Savage Garden, Alcove B2, Sunday Afternoon
George had not received any Post-Its this morning. Or the previous morning. Or, honestly, any morning since she had packed up her things and moved from room 408 down to this ... cabin. Thing.
George wasn't all that great at Roughing It, but if being out here got her out of her more ... extracurricular activities, then she was not going to object.
She should have known it couldn't last forever.
"I don't see how this is my fault," she said, into her cell phone. Why hadn't she had the sense to not answer it?
"You didn't think to pass the information along, Peanut?" Rube, her boss, was less than thrilled with her. His usual.
"No? I mean ... I figured ... you guys had it all under control." A blatant lie. Her usual.
"Well, we don't," he sighed. "All hell's broken loose. The organization on the Eastern seaboard would make a stronger man than myself weep. Not that I have wept, for I assure you, no tears have passed these eyes."
"I didn't think you had," she said. "I fucked up the entire Eastern seaboard? I didn't even leave the island." She wasn't sure if she felt more guilty or impressed by that. A little of both.
"Your little sojourn in the woods, though timely, is not the root cause of our problems," Rube informed her. "Pack your things. You have a portal at 10 PM Eastern, which is 7 PM Pacific. Just in case you were going to plead the inability to read a clock as an excuse for not appearing, which will have consequences the likes of which you will not enjoy."
Before George could feign ignorance of that, he hung up.
(NFI, but broadcast is a-OK. This is me getting George off-island, zomg.)
George wasn't all that great at Roughing It, but if being out here got her out of her more ... extracurricular activities, then she was not going to object.
She should have known it couldn't last forever.
"I don't see how this is my fault," she said, into her cell phone. Why hadn't she had the sense to not answer it?
"You didn't think to pass the information along, Peanut?" Rube, her boss, was less than thrilled with her. His usual.
"No? I mean ... I figured ... you guys had it all under control." A blatant lie. Her usual.
"Well, we don't," he sighed. "All hell's broken loose. The organization on the Eastern seaboard would make a stronger man than myself weep. Not that I have wept, for I assure you, no tears have passed these eyes."
"I didn't think you had," she said. "I fucked up the entire Eastern seaboard? I didn't even leave the island." She wasn't sure if she felt more guilty or impressed by that. A little of both.
"Your little sojourn in the woods, though timely, is not the root cause of our problems," Rube informed her. "Pack your things. You have a portal at 10 PM Eastern, which is 7 PM Pacific. Just in case you were going to plead the inability to read a clock as an excuse for not appearing, which will have consequences the likes of which you will not enjoy."
Before George could feign ignorance of that, he hung up.
(NFI, but broadcast is a-OK. This is me getting George off-island, zomg.)