She’s investigated some and come to the conclusion that, no, this isn’t the direct result of her toying with time -- it should be a relief, and it isn’t, because a time hijink that Max has caused is at least something she knows she can fix. This looks to be random, plucking people and animals and things from worlds like collector’s pieces of sets that do not belong together.
Like child’s play, except people report that there are forces above that know exactly what they’re doing. Max isn’t religious, but she hadn’t dismissed the idea of angry and vengeful gods springing down disaster onto the city in retaliation, and it wasn’t comforting. This is worse, if partly because it’s completely out of her control this time.
The townhouse is nice, at least, and she’s growing warm to her new camera model. There is little function on her phone but calls & texts and loads and loads of contacts to scroll through until she pauses on one and her even mood falls into the negatives.
This could be another cosmic joke. Someone unlucky enough to have the same exact name, maybe. She hesitates for a very long time, her finger hovering -- and just as reluctantly chooses to bite the bullet because there’s nothing more to lose.
Deep breaths.
[txt: Chloe Price | 7:39 PM ]: Hello?
@ragestaged
