Relieving her arms of the boxes and bags she had carried across the market, Wren lifted her head to the shadowed office and let out a breath, one that rose her shoulders and lowered them again. She frowns, marveling to herself on the audacity she sometimes kept. To come here, to find herself at her desk, with all these things? Why oh why?

She'd moved out of her apartment a few nights ago. Stayed at Dickies, even at the Inn, the hours when little a chance was there of Eyes watching and Ears hearing, and she had then decided to bring her few belongings to the office. For the meantime. She was certain Alain would understand. Give her some providence, at least for a day.


Mustering her will, though with some reticence, she clicked a pen from the jar on her desk and wrote a few lines for Alain, stating her return, her intention, and leaving a squiggle of a smiley face at the bottom, beneath her name. Her name, little bird, one she'd forgotten for a while. Wren.

Taping the note down, she locked the office door behind her and took off down the street.