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The whole thing that Rosa had to take care of in Baltimore ended up taking way longer than it should have (thank a lot, Perk, and your lack of a very specific muffin!), as in a whole overnight thing, so she shot Tightpants a text letting him know and warning him that she'd be a little pissed if he didn't leave he leftovers. Brainstormed a quick idea with Blackstone for covering her class because she didn't think she'd get back in time for it, and then got to work, though most of it was trying to talk herself down from murder and reminding herself that she was working with these Baltimore assholes, don't shoot the people you were working with, Diaz...
But when she did finally get home later the next morning, dropping a few things off downstairs in the office before heading up to the apartment, leftovers and shooting Baltimore assholes were the least of her concerns.
Because the kitchen was an absolute mess. Her first immediate thought was that Summer fucking Smith was on another baffling bout of B&E, but the thought was fleeting, that didn't add up. Destroying things wasn't exactly her M.O.; she apparently just liked rifling through people's shit and being weird, and there was webbing, there were scratches in the floor, something had happened here, it had involved her boyfriend, and it did not look good.
"Miguel?" she called out, so you knew it was serious if she was using his actual name, moving into the apartment to check the bedroom. "Anna?"
At least the dog was there, in the bedroom, oblivious and dumb and gnawing on an old boot. "Some guard dog you are," she murmured, but she was too worried to be upset, moving back to the kitchen to get a better look at the mess, look for clues, wondering what to do now and that she should probably get a chain of information going before this blew up bigger.
"Goddammit."
She was seriously going to punch this island right in the face this time, swear to god...
[[ expecting one, but open after that! ]]
But when she did finally get home later the next morning, dropping a few things off downstairs in the office before heading up to the apartment, leftovers and shooting Baltimore assholes were the least of her concerns.
Because the kitchen was an absolute mess. Her first immediate thought was that Summer fucking Smith was on another baffling bout of B&E, but the thought was fleeting, that didn't add up. Destroying things wasn't exactly her M.O.; she apparently just liked rifling through people's shit and being weird, and there was webbing, there were scratches in the floor, something had happened here, it had involved her boyfriend, and it did not look good.
"Miguel?" she called out, so you knew it was serious if she was using his actual name, moving into the apartment to check the bedroom. "Anna?"
At least the dog was there, in the bedroom, oblivious and dumb and gnawing on an old boot. "Some guard dog you are," she murmured, but she was too worried to be upset, moving back to the kitchen to get a better look at the mess, look for clues, wondering what to do now and that she should probably get a chain of information going before this blew up bigger.
"Goddammit."
She was seriously going to punch this island right in the face this time, swear to god...
[[ expecting one, but open after that! ]]
