Pick Your Poison, Thursday

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Tomorrow is the day, Margo texted Jon-Who-Stumbles-Into-Disasters before she opened up the store that morning. It had taken some Googling, some weird online orders that were probably gonna get her flagged in an FBI database somewhere, and some good old-fashioned number crunching, but she was almost there.

She stole a nice perfume off the shelf to lift her mood. Sometimes smelling nice made her slightly less homicidal, and she was going to need it if she was going to deal with Jon tomorrow.

Aromatherapy done, she collapsed in her seat behind the counter and grabbed her notes. She only had one chance to get this nightmare shit out of Eliot’s head, and she was going to get it right.

It was the only acceptable outcome.

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[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Without the magician.

Talk to Margo

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Or with the magician.

Re: Talk to Margo

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Right. Jon texted back. When and where, and should I bring or do anything first?

As nervous as this whole thing made him, it was rather nice to be able to ask questions without worrying. All hail text messaging.

Re: Talk to Margo

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Tomorrow morning, 11 AM. 33 Apocalypse. Only bring what you’re gonna need to check if that shit is out of El’s head.

She was happy to keep you on text, Jon.

Re: Talk to Margo

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Just me, then. I'll be there.

He'd bring his own paper and pen to talk with, too, so he didn't have to use up all of Margo's, but that wasn't part of whatever ritual she was doing.

After a moment, he registered the address.

Who names a street APOCALYPSE??

He was not happy about this.

Re: Talk to Margo

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Someone with a morbid sense of humor.

Margo got it. She’d been through enough shit.

Re: Talk to Margo

[intheeyeofthebeholding]

Just so long as it's not a goddamned omen.

Jon had been through plenty, too.

OOC

[not_a_goddamn_princess]

Margo in a nutshell.