Sully and Sally were just getting settled in Las Vegas after their last meeting with Elyan and the Packs. The accommodations weren't nearly as nice as Sally had grown accustomed to after the veritable vacation they'd had while the war settled. But, she told herself, she'd make due. Sully didn't seem to mind. And she had more important things to worry about... like the new recruit. Sure, a run-down cabin in a little hovel of a grotto in the Nevada desert wouldn't be her FIRST choice... ever. But, as she stared out at the sun painting watercolour shadows along the Red Rock Canyon cliffs she promised herself the landscape was something she could get used to. 

The little grotto wasn't ALL bad. It was secluded and well-stocked. And, to her relief, Takkar and the others didn't seem particularly keen on questions or explanations. Which made her life all that much easier. Her little group would be able to keep to themselves without causing too much of a stir. Sully was happily preoccupied organizing a racing racket in the sandpits. And with any luck at all, the still would be repaired to minimal function by the end of the week. With that settled, their little desert hideaway could be churning out real profit by the end of the month. And, surely, the boost in income would prove their worth to council... on all fronts. 

Hopping down from her vantage point atop the tin roof, Sally actually smiled to herself. It seemed like, for once things might actually be peaceful for a little while. Slipping through the creaky wooden door, Sally smiled at the clean decanters and alembics that lined the shelves on the walls. Desert sagebrush and various herbs hung bundled over the mantle, awaiting decanting. Bags of corn and wheat stacked in one far corner. The small desk was littered with papers... contracts, rough drafts of Sully's latest hair-brained magazine idea, and recipes... precious, precious recipes. 'Soon' she thought to herself, 'soon'. 

So it wasn't the mansion or the house in Hollywood. It didn't matter. For the first time in a long time, Sally actually felt at home. And as she stared into the low-burning fire, with the distant playful howls of coyotes dancing across the desert, she thought maybe... just maybe... people like her might really have a chance out here, alone, in the desert. 

A gentle scraping sound drew her attention away from the warm coals, dragging her gaze toward the rickety wooden door. Sully was still away on 'business'. The others were either settled in the Grotto or minding to their own. There should be no one else around to rouse her at this hour. Reaching for her pistol, she tiptoed quietly toward the door, assuming that some poor dessert creature had been drawn in by the heat of the chimney. Poor thing... little did it know beggars weren't choosers. Reaching for the latch, she prepared herself to collect whatever was going to be tomorrow's breakfast. But... just as her hand reached the rusty doorknob, a single slip of crumpled paper slid under the door. 

Sally blinked down for a moment, startled and confused, before stooping to scoop up the torn note. It read simply, 'You're kind aren't welcome here. Get out before we take you out.' 

Shaken, Sally gulped and stared for a long moment before her brain finally 'clicked'. Yanking the door open, she levelled her colt at the horizon. But could only make out the dark outline of a retreating figure far in the distance. Even with her sight, Sally knew she'd never make a clean shot with a pistol at that distance so, with a tired sigh, she closed and locked the door behind her; melting into the wobbly little wooden chair that rested by the fireplace. Her hands shook as she stared at the note. She wanted to toss it into the fire. To burn it... to burn the whole broken, boorish world to the ground. But she couldn't... on either front. 

There were a lot of things she loved about her world, guns and gangs included. As for the note, @Sullly and @ScottMcCall would need to see it... maybe Takkar and his people, too. At a minimum, it seemed the other families in the area were going to be a pain in the ass... a cowardly, contemptible, craven pain in the ass, but a pain all the same. And at worst, there'd be bullets soon. Either way, it wasn't good for business. 

Sighing heavily, Sally rubbed her temples with tired resolve. Either way, they'd do what they'd always done... keep going, keep manufacturing, keep running. Maybe they'd come out on top, maybe they'd go back into hiding again. She didn't know. She'd have to talk to the others. What she DID know is that they wouldn't stop. There was too much product to push and too much money to be made. And... well... there was the small matter of their lives. As always, in this thing of theirs. 

Sullivan walked through the door in the Grotto and paused, looking at Sally rubbing her temples. "Dear, everything okay?" He shut the door as he walked across the home to his mate. "I promise I'll get all of my clutter situated soon. Good news is, I've secured a few people for the magazine publication. Bad news is, I've barely made any progress on the racing racket. I should probably focus that for a bit..."

Chuckling, he reached out and rubbed his shoulders. Something felt off, but until she handed him the note and explained what had happened, he thought it was the state of their current lives... Going from luxury to rags. Sully actually enjoyed their minimalist life here... He wasn't sure Sally liked the desert, but he was comfortable. He'd lived here when he was alive the first time.

Looking over the note, he grumbled loudly. "Who the fuck do they think they are? We're not bothering them. I'm not going off to their homes in the cities and knocking on their doors." He crumbled the paper and threw it at the door...

Sighing dejectedly, knowing he needed to show it to Scott, he hobbled back to the door and picked it up. Straightening it out, he set it on the table and looked back at Sally.

"So did you get a good look at'em, or are they too cowardly to say it to our faces and have to leave notes for people to find?"