#lorelei.

LOCATION: the red line diner. FOR: ashton ryder.

HAS LORELEI BEEN ANYWHERE else besides the diner and back to her home? no, no she has not. thus, of course she can't help but worry about her people -- those who are held closely in her thoughts even when she's playing waitress, hostess and business administrator. ashton is most certainly one of them. she's had her head in a collection of files for the past several hours, having gone back to the office in a lull once another waitress joined the fray. frankly, it would be the closest thing she'd get to a break all day. and did she mind? not for a single second. while she initially jumps as she hears a pair of knuckles connect with the door. " c.. come in! " the woman calls out after a second, wondering just how frazzled she truly looked.

LOCATION: the rush bedroom, late evening FOR: damien rush

OPERATING A DINER OPEN nearly all hours of the day did mean the occasional late night. lorelei herself had gone straight from the sewing room to the diner to oversee things in the office while damien managed the line, opting for a quick kiss goodbye as she vacated the premises. i'll see you at home. somehow in their years of marriage, lorelei still found herself amazed that she had made a home with somebody. but he was not just somebody. in marriage, you also come to learn their footsteps. the way their gait connects with the floor. " i'm in bed, darling. " lorelei calls out in a half-asleep timbre, recognizing the familiar creek of the floorboards immediately. she had been questioning if she'd even be able to stay awake at all. while she always liked to be awake when he arrived home, feel the space next to her fill -- before inevitably drifting off with her face buried in the nape of his neck. somehow, he made her a rehabilitated insomniac.

LOCATION: the sewing room. FOR: ashton ryder.

BESIDES HER WORK AT the diner, lorelei rush was deeply skilled with a needle and thread. she often made quick work out of the projects given to her, at a speed to which some were mystified by. she was aware of ashton through many such projects, his line of work leading to the occasional tears and repairs needed in his clothing and frankly -- she had taken quite a liking to the lieutenant. while she had become far less prickly in the years since her childhood, she still found it quite difficult to make friends. was it fear? mayhaps. some things never quite change. and yet, whenever ash approached her station, it was always with the same kind, appreciative smile. on this particular day the shop had been rather quiet, the kind of quiet that often led to never-ending boredom. thus, she's quick to perk up as she hears the bell sound above the door.

LORELEI: i’ve tried calling you like four times, are you alive??? [ sent at 1:00 pm ]

LORELEI: is gray with you?? [ failed to send ]

LORELEI: d’s here with me [ sent at 1:01 pm ]

LORELEI: please tell me you’re alive [ sent at 1:30 pm ]

LORELEI: is your brother with you? [ sent at 1:30 pm ]

LORELEI: me and the baby are okay. d’s here, so we’re fine [ sent at 1:31 pm ]

LOCATION: the bunker FOR: yannick shteynhoyz

THE FIRST TRIMESTER CERTAINLY had been far from smooth sailing for lorelei, far from the romanticization that she had seen in modern media, but she had expected as much. what she hadn't expected was to find herself in a bunker -- as the life-threatening conditions raged outside. she didn't know what she would do if she had been separated from her husband. but, her mind kept racing in fear for the others out there. the cases are nowhere to be found, neither is ash. and then there's frankie, and her absence makes lorelei feel like a part of her was missing. however, she was grateful for the kindness of a stranger -- who had introduced himself as a doctor. so many people had told her that stress wasn't good for the baby, and some of what she feels is alleviated knowing that she can at least ensure the healthy of her baby in this crisis.

" you... you never told me your name. " lorelei smiles gently as he takes her vitals. she's tired in more ways than one, both emotionally and physically. she wants to sleep, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to. sometimes, she finds herself feeling a bit cynical about most of the people around her. in this moment, a random face is proving her wrong. " i can't call you kind stranger forever. " as he moves down his list, one he's clearly studied for so long that he's committed it to memory, the woman tries to control her breathing. somehow make all of this fucked up nonsense make sense.