[8] - backdated to pre-Rex; San Diego

[savethedarkness]

[Private]

[reading Bond's report over confirmed what M had read to her mounting horror over the journals on the cruise ship ... and more. she spent most of her first comfortable morning on land with a breakfast tray from room service, sitting on the balcony of her room in the open air and flipping back and forth between the freshly penned - if cheeky - report, and Zelos' all-encompassing treatise on Paradisa.

she scribbles a few notes:]

- InGen
- Lastlook
- Winchester
- Fairfield
- Missing books
- possible ally?

[immediately after that, she stops, stares out at the horizon for a moment, then turns her attention back to the page with a sharp, determined focus and writes out a filter, carefully]

[John Hammond, or anyone who could bring this to his attention]

Dear Mr. Hammond,

We've not met, but if you are able to read this, as I surmise you may be - we have at least a common thread running through our lives. I won't mince words, as I'm sure you're a busy man. Some colleagues of mine have been to Isla Sorna, and there are remnants of your work there. Since your name was not mentioned, but that of your company was plastered all about, I thought you may have a right to know. If you wish to discuss details, please filter your reply to the name I have signed.

I assure you, I have no intention to come and root you out, or cause harm to any who may be residing with you. The hostile, armored outlanders who seemed a threat to both yourself, and the people I keep watch over, have mostly been killed, and I for one see that as a blessing. If you would rather keep to your own life and leave us to ours, I have a healthy respect for that sort of thing - but I see nothing wrong with a free exchange of information. As a man of science, I hope you will agree.

Sincerely,
M of M16

[that little gamble being made, she sets her journal aside and takes her time to finish her breakfast, even taking the time to read the newspaper that was delivered. it's all old news, really, by her standards, but it's good to even have the vestiges of a familiar routine. once she's done, she dresses for the day and opens the journal again]

It seems we have the day free, in a city that's at least passingly familiar to me. I've been to San Diego on buisness on one or two occasions, and I'm in a mood to get to know the city on a more casual level. Would anyone care to join me?

Comments

[savethedarkness]

You're traveling with me, 087, and that's a damned good reason. [she smiled and leaned over to open the mini fridge. it was too early for liquor, but she took out a can of lemon San Pellegrino and began peeling the foil off the top]

Care for a cold drink? These are lovely, if you like lemon. There's orange as well.

[banshee_rider]

[She cracks a small grin and reaches in to grab a bottle at random.]

I'll take anything that isn't recycled.

[Because when we say Spartans live in their armor, we mean Spartans live in their armor.]

[savethedarkness]

[she ends up with a root beer, and M pulls a face at the implication of what Kelly just said] You realize now I'm even more determined to take us to a proper lunch.

[banshee_rider]

I'll certainly appreciate it.

[Kelly opens the root beer, takes a drink, and then takes a look at the label. She's basically lived off of MREs and protein bars, and is still getting used to some of the luxuries Paradisa's world offers.]

[savethedarkness]

What sort of things do you prefer? I'd hate to take you somewhere you didn't care for, not when San Diego's the sort of city that's got everything under the sun.

[she folds the aluminum foil from her can up and puts it in the ashtray, then cracks the can open and sips, wincing reflexively at the first taste of it. it's always more sour than she remembers, at first]

[banshee_rider]

[Kelly shrugs.] Not sure I've really had enough to form a preference.

[savethedarkness]

Alright, then. Something simple, then. [she's thinking a bistro would be a good choice - someplace with fresh food - salads, sandwiches, local ingredients. the military doesn't get fresh things very often at all, she guesses. rolling down the partition between the back of the limo and the front cab, she calls out to the driver]

Bit of a detour, I'm afraid. Could you bring us to Bistro 39 first, please?