periodically.
You do what you gotta do to keep on keeping on. This phrase is a key tenet to Lia's worldview, and as such, she sticks to it pretty much a hundred percent of the time.
As such, she doesn't feel the slightest bit of remorse or guilt or any of that nonsense when she goes and leaves a particular deputy U.S. Marshal in the dust to sleep off an extra dose of morphine after getting kind of mauled by a couple of werewolves while being entirely uncertain as to whether or not said mauling made him likewise lycanthropic.
Nope. Lia is entirely fine with that chain of events and her exeunt thereof.
...Totally dandy. Peachy, even.
So she's not at all sure what the hell she's doing when halfway across Oklahoma, three days after ditching her Fed, she gets out of the cab she's hitching west in to find the nearest net cafe. Google's a hell of a thing, and she finds out in short order that whole Miami mess and the address of the Marshals office in Lexington, Kentucky. The confusion only grows as she starts walking back east the way she came along I-40, thumb cocked out for whichever kind gent would be willing to give her a lift.
It's three days to the full moon when she finally gets to Lexington. She wastes the majority of a day trying to figure out where the hell he lives - Lexington's the biggest town she's been in for a while, and it's not like she's any kind of tracker, okay. But eventually she gets from the office to a motel and from there to a door.
One last minute to sigh and shake her head at herself because seriously, what is she even doing right now, and then she kicks at the door. ...Knocking is too mainstream.
As such, she doesn't feel the slightest bit of remorse or guilt or any of that nonsense when she goes and leaves a particular deputy U.S. Marshal in the dust to sleep off an extra dose of morphine after getting kind of mauled by a couple of werewolves while being entirely uncertain as to whether or not said mauling made him likewise lycanthropic.
Nope. Lia is entirely fine with that chain of events and her exeunt thereof.
...Totally dandy. Peachy, even.
So she's not at all sure what the hell she's doing when halfway across Oklahoma, three days after ditching her Fed, she gets out of the cab she's hitching west in to find the nearest net cafe. Google's a hell of a thing, and she finds out in short order that whole Miami mess and the address of the Marshals office in Lexington, Kentucky. The confusion only grows as she starts walking back east the way she came along I-40, thumb cocked out for whichever kind gent would be willing to give her a lift.
It's three days to the full moon when she finally gets to Lexington. She wastes the majority of a day trying to figure out where the hell he lives - Lexington's the biggest town she's been in for a while, and it's not like she's any kind of tracker, okay. But eventually she gets from the office to a motel and from there to a door.
One last minute to sigh and shake her head at herself because seriously, what is she even doing right now, and then she kicks at the door. ...Knocking is too mainstream.