1323/Eye of the Storm

Eye of the Storm
Date of Scene:	06 July 2017
Location:	A Great Taco Restaurant in NYC
Synopsis:	Sam Winchester and Winifred Burkle get to go on their very first date without monsters, demons, or any other sort of life-threatening scenario.
Cast of Characters:	Sam Winchester, Winifred Burkle

---

Sam Winchester has posed:
They needed, Sam Winchester decided, an actual date.

Something not punctuated by demons, vampires, injuries, or super soldiers. And if it feels like a bit of an asshole move to have a date while a certain Bucky Barnes is once again retaken, the thing is, he knows too much about this life to think there's such a thing as a "good time." One takes the moments where one can. If there is nothing that can be done for the moment, then one turns one's attention to the relationships that matter. You take what you can, and you live in the moment, and that's how you stay sane.

He's already done what he could to call a sort of...meeting...between all the people who now know about the super-soldier's problems.

So he had called ahead, and suggested a nice dinner, letting Fred pick the type of place. He'll spring for just about anything, he says, and can eat just about anything...as long as she doesn't pick greasy diner fare. That last bit was a joke. He names off a few suggestions...Thai, Indian, Italian...but leaves it to her.

He also arrives cleaned up. Hair freshly washed, face freshly shaved, blue dress shirt with the top buttons unbuttoned, grey dress slacks...pressed and drycleaned. Shined shoes. He doesn't want to look like a fake FBI agent, but neither does he want to go all scruffy flannel.

He also brought her flowers, but a mischevious maneuver had him sticking a single tounge depressor into the arrangement.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred knows all about the meeting that Sam has called and has a few of her own ideas about it. However, she has not yet voiced those thoughts out loud. Instead, she happily accepts the invitation to dinner. Of course, she's always enthusiastic about the idea of eating - especially when she's allowed to pick the type of food.

"Tacos!" Is her immediate and enthusiastic response as to what kind of food she'd like. That - he will find - will be what she will always want to order when given the chance. She missed them for five years and so she's always willing to try and make up that deficit.

While Fred tends toward jeans and shirts, tonight she's wearing a sundress. It's long and flowy, straps tied at her shoulders and strappy sandals. There's a wide grin when she sees the flowers. "Those're for me?" she asks, shoulders raising in pleasure as she smiles, her accent coming through strongly. "I love 'em!" A laugh is given when she notices the tongue depressor. "You look real nice," she tells him. "I don't think I've seen you in anything other than plaid. Other than the time you were in a hospital gown. Or shirtless. Or bloodied. Hm, guess I've seen you in other things, but I generally think of you in the plaid."

Sam Winchester has posed:
He chuckles at her choice, and promises to find a place to go get Tacos. "You look very nice too," is all he says, to her Plaid Manifesto. In truth he'd debated just wearing a clean plaid shirt and nice jeans, but...he's trying to make an effort here. Hazel eyes light up with pleasure when she laughs at the tongue depressor. And then he offers his arm. Just to escort her to the car, but there it is.

"I found us a place called Ki'Mexico," he tells her. "It's supposed to have been a very successful food-truck-turned restaurant. I've never been, so if these are bad tacos I'll happily take you somewhere else."

If allowed, he'll even open the car door for her. In general, Sam Winchester does try to be a gentleman whenever possible. "How are things going, Fred?"

Winifred Burkle has posed:
As Sam offers his arm, Fred takes it and tucks the flowers under her other arm. "Thanks!" she replies. "I never wear dresses that much any more. They tend to get in the way of vampires and ghosts and the like."

It's clear that Fred is bemused by the offered arm, the opened car door. This is not what she expected from him - especially not after the few times she's met him it's either been with them in dire peril or him horribly wounded or captured. "That sounds wonderful! I can't ever get enough of tacos. I tried to make my own on Pylea out of acorns and the like, but it never was the same. Not the right texture, you know?"

As for how she's doing, she smiles and launches into a story about a case she worked on the other day involving a cursed book that they needed to read from backwards in order to reverse a curse on a family and a house. She's eager in her telling, clearly excited about the discovery and the solve. "How is your arm?" she asks him in return.

Sam Winchester has posed:
He flexes his wrist. He listens to the story, asking the occasional question. But mostly he's content to listen. The mention of Pylea causes the shadow of concern to slide over his face...but he leaves it be for now.

"Cast came off today," he says. "SHIELD really does speed the process. It's looking a little pathetic, but it's nice to have it back." There's no getting around slight atrophying when a cast comes off, but Sam has been studiously and carefully exercising it all morning. The right hand is definitely a bit shaky as he settles into the driver's side.

Ki'Mexico proves to have a Cantina feel to it. There's wooden tables scattered in two rooms, and an outdoor patio. The decor is not quite as heavy on the stereotypical Mexican restaurant elements as one might expect. Lights are strung overhead, offering a cheerful air, and a live band is doing classic rock covers in the back room. The front room makes it possible to hear the music and possible to speak at the same time, and the patio pipes it all out via speaker. The logo offers a cheerful Day of the Dead sugar skull with a full head of black hair on her.

The menu is pretty much //all// tacos, offered a'la'carte. Some of them are vegetarian...there are cactus tacos, for example. But the more traditional array of pork, chicken, steak, or beef are all there as well. The salsa is made fresh in house; it's possible to smell it from the door, along with fresh-made, top-shelf gaucamole. Rice and beans are pretty much the sides. There are margaritas, and an array of other drinks. None of it is particularly //expensive//...but there's the sense that there's some care, authenticity, and uniqueness going into the making of the food here.

"Will this work?" Sam asks, perhaps with a little more anxiety than is warranted given Fred's laid-back presentation so far.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
As Sam most likely has known for a little while, Fred is a talker. She'll fill up any silence with stories or observations or anything else. She is animated with her retellings as well as her enthusiasm. Hands and arms are almost always moving as she talks about the book, eyes always moving to Sam to ensure he is listening...as well to see if she's being too crazy. She knows she can be overwhelming at times.

A hand rests a few moments longer on his newly cast shed arm, but she gently takes it off so he can drive. "That's good. A broken arm sucks. I'm glad you're feeling better and that being upside down for awhile didn't leave any lasting effects. You know, if you stay upside down too long you can actually asphyxiate because it's harder for you lungs to get air. All of your organs are pressed up against them and they don't like that, so you're just as likely to suffocate as to get a brain hemorrhage, which is what most people thinks happen when you are left upside down too long."

As the arrive at the restaurant, she looks overjoyed, despite her somewhat grisly pre-dinner talk. "Oh, it's perfect!" she tells him. "This is like a taco //dream//." She'll order quite a few tacos - apparently a woman who can put quite a bit away. It's possible he burns a lot of calories in the fact that she rarely stops talking and is often incredibly animated. "I didn't even ask if you liked tacos. I hope you do. I think I could eat them all day, every day and be happy."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"If I'd have known that," Sam says, amused as she outlines all the horrible things that might have happened to him during his stint as a vampire's keg, "I think I'd have been a lot more terrified than I was. Did I ever actually //thank// you for saving me?"

With uh. Words?

If he hadn't, though, he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder and murmurs, "Because...thank you."

His confidence floods back in when she looks so overjoyed, and one of those quick, boyish grins rockets across his face, lighting up his eyes and causing a bashful duck of his head. He doesn't bother noticing how much she orders because he orders just as much. Moosey men need their calories.

"I love tacos." He does order the healthy, vegetable ones though. He's no vegetarian, he's just careful about his nutrient intake, and 'meat and cheese' are easy to find on the road. Spicy cactus tacos with peppers and onions, or sweet potato tacos with portabello mushrooms? These are rare treats he's going to enjoy. He also orders a beer, not a margarita, not really inclined to much that's fancy.

"If I hadn't liked them," he assures her, "I would have added them right behind 'greasy diners' in the anything but list. Where would you like to sit?" It's the kind of place where you settle in anywhere that someone else isn't already sitting.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"Oh, well, I hope you won't ever be held upside down for long periods of time again," Fred tells him, realizing that she might have said too much...she tends to do that. As for thanking him, she smiles. "You did briefly! It was right after I kinda let you crash to the ground and before the kissing."

Then, a hand is on her shoulder and he thanks her in a less hurried manner. It's not that his thanks was less meaningful after he was on the ground and the vampires about them were dust, it's just that she appreciates him taking the time to thank her after the heat of the moment is gone. "You're welcome," she tells him, matching sentiment. "I mean, if I didn't take care of you, who else will? Seems like it's almost a full time job!" He's the one that keeps getting arms broken and attacked by assassins, after all.

While Sam orders a beer, Fred can't help but get a margarita. Picking a table near the wall and toward the back where they can people watch, she helps bring the food and drinks to a place where they can properly settle.

"So, how else've you been doing? Have you talked to your brother yet about all the things that've been going on lately?" It seems Fred tends to get right to the point.

Sam Winchester has posed:
He chuffs a laugh. "It's just the nature of the job," he points out. "I mean...come on. You've had your share of scrapes and dust ups." Including one apparently terrible 5-year one. "It's just been a bad couple of months for mine all being especially painful and dangerous."

He doesn't seem particularly fussed by those, though he is bemused by that 'full time job' comment, to be sure.

He doesn't mind the margarita. He pays, then they're off to go sit. He brightens a little. "Yes," he says. "Do you know he got an apartment? Like an actual apartment? He said I could stay with him. I have my own room!"

And if he sounds about 6 right now, well. There's still a young boy living inside him who never, in fact, had his own room. "He said it was okay to give you the address too, though we're keeping that hidden from most people."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"That's true, though you're right, it seems as if your past couple of months have all been broken arms and hospital stays. Is it always like that?" Fred asks as she tucks into one of her tacos. It's gone in mere moments. She was lying about her love of tacos, it seems. "I mean, how long have you been doing things like this?" It's a logical question for after her first conclusion.

There's a grin at how giddy Sam sounds about Dean having an apartment and that he has his own room. She won't make fun of him for how happy he sounds about the prospect. In fact, she finds it sweet: someone who has an innate joy for things most people would find ordinary. She knows how that feels. "I didn't! I've only met him that once and he seemed pretty upset about the turn of events. So, you'll be staying with Dean, then?"

As for being given the address, she smiles. "I'd like that. You're always welcome to stay at the Hyperion, too," she tells him. "We have our fill of empty rooms that can be fixed up for you."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam hesitates. This could be kind of an angsty thing to say, but...it is what it is. "My Dad put a gun in my hand and told me the truth when I was 8," he says slowly. "And...honestly I'd known something was going on all my life. I can't remember a time we weren't on the road, that Dad wasn't hunting. It's just that for the early part of my life, it was all Dean taking care of me in hotel rooms or in the back of the car. I can't remember too many months where I've ever been 100% uninjured, though I certainly can think of a lot of times when I have been //less// injured. I mean...the whole job is punching above our weight class, right? How long have you been at it?"

He bobs his head-- he'll get her the address later-- and then smiles. "Well. Dean has his foot half out the door and if we end up getting spooked out of there it sounds like a good option. Do you have-- I mean do you have power and water? When you said 'abandoned hotel' the first time I had some concerns."

He grins wryly at her, making a joke of that, but...it's true. Abandoned Hotel conjures a picture.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Perhaps angsty, but the truth. As Sam tells her his origin of fighting the supernatural, Fred reaches a hand out and places it gently on his. "I'm sorry," she tells him. Not that he knows the truth of the world, but that he had to learn it so young. "That must have been hard for you."

As for her story? She has no qualms in her telling of it, especially after learning Sam's own story. "I was a physics graduate at UCLA. One day I opened a book at the library and read a few words out of it. Next thing I knew, I was in a different world where humans were slaves to the demons that lived there. I escaped the farm I was enslaved to and lived in a cave for a few years. Went a little bit crazy and thought LA and this world was just something I dreamed up. Then, Angel somehow made it to Pylea and he brought me back here. I've been helping him help the helpless ever since." There's a shrug and she takes a swift pull of her margarita. "Some say I'm still crazy!" she smiles, the self deprecation an easy deflection.

As for the Hyperion, she gives him a wounded look. "The Hyperion has electricity and water! It's just not a hotel any more, that's why I say it's abandoned. It's our offices now. Dean's welcome, too." There's a pause. "But, Angel's a vampire. A good one! He has a soul and he only drinks pig's blood. Some people have a problem with that."

Sam Winchester has posed:
He turns his hand, slipping it into hers, and squeezing as he listens to her story. Real concern takes over his face, the empathy shining out of his eyes having no room for anything other than her, not even tacos. "I'm sorry /you/ went through /that/," he says quietly.

And then: "I don't think you're crazy." He can certainly see where she's adapted some coping mechanisms, but a lot of people would be catatonic after all of that, and would never /stop/ being catatonic even years later. "I think you're strong."

He gives her a wordless smile of apology as she defends the Hyperion, but it's this bit about Angel that he latches on to. He is quiet, reserving judgment for the moment. "It sounds like he's a good friend," he says at last. "He rescued you, he's no harm to humans. A monster is defined by what he does, what he chooses, not what he is. It sounds like what he chooses is to help people."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Fred looks down at the larger hand as it takes hers and squeezes it during her story. Despite the horror of her story, there's no anger there at the moment, nothing but a clinic retelling of what happened to her. It's part of how she compartmentalizes. "Oh, it happens. I learned a lot there. Like I said, acorn tacos. Also, I came very close to a formula for inter-dimensional travel. And I learned how to defuse a collar that could have blown my head off. Those are all handy things for what we do now."

As for being strong and not crazy, she smiles, eyes looking down at their linked hands. "Thanks. I just did what I could. Didn't really think about it. And not to do the whole 'no //you're// strong' thing, but I think you are for having to grow up through all of that. Moving about, worrying about monsters and not only that //fighting// them as a kid. That takes a lot. It was overwhelming for me as an adult."

When Sam assures her that he doesn't think Angel's evil, she takes a breath and looks up at him with a smile. "He's really a good guy. A bit of an old grump, but he's a couple hundred years old. That kinda comes with the territory, I think. But, he wants to help people and he does it."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Well," Sam demurres. "To be honest Dad and Dean usually stuck me in a town library and made me do research for them until I was about fifteen or sixteen. I did a little fighting...can't really help it when things jump the //car//, but I guess they recognized early that I had a knack, and Dean, especially, is a little protective. And I know you were just doing what you could, but not everyone could have gone through something like that and come through it with the same outlook. Or skills."

Not everyone would be smart enough, and not everyone would be resilient enough.

The way she talks about Angel does forge kind of an awkward question in his mind. Part of him wonders if he should even ask, as evidenced by the hesitation that flits over his features. He keeps his hand in hers, and decides he'll go right ahead. "Were you two ever...?"

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"There is nothing wrong with research," Fred tells Sam with a smile. "Research is how cases succeed." She does quite a bit of it, and she highly respects Wesley - who does the same for their small crew. "And I know a little about the protective vibe. They're all often protective of me, because of what I went through. They think I'm fragile." Which - to their credit - they knew her when she refused to leave her room for months, so broken from her experience that she couldn't handle human contact other than from those of Angel Investigations.

"My skills are generally random inventions and physics. Sometimes a well placed stake." Sam saw her skills in action when she came storming into the morgue to rescue him.

The question about Angel is met with a firm blush on her cheeks. "No," she tells him. "I--well, after he rescued him I had a big ole crush on him. But, that was just me projecting all that gratitude onto him. He had no interest in me and, honestly, it was all a school girl thing on my end. You know, vampire saves girl from the monsters, takes her back to her dimension. He's just a friend whose car I sometimes steal to rescue you."

Sam Winchester has posed:
He chuckles at the final description of Angel. "I'm sure he appreciates that," he says dryly. "I'll have to thank him whenever I meet him. I think it's natural that you would. Any bit of kindness from anyone who had come in to save you probably would have sparked some feelings after that."

There's no rancor. Sam is, in fact, utterly earnest as he speaks, meeting her eyes. "You do a good job of encouraging people to underestimate you," he adds with a half a grin. "When I first met you-- Well. We did have that whole argument, because I kind of thought the same thing. If I hadn't watched you storm the proverbial castle I might not have ever truly believed how much iron you've got in your spine."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"When I first met you, I was the one that exorcised that demon!" Fred tells Sam with a fire in her voice, defending her honor about being misrepresented. "I know you got all scratched and strangled, but I helped!"

As for how he was when she met him, she wrinkles her nose. "I didn't know what to make of you when I first met you. I thought you were sweet, but might be some sort of serial killer. You knew far too much about covering up crime scenes and disposing of bodies." She doesn't seem annoyed or upset about it. In fact, she sounds amused. "Though, I know now it's because you've had to deal with things like this for so many years."

Sam Winchester has posed:
He gives a gentle laugh and lets go of her hand as she starts getting fiesty about her involvement. He holds them both up in surrender. "With /perfect/ pronunciation, too," he compliments.

Look. The perfect pronunciation is one of the things that makes her so attractive to him. It bears mentioning. It gives a particular sparkle to those hazel eyes, but that's a sparkle that grows like a firework when she tells him she thought he was a /serial killer./

"Oh. Oh man. Well. Yeah. I guess. I guess I can see how you'd think that." He pauses and takes a bite out of one of his tacos, not wanting them to get cold, admitting, "We were sort of taught a way of life, Dean and I. We lived off grid, way off grid, we covered our tracks, there to solve a case in one town, on to the next in the morning. No ties, no traces. And that includes leaving evidence, because really, think about what it takes to solve an average case."

He makes sure nobody's close enough to listen, but he says, "If you didn't know certain things existed, we /do/ look like serial killers. And the whole mutant and alien angle doesn't really help a bit. Or the grey areas which allow for a world in which a vampire can be a hero. There are things that of course will never be anything but monsters...Wendigo come right to mind...but I'm sure there are some who'd never, you know, be able to wrap their heads around the idea that some things can't be put into prison and reformed. Add disinterring graves, picking locks, impersonating various crazy characters to get answers..." he shrugs. "And then add that until I met you I'd never heard of anyone getting paid for it, well. You can make your own guesses about how we kept ourselves in beef jerky and gas."

He winces and says, "You were awfully open minded about me, thinking that."

Winifred Burkle has posed:
Tacos! Yes! It's a testament to how much she enjoys talking to Sam that she has forgone tacos their whole conversation. As his hand pulls back from her, she inhales another one, unable to resist their siren song once they're available to her. There's a straightened pride at his compliment to her //perfect pronunciation// at the exorcism. "Thank you!" she replies with a grin.

"I understand //now//," she tells him easily. "But, at the time, you knew way too much about moving bodies and how to not get caught while doing it." Fred smiles. "We deal with a lot of deaths, but the vampires we deal with generally turn to dust. And the demons? They're generally taken care of themselves." The fact that Sam deals with monsters that often look human and die human is something she's still coming to terms with now.

"Well, we don't get paid much. But, a lot of people don't want to go to the police with things like this. They fear they won't be believed or thought to be crazy. And so, here we are. The fact that you've just done this for free is, well, it's really good of you."

As for being open minded, she laughs. "Well, the next time I saw you, you were doped up on drugs after being attacked and I thought I was your only contact. I couldn't just leave you in the hospital."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Yeah, it's strange all the different ways this stuff manifests," Sam muses thoughtfully. "I'd encountered a few 'dusters' in the field, but...not many. Maybe it has something to do with the human power of belief actually acting on the same sort of phenomenon that makes hedge magic possible at all. Old patterns getting laid down and enacted in certain way. Do it this way, you get a duster, do it that way, you get a black-eyes smoking out."

He drums his fingers against the beer, turning the problem over in his mind. "And then there are all sorts of different dimensions...they might impact the whole thing too. You get things like the Mandela effect making it possible that we all actually shift in and out of different timelines a bit more fluidly than one ever thought..."

He clears his throat, suddenly, giving her a sidelong look to see if his sudden Nerding has left her cold.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"It is," Fred agrees, taking another drink of her margarita and eating another taco. Then, her eyes light up. "The Mandela effect!" she replies with a grin. "Yes! Exactly! I have quite a long thesis about the String Theory as it relates to both the world and the different worlds. I think all of our experiences with the world and how we see it means that it changes it all. The Mandela effect is so close to that, but with shared experiences as opposed to a singular moments." It seems that if he was worried about his nerding out would put her off, well, it has the opposite effect.

"Oo! Oh! Maybe, it's something between the two. It's our shared and singular experiences that shape and change our world with everything that we do. I kind of like that idea, don't you?"

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam grins and can't help but ask. "So was it the Bernstain Bears for you, or the /Bernstein/ Bears?"

He also contemplates what she says. "I think it would have to be that," he says slowly. "I'm not a physicist, but if a lot of this is the product of our observation of the world, and centuries of observations piling up, then yeah. Not necessarily in any personally observable way. I can't imagine a duster into a smoker, I can't decide that I'm just going to choose a different experience. More like...my experience with the black-eyes is observed, and so pounds a little more clay into the mold of a brick that says this reality is built with something that allows for black-eyed demons."

He gives a swift, quick grin, self-conscious, not sure he hasn't just said something foolish.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"It was the Bearenstein Bears, actually," Fred laughs. "It's so wrong of a pronunciation."

The talk of physics, well, that's her land of knowledge. "Our basest parts are only knowable by observation and observation changes things. It's the nature of how it works. It's multiple different realities that are all real and possible as we observe them."

Grinning, she nods and eats another taco. "No, it's not about choosing, it's just about what we observe and how that effects us, I think. Everything is real and possible and that's both great and possibly horrible."

Sam Winchester has posed:
Sam chuckles and says, "Yeah, there's a whole lot of possibly horrible in it. For one thing, you can do a real number on your own head, trying to think about it. Well. I can. On mine."

He can well imagine that she's got all the implications flowing out in her mind like a series of beautiful and fully understandable patterns. But while he might be a Nerd, it is a very specific kind of nerd. An encyclopedic knowledge of the occult, yes, but only passing knowledge of physics. It wasn't even one of his required courses at Stanford, not for the pre-law program.

So he quotes a little Shakespear. "There are more things, good Horatio," he says, grinning at her. Because that about sums it up, too.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
"There is. I definitely can imagine some terrible things. But, also! The good things. There's a lot! Infinite possibility!"

Fred is complimentary, but a different fount of knowledge. She is not an encyclopedic knowledge of the occult. She is, instead, inventive and more attuned to math and science than the occult.

There's a bit of a laugh. "Then are dreamt about in my science?" The margarita is drunk down and another taco is eaten. She's getting down to her last taco now, all of them quickly disappearing. She leans forward a bit conspiratorially. "This is fun. I'm glad we did this."

Sam Winchester has posed:
"Exactly," Sam says, grinning as she changes it to science.

His own tacos have long been reduced to a pile of drying salsa on his plate. So he just wraps a broad arm around her (even if it is his currently-weaker right arm) and squeezes gently. "I'm glad we did this too," he says. The chance to talk, without monsters and interruptions, was sorely needed. He leans over and steals a kiss, pressing one to her forehead so he won't interrupt her taco feast, and says, "We should do it again. It can be really easy to forget about stuff like this when things are going crazy. But. I think it's important, you know?"

Inwardly, he's doing a victory dance, because the date was successful. This is a sensation he'd never thought to have again, and so the light remains in his eyes. He relishes it.

Winifred Burkle has posed:
The last taco is quickly eaten and as Sam puts an arm around her, Fred smiles and leans into it. For the moment, she takes awhile to chew. The kiss pressed against her forehead is met with a smile and a closing of her eyes. "We should," she says softly as to them doing this again. "It's been nice. Neither of us are covered in blood or having to wipe down fingerprints." Her voice is soft as she says this, much like he did earlier.

Now that both margarita and tacos are gone - important things - she leans into Sam a bit more. "It's good to relish the time we have." The fact that anyone could disappear into a portal or death at any time has been easily beaten into her head. After the kiss on her forehead, she pulls a bit at his shirt to pull the tall Moose down toward for a proper kiss.

Sam Winchester has posed:
He will more than oblige her, and this time his lips taste like spicy salsa and beer, instead of dead vampire. A marked improvement. He puts his other arm around her too, wanting nothing more than to simply fold her into a strong embrace and shield her from all the terrible things that could take people away, that make it necessary to relish the time she has. For all that she has protected him so much, he has an answering urge to protect and shelter her. Everyone needs it once in awhile.

Even vicious Hunter-babes who can make vampire killing guns out of medical supplies on the fly. Maybe, given all that various observed realities, in all their wonderous and terrible forms, have already taken from her by putting her on a world where she had to make acorn tacos and get rid of slave collars, /especially/ vicious Hunter-babes.