losttheright | (no subject)

To say that things have been crazy lately wouldn't be entirely accurate. If anything, they've started to feel more settled than they have in months — if she's honest, the better part of two years. There's still a hell of a lot to do, not the least of which involves moving her shit from Lee's apartment to the one she's newly signed a lease for, but there's a weight off her shoulders and an unspeakable relief in that. It may yet be a while before she starts to feel like herself again, but Molly thinks that she is, at least, well on her way to making that happen. At the very least, she can focus on her own goddamn life again, and it leaves her lighter, more focused, not throwing herself into work as a distraction or trying to shrug off responsibility anymore.

This is the way things should be. Maybe the way they should have been all along, though if she'd taken this option in the first place, if Lee had been out of the picture sooner, then it wouldn't be Jessica who's adopted Abigail, and she wouldn't feel half as secure that everything has worked out for the best. All three of them get what they ought to be able to have this way. Knowing that, she hasn't lost a goddamn wink of sleep over it. If anything, she's slept better than she has in longer than she can remember.

It's only a coincidence that she's near her lawyer's office when she decides to stop for lunch and a coffee, already in the area and remembering the café that Rebecca had showed her. With that being the case, though, it isn't much of a surprise to see Rebecca herself inside, and Molly smiles as she walks towards her. Given everything that's just been handled at the firm where she didn't know Rebecca worked when she chose it, she wouldn't be surprised or bothered at all if Rebecca has heard about what happened. Even if that weren't the case, she wouldn't hesitate to greet her.

"Hey," she says, smiling. "So you were definitely right about this place. Worth a repeat visit."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It kind of makes sense in the same way that it makes her think of Robert and how she'd literally wanted to burn down the memories of their relationship together and then literally did it, but Rebecca has enough self control that she doesn't mention that much to Molly and just nods, humming in agreement.

(Of course, Robert had also dumped Rebecca and hadn't disappeared and she's not sure which is more devastating, but it sounds like Molly has a hell of a lot going on in addition to that.)

"Wait," Rebecca says, holding up her hands like a white flag. "There's... you're telling me there's an Ikea-Target hybrid?"

"Oh, there is an Ikea-Target hybrid," Molly says, laughter evident in the sound of her voice. "I mean, I don't know if it was intentional, but that's definitely what it is. When you get a chance, definitely check out Törgt, it's amazing. Cheap and sturdy, just the way I like it." Working for the mayor, having a position like hers, she makes decent money, but that hardly matters when she's just had to put down a safety deposit and first and last month's rent on a new apartment, as well as all the legal fees she's accrued over the past few months. It's all well worth it, of course, but when it comes to a couch and a bed and utensils, she can't really afford to go top of the line right now. At least the place she's moved into came with utilities, if nothing else. "Every once in a while, this place comes up with something pretty great."

“That’s maybe the greatest thing I’ve ever heard, which I guess is a rational polar opposite from some of the worst things I could have imagined coming to life in this place,” Rebecca muses, thinking that there’s no way that it’s a coincidence that there’s a Swedish-sounding store that also kind of sounds like Target when said aloud. “We could, I mean, if you need help buying furniture or anything I would love to check it out. See if it has the same meatballs, maybe.”

"I could definitely use another set of eyes," Molly replies, nodding in easy agreement, "and some Swedish meatballs. Are they still Swedish if there's no Sweden here?" The question is mostly rhetorical; like so many other things in Darrow, she suspects she'll just have to accept it, that there won't be any sort of answer. At least it's relatively minor this time, rather than more on the existential scale. "I'd ask someone, but I doubt they'd even know."