(no subject)
[When Faith woke, she didn't think anything of the empty half of the bed. But the room smelled fresh, free of gun and steel cleaner, of cigarette smoke. And that was wrong. This place screwing with them again?
She glanced at her clothes crumpled on the ground. The slick apartment layout Red had always kept up looked the Paradisa standard. Her things on a table, draped over the back of a chair. She saw empty hangers hiding in the open wardrobe where wrinkled suits should be.
Faith pulled the covers back slow, put her feet on the cool floor, eyes fixed straight ahead. She ran the water for a shower in silence, let the too hot stream pound on her flesh as she washed away the night before.
The cotton fabric slid easy over her skin. Her leather pants hugged her curves, the way she and everyone else liked, and Faith slouched on her boots. As she was ready to leave, she found a zippo lighter in her pocket. Over three years ago, in some smoke-filled bar under shit light that turned everything green, that zippo flipped open and lit her cigarette. Had a way with that. Fifteen minutes later, they'd been up against a brick wall, pulling clothes and christening her first week in Paradisa. She didn't remember his name, just the color of his hair.
What a joke, right?
She realized her hand was snagged on something, which was kinda funny, because she didn't realize she'd put it through the wall. The plaster kept falling, small flecks and large chunks littering the floor. And she was breathing hard, counting down. Those things that social worker chick with thick framed glasses kept telling her about loss and anger and all that bullshit were nagging in her head. A few of her weapons clattered to the ground as she slammed her hands on the desk. Her throat felt raw.
So she snatched the journal, leaving everything else behind. Faith didn't bother to look at the plate on the door; she already knew what was gone.]
[there's a fluttering of pages as she strides through the hall, carelessly opening the journal to make an announcement. There's a small smear of red on the paper, but her voice is flat]
Reno's gone.
[OOC: Anyone is welcome to intercept her on the way to ...where ever she's going, she doesn't even know.]