Whole Lotta Shaking Going On

[got_a_number]

Jordan paces around not-Lincoln's home. She browses through enough of his self-celebratory magazines to know his name is Thomas Lincoln and that he's some famous architect or artist or daredevil, or maybe all three. It doesn't matter. She doesn't like him or his house. He's lived all his life on the outside, but he keeps his home like the Center.

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[renevatio]

The car pulls away, and the queasy feeling Lincoln had been nursing through his whole performance hits him full strength. He wants to scrub his mouth of the Tom-like things he had to say -- but most of all he wants to find someplace to curl up and hide for a while. For the second time that day, he peers into the retinal scanner and the edgeless metallic door slides open. He walks inside with no guardedness at all.

The house feels empty. Lincoln stops in the middle of the living room. What was going on? Had Tom informed them of Jordan being here? Had she been collected while they were gone? Panic rises in the back of his throat. "Jordan?"

[got_a_number]

She gasps, hearing her name sound so normal. But it could be a trick. Lincoln sometimes slipped into another accent, and who's to say not-Lincoln couldn't do it right back. She doesn't answer, just presses tighter against the wall and bites the insides of her lips, holding her breath to keep from making a noise.

Whichever one it is is getting closer and she's tensing up. Any second now...

[renevatio]

Lincoln licks his lips, more anxious now than ever. A quick sweep of the downstairs doesn't reveal her. Knowing Jordan, there would have been a struggle -- unless whoever took her didn't fight fair.

He leaps up the stairs two at a time, trying to remain calm. "Jordan?" She's not in the spare bedroom, or the office, or the bathroom. He comes to Tom's bedroom and stops dead in his tracks. "Oh God..."

Glass everywhere, the lingering smell of gunpowder, clothes strewn over the floor and no Jordan. Knees weak, Lincoln stumbles into the middle of the room, unable to speak.

[got_a_number]

She sees him run up the stairs, but couldn't get a good enough look to assure herself one way or another. Silently, using all the stealth she possesses, Jordan eases her way up the staircase after him, keeping low as she passes the hole in the wall. She peers through it