We deceive or we are deceived, thus we flourish or perish

After leaving the bar with a grace she didn't know she had in her, Faye had spent her night wandering the island. She hadn't had dreams about anyone, but that wasn't exactly unusual -- she barely let herself even think about Whitney, and it had been a long time since he'd even made an appearance in her dreams.

But as the hours passed, Faye slowly began losing that little spark of hope that she'd get to see him again. It wasn't just that the only person she'd loved in her actual, living memory had died and taken all her ability to trust people with him. He also had answers. And had left her with a lot -- a lot -- of debt.

But clearly she'd done something wrong. It wasn't going to work for her. No Whitney, no...mysterious, long-dead family, no one was coming for Faye. And given the circumstances she couldn't (really, wouldn't) go back home. Not for days. Not until this was over.

So, after draining the bottle of whiskey she'd been nursing half the night, Faye dropped it to her feet in the junkyard, climbed up into the Red Tail, and took off for the stars.

Maybe Mars, for a few days. Maybe one of Jupiter's moons. She wasn't quite feeling bad enough for Callisto, but she had days to get to where she felt bad enough, maybe.

[totally establishy, whoo]