[Gotham. New Jersey—helpful; she could point to that one on a map if she needed to. Weather. That's interesting. Could be relevant. How horrible? Did it fit with the projected weather patterns? How fast had it come on, exactly? From which direction? She's just decided to underline this last one, Weather, with a decisive slash of the pen when he asks—
Maureen looks up. She clocks, maybe, the robe's strap being strangled between hands. Poor guy.]
Me? I'm fine. [She makes herself smile. Normal! Projecting confidence!] Don't worry about it. We're going to figure this out.
no subject
Maureen looks up. She clocks, maybe, the robe's strap being strangled between hands. Poor guy.]
Me? I'm fine. [She makes herself smile. Normal! Projecting confidence!] Don't worry about it. We're going to figure this out.