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Where Is My Mind? [Laurel Mood Post; Attn: Niko]
#1
Laurel Hensley dreams. That may surprise you, that the woman who is as hard as anything she's ever come across would allow even her subcious any level of control over her, but she can't keep that "Fuck You, I Rule Me" attitude up twenty-four hours a day and sometimes she does need to sleep. That's what she does on Tuesday afternoon, letting her schedule go awry as she tries to find a moment's solace and a rest to her weary mind.

What she dreams about is mostly inconsequential; we'll skip straight to the end, when she feels the urge--no, the need--to save a girl in high heels that is traipsing her way through a dangerous intersection where a collision is about to wipe her out.It had been difficult, getting in there before the ugly red 1986 Toyota Tercel screams drunkenly through the intersection and plows the girl down on its way to a family in a Lexus, but she had just barely managed it at the cost of being run over herself. The horn from the car screams as it charges straight at her, and then it bleeds from her subconscious straight into her waking mind.

BWAAAAR! BWAAAAR! BWAAAAR!

And that's how Laurel Hensley's world comes into focus. Consciousness slowly dawns to the sounds of a blaring alarm that's been going off for several minutes. The woman hasn't been sleeping well lately due to these strange recurring dreams, and by the time her alarm clark screams it's the early evening. She groans, pulls herself out of bed, reaches for a jar of aspirin on the night stand. She's had a lot of headaches lately, and she doesn't quite understand why. It's not even the amount she drinks; she's had a couple of rough nights but she's been trying her best to keep to moderate drinking. She has no intention of living the cliche of an alcholic bail enforcer.

So today (tonight) it's just a glass of water from the sink in the kitchen to wash them down with, the blonde woman staring out the kitchen window to the street below in her usual sleepwear: a pair of shorts and a white athletic shirt. One of the advantages of working her own schedule is that she can take days off like this when she's not feeling well.

The thing is, even if she can take time off within reason, she never does. Later tonight, she might notice the voice mail from Ray, asking her if she's okay. He's calling because he's worried about her and he wants to make sure she's okay. After all, he's seen her work her way through fairly serious injuries in the past. Laurel doesn't share with Ray and Ray doesn't dote on his pseudo-daughter, but it's not going to stop him from being worried.

So instead of checking her voice mail, she showers. She needs to feel presentable, because even if she's not going to be working she plans to get some air. She also has cigarettes to buy. So she cleans herself and she gets dressed in a T-Shirt and jeans, heads out to go about her day.

Throughout the evening, there's something that keeps bothering her. She can't figure out quite what it is...something she felt like she was supposed to know but didn't. She heads to the corner store, does a bit of jogging, then heads back to her apartment and works out. Beating on her punching bag helps get some of the frustration out. She's been feeling it ever since the whole shitstorm at the strip club, and then that thing with Kragen...

The punching bag stops getting punched as something comes to her. Kragen. Lux had asked her about Kragen a week ago, and all of a sudden the woman had gone from cool to fucking cool. All on a word. But that doesn't make sense. Lux was okay, sure, but why had she spent the last week thinking about Lux and how great Lux is and wondering what she could do for...

Oh. Oh, shit.

No one's going out of the apartment tonight. Moderate drinking is out the window, and the bounty hunter locks her door and sits with her gun in range where she can keep an eye on that particular manner of egress into the room. Someone is fucking with her head, and she doesn't know what it means or how it happened but she's not leaving tonight.

And that's when she texts Amber, with three simple words:

it happened again

It's going to be a long night for Miss Hensley.
"The anger of a good man is not a problem. Good men have too many rules."
"Good men don't need rules. And today's not the day to find out why I have so many."
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