I'm a badass, not an anarchist.

Yup, Rosa had high-tailed it off the island on Wednesday, needing a nice heaping dose of her girlfriend, and she was just going to stay up there in New York for the rest of the week, and no one could change her mind about it. Since she'd skipped out on a few days of work, though, she figured she'd better be back in time for her desk shift on Monday if she wanted to stay viably employed. So she drove back, feeling incredibly relieved and just at that perfect spot where any longer and you'd start to get annoyed with the person you were spending all that time with, and headed back, parked her motorcycle, covered it up, and took the short stroll to her apartment with a lingering glance toward the bar to consider a detour.

Nah, drop off her stuff, then head in for a drink.

Of course, when she approached her door and heard the TV through the door, she had to frown a little. The light was on, too, she could see, and she definitely didn't leave them on when she left. So her hand dipped into the pocket in her jacket where she always kept a knife, unlocked the door as quietly as she could, and threw open the door, charging in, ready to take on anyone who had broken in.

...which were apparently two children, an girl hidden behind a tangled mess of black curls and a younger boy with darker skin and soulful eyes, sitting on the floor, playing with Arlo II who was absolutely loving the attention.

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my living room?" Rosa asked, not yet putting the knife away.

"Hi, Mom!" the girl chirped.

"She's not your mom!" the boy argued, scrambling up to his feet and hurrying over, tossing his arms around her waist and hugging her tight. "She's mine!"

"Ugh, gross," said Rosa and the girl at exactly the same time, in exactly the same tone.

"What the hell?"

[[establishly unless anyone wants to swing by or call or whatever. I'm on some SP until later tonight, though]]