The building Fey had selected was a former apartment complex, its upper floors relatively intact despite years of neglect. The fifth-floor unit they settled into still had windows—cracked but present—and a clear view of the surrounding streets. Fey had pronounced it "structurally not terrible" after a brief inspection, which from her was high praise.
Emma immediately claimed the least-dusty corner, collapsing onto a pile of abandoned blankets she'd scavenged from a closet. She stretched out with a dramatic sigh, her red hair fanning across the makeshift pillow.
"Dibs on this spot. I'm not moving for at least eight hours."
Fey settled near the window, her back against the wall, eyes already half-closed despite her earlier complaints about being tired. "Fine by me. Just don't snore."
"I don't snore!"
"You absolutely snore."
"Do not!"
