En route back to the Warehouse, middle of nowhere, South Dakota, Saturday night

[notmyownage]

"You know," Claudia groaned, slouching down in her seat. "I kind of figured I'd left the weirdness hangovers behind when I graduated high school."

Myka leaned over and put one hand on her forehead. "You are still a little warm."

"But not flaming. So, you know, I have that going for me."

Myka sighed. "You did fine, Claudia."

"My first real assignment as an agent --" Claudia raised a hand when Myka opened her mouth. "-- I know, apprentice agent -- and I almost get myself nuked by Viking spoon, and had to be rescued by a 19th century literary figure gone rogue."

Myka shrugged. "Which . . . is pretty much fine."

Claudia shot her a very suspicious look.

"It is," she insisted. "Almost getting killed is part of the job. A really terrible part, but part. You're going to make a great agent."

"Yeah, well. I guess this time I at least didn't end up craving human flesh."

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing. High school. You know how that goes."

Myka shook her head. "You know, the more you talk about it, the more I'm pretty sure that I really, really don't."

[ooc: lala, a coda for W13 2x7. Open for phone calls and the like on slow play, if anyone wants.]