I crack up for a few seconds while Stacy's screaming in agony. When she realizes that she's fine she turns seriously red.
If you haven't figured it out by now, no, the gun isn't real. When I come up for breath I'm pushed over by Stacy. Whose shirt is covered in paint. Should I feel bad?
"Next time don't spook people in their own homes." I at still chuckling "On a serious note though, how the heck did you find me?"
She looks hurt.
"What?"
"No hug?"
We hug and I lead her over to my couch
"How'd you find me?"
"You seem eager to know that"
"Stacey" I seriously wasn't joking
"Okay okay" she gives in aware of the edge in my voice "I was just around the exhibit area and I seen you walking and thought you like familiar and followed. You came here and by then I realized it was really you so I stayed and waited till you came back. Why are you hiding?"
"I don't want to get in trouble"
"You're grown"
"And?"
"No ones really concerned about you they stopped looking for you ages ago"
"Whatever mind your business"
Reposting how harsh that came off I offered food and we caught up a bit until Stacy had to leave. As soon as she left I got to work. I needed new locks or something.
I feel asleep with my mind on security.
Constructive Criticism?
