Chapter Text
Now, almost two months - specifically 57 days - later, I'm feeling better than I usually did. Jackie and I stay in touch every fifteen days - not counting the video calls he's made on Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas - that was today. They've been super cute, too. Like the Halloween one - he made a joke about Hope scaring the living daylights out of him by me getting her to say 'boo' and him pretending to vomit up a DVD of 007: The Living Daylights. And today he said - exactly as I am about to quote - "Before I go, sweetheart, I ho-ho-Hope you have an amazing first Christmas. Love you, girls." But anyway, I'm getting carried away, Jules, I'm supposed to be telling you where we all went, what we do, now that Hope - the imbalance - has been born. As you know, I've moved in with Patrick until I can find a new apartment. Celestine is probably doing something with some new name. Dani's got the Angelus half of Witchy, and Jackie, well... I don't know.
55 days ago...
"Una cerveza." I say to the bartender. South America. Sierra Muñoz. There was an uprising goin' on against the guy in charge. "English is my native language, mate." He says. "Oh. Sorry. You got the strong shit? I can afford that." I ask. "Yeah. I don't mean to pry, but what's your name?" He asks. “Max. Max Ocaso. And you are?" "Tyne. Regis Tyne."