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test drive — spring

SPRING TEST DRIVE
Welcome to the test drive and thank you for your interest in The Village. This test drive is not game canon but will allow players the opportunity to experiment with game mechanics, the setting, and the flexibility of choice allowed by this game. The following prompts are examples of typical situations characters might face in the game. At least one thread from the TDM is required as part of the game's application process.

Prospective players are welcome to play with any of the established locations within Mathias.

( Recommended listening: ♫ )

GHOSTS OF THE LIVING
The fog moves in quickly and without warning, not from the waterfront but the forest, cascading through every street in a thick wave of white. It is not a soft blanket enveloping the town, but a heavy weight pressing down, threatening to suffocate as the sky is blotted out and no one can see more than ten feet in any direction.

Those who are outside when it rolls in are left wandering blind, hoping that a randomly chosen direction will lead them to shelter or another living soul. There are perhaps even those who were lucky enough to already be inside when the fog descended, quickly closing doors and windows to keep it from creeping in. Wherever they are, the residents of Mathias will soon notice that they are not the only ones in the fog.

Anyone out in the fog is left disoriented, possibly losing their sense of time and place, and it is only after prolonged exposure that they will begin to feel off. A sense of being ill will cling to them if they are in the fog for too long, including dizziness, lightheadedness, or nausea — the time it takes to manifest varies from person to person, as does the duration it will last after leaving the fog.

With all of these elements at play, the first strange apparitions encountered may be assumed to be figments of addled minds, tricks played by psyches struggling to cope with the strange reality they've found themselves in. But before long, there will be no denying that the Others in the fog are real. Appearing almost wraithlike and startlingly recognizable, these figures even feel a bit like ghosts to those who can sense such things, though everyone will feel that there is something wrong about them. Truly, there are many things wrong that residents will begin to notice as they encounter more and more of the spectres that do not acknowledge their presence in any way. They simply exist, silent and subtly terrifying like so many things in this town.

Like misty ghosts of those who have been in the town at one point or another, the Others appear as those who have died or disappeared and even those currently within the town. The likeness is truly uncanny, to the point of being completely terrifying, made even more so when they realize there is no way to communicate with the Others. They do not acknowledge anyone's presence nor anything said to them. At times, they may be only one in an area, or there may be a dozen existing in the same space. There is no limit to how many people can see them — if they are there, they are seen by all.

The Others do not enter buildings and cannot be contained in any way. They can appear at one moment and be gone in the next, or they can exist in one place for hours on end. Whether standing stationary or slowly wandering throughout the town, there is no discernible purpose to them. There is something absent and distant in the way they hold themselves, the way they walk, and their expressions, as if even they cannot grasp what is happening.

A BIT OF EXPLORATION
There are plenty of places in which to get one's bearings and hide from the fog.

There are businesses on the square, nestled around and extending out from the Town Hall. There is a schoolhouse nestled by the southern treeline, not from the rather expansive makeshift cemetery at the end of Jackson Boulevard that is courtesy of a few kind residents in town. To the far north of the square is a sprawling garden, now covered in snow, and a greenhouse that once supplied the botanical shop. And to the east and west, beyond the business square, is are residential districts.

The eastern district sprawls all the way to the beach, with some houses in perfect condition and others beginning to show significant signs of age. The western district, however, is nothing but decay. From the beginnings of rot to completely collapsed and little more than a pile of proverbial bones, none of these homes are anything resembling livable. Well, as far as one can tell, at least. For between the streets of Hill Lane and Stine Road there is a crack in the earth. A dozen feet across and fifty feet down, there is no way across.

TO SEE AND BE SEEN
Standing at the center of Mathias, the Town Hall is a modest two-story building that would be welcoming if not for the faded sign, chipped paint, and deafening silence within its empty halls. It's a typical government building, with a reception desk at the front and rows of identical offices within, the names half faded from each door. But what catches the attention is a large bulletin board on the main wall beside the reception desk, once meant to hold flyers or announcements for the community.

What it holds now is decidedly different. Covering the board are tacked-on scraps of paper covered in an assortment of handwriting styles — requests for supplies should anyone find them, pieces of information shared in the hopes of someone understanding the strange symbols and mathematical equations, notes about those missing or recently deceased. And painted directly across the center of the board, visible in the gaps between the pieces of paper, is a symbol in dark red. While peering at that obscured symbol, a strange breeze ruffles the papers, revealing a little more, just enough to—

An eye. A strange, ornate eye with three lobes, painted in still-wet red. And upon close examination, a keen eye will realize that the paint is actually blood, perhaps even human.

The longer someone stands there, the more it will feel like they are being watched, even studied, with great interest. It's a sensation that lingers and stays with them even when they exit the building.

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There wasn't much that flew over Wynonna's head, not even after a full bottle of whiskey, that in hindsight was nothing short of rubbing alcohol but she'd had worse. Far worse. She also wasn't so drunk that she couldn't pick that voice out. It was seeing three of him that had her hesitate though, especially since he didn't know who Raylan was.

Wynonna moves in a little more, eyes moving slowly until she finds the man in the familiar hat and immediately her brow furrows, half in curiosity and half in confusion. No, that definitely was him. The last time she saw him so much had happened and it hit like a brick wall and she couldn't stop the tears from forming in her eyes.

In a small voice, she calls out to him. "Doc."

It's a heartstopping voice. One he has dreamt about. Yearned for. Dreaded to hear, in this place. In the silence where you could hear a pin drop he swears even she can hear his heartbeat standing all the way over there.

At first when he turns he doesn't think he can trust that it's her. She looks like her. Sounds like her. But Mathias has been a cruel mistress and she has him doubting his senses. Another ghost perhaps. Some kind of manifestation of his heartache and desire. Anything but the real deal.

But she's standing there looking like the hot mess he remembers her to be and it's impossible to just heed his sensibilities and ask all the questions he should.

"Wynonna." He'd been holding his breath. Setting his tools aside and stubbing out his cigarette, he closes the distance between them and sweeps her up into his arms, holding her close, breathing in her shampoo and her eau de whiskey and finding immeasurable comfort in the familiarity of it, of how her body fits against his.

"Woman, why are you crying?" he asks with a small emotion-laden chuckle, the irony of echoing John 20:15 not lost on him.

She's almost mad at herself for letting Doc see her like this, but the events leading up to landing in this place weren't exactly warm and fuzzy and cause for celebration. Killing Bobo came after killing her sister, Willa, and before that came each of The Seven with so many getting caught in the middle. Not to mention the number of times she could have lost Waverly or even him...

Her drunken state doesn't help numb the mess of emotions that she usually tries to hide from and when Doc says her name Wynonna gives herself a moment, deciding she can't even be mad at herself for letting it out in front of him. Still, in front of him, it was especially shocking since it's Doc that she finds herself fighting so hard against feeling anything for. Because in the end, she can't help but think he'll just end up leaving too.

She takes the necessary steps to meet him in the middle before sinking against his chest and cinching the fabric of his button-up shirt into her fingers to send a fair warning to not even think of letting her go. Not yet. Not until she's ready.

But the question forces her to choke back a sob and a moment later let out a groan as she pulls back to look at him. To her left, she holds up the dusty bottle she found with less than a shot remaining in it.

"I need another drink," she nearly pouts, tears openly falling down her face.

"Well. Is that it?" he asks, forcing a smile even though he can't help his voice crackling and breaking ever so gently in the process. "Dry your tears, my love. I have drinks for you here."

He is reluctant to let her go, and she seems reluctant to let him slip away. There are no drinks to be had standing around where they are at, only the breadth and depth of their personal sufferings keeping them rooted, holding on to the only promise of relief they have.

Brushing the backs of his curled fingers against the top of her cheek, he wipes her tears away and rubs his hand down her upper arm. He has missed her so, but he would not burden her with fifty days of this desert road he has already walked on ahead of her when she is barely holding herself together.

"Come with me," he murmurs, taking a small step back, and when she's following he will guide her over to the bar, get her seated. Is a drink actually a good idea right now? Well Doc wouldn't claim to know everything. Sometimes when they're hanging on by a thread a drink is the only thing that is holding them up. Holding them together. In any case, there are no universes out there where two alcoholics in an abandoned bar is going to be a good idea.

No, that wasn't it. Not it by far and her eyes will tell him precisely that. Nonetheless, exposing that nerve is still too dangerous and showcasing her vulnerable side has become a habit she knows she has to get out of. Only she can't help but listen to his voice and hope that maybe he needs her as much as she fears she needs him.

She leans into his touch and begins reigning in her emotions so she doesn't feel as embarrassed by looking less of a whiny baby, who left little wet spots on his shirt and more of the badass that she thought she was in front of him. It was getting harder and harder to do over the last year. In front of everybody.

Wynonna releases her hand from his shirt with great reluctance and follows him over to a chair before landing on the seat heavily. Only one person had told her about the township of Mathias and answers to questions were limited to basically 'no one knows.

She watches him, following his movements behind the counter before shaking her head in confusion. "What the hell is going on here? One minute we're walking the Ghost River Triangle where it all happened and next thing I'm here."

He doesn't stay behind the bar for long. They don't have much whiskey left but he gives to her what he can find, rummaging around where he knows Raylan's secret stash is not going to be. There are limits, even for Wynonna.

"I don't know," he answers honestly as he returns to her side of the bar, sitting down next to her, eyes trailing up and down her body making sure she isn't hurt. "I have been here several days now." Exactly how long and what he's been up to and what she needs to watch out for in this town, they can get to later.

"I think the more pressing question is, do you have Peacemaker?" Because she is here. And the gun is not. And the only thing that is keeping the world safe from the Triangle and the Triangle safe from the world is the fact that she likely hadn't left willingly.

Her mind swims and the drink placed in front of her gets a brief look before Doc gets her attention again. No, she doesn't think he's lying to her. Why would he? Then again, it wouldn't be the first time he's had his own agenda. And why would he be asking about Peacemaker? Above everything else?

She is far too tired and far too drunk to question it so she breaks her suspicion by picking up the glass and taking a mouthful.

"Someone had to have taken it," she replies, closing her eyes and shaking of her head. "I woke up on some beach and it was gone and this fog.. all I could do was crawl my way up to the nearest building."

Wynonna turns her body around, her knees brushing against his leg.

"Is Waverly here? Or anyone else?

He nods, reaching to give her a pat on one of her knees. He is here for her, even though they are not hugging, still. He would rather they are, but that too exposes his weakness and vulnerability as much as it would hers. They are both too guarded for their own good.

"They took everyone's guns. And knives." And whatever else they had on them that could remotely be considered dangerous. He wasn't packing any dynamite but he was sure those would have been taken, too.

"No one else we know is here. I can introduce you to a few friends -" Yes, Doc has friends that are not hers here. "But there are no locals either. Nobody can tell you too much beyond what they have experienced."

A place that takes guns and other weapons at the door is a place where you're going to need them the most. Wynonna's expression shifts and she regards him, eyes meeting his, trying to pick up what it is that he's not telling her. Because there are a few things he's not telling her.

Wynonna props her elbow on the bartop and leans her head in her hand. "Wait, what?" she smiles crookedly, but her brow is raised in playful skepticism. "Did you say what I think you said? The Doc Holliday has friends?"

Surely he meant allies, right?

"Makes me wonder... is that what we are?"

"I've got the whole town fooled," he jokes with a shake of his head and a small chuckle. Laughs are so rare around these parts, she won't get much more than that out of him.

To be fair, he has been, for the most part, polite and pleasant company. Willing to help where needed. Show the ropes where he's asked and learn some new skills where he's lacking. There hasn't been any reason to be an asshole; no difficult decisions or unfair sacrifices to make. It helps that they've all been quite honest with each other, even if they're all keeping their fair share of secrets.

"You're-..." A friend, maybe, yes, but so much more. He swallows, unable to meet her gaze. It's complicated, being his best friend's great great granddaughter, and a big damn hero herself. A pariah and yet willing to sacrifice so much for the town she had come from, with a kind of unparalleled strength and resilience that would put any man worth his weight in his words to shame. Maybe she doesn't have wisdom or patience in abundance, but sometimes he can't help but find her recklessness endearing. He likes her. He loves her. Waverly too. They are friends. Coworkers. Lovers. Parents. Apparently. Maybe.

"...important. To me." In this game of 'you first' neither of them are willing to say the L-word before the other and it's hurting them both in ways that would hurt them much less if one of them were just willing to admit it.

"More than you'll ever know."

Important. That was a word that didn't mean to Wynonna what it normally meant to others. Then again, the word wasn't ever used with her in the manner in which he said it. No, it was always 'Wynonna, you need to do this, it's important. Wynonna, think, it's important you remember. Wynonna, you know what you have to do...' Everything and everyone mattered more because she was the one who was responsible for her sister's presumed death. She killed her father. She was the crazy one who saw demons.

No one gets to be important after doing all that stuff. Even being the Earp heir is about protecting the most important thing of all - the human lives in Purgatory.

At first, she expects him to say something insensitive, a drinking partner, someone who inadvertently left a means of escape or the great great granddaughter of his best friend who he hooked up with a time or two. That's probably what she would have answered with if she was honest. It was the smart answer to keep a person at arm's length, right?

Her smile slips and her eyes drop and all she can do is nod. There's a painfully awkward silence before she shifts back to face forward and grab her drink, downing the rest in one swallow.

What was she going to do with that?

"So," Her voice cracks slightly and she clears her throat. "What can you tell me about this place?"

Avoidance, it might as well be her middle name.

Well she could just tell him she loved him.

Or she could do that.

Doc is much more casual with the way he leans back slightly away from her, canting his head towards the bar, looking around the Grey Gull as he props one elbow against the countertop, fingers entwined with his other arm hanging loose, other elbow tucked in against his side.

"This place is called the Grey Gull. It was some kind of restaurant-bar before whatever rapture happened here." He clears his throat, disguising the way the emotions welled up in his voice with the way he seems to focus on what she was asking him, imparting to her what pearls of wisdom he had gone on ahead and collected ahead of her like a pez dispenser. "We are in a town called Mathias. Somewhere, somewhen in New England, is the theory. The food here and in the General Store replenishes by themselves somehow, along with whatever you might find in the fridges in the houses. That's- not the strangest thing about this place. The whiskey does not, though, so you might want to ration that." He gestures with a nod to her drink.

"The fog has killed people. As have monsters we cannot see. If you don't follow some cryptic instructions over the telephone or written on little pieces of paper you are probably going to die. It definitely feels like magic. But I don't think it is after you, or me, or anyone in particular. It's just--..." Doc's jaw shifts from side to side and he breathes out an inaudible sigh. "Toying with us."

If only she could recognize it as being love. What she knows of him is what he projects and it's that he is a selfish man who's still getting used to the fact that he's out of that well he's been stuck in for so long. Was she just a reminder of what had happened between him and Wyatt over a century ago? Wynonna expects him to leave at any time because why would want to stay?

Admitting he's important to her means living with the hole he will inevitably leave in her heart when he goes and that's not something she thinks she can do.

She tries to listen while looking at her empty glass, thinking of how the news of being limited alcohol was going to be the hardest thing to adjust to. Everything else absorbed into her brain like it would if Dolls was giving her the quick and dirty details of a new case that needed her and Peacemaker.

"How is that any different than what we already know? I mean it sounds like another kind of curse. Break the curse and we go home." she replies, finally looking at him.

"Well. The difference is. You are here now." He flashes her a tight-lipped smile and leans in a little closer, patting her above the knee a few times. He doesn't expect her to be able to get any farther about the mysteries in this town than anyone else has already gotten. But he does think that she'll need watching over. She's bound to do something reckless within the first 72 hours of being here. If they're lucky she'll only end up hurting herself and if they're not she'll take half the town with her.

At least he loves her enough to find that particular trait of hers tolerable.

"There are several unoccupied houses down Phillips Drive. We should get you situated. Raylan and I have been brewing moonshine out of one of the houses. If you are to drink to excess," and he knows that she will, so there's no real need to try and pretend that she won't. "You should at least stay nearby."

He had committed to staying in 1306, but he should like to stay with her from time to time, for no other reason than to keep an eye on her, to try and keep her safe. She can even have the house and he'll sleep in her backyard if she can't stand the thought of them living together. But that is not really a topic he wants to bring up for right now, knowing that she may not want to even entertain the idea at all. It's different to be sleeping in the barn on the homestead and-... whatever fresh suburban hell he is introducing her to.

He'll have his work cut out for him, knowing her as well as he does. She knows where she needs to be and here is not it, no matter how crazy things are. This place is not her problem and once she finds a way back, she and Doc can go back and finish what needs finishing.

Wynonna doesn't let him have his hand back and by the time he's talking about houses, her palm has covered the top of his knuckled while fingers curl around the outside part of his pinkie finger. She needs the human connection; she needs him.

She spends a moment looking at him, her eyes turning affectionate as she takes in every part of his face. Wynonna knows he cares and sometimes she thinks he's foolish for it. Yet, he follows her, protects her, takes care of her and one day, he'll give up because he's not getting back what he should.

"The boarding house," she finally says quietly. "I stayed there last night after arriving. It's something for now. I.."

There was a painful realization of how vulnerable she must look, but she was too deep in dealing with the responsibility of her sister's death again and the mountain of other personal issues that came rushing back to the surface after it. She's so tired of holding up the mask and trying to convince everyone she's fine. Tonight, she's not.

"I don't want to be alone."

"You are not alone in the Boarding House." There are many people staying there and she would have met some of them, at least in passing if nothing else. People who can be relied on, especially if it comes to the Hargreeves.

"I know everyone staying there. They are decent people." Of course, that is not what she meant, and he knows it.

"May I? Come stay with you. Tonight." She knows he can sleep anywhere. The floor. A chair. Just for tonight, alternative arrangements can be made in 1306. They will just have to deal with tomorrow when tomorrow comes.

"I want to be with you." He's done trying to articulate things he doesn't want. It's about time to allow himself to have things he does want.

She had met a couple of people there, though she was too drunk now to remember anything more than one was female and the other male. That and one told her there were several houses available she could take if staying at the boarding house wasn't her thing. Still, up until realizing he was there in Mathias with her, now it's about not letting him get too far away from her.

Wynonna sits there a moment, considering his request. There was no doubt in her mind what she was going to answer with, but his eyes and the way he looks at her always make her heart beat a little faster. After barely a moment, her hand reaches out and caresses his cheek, framing his face. And after another, her lips press gently to his.

If that isn't direct enough of an answer when Wynonna pulls back a little she smiles. "I was hoping you'd say that."

He's reluctant to let her pull away when she's drawn him in in such bittersweet familiar ways. He didn't know how much he had selfishly missed her, wanted her to be with him even though he didn't necessarily want her to be here.

"I need a bit of time to finish up here." That paste he'd been applying on the window cracks is going to dry up if he leaves it sitting too long. "Are you alright sitting there for a while?" There's even more alcohol if she's wanting to help herself but he's pretty sure she's drunk enough already. It'll be a small miracle if she doesn't end up facedown in the shower later. Not that he would mind helping her out of her clothes.

Wynonna was reluctant to pull back even further than she had (which wasn't much), but there was heat coursing through her veins now, even more after kissing him. Suddenly, she couldn't tell if that was him making her dizzy or the bottle of whiskey she'd been working on over the last hour or so.

She stays where she is, but lets the hand that had been on his cheek drop slowly down to his thigh. "Sitting will probably be safer, yes."

At least she was willing to admit it, though not sensible to know when to call it a night. When Doc gets up to finish whatever it was that he needed to finish, she taps a hand down on the bartop.

"Any chance I can get another drink while I'm waiting for my friend, barkeep?"

"I suppose I might have something to spare." He ambles around the counter and leans down to pick up an open bottle of moonshine.

"This is nasty stuff," he warns. The kind of 19th century shit that kills people, makes them go blind, and no those aren't just old wives' tales. He pours her a small one finger drink first to let her have a taste of that fresh paint stripping gasoline before she can decide if she can stomach another. She'll have to learn to tolerate it if she wants to be nursing her drinking habit, because the whiskey will eventually run out and it'll be back to hitting the moonshine on the regular soon enough.

Leaving the bottle next to her glass, he flashes her a smile before turning back to where he'd been sitting by the window.

"Holler out if you go blind," he drawls half over his shoulder before he resumes his perch and goes back to sealing the cracks.

Of course, she thinks he's just pulling her leg because Wynonna has had some homebrew when she was younger that could power small engines. How bad could it be?

Shooting it back, she looks into the empty glass as the burn sets in and less than a few seconds after that, her face screws up and she lets out a shudder.

"Yeah, not bad," she chokes out, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. "That's about as bad as what the McClennan Brothers made. I got into the stuff before a 9th-grade dance. Apparently, I was glowing."

Reaching for the bottle she pours herself another. A full shot this time.

"You're glowing anyway, even without the drinks." Now she can know for certain that he is her Doc Holliday when he's layering on the sweet-talking and the shameless charm like that.

He is mindful of working quickly because she's just going to sit there and drink herself to oblivion in the middle of the afternoon if leaves her too long and he doesn't want to argue with her within the first hour of meeting her again after all these weeks. Whatever other small chores and remaining slack can be picked up by the other guys if he leaves after mending the last window.

"We should get you some clothes," he suggests. This place had gotten cold before and those black straps she likes to call her tops isn't going to be sufficient. He would put up with her complaining about the local fashion for days on end if it meant she would at least wear something that will keep her warm.

"Have you had a chance to wander through the town yet?" Maybe he could show her around, on the way back to the Boarding House.

He was definitely her Prince Charming, that's for sure. Doc Holliday could make the ladies (and even some men) swoon if he tried. But whenever he opened his mouth to talk to her, she'd listen and believe every word. There weren't a whole lot of times she didn't. Not now anyway.

Downing the second, she drops her head forward and lets the alcohol burn its way down her throat and warm her belly. Good thing Wynonna wasn't at the point of passing out, but puking was a possibility if she cut herself off now. So, she pulls her face up again and shakes her head.

"God that's nasty," she murmurs, sliding off the chair to stand up. When she's sure her legs won't give out, she starts strolling and looking around the place, ending up a few feet away from him to look at some pictures on the wall. "Some abandoned houses. I also grabbed a few items out of the new arrival box at the boarding house. I got this sexy-looking trucker shirt in extra extra large that we might be able to double up as a tent when it gets a bit warmer."

If Doc looks her way in time he'll catch the sassy wink.

"So, where are you staying then?" she asks, genuinely curious. He spoke of making the hooch with someone named Raylan. Did that mean they were living together, too?

"It would be a burden I am willing to bear, getting you out of your tent," he jokes, glancing over in time to catch that wink. She has him smiling in a way he hasn't really smiled since he got here. There hasn't been a lot to smile about.

"I am in a very busy house on 1306 Phillips Drive. Raylan is a Marshal." Doc seems to like Marshals, especially the kind who gets a little feisty sometimes, if that hint of a fond little smile is anything to go by. Wynonna might be facing some... stiff competition. "Malcolm works with the New York police, and his sister Ainsley has only recently arrived, like you. Neal is also from New York, a man of many talents. He drew all this." Doc gestures at the chalk art around them. "And he can make sixty different dishes out of a can of sardines. And then there's some asshole named Negan who is some kind of post-apocalyptic cult leader." Guess who in the house gets on Doc's nerves the most?

Without an Earp to keep him tethered, he seems fully capable of finding other Suns to orbit around. But there's only one Doc Holliday to go around, and too many people he wants to protect.

"It's a bad idea to stay alone in this place, but there aren't enough beds in that house. They won't mind me taking off with you." No, they'll probably have something to say about it. And Doc isn't actually thinking about leaving permanently. But he'll make it work, somehow. He always does.

"I haven't told everyone who I am." That either makes him Batman or a prostitute. Seeing as he's Doc Holliday he's sort of a bit of both.

"Didn't seem wise, in a town full of strangers. But the house knows, except for Miss Ainsley." She'll figure it out soon enough. "A few others too." Doc finishes up with the last crack and gets up, discarding what's left of the paste in the trash bag and washing his hands in the sink.

"Come on. Let's go before you drink us dry."

Wynonna can't help but smile, looking over to the record player in the corner before her eyes skim over to the aforementioned cityscape that's been drawn on the wall. It doesn't take her long to realize that he's been there for some time, but it's the smile at the beginning at the mention of the first name that sparks a little curiosity. Not enough to say anything now, but it is noted and stored. She's not sure she can trust herself right now to assume anything.

"Six people living under one roof," Wynonna muses idly, stepping off to wander over to the record player. "Sounds like an arrangement I never expected you to be a part of."

Especially for someone who didn't care much for closed-in spaces. But then, if there was anything she'd learn about him in the last year or so, it was that Doc never did anything without gaining some kind of incentive. And she's thinking that this Raylan has something to do with that. Then again, maybe it was something as simple as he was a Marshall, just like Wyatt was and this was some screwed-up way of making amends for it.

Glancing back over her shoulder at him, she sets down the record she'd picked up and turns to face him fully.

"I don't know why you're so worried. Sounds like you found yourself another family to call your own." Wynonna nods, not wanting to think about what he'd decide if they are ever given a chance to go home or stay there. She forces it out of her head and covers it up with her usual humorous side.

"But yeah, we should." Wynonna agrees, lingering and slowly moving towards the door. "First day in town and I manage to make everyone hate me. Sound familiar?"

test drive — spring

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I did not get a notif for this :(

booo dw!

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