...
I seemed to be at a drive-in diner right before I was clearly in a hotel and then out in a driveway and then in a mix of these places... mostly various rooms of the hotel, one of which was "mine". Danny Sheehan kept popping up, on his way to court, or coming back, or organizing, very, very busy, very important.
But he kept flirting with me. His demeanor was extremely lawyerly and yet he would cut in phrases for my ears only. No. Really. He was flirting with me, also trying to get me to do a lot of work for him. He was tugging on me to become a paragon of virtue signaling protection of the natives and the planet.
There was a miserable mother of two, and the older of them, say, three, was a redheaded terror to whom I was actually being sweet instead of throttling him. Dogs. Particularly a very large one. A type of wolfhound of extreme hugeness they had shut up in a bathroom with great big a poop-filled cardboard box.
I was missing a couple important books for research and looking everywhere for them, asking numerous of Danny's aides for books that had just been in my possession before Sheehan broke out, and vexed because there was no space in the wolfhound-filled bathroom for me to shed more of my goddam DNA encoded conditioning.
I didn't flirt back, though I revere the man until my deathbed, because I needed to get a few moments to see if he would deign to straighten his priorities first.
Of course, my bladder hauled me out of it, and it just made me miss JT even more.
pipe up any time....
