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It had been a long time (too long, too long) since she'd last seen Agnes Pollock.[break][break]

Perhaps the wait would have seemed trivial to those who have been truly separated from their loved ones, the time spent between the moment they disappear and the moment they burst back into the other's life, assuming they do so at all, stretching out to be months, years, maybe even decades. Evelyn was not like those people, though, strong in mind and in heart, able to maintain sanity and closeness despite the passage of time and miles that must be transversed to see again what made them truly happy. She was dependent, weak; days could set her on edge without seeing someone unfortunately to be latched onto, had worry that she's been abandoned or has grown out of her uses stirring deep in the back of her mind. Things never said aloud, maybe, but things that could rip her body into pieces from the inside out. A week was, in most senses, not a long time at all. Seven days of solitude from her only real friend could have left her wanting to meet up again, but it shouldn't have – and it wouldn't – bear the excuse for the antsiness that had settled in seventy-two hours in. To her, it was an eternity of being apart, and the fact that she was just blocks away from cutting the wait short to only those seven terribly lonely days was enough to pump euphoria fresh through her being. Irrationality went beyond just that, though. Weariness arose in the idea that she was unwanted, that the time spent to do nothing but sleep, eat, and hassle to and fro in that busy kitchen of her mother's restaurant was because she'd somehow failed along the way and was being tossed to be fed to the wolves – but distance hadn't been implemented at all on the nun's side, and the only one to blame for how long it had taken her to get around to paying St. Joseph's a visit was herself. And that aforementioned (devilish) kitchen. Each new addition to the menu, whether it be an original special or a new item altogether did their job to usher in a fresh swarm of people in alongside the usual business of the “regular” crew. Her own flesh and blood had been pulling ideas out of her head much faster than the daughter could ever hope to remember, and with it brought not a few days' worth, but quite the large handful of days' worth of unbearably busy shifts that extended beyond normal hours and had her falling into slumber's welcoming arms as soon as she arrived home. She would have visited, or at least called, but lethargy was unstoppable foe when it was persistent, and never had she seen such vigor in it as this. The reality of the situation was that she was the dependent one of this relationship, the independent one far more than capable of keeping herself sane in even the most lunatic of prison cells the city had to offer (the aforementioned St. Joseph's with its strict nuns and its less-than-pleasant priest), and yet some part of her still felt as though she had to make it up to her friend for her longer-than-usual absence. She'd plenty of experience under her belt when it came to smuggling in “goodies,” and she figured a bottle of scotch was as good as any verbal apology.[break][break]

The over extravagant entryway to the church came into view no more than a dozen seconds later, and the sight of her destination alone was all the chef needed to add a bit more haste to her step. Most of the sisters were more than accommodating enough to direct her toward the only one out of the lot of them she really cared for, and chances always were that it would be one of them to answer the door, but back up plans were required with every visit should it be Father William, instead, who poked his head out from the crack in the double doors. Once she'd made the mistake of coming unprepared, and she was certain that he'd hated her since – well, that was, if he hadn't hated her from the moment she stepped foot on his church. She was just about to see how much fortune would favor her on that particular afternoon, however, when the faint sound of music from somewhere to the right caught her attention. Curiosity gripped her first, causing her first to pause and strain to try and really listen, then carried her feet a yard or so toward it to see if she could catch anything outside of a faint beat. Now, had it been any other sound, she might have assumed to to be coming from one of the nearby buildings, or many just a straggler caught in between. Seeing as it was what it was, though – the familiar chords of band named after... what was it, a lion who couldn't hear? – she knew better than to guess the culprit to be anyone else but the woman she was looking for. How convenient, she thought as she turned the corner and, lo and behold, caught sight of the casually-dressed nun scooping grime out of the gutters on the roof. Now she wouldn't have to worry about where to hide her liquid treat.[break][break]

“That's not very lady-like of you, Sister Agnes,” Evelyn called to her, tilting her head to the side and flashing her friend a characteristic smirk. “You must've been waiting up there this whole time for your knight in shining armor to come back. But don't worry; I'm here now -” Reaching into her coat as she spoke, she produced the bottle of liquor, extended it into the air, and waggled it back and for Aggie to see. “- and I've got alcohol.”

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