Suite 132 has been empty for a couple of months now: a 20 year old Mel was briefly in the bar, but she seemed to think she has another room. Now all there is is a fourteen year old lying on her side on the couch, drooling quietly onto the cushion.

Really, someone oughta roll her over so she doesn't drown.

She's nothing.

Well, that's that, then.

The doctors didn't say anything when Mel discharged herself. Why should they? She emptied her own cred account to pay part of the bill, and after a moment's thought, gave them Erin's cred number as well. Bitch can whine about it to herself, Mel doesn't care. They're done. Through.

She's NOTHINGShe couldn't ( Read more... )

The lurk across the river were dealt with easily and without fuss. Mel doesn't even think they were Harth's boys: just a bunch of restless idiots that had caught the eye of one of Erin's work mates ( Read more... )

( Life goes on )

The door opened.

Take care of the place for me.

Sorry I couldn't find you to say goodby properly.

It's just as she remembers it. Just as she dreams it, on the nights she's not dreaming of his death, or his return, or of Hell, or of one of the many many flashbacks that take the place of regular dreams in Mel's head ( Read more... )

It's early morning in suite 132, and by rights no normal person should be awake ( Read more... )

It's a fine day, and Mel is out by the lake on her rocketboard, just chilling out, running through some practice maneuvres. Mike's up to his cute little human ears in paperwork, and Mel had become a little bored with helping him make paper airplanes out of every piece of paper he doesn't understand, and sneaked out to enjoy the outdoors. The last ( Read more... )

The power sweeps through the bar, and the suites, and the office and the infirmary, shaking everyone within it. And everything ( Read more... )

Note at Bar left for anyone who might worry about Mel's whereabouts:

Gone on Grab. Don't wait up. - M.