Abigail was on a bit of an artistic streak. Whatever coated the windows - some strange mix of grease and cigarette stains - made it easy to draw on. After she drew her sun, she smeared a line for a road. Siobhan regaled her with stories of a rickety little plane which elicited a grunt of acknowledgement, but it was so beyond her meagre scope of existence that she just didn't know how to respond to a tall tale such as that. Better to focus on her masterpiece. She started drawing the Billy bus, but when they entered a dark garage she cut her losses and slumped back into the seat to wait for something to happen.

In those fifteen minutes, Abigail immediately clocked on to a familiar fullness that let her know she needed to cast her flame spell quite soon. Her face twisted up. How long did it take to drive to the outback if you're not driving? What sort of repercussions would she discover if she shot a stream of purple fire out of the window and into interdimensional space? Before Abigail could weigh up the specifics, a new wave of discomfort - like someone slowly pouring a glass of water on her without any of the wet or the chill - swept through her body and she squirmed, screwing her eyes shut and stretching one leg out until that horrible feeling was over. At least it felt intentional; Billy was blessed with the inability to experience all the weirdness of blue magic and she watched him in the gloom from the advantageous circular clean spot of her sunshine. He opened the basement door and Abigail had enough light to keep drawing. She finished the Billy bus but it looked more like an RV than an old Kombi.

They pulled out of the basement and passed a corpse, though Abigail didn't immediately recognise it was a corpse, and wondered something along the lines of 'why's that lady lying down' before the realisation struck and that lapse in concentration mingled with the shock and the fright to produce a very small spurt of fire, one that licked the interior of the back window for little more than a second as Abigail grabbed her (now red and shiny, freshly burnt) wrist and stuffed the offending hand under her armpit. "Are they dead?" She blurted out as she doubled over with discomfort, fear, and the kneejerk reaction to keep her head out of the window lest she becomes an easy target. It was at this point that her missing the majority of the briefing began to have its effect as she stammered "well, what do we do now?!" And pointed at Angeline. "Whatever happens, I'm buddying up with you, first aid lady."