“The only thing that could have made this news any better is if it had been delivered to me while I was still laying in bed.” Eleanor visibly sagged in relief. “You know, I actually made a twitter account strictly to tweet weird things that Silas says. It has like, 2k followers.” She was actually quite proud of it. The account picture was just a normal picture of him but with a soul-patch photo-shopped onto his face. “By the way, why are you up at the hell-hour? Or did you just not go to sleep again?”
Shrugging off several inappropriate comments that came to her so quick she almost got whiplash (she had yet to unlearn some of the unwanted shit the Rising Tide experience, more commonly known as hours of co-operating with a dude from Arizona who definitely had a 4chan account, had rooted in her), Skye shot Eleanor an apologetic look, nodding to the coffee in her hand to let her know why the news had been postponed. “He got kicked out of a bar for fighting with someone over Harry Potter accuracy. It was the first thing he said to me, followed by the story of how he accidentally joined a mariachi band because of the language barrier. Then he told me his name,“ she grinned at the memory, but it fell short once she felt a random bout of exhaustion kick in. “Is ‘I’m hearing elevator music in my head right now’ a dead giveaway?”
