cognitivus | Meadowlark Inbox

[Lance already has a drink by the time Will arrives, though it's just a beer; he's controlling his drinking a bit overall, though he's still taking the edge off his nerves. This is going to be a weird conversation.

He looks up when Will joins him at the booth, unfazed by the lateness--he's not that late--and much more interested in the badge. Hm.

The sudden abandonment of the attempt at an excuse earns a small smile of amusement, and Lance shakes his head.]

It's fine, don't worry about it. Are you training to work with the police?

( There's a short sigh at the top of his answer, breath fading into words tinged with just a little friction in them. )

I'm training to teach them.

( Which is... frankly hilarious, and he couldn't help but correct a few "instructors" in the middle of whatever wholly inaccurate, idiotic misinformation was coming out of their mouth. If they let their ego get in the way of actual fact he's not sad to see them go once training is complete. )

I might have made a few enemies. I'm glad we don't use tires anymore, because I'm sure mine would be flat.

( His lips scrunch. )

I'd also need to have a car.

[He so wants to ask Will how he made enemies already, but he decides not to just yet; he's also kind of interested in how accessible it seems to be to be able to teach. Lance hadn't considered any sorts of jobs in his field--any of his fields, actually--for various reasons, but a big one had been the fact that he doesn't have any credentials, and he hasn't really looked into what's available without them. Still, the idea of teaching is kind of interesting.

But that's a discussion to maybe have later, as well as the fact that Will's getting involved with the police in any capacity, which might be really useful. For now, one thing at a time.]

They have flying cars now, which is a totally weird thing to say.

[And obviously Will would know about the flying cars by now, but still. Lance is making some small talk for the moment as he decides how he wants to get into the main topic.

Fortunately the server comes by to take Will's drink order and give Lance another minute or two to mull over what he wants to say. Once the order is fulfilled and Lance and Will are alone again, it's been enough time for stalling to be over with.]

Um, so, you probably guessed what I wanted to talk to you about, but maybe not exactly what.

[Good start, A+]

But um, to give a little context first, I was in a place like this before I was here. It was called Hadriel, and like here, there were people from many different worlds.

[He taps his fingers on his drink for a moment until he catches himself doing it, hesitating briefly, and then finally asks--]

The man in your dream, was his name Hannibal?

( As it turns out, the NAPD is wildly understaffed. They're practically churning out bodies like a puppy mill, which means it's probably a good thing he's getting into the system before it truly reaches its height. Hopefully he can catch the last of the wave and recover a little bit of hope that some of them understand more than gun.

Honestly, he appreciates that they mostly skip the small talk. He's not the biggest fan, usually. Particularly not when it's because somebody's beating around a particularly thorny bush.

You probably guessed what I want to talk to you about. An eyebrow lifts up for a split second in time with a bob to his head, a telegraphed yeah I'd say so gesture.

The sass is very quickly eradicated.

He's read about the different worlds phenomenon. He knows the high level overview, even if it still sounds and feels fantastical despite all the very tangible evidence. He hadn't expected it of Lance, and he definitely didn't expect--

Lips part slowly, dry skin sticking together until it reluctantly separates. Slow, carefully controlled processing. There's a deep, uncomfortable knot twisting in his gut. So much for the silver lining that he'd surely be well beyond Hannibal's influence here.

The first time he met Lance, really met him, he got a beat on what Lance could be capable of. Felt very strongly that he wasn't, that he hasn't, that he won't, but this is... an entirely new variable. A splinter of doubt, smaller than the ear had been but still enough to make him immediately wary of Lance. More, even, than he'd been when they were complete strangers. )

What... exactly do you know about Hannibal Lecter?

[Lance is watching Will's face carefully, at least as much as he can while trying not to make him too uncomfortable in the process, but the sudden trepidation is incredibly obvious. Not too surprising, and a clear indication that Lance's conclusion about who the man was is correct, and stemming from that it's easy to guess at least one of likely many reasons Will would be nervous.

In return, Lance carefully loosens his body language, attempting to appear as non-threatning as possible as he assures Will--]

Barely anything. I only met him briefly; I know he's a psychiatrist, but that was about it. His time in Hadriel didn't overlap with mine much, and he wasn't very social on the network; he also wasn't taking any patients.

[He hesitates again, unsure if he should follow that up immediately, but then decides to just go ahead and get it all out there.]

But I um, I knew Abigail better.

( Once you've been intensely scrutinized by Hannibal Lecter, being studied by anyone else feels somehow less. It's like attending the orchestra and then following it up with your nephew's violin recital. Still a little grating, but comparatively less overwhelming.

Somehow in ways he's yet to try to articulate he feels... immune. Immune to being studied, or pushed, or manipulated. Kintsugi with cement and bone.

Some of his wariness gentles, but not all. Outright lies aren't his trademark, but Hannibal can accomplish a lot in a very brief span of time. It's a relief to know he took no patients, but beyond that... )

Abigail was there?

( It's less of a question and more of a recitation. A touch of disbelief, a touch... sad. That's no surprise to either of them, probably. )

How much better is "better"?

( Which comes with an unspoken broader question — how much do you know about... everything? )

Yeah. I'm not sure how long she was there, maybe half a year? She arrived after I did and wasn't there the whole time I was.

[But time blended together in Hadriel, and he was there for so long that it's hard to put dates to much on memory alone.]

We weren't really close or anything, but we were... I guess casual friends, is probably a fair descriptor. She had a lot on her mind, and we talked about that sometimes.

[He doesn't want to go into details, not sure of what Will might know and not wanting to betray Abigail's confidence, no matter the time and distance. It still feels wrong.

But there are other conversations that aren't that personal, and there's one he remembers pretty well. So he hesitates a moment, not sure how well the offer will go over, but it feels right to make it.]

I can show you a memory, if you'd like. Nothing serious, just...

[Just a moment. And now that he thinks about it, it might've been the last conversation he had with her.]

( He's not sure yet what it is he feels about what he's hearing. Too many things at once, they're a tangled web in his mind and he just knots himself further trying to flatten out the strands. Part of him is... happy, somehow, that she got six more months of life added to one that was painfully short. Part of him feels a gripping jealousy, an unfair petty anger that she spent it with Hannibal. That he wasn't there for her, or to see it. Those are the easiest threads to identify, the loudest ones.

She had a lot on her mind, and we talked about that.

It's in the back of his mouth to ask did she tell you I killed her father? He chews on it for a while instead, and only stops chewing at the offer.

A muscle in his jaw thumps through a heavy silence, and his mouth twists again into something painfully discontent. Agitated maybe, self-deprecating maybe. Too much at once, none of it good.

He wants to. In any other circumstance he'd accept a memory in a heartbeat, he just doesn't...

Eyes drop to the glass his fingers are wrapped around, then the door to the bar, and then finally back in Lance's general direction if not directly at his face. )

I have... an uncommon circumstance and I don't know yet how that interacts with...

( A jerky nod toward Lance's chest. The empathy bond. As far as he knows, it's a non-optional condition for the memory sharing.

It's still not a no. The temptation's clawing at the doors and windows in his mind. )

[Lance can't help but return to watching Will as he reacts, trying to get a sense of what he's feeling and how he's taken the idea; he doesn't know Will enough to be sure of whether or not he might've said something to set him off, or crossed a boundary somewhere, especially with such a sensitive topic. It's easy for things to go in a way they aren't intended, and Lance is always wary about the potential for more extreme reactions in addition to just not wanting to have caused emotional distress.

But what Will actually says is not a refusal, isn't aggressive, it's just... Cautious, perhaps, is a good word. And that's completely understandable, especially in the midst of the many things he must be feeling right now.

So Lance nods, responding softly--]

It's an open offer.

[He knows it's intimidating to use the empathy bond, and then the memory share on top of it; even though he's the one that made the suggestion in the first place, and he's used both the bond and the memory share multiple times before, he's still nervous about it. So it's very understandable that Will might be, even without whatever his special circumstance is.

Whenever he's ready, if that ever happens, the offer will stand.]

( He recognizes and appreciates the reaction. Cognizant and respectful of boundaries, but more than that, probably very aware of the right way to frame it so as to not inflict a sense of guilt in the process. That doesn't necessarily rule out the possibility of nefarious intent entirely, Hannibal is just as smooth an operator when he wants to be. Subtle, thinking in third layers so as to paint the picture of respecting boundaries, to paint the picture of earnestness without pressure, and then something... else beneath that which drives you to comply regardless and think it was your own decision all along.

A long look at Lance's face, and he doesn't think that's what's happening here. Obviously he could be wrong, he had a big, gaping blind spot before, but now he's actually looking sometimes. Vigilant, and better at a game he doesn't want to play in the first place.

Mostly.

He knows about Abigail. He knows a little now about Hannibal. It's possible he knows a significant amount of the events that unfolded around Garret Jacob Hobbs. There's no point being cagey about it. Maybe he could use the sounding board from somebody with an actual degree. )

I have an empathy disorder, not otherwise specified.

( The last part recited as though reading from a script. The official diagnoses. Which... isn't even a real diagnosis and doesn't actually mean anything, other than the fact that they don't know what to call it. That nobody's really seen something like it before. It's the necessary context for him to clarify what his actual concern is. )

I'm not afraid of getting something from you, that's not... new. I'm already...

( Just the most vague... sweeping gesture. He already can, or could if he let himself. )

I'm not afraid to give you anything back, either.

( To be blunt, and to skip the insinuation portion of this conversation. He's not ashamed of what he feels, and he has nothing to hide. He just can't wrap his head around what the experience could possibly be like.

If anything, he's afraid of getting... lost. )

[Lance can, of course, be manipulative far beyond what people ever expect of him, even when they know his professions; it's a skill he developed early in an attempt to stay alive, and he'd only refined it further and further as he'd gotten older. But it's a skill he vastly prefers to save for catching murderers and for navigating potentially dangerous confrontations, not for messing with people just because he can.

So he's being entirely genuine here, although he knows Will can't necessarily be sure of that; the ability to read another person, even to the extent they can, doesn't have guarantees. There can always be something unexpected, or something that goes wrong.

So he doesn't mind the hesitation, and it's a bit of a surprise when Will seems willing to actually explain a little further. Lance's eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head just slightly, immediately trying to piece that together and make sense of it, but it's still so vague.

What are you afraid of, then? is the obvious question, and he thinks he could get away with it without being too offensive considering the context, but he doesn't feel like risking it. Instead, he decides to ask a slightly different question, both personal and professional curiosity weighing in.]

What are your symptoms?

[Of the unspecified disorder. 'Empathy' is far too broad of a category to take any real guesses at, although it seems that whatever it is isn't a lack of empathy, at least not from his last few comments. Still, that doesn't narrow it down much.]

( He's been quietly lamenting the lack of familiarity in the faces here. A strange concept considering how exceptionally anti-social he is by nature, but there's something familiar about walking into a room and recognizing at least one person in it in a way that extends beyond mutually kidnapped. Just that anchor, that tether of understanding about an environment that is yours is... something you can't know that you'd miss until it's gone.

Lance isn't familiar, but he's growing more and more branches that almost feel close to filling the gap. It isn't the career path, although that's nice. It isn't mutual distaste for the FBI and its vending machines, or hatred of the prison protocols they're all subjected to. All of that is a good starting point for something new, but knowing Abigail? Knowing Hannibal?

Those are leftover bits of something old. Sharing a common tether, even if it's small, is still only one degree of separation away from the tether itself. Probably the closest thing he's likely to get here. Whether they walk away from this friends or enemies, whether they walk away from this conversation completely ambivalent, the connecting point is still there — and he will therefor likely always be a person of interest in Will's mind.

Really shot himself in the foot with I have a memory of Abigail Hobs. Sorry, Lance.

He does appreciate the clinical approach. Makes it easier. Vaguely reminds him of Alana -- I have a professional curiosity.

He settles back against the booth, still idly holding a glass he hasn't taken a single drink from yet. )

I can... feel the way someone's mind works. I can assume their point of view, reconstruct their thinking, understand them to an extent that can be...

( He searches for the right word, the right descriptor, a little too fixated on being precise and explicit over this particular subject. )

Oppressive.

( Probably the most apt one, considering how hard certain people push their fingers into his mind sometimes. )

It's... difficult if not sometimes outright impossible to... shut off.

( As though disorders are a switch to be toggled. Georgia Madchen's perspective no cures, only management feels inherently correct. )

[He knows he's taken a risk by telling Will what he knows from Hadriel, and by making the offer to show him memories, but it felt like the right one to take. He hopes that if someone who arrives here had memories of someone Lance loves, and who he'll likely never see again, that they'd be willing to take the risk of sharing them with him.

He's quiet as Will explains further, and Lance's mind instantly goes to one of two explanations: either it's something supernatural that just isn't known of in Will's world, or it's just... Guessing. Really good guessing, likely influenced by the intuition that comes from an active and very aware subconscious, able to link information together in a way that Will isn't directly cognizant of.

At this point, with everything Lance has seen, both are equally likely as far as he's concerned. And, of course, it could still be something else entirely.

So he considers those options for a few moments, a particular question coming to mind as the next thing to ask.]

Is it ever wrong?

( Good luck unpacking it, Lance, you're not the first one to have tried. Call it really good guessing, fine by him, it's an assumption or an accusation he has no interest in correcting. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe he's the perfect combination of a series of individual neurosis in a spicy padded-room gumbo. He didn't do studies or in-depth psychological evaluations for the purpose of research before Hannibal, he's sure as hell not doing them after. Not without a knife to his throat or a really valuable prize.

Though, memories of Abigail might have been enough to sway him if it ever came down to that. It's obviously valuable enough for him to toss out his whole... thing, but he's never put any effort into keeping that a closely guarded secret. He doesn't proclaim it from the rafters, but when it's relevant? Why bother hedging around it, hemming and hawing with euphemisms. It won't help them achieve the end goal any faster, it's not worth bothering.

An excellent follow-up question.

His expression turns into something bitterly wry. He both feels spiteful and darkly sees the humor in it all. Comedy and tragedy. )

Once.

[He's curious about the puzzle, both for its own sake and because it'd probably help Will to understand what's going on a bit more, but this is something that's somewhat beyond Lance at the moment with what little information he has. He's also just not at the top of his game at the moment and hasn't been for some time, which doesn't help.

So the answer is enough for now, confirming that whatever it is that Will has going on is infallible, and he can take a guess at the situation that he might've gotten wrong. The person, more specifically, that he might've gotten wrong.]

There was a third mental health professional in Hadriel when I arrived, aside from myself and Hannibal; his name was Rosen, and he was another psychiatrist. He and Hannibal had been working together, I think, before I got there.

[And there's a point to this, which he gets to after taking a drink, because this is another other of those things he's only been able to realize with time and distance and hasn't truly processed yet.]

I misjudged him at first. I thought he was someone I could trust, to the point where I was justifying away the warning signs as I saw them, something that I... Really don't do, normally. Eventually, though, it was too much to ignore, and it turned out he was a huge creep after all.

[Not exactly on the level of cannibal murderer, but still. Major creep levels in a different, subtle way.]

( He's happy to put the focus back on the actual greater issue at hand. The much larger, much more important topic.

Tragic that topic always seems to be Hannibal Lecter.

He watches Lance speak with an intensity that a lot of people find uncomfortable, at least from relative strangers. That's something he's distantly aware of, he just isn't interested in expending the energy for the sake of minute ridiculous social normalities. Far too sincerely keyed in to bother being fake. It's just that there's an... almost an intimacy to that confession and the understanding implication hovering around it.

He hates that for Lance in a way that is so real it's practically tangible. Obviously a lot of that is just him amplifying it, redirecting his own fire toward someone else's light, but even if his went out that's a hard line for Will. People in positions of authority, people who place themselves in a field that requires a real trust from somebody who then abuse that trust is one of the few unforgivable sins in the book of Will Graham.

(With one exception, but he won't know that for a long time.)

Well played. Wariness leaks out slowly but surely, deflating. He doesn't apologize to Lance for what he went through, not out loud, but he might not need to. It's written clearly on his face.

In terms of the Wendigo in his dream, the man connected to Abigail— )

What you have to understand about Hannibal is... there are no red flags. To say he's a wolf in sheep's clothing would be giving wolves far too much credit. He's more like... that parasite that borrows into a brain stem and takes over the host. He's a sheep, all the way up until he isn't anymore. There isn't a word yet for what he is. Rosen... might have thought he was a peer, a friend, an equal in Hannibal's eyes, but I can assure you he meant next to nothing to him.

Edited 2021-02-27 07:50 (UTC)

[He's a little self-conscious whenever people turn that sort of attention toward him, used to being able to avoid drawing most people's interest, but the intentions here matter and it just feels like... Focus, from Will, and Lance isn't exactly innocent of doing the same thing to people in return on occasion.

So he does his best to ignore it, using the opportunity to just better read Will's expressions, finding just understanding and empathy--no surprise there, considering their previous topic--and maybe some more of something akin to the righteous anger he'd felt in the dream. And he appreciates it, because he appreciates it when someone not only believes him, but doesn't question his assessment or ask him to justify it.

He's also relieved that Will seems to be losing some of his caution, or more specifically that he seems to be losing the belief that he needs it at the moment. Lance is maybe not quite as intense as Will as he listens in return, but still very focused.

When he responds he decides to keep the topic shifted a little in his direction, allowing the focus to stay on his experiences for the moment, mostly so that Will doesn't feel pressured to say anything that he doesn't want to about his own.]

I barely knew him; we only really spoke once, and I don't remember much about the conversation. I think it was just some basic pleasantries and talk about his and Rosen's work.

[Everything from that time in Hadriel is very fuzzy to him, mostly blocked out from the trauma of the experience. But it sounds like he'd probably dodged a bullet he'd never even seen, by his time in Hadriel only barely overlapping with Hannibal's.]

I don't doubt you're right, though. And I'm really glad I didn't end up talking to him any further than I did.

[He sounds like a nightmare--literally, in this case--and Lance can't imagine what it must be like for Will to have to deal with someone like that, especially with what Lance does know of how far it goes.]

( He's going to need to do a lot of processing on the idea of Hannibal slipping between universes. Yes, logically it makes sense that if it could happen to Will it could also happen to anyone Will knows, but it's... Different. It feels different. It feels like knowing a house is burning down and doing nothing to put it out. It feels like irresponsibly letting a monster loose upon an unsuspecting town.

Not that there's anything he can do about it. Not from here, not from in there—

...not from in there yet. But he will.

It goes without saying that Lance definitely got off lucky. Hannibal was sure to have been bored, he'd have wanted something new to play with to keep himself entertained. He's glad it was probably Rosen, and he feels no guilt wishing that on him right now.

No reason to beat a dead horse, they're on the same page about one party in this equation. He chews the inside of his cheek. The problem remains, his bone-deep need to see Abigail alive, healthy, talking. To greedily take in a little more time with her, stolen as it might be.

He'll work his way back to that idea. Just... stall for a little bit while he weighs it within himself.

Maybe time to outright ask, just to satisfy his burning need to know— )

Did Abigail tell you about her father?

[The question is very direct, and Lance studies Will for a moment as he decides how to answer. This could be a genuine question, seeing what Lance knows, or a leading one to try to gather information on the subject itself; he can't tell for sure which it is, but nothing indicates to him it's the latter.

So, after a moment, he nods.]

Not in a lot of detail, but the basics, yes.

[It's a vague answer, just in case he's misjudged, but otherwise it should say enough. He knows her father was a serial killer, that he'd killed his wife and tried to do the same to Abigail, and that his victims had fit a very specific profile.]

( He studies Lance for a beat after his answer, and visibly seems to find what he's looking for. It's in the way he seems to settle back into his bones, a little more tension breathing out of him. He looks down at his drink for the first time and lifts it to his mouth, pausing midway to ask a follow-up question. )

Did she tell you who worked her case?

( He knows already she can't have gone into detail about her father's death. If she had, Lance would have made a connection and that connection would be written around the eyes or the corners of his mouth. He's far too empathetic to school it out if he's not actively thinking about it, he feels. Cognizant is another story, but in the middle of a conversation where his objective is to be understanding? Unlikely he's schooling his features to be careful to anyone anybody but Will.

He's not going to volunteer that particular piece of information if Lance doesn't already have it. Not yet, and not here. His question's like a safety net, working a math problem backwards to make sure he did it right.

He takes a sip of his whiskey. )

[It's good to see Will a little less tense again, though that may not last depending on how he takes Lance's response; it's offered neutrally, not accusingly, but--]

No, although I now have a guess.

[Not exactly a difficult guess to make; if Will's asking, it would likely be someone meaningful to the conversation they're having, and therefore not just some agent Will knows but Lance doesn't. As far as he knows Hannibal is a psychiatrist, even if he might be involved in FBI cases considering his connection to Will, but Will himself is the obvious answer Lance would go with if he had to.]

( It lasts; if Lance doesn't know how he died, knowing who worked his case isn't particularly damning. It adds some context for how he knew her, and plants the seed for Lance to eventually get the full scope of just how utterly screwed up and incomprehensibly damaged the entire thing actually is.

He swallows his sip, raises his glass in a tiny little salute of acknowledgment before he sets it down. Guess confirmed. )

I use my disorder to profile crime scenes. I spent... an amount of time seeing her father, which I foolishly relayed to my psychiatrist in exorbitant detail. He knew how her father wanted her to end, and he did everything he could to convince me I gave her that ending. It was... the poetic climax of a well-orchestrated, remarkably choreographed play he was directing. None of us new we were staring in it, but somehow we all knew our lines. And Abigail-

( A falter, thick-throated. )

Abigail saw Hannibal as a surrogate father, so she wound up ending the way Hobbs intended after all.

( Hence the tube, hence the dream, how all of the pieces come together. Still just a glimpse into the full story that he doesn't plan on telling now.

He thinks even aside from answering a few questions Lance may have had about parts of the dream he watched, it might be... appreciated to know a more comprehensive view of Abigail's story, given that they were friends. )

[It's hard to decide which he finds more horrifically reprehensible, parents hurting their children or doctors misusing the trust of their patients. Maybe neither is actually worse, both just equally awful in their own ways, and coming together in this situation to lead to the tragic end of a life.

Lance and Abigail hadn't really been close--casual friends was a fair descriptor when Lance had used it earlier--but she could've been a stranger and he still would've felt the sense of loss he feels now. He'd known, of course, that she was dead due to Will's dream, and that's why he'd made the offer to share memories of her, but he'd compartmentalized that. Hearing more details breaks that down.

She didn't deserve that. No one deserves that; no one deserves to be murdered, and for it to happen to someone who's already escaped being the victim of someone they loved only to have another person they trusted be the one to kill them is just... Nothing about life is fair, not really, but some things feel particularly wrong, and this is one of them.

But this isn't really the time or place to process that, so he shoves most of it back behind the mental walls to be dealt with later, focusing instead on Will and a part of what he'd said in his explanation.]

It wasn't your fault.

[Will had called his own actions foolish, in telling Hannibal about Abigail's father. Maybe it's just bitter hindsight and not guilt, but Lance finds that unlikely considering who Will's talked about Abigail so far and the emotions he's shown. Will may now know for sure that he isn't responsible for killing Abigail, but he may still feel responsible for her death.]

( Where he'd gone maybe a little distant and internal in his explanation, Lance's reaction draws him back to the present again. Brings his eyes back to flickering over Lance's expression, picking up pieces of thought dropped at the corners of his eyes and the shape his eyebrows take. There's a lot there that makes him want to believe the best in Lance. There's likely one way to prove himself right.

He considers for a second which response he wants to give, because there are three paths branching off of this moment he could take. One veers away from the topic, one delves too deeply beneath it, one feels more honest.

Quietly, and with uninhibited honesty: )

It feels like my fault.

( On... so many levels. In so many ways. Partly guilt that belongs to someone else who won't feel it themselves, but that someone else lives in his head and he can feel it on their behalf. Partly because he should have... seen. This is what he does, this is who he is, but the one time it really mattered he was completely blind.

Lance is right. He knows... technically, he knows there's one person singularly responsible for the fact that Abigail Hobbs is dead. That's the only person he'll take it out on. Nevertheless, the feeling still remains. )

But... my... emotional baggage isn't the relevant issue right now. I want to see it. The memory. Just not... here.

( Because if he has some kind of fun, exciting new brand of mental break he'd really like to do it in private with only one person around to watch it happen. )

Edited 2021-02-28 06:49 (UTC)

[He's getting used to the idea that Will isn't quite so guarded about his feelings as Lance is, and so the admission isn't as much of a surprise as it might've otherwise been. The contents of it aren't a surprise at all, though, and he nods a little in understanding; of course it feels like Will's fault. Not only is that sort of guilt expected in a situation like this, but that was surely part of the point of Hannibal's entire plan.

But Lance has made his own point, and so he allows Will to shift the topic. It's a little more unexpected, though still not particularly surprising, when Will says he does want to see the memory after all, and again he nods.]

Yeah, of course, that's understandable. Have you found a place to live yet?

Edited 2021-02-28 07:19 (UTC)

Meadowlark Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

I never got this notif wow

NEVER FORGIVE NEVER FORGET