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As the rain fell and fell and fell, Preacher was finding it near impossible to stay in her tent. It had always been an exercise in furtive delicacy - moving around every so often, making sure the rangers didn't find her. And lately, the rain had been flooding her normal places, soaking through even the rain resistant fabric of her tent. She had been making more and more trips to the gym, taking up kick-boxing, other classes (as long as they came included in the membership) just to stay somewhere dry a little longer.

It was too much. She couldn't do it any longer. So, after work, she'd collected her damp tent - rolled up and shoved up a tree during the day - and set back into town. The water soaked into her boots, sloshing uncomfortably. Maybe she could find a relatively dry dumpster - if she flipped the lid, it acted kind of like a shelter. Or... Preacher paused, hoisting her backpack higher. That van hadn't moved for ********' days. If it was unlocked, she could shimmer inside for a night. She walked around to the back and jiggled the hatch-back's handle.


"Score," she said as it began to swing upward.

"Well, ********' s**t." Preacher hadn't expected an unlocked van to be already occupied. She paused, one knee already up in the van, and looked at the girl. If the girl hadn't clearly been sleeping, and if Preacher hadn't already been exhausted, she would have yanked her out by her hair with a 'too bad'. As if was, she simply stared at her.

"You know of any other open vans n' s**t? It's wetter than a teenager at a Beiber concert and I'm ********' freezing to death."

"No s**t, Sherlock. If I had a place, would I be here? My tent-" Preacher reached around to whack at a bundle secured to the top of her backpack. "-ain't standin' up to the rains and floods or I'd be ********' fine as daises." She sounded grumpy and cold and she swiped at her nose with the back of one hand.

"Gym's 24 hours, but I can't just sleep there - tried that once already." She sighed. When she'd packed her tent and left, she thought she was being smart and thinking of everything. But the truth of it was that she could not live in a tent forever - nor did she have plans to. Preacher needed an alt before winter, but she thought she had until[/] winter. "Know any other places, maybe? Not jus' vans but... I dunno, other stuff."

peppermint coffee

She grinned. "Ain't got nobody to bring, chickadee." Quickly, Preacher shoved her backpack up to the seat and shed her coat over it. Maybe it'd dry like that.

"I'm Preacher, you? Wait, are ya sick?"

Her eyebrows rose dangerously close to her hairline. "Did I saw anythin' bout your looks? I said it 'cuz you mentioned being sick, Vega." Yeah, Vega better not say s**t about her name or, van or not, there would be a fist with Vega's name on it. Preacher was even more irritable since she'd had to pack up her tent.

"Just wonderin' if I should be worried about communicable diseases n' s**t."

Preacher laughed. most of her hair-trigger temper evaporating. "Even if you were a b***h, you're lettin' me bunk with you. Scootch over." She was jsut about to make herself comfy when she remembered her blanket. Sighing, Preacher moved back to her backpack and unzipped it. Despite the rain, her blanket was mostly dry. Small blessings.

"I'll be outta you hair in the morning - got a job to go to."

"Thanks, Vega," she said gruffly, and took the pillow. Preacher wrapped herself up too, and tried to ignore how weird it felt sleeping with someone beside her. Sleep better come soon, she had work in the morning. Pulling out her phone, she turned it on and set her alarms.

"Goodnight."