#script. allison argent

" no. " allison doesn't bother to look up, still texting with one hand. the other is outstretched, halting erica in her path. " you know you're not allowed in there. " there being, of course, her spare bedroom, turned makeshift armory. " besides, i've done some security updates since the last time you broke in. " biometrics. there's no way erica's getting her hands on her weaponry now.

" you shouldn't be here. " she should be more gentle, have more tact, but when she's got an unexpected visitor on her doorstep, an ocean away from where she's known him to reside, allison feels she has the right to have some bite. " ugh, just . . . come in. "

" this is sort of a one-woman kind of job. " allison knows well enough that the shadowhunter is fair in assuming that it isn't, but after a terrible team-up with some hunters in tallahassee — god, she hates florida . . . and kanima ( bad memories! ) — she isn't exactly in the market to go all buddy cop on some supernatural disaster with yet another person who might just hinder her work. " thanks for the offer though. i'll be sure to call if i need backup some other time. " no, she definitely won't