Outside, the storm rages on. Inside, it's... quiet. Somewhere in the blank space between pleasant and unpleasant. Typically, Sparrow would have no business being inside Glaucus, not since she drove her dad's crappy old Toyota into a ditch. (Ezra was there for that, she thinks, telling her the car was beyond saving and politely ignoring the way she burst into tears after.)
She has a bike now, and her own two legs, and a face and an ability to sweet-talk that convinces most people to pick her up and drop her off wherever she needs. But, well, there's not much any of that can do against a storm. And shelter is shelter, even if the interior is a bit... drab, for her tastes.
“Ever thought about redecorating?” She asks to the room at large. The smell of grease makes her nose itch.
@assumedguilt