[color=00aeef]FRIEDA RICHTER[/color] - Salem -- darkety dark dark

Waylon dismissively waved his hand, “Nowhere in particular really, just thought about grabbing a beer at the diner. I saw you there for a minute yesterday but I had to get Shelby out of there, she's terrified of muties.” He walked alongside Frieda towards Brandy's place. “I agree, I’m not too sure about street lights either, that would almost guarantee an attack, most likely after dark.” 

"[i]Thank you![/i]" Frieda groaned, raising her free hand into the air.  "Finally, someone else with some motherfucking [i]sense[/i]."  In her elation, she didn't even try to watch her language.

He walked Frieda to the door, “I can go grab a rifle if you’d like some company? I mean, I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself, so please don’t take that the wrong way. Just thought two might be better than one, it you want that is?”

It was all she could do to keep herself from jumping up and down screaming [i]OHMYGODYESWOULDYOUPLEASE[/i].  It wasn't the part about handling herself, she was simply, already, feeling nervous about standing out at the end of that road, all alone.  She tried to play it off cool, or at least, casually.  "I'm not used to people being...nice," was the best she had, "and I wouldn't mind the company.  Might make it harder for someone to sneak up on us, you know?"  She walked into Brandy's always-tidy house.  "I'll be back in a sec."

"Brandy?  Are you home?" she called into the house.  There was no answer.  She put her coffee onto a mantle then Frieda hopped up the stairs to her room and dug around her bag of still-dirty laundry, realizing she hadn't had a chance to wash her clothing yet.  [i]I'll have to ask Brandy about that, tomorrow.[/i]  She pulled out her faded green sweatshirt, causing her dog tags to tumble out of the bag as well.  Her first instinct was to snatch them up and hurriedly stuff them back into the bottom of her bag, but she paused.  Frieda stared at the pressed steel in her hands, then stuffed them into the back pocket of her pants.  As she straightened, she saw Brandy's pistol still on her dresser, after she confiscated it the night before.  She considered just slipping the firearm into Brandy's room, then remembered immediately how the younger woman had nearly shot her own foot off by accident, and instead put it into a dresser drawer.

[i]I'll teach her how to shoot it as part of my 'rent.'  ...and for my own peace of mind.[/i]

Frieda clattered back down the stairs, collected her tepid, at best, coffee, and met Waylon at the front door.  "Hey, if you still want to hit the diner, we better boogie.  That waitress with a bad attitude told us a couple hours ago she wanted to close up.  Plus, my coffee could use a warm up."

They walked back down the street towards the diner.  "Yeah, I guess I'm part of Barney's 'militia,' but I managed to weasel some caps out of the gig.  Mainly I'm the clinic guard, but I'd rather take a watch at the road than have to jump out of bed and confront someone within the clinic, itself.  And that's assuming the doc would get out in time to even call for me..."

"Here," she said, lingering at the doorway to the diner and handing Waylon her empty coffee cup, and thinking better of another dose of the gut rot.  "I actually don't need that, anymore.  I'll meet you at the main road."

Frieda made her way down he street, lighting up another cigarette, noticing how bright it looked against her hand as she held it in the dark.  She looked up to the sky, noticing it was at least clear, and hoped for some decent moonlight.  As she passed the inn from down the street, she saw Celeste clutching Adam at the door.  Frieda rolled her eyes and took another, soothing puff off her smoke.

The old museum of witchcraft seemed to be the border edge of town, with a long abandoned parking lot off the other side of the road.  Frieda gazed at the building for some time, reflecting upon its architecture, and how gloomy it looked in the dark.  She thought she heard some kind of thundering growl from within, but that could easily have been the old frame settling in what was becoming a cool night.  She looked around her immediate surroundings to see there was really no cover to be had, unless she huddled up next to the spooky museum -- and she sure as hell wasn't about to do [i]that.[/i]  At least, not without a good reason.

She looked at the rusted out frame of a pre-war car, its salvageable parts stripped off some unknown time ago.  Frieda climbed up onto its roof, surveying her view, and decided she liked it.  She could see past the museum far enough up the road to observe any potential approach from either direction.  Frieda pulled her knees up to her chest.