Going Down

“Up,” Saint said, looking the woman over. “Nice tats.” He complimented impressed she could have a job in a hotel and have them peeking out like that.

Devin nodded towards his hand, not immediately recognizing the gang sign. “You too, nice Ink. I’ll take the next one, hitting the garage before the shit storm hits.” She held out a hand for him as the elevator door opened, full of people who thought they’d be able to check out.

Saint looked down at his hand. He sometimes forgot he even had a tat sometime since moving out to the east coast. Here it meant nothing to no one and he had imagined it so much a part of himself he sometime now lost track of it. “Oh … um thanks. Well good luck … seems you not the only one trying to dodge whatever this crap going on is.” He snorted waiting for the exodus of people to empty the elevator.

Devin chuckled, waving a hand towards the folks in the elevator car. “This is it, roads are all locked up. I don’t want to be the one breaking the news.”

“Yea well … good luck.” Saint said stepping onto the elevator and clicking the button for the second floor. “We’re all gonna need a little.”

“Good luck to you too,” she said, turning to take the stairs instead.

The garage, as it seemed would be a bad choice though as well, seeing as no cars were being permitted to leave. She could see police and people in uniforms outside canvasing the area. “Shit.” Devin swore, the gravity of the situation finally catching up to her. What the fuck was going on?

{{Saint Input from Winters!}}

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