once you're dead, you can't come back.

[It's getting somewhat late when Angel makes her way to apartment 7, but there is a very good reason for that. Her face is ashen, her breathing irregular as she holds a folded piece of paper in her hand. Anyone observant enough will notice her name written on the front, in Rhys's handwriting. That probably explains a little about her current state.

But once she's allowed inside, she won't start this meeting off by discussing business. Things have gotten pretty bad. Elizabeth and Bigby are gone. The remaining three members of the apartment are probably not not in a good shape — and she purses her lips at all of them before speaking.]

There's something I need to speak to all of you about, and it may end up causing you to experience... side-effects. But before that, how are you all faring? [Since, uh. Ava sure did happen.] Do you need help with any of your injuries?

[Which are tbd, considering that thread is on-going... But please get help, Alfendi. Scissors hurt.]

[Last night had been a mess.

Her mind had been hazy as she went to sleep in apartment 3, the bed uncomfortable under her back, but after she woke up — she realized something. A piece of knowledge slotting into place as if it had never been gone, and it may very well be more disturbing than the fact she had to kill Adam in cold blood the other night.

It keeps her distracted throughout breakfast with Jack and Rhys, and after the whole ordeal is over, she sets out to seek the one person she believes could understand the experience. After all, if Elizabeth had been telling the truth about her memories at the trial...

Well.

When she spots Elizabeth heading from her apartment to (presumably) the kitchen, she takes the opportunity to approach her.]

Excuse me — Elizabeth? [She's sure she must be busy, but...] ... I would like to talk, if that's alright.

[Lara's foot is bye-bye, two ankle monitors are now in her possession, and there may or may not be the slightest bit of blood speckled all over Angel's body. The pain in her upper arm is a reminder of what happened this morning, but it all seems so far away after the trial and execution. A person she thought she could trust turned out to be staff, and — well. There's no use letting it get to her. She won't achieve anything like that.

So once she can't stand being in the Technological Lab with Lara and Luke's deaths weighting on her, she heads out for a break in hopes of soothing her nerves. It's during that time that she spots Jack, and despite something strange settling into her stomach? She approaches him.]

... Excuse me, Jack? [Gently, to get his attention. He seemed to be significantly upset during the trial, and she would rather not get him worked up again.] If you don't mind me asking, how are you feeling?

[She might as well ask, considering he almost started a fight with Rhys right in front of her.]

[Shit got 2 real 2 fast, and there may now be some blood on Angel's body after #monitorgate, but... It's fine. This is fine. Everything is super, duper fine. Actually, no. No, it is not. But at least they can all pretend, right?

Right.

Once all of apartment 3's occupants are inside their tiny, cramped abode — Angel will glance at the door. Glance at her roommates. Glance at the stupidly heavy axe that was the subject of the other night's discussion, and sigh. They were able to take down one of the staff this evening, but a child is dead and so is Lara. It's not a good feeling.]

... I suppose we should talk about improving our security, unless we wish to trade one of our lives for elbow space.

[It's a joke, but. It's a bad one and falls flat. God.]

[As it turns out, going to bed covered in cold, anxiety produced sweat? Very unpleasant. 0/10. Would not recommend to any fellow Locked Up Girl Gone Wild^TM. It's no wonder, then, that Angel hightails it to the community bathrooms sometime after curfew ends.

Unfortunately for her, there is already somebody else there. Which... would normally not be a problem, no. She has enough self control to keep herself from freaking out at being surrounded by people, despite how overwhelming it all is. But, you know. It's one thing to interact with a person who's fully clothed. It's another to step into the bathroom just in time to see Rhys stepping out of one of the shower stalls, dripping water all over the place and barely covering himself with a towel.

To say she feels an acute spike in her blood pressure would be an understatement.

She turns around immediately, hand covering her eyes like she's a stinking 12-year-old. What is this. Why is this. How is this.]

—I'm sorry. I am not, err... [Peeping? What is this.] I'll give you your privacy.

[Maybe she is??? Better off??? Living with her sweat like a brute?????????? Please stop being a selective pearl clutcher, Angel.]