[b]Lynn[/b] [i]..bably won't ever get this, but, yeah. Sorry. Ly -[/i] There was a knocking at the door and Lynn started, the hair bound back in boxer braids going from the gentle shimmer of dying coals to snakes of orange and red. The pen and paper in her hands fell to the floor. Lynn sprang up, heart pounding, thinking for a half second the knock on the door had to be Salamandra, and an instant later she was as convinced it was Gennedy. [i]Leotard,[/i] Lynn thought. [i]That Judas motherfucker.[/i] Lynn grabbed the duct-taped handled toothbrush shiv she'd been idly crafting the night before and slowly approached the door. "Lynn? Lynn Holmes?" The voice was a man's, high-pitched and reedy. Emotionally, it provoked the same response as the person at the DMV calling your name over the intercom. Lynn paused. [i]An illusionist.[/i] Her heart folded over on itself and then sank, her face and fire flickering. [i]Eli...? Eli wouldn't...[/i] Lynn stared at the door, heart thundering in her chest and in her skull. "I, uh, was coming by as scheduled. For your follow-up. You're late." Lynn blinked. It was like five in the morning. Follow-up, was this...wait, no... "We just wanted to touch base and make sure you've been eating three square - " "Oh, son of a bitch," Lynn said, opening the door and slipping the toothbrush behind her into the waist of her jeans. There was no one there. Immediately, Lynn's mind surged back to illusionist, and she stepped backwards, trying to keep her senses primed for a ripple on the carpet, the smell of aftershave. "Cordelia Lynn Holmes," Cara's voice said. "I was just fucking with you. Packet wished for me to ensure you were awake at this time." Lynn stared incredulously up at the ceiling. Fucking toasters. --- Lynn stood looking in front of the mirror in her room. She didn't recognize herself, although Lynn wondered, in a rare moment of genuine introspection that was most certainly not brought on by feelings of impending doom, when she ever really had. Her hair was a muted blue, like a gas fire whose valve had been turned almost all the way off. Her hair was mousy and her thin frame was entirely masked under the mountain of clothes she was wearing. Lynn had a wifebeater under a button up shirt, with a baggie hoodie on top, and the wool jacket that Denim had picked up. Keaton had also insisted on a scarf, which Lynn thought was both utterly useless and stupid, but she had worn lazily around her neck anyway. It was a simple gray, which was as far as Lynn would go in terms of fashion (old habits of avoiding bright colors died hard). She wore the pair of jeans that had the least amount of holes, and the singular pair of thick wool socks she had purchased made her feet snug in the stolen shoes she wore. Lynn slipped the shiv into her waistline where she could grab it more easily. [i]If Leotard gets any ideas when that collar's on, I'll fuck him right up.[/i] Lynn stared at the mirror for one minute more, then reached up slowly and pulled the bandages off from around her head and eye. It took a few minutes, moving gingerly, but they came away. The left side of her skull had pinkish skin, scar tissue that looked as if the gunshot had been a decade ago. The hair under the bandage was growing back more slowly, and did little to cover the wound as well as she liked. Inside the socket was an eyeball, vaguely formed and webbed white as if it were blinded by cataracts. Slowly, Lynn put her hand over her right eye. The world was blurry and halfway-defined, murky gray and distant. But there was something. Lynn took her hand away and took a deep breath. She grabbed the letters and a bag which she slung over her back. Inside the bag, a change of clothes was wrapped in a trash bag, because Cordelia Lynn Holmes was not going to die soaked in sewer sludge and smelling like ass. There were a few bottles of rubbing alcohol, a can of hairspray, and a big roll of duct tape. Lynn felt privately that covered every possible contingency she could foresee. Last but not least, buried at the bottom of the trash bag was the softest blanket she could find and a teddy bear. [i]Since you lost yours in the woods.[/i] Lynn took a deep breath and walked out, coming to the exit of the dorm buildings. She dropped three of the letters in the box, her fingers hesitating to let go of the fourth. She considered burning it, just while she could still burn anything she wanted for a few more minutes. "Fuck it," Lynn muttered, dropping Che's letter in the box and walking away. It was still before the dawn, and Lynn's whole body steamed as much as her breath misted before her as she walked through the quiet and the snow. --- Lynn walked up to behind the coffeeshop, teeth clenched as tightly as her fists. Packet was sitting alone, which about figured. Lynn eyed him for a minute, pacing around. Lynn didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She'd circled the coffeeshop a few times before approaching, glancing around for anyone hidden, any Promise security lurking. There was nothing. Lynn stood a few feet away from Packet. This was weird. As she stood still, the snow near her misted and melted. There was a pregnant quiet. "So," Lynn said, looking around. She had absolutely no idea what to talk with this guy about. Well. Hmm. He did, like, computer and machine stuff. That was something. "You ever on Soundcloud?"