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The sale had gone well. Juliet thought that much as she stood quietly off to the side and simply observed her employees handling everything for the time being. She had only intended to stop into Blood Diamonds for a few minutes and then leave, but she'd gotten distracted at the amount of people adding to her profit. As it had been for the past few weeks, a small smile had crossed her lips at her success and the positive influences that surrounded her life these days. After watching a couple of customers, Juliet waved in the direction of her manager before leaving the shop and heading out of the 8th Dimension Mall.

She couldn't help but think of the days when the shop had just begun, when Blackadder had been created, too, and the way it had paved a path for the woman becoming a workaholic, as well as to form a bond with others than her sire. It was those bonds, or at least one in particular, that Juliet still held dear as she went about her day to day activities, checking on Refractions and her other venues to make sure that everything continued to run smoothly, to make sure that they ran properly. She only hired the best and intended for her shops to treat her customers as such.

Juliet lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips through her short brown hair, tugging at a curl after her fingers were caught. “Should I continue on to Rayney Days?” She wondered to herself. The shop was newer, catering to the wet weather in Harper Rock by supplying a fashionable extension of footwear, jackets and umbrellas, and reasonably priced for the good quality of what was sold. It was only a short walk to Coastside and her green eyes glanced over in the direction where she knew The Clocktower to be. Ultimately, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to check on her manager there and pulled her jacket tight.

After Phoenix's return, Juliet had taken to going into the sewers or caverns once business was handled. Gone were the fitted slacks or skirts, a comfortable pair of fitted dark jeans and a simple gray tank top under a hooded sweatshirt had been worn. Her heels had been traded for combat boots, black to conceal anything gore related and behind her belt, the weight of her .44 created a nice reminder that she was safe, whereas the cool metal of her knife from Skylar tucked up her sleeve allowed her to feel secure. It was a nice feeling, really.

“Hello Miss Cassadee!” A woman called and for a split moment, Juliet was confused only to see one of her employees. She smiled and gave a small wave, calling out, “Hello” in response before the vibrations in her pocket caused the brunette to stop. Reaching into her jacket, the woman tapped the screen of her Android Mini with her forefinger, reading the words on the screen quietly. Turning abruptly on the heel of her foot, Juliet began to make her way in the direction of the nearest alleyway as she began to text Sophia. Once the message was sent and Juliet didn't see any humans, the woman focused before teleporting herself outside the flats.

She gave a warm smile to Skylar, River and Freyja, her green eyes finally finding her brother just before she asked, “What's going on, Ric?”

Doc: It wasn’t unusual for Doc to get a text. In fact, he had gotten quite proficient at texting over the last few years. So much so, that those who texted him the most, had a special text tone assigned to them. The Ball and Chain had one that seemed to be created specifically for her. Unfortunately for Doc, she typically screamed directly into his head, thus by-passing the ever-so-perfect text tone that he had assigned to her on his cell phone.

Typically the text tones that were assigned to people in his contacts, had a reason for the specific sound or phrase being theirs. Dominique’s was a kitten mewing. Kenlie’s was the throb of a Harley. Vel’s was the theme from the movie Jaws, and so on. He prided himself on being attentive to those that contacted him, but he knew by the tone, who he could put off for a few minutes, and who he wouldn’t. So when his phone dinged, a simple no-nonsense, to the point ding, Doc had to look at the text. He had been correct, it was Ric.

Something had happened and Ric was a placing a ‘who is available for dealing with some pests’ call out, causing Doc’s eyes to light up. The last few weeks had been frustrating as hell. Holidays. He hated the holidays, the music, the noise, the crowds, and all the garish decorations. It was an accumulation of irritants that irked him to his inner core. The only reprieve that he did have, there for a brief shining moment, was being told that his parental beings had ceased to be. Then that moment was ruined by Detective Dick trying to pin the whole sordid murder mess on him. Doc hadn’t killed his parents, true he had been planning it, but in this particular instance he was guilt free, and **** him, if that ******* Dickhead was trying to pin it on him. And because Det. Dick was trying to make every piece of evidence point at him, Doc had been acting boringly routine, because he knew he was being watched.

Doc needed an outlet for his pent up aggression, aggravation and frustration, and from the wording of Ric’s text, he might just have an outlet for lots of gratuitous violence shortly. Glancing at his watch, and then outside at the ‘plain clothes’ cop car that parked across the street, watching the lab, Doc knew he had a two hour window before he would be expected to leave for Winterbrook by the cops that were staking him out. He didn’t want the cops following him to the designated location, so he headed to the basement of the lab, and used the portal that took him straight to the Quarantine Zone.

Coalescing just outside the entrance to the Flats, Doc took a moment to shoot a shambling and rotting zombie, before stepping inside and spotting a group of females clustered about Ric. As he made his way over, he scanned the others in the room. He liked to know who might get in his way should things go sideways; and who he could use as a meat shield should the need arise. Upon reaching the group, Doc nodded politely, “Ric.”