[center][IMG]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Mali%20Anson&name=Chris%27s%20Handwriting.ttf&size=50&style_color=D5FF00[/IMG] [hr][b]Location:[/b] Apartment 2B [hr][hr][/center] Well if there was one constant for the past 24 hours, it was that nothing was allowed to go right today for just about anyone. Danica (maybe) offed herself, the media get screwed out of a scoop, police officers are forced to do their job, a kid on the bus gets pistol whipped, and even the wifi decides to fuck up. Well, the nature of wifi was that it was a finicky bitch that never wanted to work properly, but it somehow still managed to come off as fishy as hell. Maybe she should buy a radio. It was certainly more consistent and a hell of a lot cheaper to maintain, even if she wouldn't have complete control of the musical selection. Eventually, she just decided [i]fuck it,[/i] just turn off the music. The choppy playbacks and long pauses for buffering or whatever the hell was going on was more distracting and irritating than if she had no music at all. Well, at least turning the damn thing off would allow the computer to charge more quickly than it was currently. Mali hovered over the exit button for a few seconds (on an unrelated note, why did Chrome decide to abandon the red X? It stood out better than the greyed out symbol they had now. Sure it didn't look "sleek," but Ui was supposed to be about function over form, right?) contemplating whether she should really just shut off the computer right now. There could be more news about Danica or Lyle's murder that she'd be missing out on. Then she figured that if there was, she'd certainly learn about it soon enough, and given how shoddy the internet was acting, it wouldn't be worth the headache as just waiting awhile and doing something more productive, like the unpacking she was supposed to be in the middle of right now. With that matter resolved, Mali got back to work. She picked up a nearby, recently emptied box and threw it into the kitchen, where it bounced off the top of a great pile of similarly empty boxes and clattered away from where it could be directly seen. Eh, close enough. They could all be broken down and neatly crammed into a dumpster later. She took a peek out the window, only to see the cops outside bickering with each other. Good ol' Justice camaraderie. No sign of any of the Targets. Mali groaned as she picked up the next box to sort through and unpack.