[If only Sal was well-mannered enough to mind basic things like personal space or decorum, she'd probably be sitting in a nice, quiet corner on the opposite side of the room.  Or whatever it is that proper ladies do—instead, this asshole enjoys being fussed after, so she stays where she is.

At least she looks like she's watching the kettle and the small display of household magic.  This close, however, Sal can't help but realize that, through everything that's happened during the storm, Anathema's usual nice perfume is absent.  Which means they both need time to clean up, but still...]

I'm over in Maurtia Falls.  I was warned, after coming here, that it has some fucking kind of bad reputation—but if you've ever had the misfortune of living a day in the Scar, you know it's an exaggeration. Anyway, it's the second floor apartment in an older house, the kind with an outside patio, so I don't get fucking arrested for breaking in to my own window.

[Obviously a serious concern, for someone who prefers to fly.]

The former tenant must've been a cat lover too, because it's been half a dozen times now that I've found one sleeping in my bed and howling at me to feed it.

[If it keeps happening, she knows she'll have to bring it to a pet clinic for a check up or something. Honestly, she's only had the one piss-angry bird the size of a horse to look after; Sal doesn't have the first clue what to do with felines.]