WHEN: mid-morning, March 2023 WHERE: Hank's residence @hxnkbrxmson
If Tilda thought about it for longer than a second, she wouldn't have made the trip. Twenty years was a long time to stay out of touch and she didn't want to imagine the look on their face when she returned. Would they care? She chewed on her lip, rocking on her feet at the front door of their residence. Or, worse, would they not remember at all? "Stop stalling." She lifted her hand, knocking gently once and then a little harder the second time, recalling how her friend often didn't hear the door when she was in the throes of sleep. "It's me." Yes, brilliant, because they'd remember that. As the door swung open, she spoke with a softness uncharacteristic to the woman she was now. "It's Tilda Hatami, we went to-- Uh, sorry, who are you? Where's Margaret?"
