miracles will happen as we trip but we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy
Apartment-hunting - in New fucking York of all places - is not exactly how Gates planned to be sending September, but it turns out to be how it works out anyway. She doesn't really want to go back to Liverpool, and Harry's been making noises in her ear about moving out of the damn office for years, anyway. It's not really a serious thing - she can always go back, after all, and she'd have to think long and hard about what she's going to do if she relocates all the way to the states.
It's not like she can't run a website from about anywhere, but her private investigator's license might not hold up in NYC the way it does in the UK. She'll have to look into that. If she does it. If she wants to keep doing that. There are too many ifs involved in this.
She sees a few places with a harried real estate agent, and ends up swinging by a carriage house in Cobble Hill purely because they're in the area anyway and it's showing. Not really in her price range, but-
Gates pauses, looking at the woman with her. "I think I actually might be interested after all. I've got to check a few things, love, make a few calls - be in touch, yeah?"
It's later at her motel that she puts her feet up against the side of the bathtub while she waits for it to fill, leaving a message on Maria's machine.
"Maria, babe! Gates. I have a brilliant fucking idea, but I need you on board and some real fast talking. Call me back immediately. Ta!"