Just a smalltown girl...

Of course after all the time she'd spent stuck in this town, it was as easy as walking through a door. Or a gate, or a trellis or whatever it was the clerk from the bakery had rushed out of while Bo was standing near the causeway trying to decide how she was going to pick a Viking. Look for one whose kids had more than the usual number of bruises?

"Where the hell did you come from," when he almost knocked her over, and "Baltimore," with a blink like she was the crazy one for asking, and here she was, in an alley behind a bar on Front Street in the middle of the night.

( Cut for minor violence/inappropriate touching/hungry succubus/you get the idea. )

[Off-island, NFB, etc. Up SUPER early for massive SP, for one who knows who he is, except he doesn't yet. DAMMIT.]

Other people may have had Vikings to fight; Bo had an entirely more mundane battle on her hands: moving into a new place with no job yet and barely enough cash in her pocket to cover a few nights in a roach motel, let alone first and last month's rent on a real apartment.

Luckily, her travel history was long enough and her time at any one job was short enough that she'd perfected a solution for this, the same solution she'd been using before she'd had to flee the last town.

Of course, the sign on this place didn't read Condemned. The sign read Morgan's Hardware. The sign also hung by one corner and swayed a little in the breeze, though, banging against a dust-streaked window. The mailbox affixed to the brick wall contained circulars and an electric bill dated April, 2010. Yeah, it would do. Even the front doorknob was covered in dust; nobody had been in here for a while.

Not that she was going to use it. Even in the middle of the night, there could still be people around to see and hear her shouldering her way into an abandoned shop by smashing the door off its hinges, especially with all the activity going on up at the school with the graduation ceremony, and everyone's guests in town. Bo wasn't stupid.

That's why she broke in the back door. Duh.

A brief, bright flash of light startled her for a moment, her shoulder still against the wood and the sound of splintering still in her ears, but it was dark again when she looked up. No cop car...cop bike...flashing up behind her, and the sky didn't open up and dump rain on her head, so Bo shrugged and made her way inside, pulling a flashlight out of her bag.

Ooh, there was still some hardware stock left in the back room. Awesome; she wouldn't have to spend anything to fix the door. Maybe there was even a key-press in here somewhere!

[La la la eeeestablishy and NFB!]