two things it might be. Worlds protectors protecting the world from SHIELD?

Or being rounded up?

She takes in a slow breath and sighs. "Did not like the Trisk anyways. Felt like a doctors office all the time with shiny walls and everything is metal."

Melinda May has posed:
May smiles faintly at that. "It made for a great panopticon, though," she says. She checks her mirrors, making sure they're not being followed as she continues to weave her way across the bridge and back into the City proper.

"We've got... half of a plan," she sighs, eventually. "We need to find out who the mole is. Vogel gave us some info on a Russian who may be the key to it. We either hit him, or we grab Huttz. Odds are favouring the Russian."

She reaches up to rub the back of her neck, one hand still on the wheel, eyes still on the road. Indeed, the woman looks a lot more worn than the last time Elena saw her, if she looks closely enough beneath the vague disguise. She looks like she's been through the wringer. "In the meantime, I think Morse is trying to scare us up a new base of operations. I haven't heard anything concrete, but the last time I saw her she was in contact with Hill. So, we may be able to safely regroup soon enough."

She certainly hopes so, anyway.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"So we still have top support from Hill and Fury?" Hill at least, Fury because where one goes... She's banking on that simple fact, anyways. Glancing over at May once, then again. The second is more inspective, curious of the haggard expresison on her friends face. All that they've been going through while she was away in Columbia would be enough to put anyone into a dark place, but there seems to be something more. Something unsaid.

Possibly something personal.

Elena's jaw flexes, squinting for a half count, and then she looks back forward. "Something is wrong. No te conozco tan bien, pero lo suficientemente bien.. what is happening that you are not saying?" It's an invitation, but just as likely she expects it to be brushed aside as nothing more than understandable stress.

Melinda May has posed:
"As far as I know, yes," May replies. "As to where they are or what they're doing? Your guess is as good as mine." They're in the dark in more ways than one. Naturally.

Her hands flex a little on the steering wheel as Elena probes. She can sense the woman's curosity -- as well as every other emotion she's feeling. The concern, both personal and for their friends and the mission at large. She may not be able to put name to all the reasons behind the emotions, but she can put a name to all the emotions quite well.

"You remember Afterlife?" she says, the non-sequitur a bit jarring, no doubt. It's been about that long since they've seen each other, after all. She debates how much to say about it but, in the end, Elena is the one person aside from Daisy who might understand her current frustration and, yes, fear. She can admit that privately, even if it never gets said out loud.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"Would be very odd change if they suddenly became forthcoming." Elena says with a smirk that she doesn't actually feel at the inclinations of Hill and Fury to be entirely too secretive. Even when they probably shouldn't be, given the situation. That part of the job will never be easy for her... the deception. She's gotten a little better at it, but it's still so alien and uncomfortable for her.

Which is fairly well obvious without empathy.

More so with it.

She fidgets a little at the shift in May's question, figuring it for a distraction to keep her from probing. Understandably, she doesn't try to weasel the conversation back to the previous subject, unaware that... well... "Si." How could she forget?

So many inhumans killed. It was the last she'd fought with all of the team and one of the major reasons she'd taken a vacation. Elena still has a trimmer in her left hand every now and then from that fight. Most of the nerves in her arm were fried. "Still do not feel my fingertips some nights."

Melinda May has posed:
May winces a little at that confession. "That's not good. Maybe we can get Jemma to take a look at it."

She falls silent for long enough that it probably almost seems like she's done with talking. Then, however, she speaks again. "When HYDRA hit Afterlife," she says quietly, "a cluster of Terragen crystals shattered in my face. They killed Gonzales."

They didn't kill her.

"The adjustment has been... difficult lately."

Way to undersell it, Melinda.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena accepts it, that silence. Accepts that May plays things close to her chest, that's expected, and kind of endearing if the Columbian is honest. Because it means she can pry. A little grin curling the corner of her mouth as she watches traffic pass them by. Comfortable, nodding, but comfortable at the notion of Jemma taking a look. "I had intended to go see her before I go on vacation, but it did not play out that way."

Then a bit more silence.

She's forming up the next question when May makes her own confession. Breaks lock, dark eyes turn to look at the Boss with a series of rapid blinks. "... Oh..." Yeah, that explains the shadows under her eyes. Underselling it is sort of expected where it comes to May, so it must be pretty bad.

"Tu bueno?"

Melinda May has posed:
May tilts her head from side to side in a bit of a half-shrug that's neither a nod nor a denial. "I'm an empath," she says bluntly, fully recognizing the irony of that statement. The Ice Queen of SHIELD. A *feeler*.

"I'm an empath who's been stuck in a house with a bunch of people who's emotions are running so high I'm pretty sure Danvers could actually see them from space." While her tone is measured, if subtly skewing a trifle dark, her words only touch the surface of the depth of her current problems.

"I spent three weeks nearly emotionless, myself, only affected by others' emotions if they touched me. Only gradually beginning to sense them from a distance. Now..." She shakes her head, eyes still on the road as the tall buildings of Lower Manhattan rise up around them and she steers them closer to her safehouse in Chinatown.

"Now, my own emotions have decided to kick back in and I'm pretty sure I can sense the emotions of every single person in a 300-foot radius around me at all times." She glances to the young woman. "This is New York. Do you *know* how many people can get within 300 feet of you at one time? Because, I sure do."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"A lot?" Elena clearly doesn't understand rhetorical questions. Frowning at her friends plight, she glances over and tries to steel herself so there's one less person assailing May with emotions that are not her own. "That has to be very difficult." Now who's underselling, right?

One hand comes up, thumb rubbing in the corner of her eye, and a laugh echoing heavy in the cab of the sedan as they ride. A laugh that grows a little, until she's almost barrelling over. "Is kind of ironic though, si?" Again she glances over.

"Sorry... this is not funny." Straight face, until the smile cracks the attempt and her shoulders rock silently. "I am glad I am home, maybe I can help you with this? Somehow."

Melinda May has posed:
Elena's amusement is infectious in more ways than one for May. She snirks, clearly not wanting to laugh, but feeling somewhat compelled to, nevertheless. "Oh, trust me," she says dryly, a hit of a smile pulling lopsidedly across her lips. "The irony is not lost on me. My ex-husband would be torn be between laughing his ass off and putting me into therapy, I expect."

Still, truthfully, the desire to laugh and what it does to her body is, in fact, a good thing. Even that dry chuckle is enough to release some of her tension. See, this is why it's good to be away from Long Island.

She gives a mild shrug in the end, her shoulders releasing a small amount of tension at least. "Honestly? I'm not much of a talker. I prefer 'aggression therapy'," I.e. hitting things repeatedly very, very hard, "not touchy-feely crap. You keep being you and that will be the biggest help of all." She gives a conciliatory nod of her head. "It's just good to know there's someone aside from Daisy who 'gets it'."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"Si..." Elena says after she's gotten control of herself, even if she's still grinning. With everything going on, all the stuff they're going to have to face, it's good to have a genuine laugh with a friend. It's therapeutic, "No, I am not much of a talker either." At least not about herself. She deals with things internally, even if she runs her mouth near constantly about other things.

Even that, however, is something someone has to warm up to.

"We get it. We are here... don't have a lot of the answers, but maybe being around people who understand can help you create safety nets against feeling everything all the time? That is how my speed works.. I think. That is what they say anyways."

Melinda May has posed:
"Sometimes," May says, "I almost think I can block it all out. But mostly, I just channel it into other things." Just like she's always done. Pull it in, contain it, and channel it into theraputic aggression. It's always worked for her before now. She grimaces faintly, another sardonic laugh escaping her. "Which is fine until HYDRA decides to go and destroy the world and everyone starts *reacting*."

Which hints at the core of her problem. Channelling her *own* emotions is one thing. Managing a full football field full of roiling emotions? Who can really do that?

She needs to learn blocking and she knows it.

She turns the corner and eases into an alley way behind one of the many narrow, red-brick buildings with green fire escapes in Chinatown. The building is the equivalent of four window spaces wide and about five storeys high. There's a spot for the sedan tucked against the back of the building.

"This is it." The place where her safehouse is.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
They're pulling up towards the safehouse and Elena is still considering the reality of May's new situation. "You have tried a tinfoil hat?" That part is obviously a joke, a stalling technique while she thinks up a realistic suggestion, and literally the only time she'll ever get to say that it's relevant to the conversation.

So how could she not?

"Maybe it is like building up immunity... get out into the thick of it, where there is heavy emotions, and let them wash over you. Or micro exposures until you build up tolerance? Trying to be where people are not to avoid feeling their emotions probably does not help much..."

Melinda May has posed:
"Yeah, that was working until we found Sousa," May says as she closes the door and locks the car. She heads toward the back door of the building. "It didn't work so well at the Swordfish, either, when the news dropped."

She unlocks the door and steps aside to let Elena in, too. Then, she's heading for the stairs to a small apartment on the third floor -- low enough the fire escapes are a viable egress, but high enough not to require a large number of extra defenses. (There are *always* extra defenses.)

"I nearly hyperventilated when we found Sousa. Peggy..." She takes off her hat and rakes a hand through her hair before she unlocks the apartment door and lets Elena in there. "Fuck, that woman needs therapy."

No one should have to live so long with what all she's gone through.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"She is over 100 years old, si?" Elena follows along with her hands in her pockets, checking her corners without going into full tactical mode. May is sure to run a safe ship, but with the whole of the US government looking for them, it's best to be safe than sorry right?

"I can imagine she has many issues stored away just waiting for empathy to come around and send out-" Wiggling her fingers in every direction, rotating her arms around in a semi-circle, "-feelers into all the dark parts of her emotional well beings."

She clearly doesn't fully scope how all this empathical stuff works, but the jist is all there.

Elena slips inside and slides her coat off, hanging it on the back of a chair before sliding the pistol out of the back of her pants to lay within reach on a table.

Melinda May has posed:
"She'll be 100 in..." May pauses in the midst of taking off her jacket. "Huh. Five days." It figures, though, that she'd know when Peggy's birthday is. (Yeah, someone saw a file somewhere.)

Regardless, the jacket comes off and gets tossed across the back of a kitchen chair. The pistol stays on for the moment. She does a quick walkthrough of the apartment, listening, checking and, frankly, *feeling* for intruders. Unsurprisingly, there are none.

Satisfied, she moves back into the kitchen to the kettle and lays a hand on it. "You want tea? I can probably scare up some coffee," not that she drinks it, herself, "otherwise there's a six-pack in the fridge."

Still, she can't help but agree. "And I'm not saying I'm *surprised* by her issues. No one survives more than a year or two in SHIELD without beginning to collect them. Those of us who are lifers have more than most." She can admit that much. "I just didn't want to be very publically privy to all the feelings they unleashed when she saw her husband for the first time in decades." The one man who was able to eclipse Steve Rogers in the old spy's heart. To say it was a charged reunion is an understatement.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
That... yeah... Elena blows out a hard sigh at the implications of such a reunion and what it must have been like for May. "That was probably a lot to deal with, emotionally." Quiet observation, very undersold. The theme for the evening, as it turns out.

As far as refreshments, she opts for the beer. Heading for the kitchen to grab one, twist the cap off, and guzzle on it. Absently leaning against the door to the fridge watching May curiously. "What is it with you and coffee? Why do you not like it? I realize this is a very strange question with everything going on, all the things we could be talking about, but..." She shrugs, cants her head, and takes another drink.

Melinda May has posed:
May barks a quick laugh. "Coffee is probably the most innocuous subject we could discuss," she admits. And she's perfectly okay with that. She puts the kettle on, regardless. "I like the smell of coffee," she admits. "But I grew up with tea. I prefer green tea, if I'm honest. It helps me think. The black tea Peggy likes is fine, and probably packs twice the amount of caffiene coffee does. But there are more nuances in teas, I find."

She considers that a moment. "It could be cultural bias, too. But I always found coffee too bitter to be more than an occasional drink." So she *will* drink it. But not if there's another option.

She ignores the comment about the emotional ordeal. Not because it's unfounded but because she doesn't feel it needs further elaboration. Elena gets it. She can tell.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"You are drinking the wrong coffee." Elena figures, because that's the obvious explanation, "Probably there is cultural bias too. Which I can understand. Columbia produces some of the best coffee on the world." She too is bias on the matter, obviously. Sucking down a bit more of her beer.

The bottle is set on the counter, within reach, so she can lean with her arms crossed.

"Never really understand tea.. Or did not have much opertunity for drinking it. Seems cultured. The difference between bottom and top shelf caffiene." Moving her hand up and down indicatively.

"I think tea and then I think of sitting in a state room with my legs crossed talking about world politics with my bridge club."

Melinda May has posed:
May arches a brow at that. "Too much Downton Abby," she opines. "China had tea long before the Brits. And you haven't been in a brawl until you've seen a mahjong hall emptied on an accusation of cheating." She spent much of her career in Shanghai, prior to Loki's attack on New York. When she wasn't protecting Coulson's ass. And even then. Until Bahrain.

"Though, to be fair, baijiu *may* have something to do with that, too." Baijiu, the Chinese equivalent to moonshine... but legal. And the good stuff is equivalent to Laphroaig or better.

There's a beat. A hint of a playful glint comes to her dark eyes. "You play bridge?" She highly doubts it. "I'll teach you Dou Dizhu, sometime, if we find a third." A wry smile touches her lips. "Coulson had more of a head for it than he realized. I don't suppose I should ever have been surprised."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"Mahjong. I have that on my phone." Elena points out at May with a grin, as if this revelation is inspired and now they've bridged the cultural gap between Columbia and China with but the download of an application to her smart phone.

"Don't knock Downtown Abby. Or the Brightons." She murmurs under her breath, rubbing a palm along the side of her jaw, then back across her neck. "I have really gotten very fond of television. Telemundo is great, Daisy and I share a love for it, but American television is just so colorful."

As for learning Dou Dizhu, she grins. "Love to, si. Maybe we get Peggy as a third. Or Coulson. Once all of this blows over..." Optimism is important.

Melinda May has posed:
Dou dizhu. The Chinese answer to poker-meets-euchre. Sorta. "I expect Peggy would have a head for it, too," she agrees. "It's best played with third. It can be played with four or five." A beat. "I haven't watched a lot of tv in years," she admits.

Hell, while there actually is a tv in the apartment, it has quite a bit of dust on it and, were it turned on, it would be on CNN. "I'm usually too busy working."

Shock. Really. (Not.)

She finally gets around to pouring her tea, taking the cup into the living room where an old couch and chair sit near a fairly generic coffee table. "The room at the far end of the hall is mine," she says, gesturing to the corridor leading back into the small apartment. "But you can grab the other one, when you want it. Tomorrow morning, we'll head back out to Long Island. Let everyone know you're back."

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
"When we have time, we will grab her for a game then." Elena agrees with that, reaches out and finishes her beer with a lazy lift of the bottle. Peeking down the hall, past the dust covered television, at the rooms indicated with a brisk nod. "It will be good to see the rest of the team, even if the situation is not so good." The bottle is tossed into a trashcan as she makes her way to the couch with a grunt.

Her head rests on the arm, one leg down with her foot flat, and the other with the ankle braced up against the oposite arm. "Probably could use a nap. Flight wasn't very long, but the lady next to me kept chattering on and on about her grand kids. It is hard to ignore cute old women who are adorably talking about their young grand children."

Melinda May has posed:
It's no secret Elena has a soft spot for family like that. May nods, nonetheless. "Go nap," she suggests. "I'm going to sit up for a little while. There are towels in the closet outside the bathroom, if you want a shower. I may order in from Quon's in a little. If you want something, let me know. Otherwise, I'll pick." Her favourite authentic Chinese restaurant. (Which has been a fixture in Chinatown in some fashion or another since the late 1800's.)

She settles in the chair and fishes her phone out of her pocket. Yeah, it's generic, but it's encrypted. As is her local wi-fi. So... she'll risk it.

But it's time to go digging.

Elena Rodriguez has posed:
Elena rolls off the couch with a stiffled yawn, walking around the end to grab her pistol off the table to take it with her to the room. She trusts May, explicitly, but with all that's happening she wouldn't want to be caught without something to defend herself with. "Whatever you order will be perfectly fine. Just get a lot of it... very hungry." Which is also nothing new.

She walks backwards a couple steps, grinning at May, then swipes around on her toes to finish the journey to the room. A shower, then a nap. That sounds wonderful. The steam will help her sort through everything she's been told and the nap will give her a fresh mind to start figuring out how to proceed.

All in all, it's still pretty good to be home.