[ the walk from her room in thornbush inn to their little office isn't normally one marta would complain about, but that morning's torrential downpour proves any distance is immediately too far when one isn't properly equipped for such weather. from the way the townsfolk skitter beneath awnings or stay shut within their homes, it's safe to say no one of scorpion's bend is really prepared for the rain — though many seem grateful for the reprieve from badrock's suns anyway.
a cheerful bell signals her arrival in kovacs & cabrera detective agency; it was a remnant of the space's old use, grandfathered in out of a mix of apathy and a desire to make the place seem more furnished than it actually is, but the sound feels especially out of place now amidst the backdrop of rumbling thunder and pattering rain. she stands soaked by the door, clutching a tumbler of hot coffee in one hand and folded up scraps of paper in the other. the former untouched (not for her), and the latter plucked up from the little tin they have outside where locals can drop off minor requests for them without having to go through the rigamarole of coming in for questioning.
she glances over at the desk, not surprised to see kovacs seated at the chair, boots propped up over some scattered paperwork and hat tipped over his face. he looks to be sleeping, but marta can tell from the uneven rise and fall of his chest that that is not the case.
she walks over after shrugging off her jacket, ringing out her hair. the tumbler she sets by his feet, the papers she drops onto the desk to join the others. ]
day 14 —
a cheerful bell signals her arrival in kovacs & cabrera detective agency; it was a remnant of the space's old use, grandfathered in out of a mix of apathy and a desire to make the place seem more furnished than it actually is, but the sound feels especially out of place now amidst the backdrop of rumbling thunder and pattering rain. she stands soaked by the door, clutching a tumbler of hot coffee in one hand and folded up scraps of paper in the other. the former untouched (not for her), and the latter plucked up from the little tin they have outside where locals can drop off minor requests for them without having to go through the rigamarole of coming in for questioning.
she glances over at the desk, not surprised to see kovacs seated at the chair, boots propped up over some scattered paperwork and hat tipped over his face. he looks to be sleeping, but marta can tell from the uneven rise and fall of his chest that that is not the case.
she walks over after shrugging off her jacket, ringing out her hair. the tumbler she sets by his feet, the papers she drops onto the desk to join the others. ]
Did you hear? The second group's shown up.