Verity was biking to work, because as nice as getting money from the city and two jobs was, it hadn't exactly afforded her a car yet. Not that she even know how to drive. She stopped at the intersection, Panoptes just up the road, when she heard screeching tires and some kind of inhuman scream. Shaken by the sound alone, she looked toward it and saw a lump of orange fur in the street.

"Oh my god," Verity whispered to herself, jumping off her bike and letting it fall, leaving it on the corner. She ran over to where the animal was laying. For some reason, be it the sudden spike in adrenaline or just her brain putting the scene together wrong, she thought it was a fox. But it was a dog, and it was badly hurt. It was breathing, but it was panting heavily, its front leg mangled and bleeding.

The car that hit it was long gone, and there wasn't much traffic, so she ran out into the road.

"Fuckfuckfuck, come here, we need to get you out of the street," Verity said, trying to carefully, but quickly pick the dog up into her arms and move to the grass. The dog didn't struggle or try to get away and Verity sank to the ground with it in her lap. She fumbled for her phone and after a few clumsy tries, called Tony.

"Tony," she said in a rush when he finally answered. "I need help. Please. I'm across from Panoptes, can you bring a car?"

It's nicer outside than it is inside the apartment, even with a room on the first floor and all the fans running. All except one, which Verity has borrowed to make things a little nicer for Casa de Marcus & Verity.

But anyway, there's shade from the trees and a nice breeze, nothing too hard that makes working outside a pain. There's a wooden picnic table in front of the complex which Verity has taken over with tools and tubing, both copper and plastic. She had to go to a freaking pet store for the plastic, so she really hopes Marcus appreciates this, even though he never complains. I've been in hotter places, is all he says.

At the very least she has Benatar to consider.

Earbuds in, she's working on looping the copper tubing around the front grid of the fan in circles, tying it every couple inches to secure it. This better fucking work.

[cont. from here]

Verity was going to die. She never knew that anything could feel this good, the way Ellie was looking at her, talking to her. Touching her. They almost took this away from her. She almost missed this, three times. She pulled her mind from trying to go to that place, not wanting this ruined by bad memories, and as Ellie's hands slid up her sides it was easy to do.

Especially because she realized that now there was no way Ellie was going to miss the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. At this point all she had to do was look.

"Fuck." She swore, a string of whispered fucks, adjusting herself into a more comfortable position on top of Ellie, braced on her elbow with their hips flush. Her free hand returned to Ellie's hair only to move to her shoulder. "You're so pretty, Ellie," she said helplessly. She ducked her head down, skimming her lips over Ellie's. Her voice was breathy, anticipatory. "I want you to."

Verity feels like she's losing her mind a little. First was this place. That's it. That's all, because the existence of this place in general is enough to make someone think they've lost it. Then there was Marcus not knowing who she was. Then there was the basement. Now there are...not actual demons, but paintings of demons and other monsters that have come to life, apparently.

She's back on her meds, so that can't be an excuse, even if it had ever been one.

So she's either trapped in some kind of weird hallucinatory nightmare, or the impossible is real and she's just stuck here, forced to accept it.

Verity doesn't know what to think anymore, so she goes to the one person who's the closest thing she has to home. Even if he doesn't remember. She knocks on Marcus' door.