Annie Hargreeves (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
defenderofdesmoines) wrote2022-05-25 07:27 am
defenderofdesmoines) wrote2022-05-25 07:27 am
Entry tags:
MHA #2 | Wednesday Morning
Annie, Diego and Five -- along with the other four living Hargreeves -- may have arrived back in 2022 yesterday, but Annie anticipated that it was going to be a long, long while before everything actually felt settled. For one thing, it was a hell of a thing to find a four-bedroom house in Baltimore to rent on a moment's notice -- but thankfully, Annie's salary made things a little easier. (A little. She didn't have enough influence in this universe to do more than throw money at the problem, but she'd still found them a pretty decent house in like, an afternoon, anyway. Magic at work, right there.)
But for another thing, America's Super-Sweetheart had gone completely fucking AWOL for ten days, and thus had spent the better part of her first cup of coffee this morning getting screamed at over the phone by Ashley.
One promise of extra rehearsals with her choreographer and an assurance that she'd be there Friday afternoon for a hair appointment (she wasn't prepared to ask yet, but Ashley had mentioned that this was what she got for insisting on never wearing a wig again, so...there was that) later, and Annie was finally off the phone. She poured herself a soothing second cup of coffee, blew out a sigh in the hopes that some of that yelled-at tension left her shoulders, and sat down at the kitchen table to try to go through the paperwork involved in renting this house and transferring utilities to her own name.
It was fairly slow going, considering she was still pretty much exhausted despite sleeping hard last night, but at least it was a happy, relieved kind of exhaustion? This had been going on for almost a full year, and having everyone back and in one piece (and maybe even with some extra pieces, in fact!) was almost surreal. Surrealism didn't help her scan through real estate legalese any easier, but at least she didn't have much else to do at the moment.
[open for the dude who lives there, his brother who hates doors, or anyone who'd like to check in on these newly-returned time travelers]
But for another thing, America's Super-Sweetheart had gone completely fucking AWOL for ten days, and thus had spent the better part of her first cup of coffee this morning getting screamed at over the phone by Ashley.
One promise of extra rehearsals with her choreographer and an assurance that she'd be there Friday afternoon for a hair appointment (she wasn't prepared to ask yet, but Ashley had mentioned that this was what she got for insisting on never wearing a wig again, so...there was that) later, and Annie was finally off the phone. She poured herself a soothing second cup of coffee, blew out a sigh in the hopes that some of that yelled-at tension left her shoulders, and sat down at the kitchen table to try to go through the paperwork involved in renting this house and transferring utilities to her own name.
It was fairly slow going, considering she was still pretty much exhausted despite sleeping hard last night, but at least it was a happy, relieved kind of exhaustion? This had been going on for almost a full year, and having everyone back and in one piece (and maybe even with some extra pieces, in fact!) was almost surreal. Surrealism didn't help her scan through real estate legalese any easier, but at least she didn't have much else to do at the moment.
[open for the dude who lives there, his brother who hates doors, or anyone who'd like to check in on these newly-returned time travelers]