We live in a room, and there’s a poster on the wall.

The raccoons had been defeated, the lost had been catapulted - or telekinetically hurled - back to the surface, and James seemed in one piece. If definitely in need of a sandwich.

So was Jesse. She hadn't seen her apartment much in the past few days, and she kind of longed for the quiet right now. Sure, quiet didn't usually involve other people, but James...

James was quiet too.

"Here we are," she said. "I might even still have some pastrami in the fridge."

[[ for bucky. ]]

Jesse wasn't a party person.

She'd still spent about an hour or two trying to talk herself into going, but that many people in one place... dressing up and doing small talk? Even after all this time, that still sounded daunting.

And exhausting.

Instead, she was on the couch of her apartment, fiddling with the new phone Barry had made her. No amount of pressing buttons had made it explode, so that made it... safe, at least.

But what she really wanted to know was if she could use it to contact the Bureau. None of the few regular phone numbers for the FBC worked, but with the Oldest House in lockdown, that hadn't seemed likely anyway. Still. She was poking through the old 90s phone that had patched her through to Emily the first time.

There had to be something here. A number, or... a chip, or something, or...

She could ask Barry. But she'd already lied to him enough.

Fine. She'd just spend her evening trying things. Something had to work.

[[ open, sure ]]