A/N: I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I tried to get them to actually do more than talk and eat, but here we are again. There may be a third story in this thing, which was supposed to be a one-shot to begin with. Also, I've been to Mystic, Connecticut and it does have amazing pizza, however I don't think it has a Ray's Diner. If it does, I'm sure it bears no resemblance to the one I've written here.

The title is from 'Hello Miss Lonesome' by Marlon Williams.

"Are you willing to talk to me in person?" Karen asked the woman she'd been corresponding with over the matter of corruption in a housing association; she tightened her grip on her phone as she said, "I have some documents that I really need verified. I promise I will keep your name out of it."

There was a pause on the line, then the woman replied, "I'm not setting foot in the city ever again."

"I can come to you," Karen said. "It doesn't have to be your home. It can be anywhere."

"Jesus," the woman chuckled. "And I thought I could sound desperate. You really want to bring these guys down?"

"A family of four was killed three days ago because the association didn't bother to install carbon dioxide monitors when they knew the radiators were faulty," Karen said. "But I know that was actually a result of the restrictions placed upon them by the city. So yes, I want to bring all these guys down. And I need your help to do that."

The woman sighed loudly. "There's a diner in a town called Mystic, Connecticut. You know the town?"

"Isn't that where they filmed that 80s movie?" Karen asked. "With Julia Roberts?"

"That's the one," the woman said. "The diner's called Ray's and I'll be there tonight at ten. If you're not there after fifteen minutes, I walk."

Karen checked the clock on her laptop, five pm. If she left now, she could make it. She glanced at the miserable weather outside and closed her eyes. God, she hated driving in thunderstorms.

"I'll be there," she said.

Karen's next challenge was finding a car on short notice that wouldn't cost the earth. Considering the only car she'd ever owned was currently sitting in some police impound lot, T-boned to death, she turned to rental agencies. She rang the rental agency the Bulletin used and all they had left was a Toyota Corolla which she figured would do.

She told Ellison where she was going and texted Foggy, too. She knew he was in court all day, but she figured it couldn't hurt to let him know where she'd be. In case she didn't come back.

She swung by her apartment to change into a pair of jeans, a loose sweater, and shoes she could run in because she was not taking any chances any more. Besides, she was about to drive three hours in horrendous weather, no way was she going to do that in heels.

She hurried back to where she parked the rental car at the back of her building and opened the backseat to throw her overnight bag when a voice behind her asked, "Road trip?"

"Jesus!" she yelled jerking out of the car to glare at Frank who stood in the shadows, an amused smirk on his face. He must've realized that she was less than amused, because he held his hands up.

"Didn't mean to scare you, but you really ought to be more aware of your surroundings," he said.

"Thanks for the tip," she said slamming the door closed.

"You're welcome and you're leaving?" he asked nodding at the car. "Vacation?"

"I wish," she said, as she entertained the wild idea of taking time off from work to actually relax instead of do more work. "I'm meeting a source tonight. At a diner up in Connecticut. I'm driving up there."

He frowned. "In this shitty weather?"

"I can handle it," she said moving around to the driver's side door. "See you later."

Naturally (because what else was she expecting?) he hopped in the car as she sat down behind the wheel.

"Frank-"

"Hey, I love Connecticut," he said. "All that syrup."

She rolled her eyes. "That's Vermont."

"All that shit they grow in Connecticut, then," he said. "You okay to drive in this?"

"Yes," she snapped. "I'm okay to drive in this. You really don't have to come. It's not your kind of thing, anyway."

"I have a thing?" he asked. She just looked at him and he shrugged. "Hey, you'd be surprised what turns into my kind of thing these days. And we both know you aren't exactly writing puff pieces about the Junior League. What's going on?"

She paused, considering whether or not to tell him, but only for a moment. He'd find out on his own, eventually, so…

"I'm looking into a housing association that's funded by the city," she said. "They're cutting corners and people have died as a result. I need confirmation that the paperwork I've found is actually linked to the city. If so, there's a problem that people need to know about."

"How many?"

"How many what?"

"How many people have died?" he asked looking her in the eyes.

"Four," she said quietly.

"A family?"

"Yes." She sighed. "Frank. Look, I promise. This one isn't your fight."

"You sure about that?" Karen froze and stared at him, but he just made a face and said, "Hey, like I said, shit becomes my kind of thing awful fast. I'm just going to tag along in case that happens."

"Look, I'm meeting a source, that's all," she said firmly, her hands curling into fists. "If you are coming along because you need some new names on your list, you walk away, right the fuck now. This isn't a vengeance thing. This is an institutional situation that cannot be solved by shooting people in the face. Do you hear me?"

He stared back at her and then nodded slowly. "Yes, ma'am. I hear you. And that's not why I'm coming."

"No?" she asked. "You're just curious how shitty coffee in Connecticut compares to New York's?"

"Guy can't have a hobby?"

"Frank."

"I need to lie low, all right," he said. "Last few days have been…busy."

Karen closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "Fine. If you're armed, I don't want to know about it, though."

"Yeah, well, I do," he retorted. "You carrying that .380 of yours?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good."

"I'm insane," she said getting the keys out.

"Nah," he said settling back in the seat. "You're just lonely. Loneliness will make you do next to anything."

She paused with the keys just above the ignition as his words sunk in. "Jesus, you really are an asshole."

"You say that like you didn't already know it," he said. "Now, I'm going to ask again - you okay to drive in this kind of rain?"

"And I am going to ignore that question," she said turning the key. "Again. Because I'm an adult who's been driving in crappy New England weather for a while now. So, just sit there and look pretty, all right?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," he said chuckling.

She pulled out and after a long, torturous slog through New York City traffic, they made it to the interstate. The rain picked up and slashed at the windscreen. By the time they were about fifteen minutes out of the city, Karen's knuckles were white from where she gripped the steering wheel so tightly.

But in an uncharacteristic display of self-preservation, Frank didn't say a word.

The weather got worse the further north they headed and therefore they made horrible time. It was nearing nine-thirty by the time they reached Mystic city limits.

Karen handed Frank her phone and said, "Find Ray's Diner for me, will you?"

"Can I make some prank calls afterwards?" he asked tapping on her phone with a frustrated look on his face. "Why are the buttons so freakin' small on these things?"

"Less is more, or so I've been told," she said. "Not that that appeals much to you, I imagine."

"I can drop this out the window, you know," he said not looking away from her phone, but letting his hand hover threateningly over the power window button.

Karen deftly switched on the child-locking mechanism.

Frank chuckled and then said, "Go right when you get to Maple and then left. It's along the seafront, just north of town."

"Great," she said under her breath.

They pulled into Ray's parking lot at ten pm exactly.

"Okay," Karen said, turning off the car. "Stay here."

The look on Frank's face expressed just precisely what he thought of her suggestion.

Karen sighed. "Fine, don't stay here. Go wherever. Go sightseeing, go play on the beach, just don't come inside, okay? This woman wasn't all that keen on meeting me in the first place. She'll be even less keen if I show up with you."

"I think my feelings are hurt," he said looking at her through narrowed eyes.

"I think you'll live," she said as she stretched into the backseat and grabbed her bag. She paused and then said, "Do you want me to crack a window open for you?"

He snorted. "Get the hell out of the car, Page."

She grinned quickly and then got the hell out of the car.

"Thank you for this," Karen said finishing up the last of her notes. She glanced at Erica, her source who had just spent the last hour giving Karen a crash course in planning development and housing jargon; but Erica just shrugged.

"Anything to get them to do better," she said. "It just got so toxic there, you know? Everyone was just looking over their shoulders all the time. No one knew how to change things or who to even talk to. They aren't bad people, they just…need their jobs."

Karen nodded. "I think the problem goes a bit higher up than they're prepared to deal with."

"God, politicians," Erica said before taking a sip of her Coke. "Only ever there for you when the cameras are rolling." She shook her head. "You know, on one hand, I hated to leave. When the association was just getting going, they did so much. The houses were simple and small, but well-built. Then the city steps in – time to consolidate! 'Consolidate', my ass. Cut corners is more like it. They can pawn off their crappy materials under our name. When my cousin told me about a job up here, with a decent insurance plan, and a good school system, I pounced." She looked into her glass and stabbed at an ice cube with her straw. "It wasn't bad when I started out. And it's only gonna get worse."

"Not if we can get the right people listening," Karen said, even though a good thirty percent of her doubted her own words.

The look on Erica's face echoed that thirty percent. But she just said, "Can you keep my name out of it? The folks at the office will know it's me, but I don't want to be on the city's bad side."

"I'll keep you out of it," Karen said pulling her notes together. "I really appreciate you helping me figure out all the technical stuff."

Erica laughed. "God, planning-speak! Nothing quite like it, right?"

"And I thought legal jargon was bad," Karen said laughing a little. "I had no idea there were so many forms involved in building a house."

"Welcome to institutionalized bureaucracy," Erica said before checking her watch. "Shit, I gotta go. My cousin's watching my kids and they've probably locked her in the bathroom by this point."

Karen got to her feet after shoving her things into her bag. "Well, thank you again."

"Hey, it's not much," Erica said. "But they were a good organization once. It'd be cool if they could be one again."

She gave Karen a quick smile and then headed out the door. Karen watched her go and then headed out the door herself.

She approached the car and noticed that Frank wasn't inside. Slowing, she looked around and searched the nearby rooftops. She actually spotted him on a roof a few buildings down the road and suspected she only found him because he wanted her to.

Her mind automatically flashed back to that night not all that long ago when he stood in full view of the world with a skull spray-painted boldly on his chest. Again, she suspected she saw him that night because he wanted her to.

A gust of wind and rain swept against her and she made a face. With a muttered "God, I hate rain," she got into the car and drove towards the building where Frank was just making his way down using a fire escape.

He got in the car with, "You get what you wanted?"

"And more," she said thinking of her notes and how she needed to get it all down. "I've got to get it all typed up and arranged."

"We driving back tonight?" he asked and as he spoke a wave crashed along the beachfront.

Karen winced. "No?"

"Good," he said. "I would have made you give me the keys. There's a motel up the way."

"Perfect," Karen said pulling onto the road and heading in the direction he pointed. "And 'made' me give you the keys?"

"Yep."

"Right."

"Do you know how many times my heart stopped on the way up here?" he said. "You're a maniac behind the wheel, Page."

"Says the man who totaled my car."

He chuckled. "Fair point."

The motel was much nicer and cleaner than Karen expected. Since it was well out of tourist season, she probably paid more than she should have, but the room was dust-free and had two large single beds with crisp, clean sheets and decent pillows. Hell, her own apartment couldn't claim that these days.

She dropped her overnight bag on the floor and sat down on the floor at the foot of one of the beds and opened up her notes and her laptop. She scanned over the blanks that Erica had helped her fill in and found where she wanted to start. Pretty soon, she was typing away, making notations and getting everything in order.

"You hungry?"

She blinked at the sound of Frank's voice and realized that he'd just been sitting in the chair by the window for the last hour; keeping an eye on the outside and, presumably, her.

"I'm starving, actually," she said. "And thirsty."

He nodded. "I'll go get something. Anything you don't want?"

"McDonald's," she said without hesitation.

"Seriously?" he asked looking disgusted.

"It's too heavy and too salty and sends me straight into a food coma," she said smiling a little.

"You got problems, ma'am," he said. "Doesn't like McDonalds. That's down right un-American."

She rolled her eyes and went back to typing as he silently left the room, making sure to lock it behind him. Karen typed for a few minutes more, then got up and threw the deadbolt and the door chain.

Forty-five minutes later, he knocked on the door and said, "Open up, Woodward and Bernstein."

She snickered and got up to let him in. "Please, Watergate was a walk in the park compared to the mess that is American politics today. Do I smell anchovies?"

Easily carrying a huge box of pizza, some bottles of water, and…were those breadsticks, Frank walked in the room. "You can't come all the way to Mystic and not get the pizza."

She laughed as she closed and locked the door. "You know the movie?"

"One of my wife's favorites," he said stepping over her mess and sitting on the floor in front of the other bed. "She was a sucker for Julia Roberts and that big guy, uh, Vincent Something. He was on that Law and Order show for years."

"I know who you mean," she said. "And you start, I'm almost done."

He was already halfway through a slice by the time she finished talking and just said with his mouth full, "Better hurry."

She typed up a few more lines that summed up what Erica had deciphered and then uploaded her notes and a rough draft of her article to her Dropbox and onto a pin drive that she shoved into her jeans pocket. She sent a quick text to Ellison when she was done, as well as a quick 'I'm alive' text to Foggy, who replied instantly with 'Good. I'd hate to go to Vodka Tuesdays by myself next week'.

With a sigh, she shoved her stuff back into her bag and moved it to the side, then she sat cross-legged as she pulled the pizza box to her. Her first bite of pizza was accompanied by a moan of pure bliss. She ate her first slice so quickly she was surprised when she discovered it was gone. She quickly grabbed another, only to realize that Frank was looking at her in amazement.

"Where does it all go?" he asked gesturing at her stomach.

"Stress is an excellent burner of carbs," she said before biting into her next slice.

He shook his head and just opened up the breadsticks, making sure to offer her one first.

They ate in silence and Karen leaned her head back against the bed and closed her eyes as she chewed.

Eventually, Frank spoke up. "You really think this'll make a difference? Your article?"

"I think it'll rattle the right cages," she said after swallowing.

He shook his head and opened a bottle of water, nearly draining the whole thing in one go.

"Look, sometimes there's no one to shoot," she said sensing his disbelief. "There's no one person to blame. Sometimes it's the whole damn institution that's at fault. You can't blame the builders or the administrators or hell, even the managers. You've got to go higher and it can't be done by putting a bullet in someone's head." She paused. "It's politics. It's budget cuts and that's not always the result of one single bad person. It's the result of history and war over power. And it's long and drawn out and sometimes the only thing you can do is shine a spotlight on it and hope that someone fixes something somewhere."

When she finished, she realized that she'd crushed her pizza crust in her hands. With a grimace, she dropped it back in the box and grabbed another breadstick.

"Still bobbing and weaving, hunh?" he said after a while.

"I think it's devolved into shadowboxing," she said. She frowned and wondered whether or not to mention it, but as per usual, her mouth ran ahead of her thoughts, "I heard about the other night. Your, ah, altercation."

He froze and it was his turn to crush a slice in his hand. "Yeah?"

"From Foggy," she said. "Not Matt. I…we…we don't really talk about stuff anymore."

"Red's doing what he thinks he's gotta do, the way he thinks he should," Frank said as he smirked a little. "We're agreeing to disagree."

"And if a few punches are thrown – " Karen offered.

"Boys'll be boys."

"Oh, spare me," she said rolling her eyes. "Possibly one of the worst phrases ever created that completely sweeps aside any and all responsibility for your own actions. Created by a man, I bet."

He snorted, but didn't reply. She didn't either, just reached for the other bottle of water. They sat in silence that wasn't actually uncomfortable before Frank spoke again, "You might be right."

Karen's head snapped up and she stared at him. "I'm right about a lot of things," she said slowly. "What in particular are you - "

"There's no coming back from the shit I've done, Page," he spoke over her. "Or from the shit I'm gonna do. If you can find a way to get shit sorted without a bullet," he gestured at her laptop peeking out of her bag, "then you do it. But do it fast."

She swallowed hard, understanding the implications of what he'd said, and nodded.

"Now, you want that last slice or do I get it?" he asked.

"Take it," she said pushing the box his way.

She sipped her water and closed her eyes, listening to Frank eat and the sound of the waves and the rain outside. She turned her head to the side and opened her eyes to look at the sliver of window she could see through the partially closed curtain. The rain spattered the glass and she found herself nearly dozing off. Rapidly blinking, she sat up and drank some more water. With a glance to her right, she saw Frank staring at her.

"What?" she said softer than she meant to and covered it up by wiping at her mouth. "Do I have pizza everywhere?"

"Naw," he said. "For someone who inhales their food, you're pretty neat about it." He chuckled. "My Lisa was like that, actually. The only kid I ever met that didn't make a mess when she ate. Even when she was a baby. Called her Miss Manners."

Karen smiled. "And I bet Frank Jr on the other hand-"

"Kid never met a mud puddle he didn't like," he said chuckling. "His mom bought him these bright blue galoshes and he'd go to town, jumping and splashing."

He actually laughed. It was croaky and hoarse, but it was a proper laugh and something shivered and settled in Karen's stomach. It shivered again when he looked over at her.

"You're done with Red, I take it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I'll help him and be his friend. Someday. Maybe. But the rest? That's…" She sighed. "That's done."

"'M sorry."

"Really?" she asked wryly looking at him.

He shrugged. "It's worth it."

"What is?"

"Love."

She thought of all the pain he'd been through. All of the things he'd done. The anger that simmered just beneath the surface of his skin and wondered if he was right.

She stared at his hands where one finger rubbed repeatedly across his bruised knuckles.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still watching his hands.

"About what?"

"That it's worth it."

"Asked like someone who hasn't been in love," he said, his head falling back to rest against the side of the bed.

"I've loved people," she said through clenched teeth as her heart sped up. "Don't you dare-"

"I said 'in love'," he said. "I know you've loved people. That's written all over your face, it's in everything you do. Of course you've fucking loved people, Page. Have you been in love?"

She stared at him. "Frank Castle, you're a god damn romantic."

"Yeah, well, I used to be," he said chuckling.

"Yeah, well," she mimicked, "maybe you're right. Matt was…a nice idea. And maybe it could have been…something."

"Yeah," he said clearing his throat. "Maria was…it. The last and only."

"Who was the first?" she asked smiling a little.

He chuckled. "Sandy Ferne."

"Sandy Ferne?"

"Cutest girl in the first grade," he said grinning up at the ceiling. "She had pigtails and could jump rope for hours. Broke my heart when she held hands with Ricky Thompson instead of me."

"Where is she now?" she asked laughing.

"Christ, I don't know. Happy, I hope. Just not with fuckin' Ricky Thompson."

"Maybe she met Kirby," she said stretching her legs out in front of her.

"Who?"

"Kirby Coombs," she repeated. "Cutest boy in the third grade."

"Kirby?"

"Shut up, he was sweet," she said laughing. "He had a nice smile and he'd always give me the strawberry Now and Later out of the pack. Then he'd hold my hand."

He rolled his head to look at her. "So that's what it takes to get you to like a guy? A strawberry Now and Later?"

"It doesn't hurt," she said.

He kept staring at her until she said, "What?"

He never took his eyes off her, but reached into his bag and pulled out…

"Really? They still make those?" she asked staring at the slightly squished pack of Now and Laters. She looked back up at him and he smirked.

"If the first one's strawberry," he said. "Will you hold my hand?"

She fought the urge to laugh hysterically, but nodded.

He opened the pack and they both looked down.

"Shit. Orange," he said.

"The first one's never strawberry," she whispered staring at the orange candy in his large, bruised hand.

"Not gonna hold my hand then?" he asked. "What do I get for an orange one?

"Frank," she said and she hardly recognized the breathless tone in her voice.

He stared hard at her and then his free hand was on her face as his mouth covered hers. She made a noise in her throat as she turned to him fully and straddled his lap. His hands gripped her hips and pulled her down hard. Her mouth moved against his in a harsh kiss that didn't seem to end.

"Thought this was a bad idea," he said against her lips while palming her ass and grinding up.

"The worst," she said before biting down on his lower lip.

He groaned and slid a hand up her spine to tangle in her hair and pull her head back so he could kiss her throat. "You're gonna regret this."

"Am I?" she murmured as she shivered from the feel of his rough lips on her skin.

"Oh, yeah," he said as he made his way back to her mouth. She ran her hands through his short hair as she rolled her hips over his lap. He grunted and guided them both into a rhythm.

"Jesus," she gasped when he ground up as she rolled down. "I'm… Christ, it's been so long."

"Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, I know. Fuck."

He planted his feet on the floor and in one smooth surge upwards, he shifted them from the floor to the bed. Karen, still situated firmly on his lap, laughed into his mouth.

"Nice," she said.

"I'll show you nice," he muttered back as he palmed her ass again and pulled her close.

"Oh," she said on a gasp when she felt him hard under her. "Oh, okay, yeah. That's good."

She followed his lead and did her best to keep up. His hands were everywhere, on her hips, on her back, her neck, then slowly sliding up her sweater. A large palm covered her breast over her bra and his thumb brushed lightly over her nipple.

"Oh, fuck," she said in a thin voice and her head fell back which Frank eagerly applied his mouth to. She grabbed at his shoulders as she pulled herself as close as she could. As she shifted on top of him, she hit a spot that made stars dance behind her eyes. "There, oh God, right there."

"Yeah, yeah," he said against her skin. "I got you, come on. That's it. Just move, honey."

She knew she should stop. A very rational voice in her head told her she should stop for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was that she was a thirty-something year old woman and no longer in high school necking with her boyfriend on her parents' couch before they got home.

The stars dancing behind her eyes told her to shut up and move, for God's sake.

She moved.

Frank kept up a running commentary of 'that's it' and 'atta girl' and 'been so fucking long, Karen' next to her ear and when his thumb rubbed slow and firm across her nipple as she pressed down on his jeans-clad cock, the stars exploded.

With a gasp, she went limp and her head slumped down to thump on his shoulder.

For a long moment, no one said anything and the only sound in the room was Karen trying to recover her breath.

"Damn, Karen," Frank said eventually, sounding somewhat awed. "If that's what the orange does for you, what do I get for a purple one?"

"Oh, God," she said burying her face against his neck. "I didn't mean… That was… This is embarrassing. I'm embarrassed. Oh, crap."

His chuckle vibrated in his chest. "Don't be. I might be flattered, actually."

"Christ, I'm such a cheap date," she muttered.

"No, nothing cheap about you, ma'am," he said tugging a little on her hair so that she'd lift her head to look at him. She felt him still hard beneath her.

"Oh. I can… Will you let me…?" she said glancing down, but he shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "Just gonna-" He jerked his head towards the bathroom.

She nodded and gingerly slipped off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed, her jeans and underwear uncomfortable against her now-sensitive skin. Frank got to his feet and hesitated.

"Hey," he said brushing her cheek with the back of his finger. She met his eyes. "You're gorgeous, all right? Best thing I've seen in awhile."

She smiled and said, "I'm not sure that's saying much, but thank you."

Before she could stop herself, she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and pressed her lips to his. He returned the pressure slightly and then moved away. She jumped when the door to the bathroom closed a bit too hard and tried not to picture Frank Castle fisting his cock in his hand and moving and oh, God, was he thinking about her? Did she ruin everything? What were they even to ruin…?

With a shake of her head, she kicked off her shoes and lay back on the bed. Oh, that was a seriously soft pillow. She curled up on her side and considered closing her eyes for just a minute…

She stirred when a warm hand tucked the bedspread over her and catching the hand with her own, she murmured, "Stay. Please."

There was a pause, then a soft, "Yeah, okay."

A weight settled down on the bed beside her and she pressed back against the warmth of him and took a deep breath…the next thing she knew, her phone was pinging her usual six am alarm.

"Christ," she said sitting straight up and scrambling to find her phone from where she left it on the floor. She glanced around the room and didn't see Frank anywhere. Scrubbing at her eyes with her fingers, she got to her feet and decided that she'd wonder where he was after she went to the bathroom.

He was sitting by the window with two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts when she got out.

"Morning," she said.

He just held a coffee towards her and she breathed it in.

"Ready to head back?" she asked after three sips.

"Yeah," he said. "Got things to see to."

"Yeah," she said nodding.

The drive back was as quiet as the drive up, only this time the weather was on their side – sunny and clear without a cloud in the sky. They made good time and Karen didn't feel the need to fill the silence and clearly Frank didn't either.

He spoke up when they reached the edge of the city. "You can let me out here."

She pulled over to the curb and tucked her hair behind her ear before she said, "Thanks for inviting yourself along. And for the pizza and uh…" She blushed. "God, listen to me."

"I am listening to you and it was my pleasure. All of it," he said smirking. "Take care of yourself, Page."

"Yeah, you too," she said as he got out of the car.

She made sure to not watch him walk away and just pulled back out to head home.

Three days later, after the article was published and the Bulletin was flooded with dozens of letters to the editor and the city started to make noises about launching an investigation into the recent cutbacks, Karen found a pack of Now and Laters in her top desk drawer at her office.

Ignoring the obvious security flaw that allowed Frank Castle to even get in the building, she smiled when she saw the candy.

She opened it up and found it was filled with nearly all orange except for one purple square at the bottom.

A note scrawled on the inside of the package read: We can work our way up to purple.

The laugh that spilled out of Karen's mouth was both delighted and worried because what on earth did she think she was doing? Did loneliness really make a person this nuts?

Are you considering what I think you're considering? she thought to herself. Are you honestly ready for the inevitable pain and mess that will rain down on your head?

Three orange Now and Laters later, she still didn't have an answer.