[ Barbara strolls in around dawn, Haley now in tow, and a far too serious for dawn absence of a good morning expression. She's not about to shoot sunshine before it's words that will matter more than bullets. She checked if it was true first, and she hates that it is. But she's not a 15-year-old with a frequently dicey emotional processing on top of it. There's no hesitation (she had the slow walk for a very different kind of that, and so much else, even after staring at her computer screen a long time after waking up in an empty bed). She stops at the counter, leaning a hip on it. ]
no subject
We should talk.