(Untitled)

[tricelled]

[With its residents dead, dying, or out of their minds, Mayfield is quiet- moreso than usual. 1761 Beaver Street's drone husband mills about his morning business, oblivious to his "wife" waking up in their bed. The woman's eyes flicker open, and she sits up in a swift jerk. Her eyes scan the room almost mechanically, before widening in apparent

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[rainbowbrush]

[Relm is laying on the couch, too sick and weak too move.]

[tricelled]

[The P30 device snug beneath her dress, Jill steps out of the bedroom and into the living room, looking around. Mayfield. She's back in Mayfield. How could she have forgotten to begin with?

Her eyes settle on Relm, and she freezes instantly. She says nothing, instead simply staring at Relm with almost clinical dispassion.]

[rainbowbrush]

[Relm rolls over - and stares at Jill intently for a few seconds before speaking.]

Jill? Are you... back to normal? Why's your hair look funny?

[tricelled]

Relm.

What's happening?

[bustydefense]

Jill? Are you all right?

[tricelled]

[Dead silence from the other end.]

[bustydefense]

Jill, I'm pretty sure that's you. What's wrong?

[tricelled]

...

How long was I gone?

[normal_anomaly]

Huh?

[tricelled]

K-

Kyon? Is that... you?

[normal_anomaly]

Yeah, it is. You feeling all right?

[tricelled]

...What's happening in Mayfield?

[servantofoz]

Jill.

[A pause.]

Welcome back. So you went home like I did.

[tricelled]

...

Yes.

[servantofoz]

Are you alright?

[tricelled]

[Silence from the other end; Jill has hung up the phone and left. The man clearly has no more useful information for her.]