My meeting with Summer. Let's do this!

You leave the strip bar and exhale. You didn’t notice how fresh the air was in Billings until you were breathing again outside—the fresh scent of bread and most other varieties of cooked goods. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time to explore where any of the smells were coming from; however, not to mention, you just blew all your carry-cash on you on one hooker so that you couldn’t do anything.

It does take you a considerable amount of time before finding out where the police station is, so by the time you finally reach it; it is a little after 7 in the afternoon.

Perhaps it was the events of last night, or maybe just you being paranoid, but you think there are many more police officers out, despite the stores mainly being closed on this side of town, but whatever the case, you felt like they were all watching you.

It didn’t get much better once you were inside and asking about Summer’s whereabouts. You were bombarded with a dozen questions, but you could answer them honestly, besides your occupation as a worker—still just an explorer/traveler.

Billings is better armed than you once thought, and even though the police **** is strict outside, they seem much more relaxed and comfortable inside. You get a couple of glances in your direction as you are led to Summer’s office, but no one stops you.

The officer leading you to Summer’s office knocks twice, but at first, no one answers. You and the officer exchange looks, and he knocks again. Finally, someone answers the door, but it isn’t Summer. It’s Langly. And he doesn’t look thrilled.

Instead of saying anything to either you or the person you came with, Langly pushes his way out and storms away. Again, you exchange looks with the officer you’re with. Summer makes her appearance a couple of seconds later, looking only angry. Your eyes meet, and she rolls her eyes. She’s only wearing jeans and a white T-shirt now, which folds around her body as if they were tailored for her only. She's also swapped her footwear for canvas sneakers that had been white at one point, but we’re now stained with what looked grease, blood, and mud. “Good timing.”

Summer disregards the officer you came with and invites into her office. There are papers everywhere, maps with strings attached to pins leading to different spots in and around Billings. A computer with winding fans and a constant buzzing flickers on her desk where a cup of spilled pens and pencils lay in a messy pile beside an empty white mug. A window that peers into the city of Billing has the blinders shut. There are also several pistols and long rifles laying idly around the office, bullets and shells litter the corners and fill the empty spots on the tables.

“Come in. Come in.” Summer encourages. So you do. The smell of black coffee lingers in the air, a ceiling fan above blows it all around you, giving the room a weird coffee shop feel to the study you’ve walked into. “Pardon the mess. I’ve been everywhere lately and haven’t been able to clear off my work.”

“No worries.” You say, happy that the floor isn’t a hoarders paradise. “What did you want to talk about?”

Summer clears her throat, locking the door before she pulls out a chair and clears it off for you. Balls of papers are thrown into a pile of garbage near the door and she offers it to you. “Just a few basic questions, I promise.”

You sit down and roll over to her desk, where her computer is struggling to stay alive and her workload lays unorganized and spread out. She sits on the other side and grabs a notepad and pencil.

“Are you always…this unorganized?” You ask.

“I share my office with Langley, so our work space gets used up pretty quickly. These, ah, last few weeks have been taxing.”

“All the same problem?” You ask.

“No,” she replies.

“Is that why you looked angry when you got to the door?”

Summer smiled and knitted her brows. “We had an argument, but not over our resources. Are you seriously going to talk my ear off about my personal life or are you going to let me ask you those questions I had.”