Congressman Burbridge

April 08, 2015:

Agent Carter investigated the recent roundup of smooth addicts. Her trail leads her to D.C., where she tries to stop the assasination of a Congressman involved in the conspiracy.

Various - N.Y.C. and Washington, D.C.


NPCs: DEA guard, janitor, hotel clerk, Congressman Burbridge and his aides, massage parlor workers and guests.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

April 4th, 2015

5:00 pm

A lone motorcycle raced along Interstate 95, headed south toward D.C. The Harley Davidson Iron 883 would soon become a liability, but it was his fastest way to reach his destination. Shift had narrowly beaten Gotham's rush hour traffic; with the city's imposing skyline fading into the distance behind him, he gunned the motorcycle to full throttle. Earbuds beneath his blacked out helmet fed the police bands and highway patrol into his ears, but really… if he were to zoom past a cop going a buck sixty, it's unlikely the patrolman would be able to catch him.

- - - -

April 8th, 2015

New York City


The room Howard lent Peggy Carter is neat. While that may be due to the fact that Peggy did not come to 2015 with much in the way of personal belongings, it's most likely just the way she lives. The one thing out of place is this past Sunday's Daily Bugle laid out on the desk by the computer terminal. A few other papers: both newspaper and otherwise are set there, the screen on a website describing what Smooth is. Not a flurry of activity, Peggy is deliberate and calculating in what she packs in the bag already slung across her shoulder.


- - - - -

April 4th, 2015

9:47 pm

Just north of the D.C. Metro area.

A billboard advertising the latest Stark Phone, along a remote highway off the main arterials, is where Shift chose to ditch his bike. After covering over it with a bunch of foliage, he made for the open road with a rucksack over his shoulder and his thumb up in the air, gently angled south.

- - - - -

April 8th, 2015

New York City

Truth be told, it doesn't take much to understand the basics of web browsing, and Peggy is a smart broad. The clicks will eventually lead her to a series of conspiracy boards and reddit feeds, the likes of which begin to point out a potential conspiracy. There are reports of mutants having become addicted to the smooth by human dealers who tricked them into believing that they are buying other, far less harmful substances. In addition, there seems to be a lot of chatter surrounding the timetable between the midnight announcement from the FDA, in which the smooth was classified as a Schedule I controlled substance, and the massive sting operation that took place in New York City less than half an hour later.

An operation of that scale isn't planned in thirty minutes. The legal system hasn't changed that much since the 40's; if anything, while paperwork processing has become expedited in the digital age, there are still rules and laws meant to be followed, laws designed to protect suspects. Those laws were followed, but the plans would have been made weeks, if not months in advance.

It becomes clear that a lot of man hours and paperwork was involved, both at the local, state and federal level. Most of the grunt work was local; records that would be publicly available in New York City. Oddly enough, there seems to be a lag in the digitization and Internet publication of these files; if she wants to dig deeper, Peggy will need to go hunting through the actual records themselves.


Luckily, Peggy is much more at home with the idea of hunting through actual records as opposed to the digital ones. While being able to use a voice activated computer has made her searching easier, it's still something she has to get used to. It's harder to take notes when she can't just write on the file. Putting things together that something doesn't add up doesn't take long.

And so, eager to find something to do other than merely wait around to adjust, Peggy is out of the apartment and onto the streets. They're still as crowded as they were back in her day and it's a comfort to be out with a purpose again. Her long strides are purposeful.


The quest leads her to the New York county courthouse, and later, to the county courthouses of Bronx County, Queens County and Kings County. By and large, between local warrants, arrest records, and decisions of the various District Attorneys and judges, it becomes clear that the State of New York wasn't nearly as involved in all of this as one other agency; DEA.

Interestingly enough, the local DEA office wasn't nearly as involved as the federal base of the office, located in Washington, D.C. Those records won't be exactly public, but even the digital security frontier wouldn't be able to stop someone with the clever fortitude of Agent Peggy Carter.

- - - - -

April 7th, 2015

Washington, D.C.

Kwabena stood in a bathrobe, hotel drapes wide open as he looks out upon the sunrise. A pair of binoculars were in his hands, a shower cap over his bald head. Simply another way of throwing off NSA's surveillance networks and facial recognition software. While it may have appeared that he was sightseeing the magnificent structures of the National Mall, in truth, he was tracking the motions of a motorcade; one belonging to Congressman Dudley Burbridge, PP-IL.

Its become clear that each morning, the motorcade follows the same route, headed toward the State Capitol from a retreat in the D.C. suburbs.

- - - - -

April 8th, 2015


After going through all the files that she can find, it's clear that travel will be needed. Luckily, Peggy Carter travels light. With a quick trip back to Howard's, she puts a few odds and ends into her bag and then she's back out. Luckily, it's not incredibly far to DC. It's an easy train ride to the Nation's Capital, however the 200 dollars spent on the ticket seems like a small fortune to her. Instead of thinking about inflation rates, she uses the travel time to come up with her plan for getting into the DEA offices.

The woman who stops in front of the DEA office is a very different Peggy. She's wearing neat, business-like modern clothes in order to blend in, curly hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. Striding into the offices as if she belongs, she flips her old ID quickly, quoting herself as from the New York branch. Her American accent is quite good and it's not so much of a stretch to think of her as an agent of the law.


At the DEA office, the security guard looks up lazily for a moment. He opens his mouth, a few seconds away from asking to have a closer look at that badge, when suddenly, he sits up a bit straighter.

Many things may have changed since the 40's, but one thing hasn't; certain men will continue to ogle women of the likes of Peggy Carter.

"Uh, yeah, sure." He gestures for Peggy to go through the metal detector, which is temporarily switched off; all agents carry firearms, after all. "Go right ahead." He smiles at her, then clears his throat and tries very hard not to keep staring.


In a different hotel room, Kwabena gets to work at brushing his teeth. He stares at himself in the mirror, his eyes their natural silver, but he feels somehow lost. He knows that he's here on a job. He knows that the job involves an assassination. However, his short term memory loss has gotten worse by the day. He couldn't remember the trip down from New York, only the location where he'd concealed his motorcycle. He can't even, for the life of him, remember the name of the target.

He only knows what it is he needs to do next.

Swallowing his frustration and fear with a gulp of whiskey, he turns away from the mirror, walking naked through the apartment until he comes upon a suitcase. The latches are popped, and the clothing dug through, until he retrieves the gunmetal gray uniform he wears when operating as Shift.

Beneath the uniform? A silenced pistol, which he removes and begins to clean.


Peggy gives the security guard a smile and then moves through the metal detector. That's something she probably did not realize was a thing she would have to traverse and it's lucky that she didn't attempt to be a delivery person. As soon as she's no longer facing him and he cannot see her expression, it quickly morphs from friendly to concentrated. She, does, however spare a moment to roll her eyes at thesimple security guard once she's around the corner.

Keeping up the brisk pace, she moves through the hallways, glancing at titles on doorways to find the records room that she's searching for.


The sun has yet to rise over Washington D.C., and there aren't that many people around. A janitor smiles to Peggy as she locates the records room, tipping his hat to her in an old fashioned way. "Ma'am."

A polite man, for a change. Well, times have changed.

Inside the records room, there is a lot of information to go on. However, Peggy is able to find what she's looking for; federal records and correspondence all seem to lead back to one man, Congressman Dudley Burbridge, an Illinois Progressive. Most of the official correspondence goes through his office in D.C. However, a number of less-than-official letters have been exchanged through a postal address that seems most ubiquitous. In the digital age, it may seem strange that these missives were written by hand and delivered via the U.S.P.S. A more detailed inspection reveals these letters to be of an 'off the books' nature. Apparently, those behind the conspiracy felt that these records were safe locked away, where they'd never be digitized for the public to see.

The address, if followed, will lead to the Congressman's hotel in downtown.


The janitor is given a genuinely friendly smile and a nod at his greeting. However, she doesn't linger on him long. Finding the records room, she's quick to go through the folders and files, efficiently crossing out entire cabinets until she finds what it is she's come to find. Flipping through the correspondences, she scans the information before putting it in her bag. Written correspondences don't seem all that strange to her, as she's from before the digital age, but seeing a non government address is enough to peak her interest.

As she's already in DC, continuing this through to the end certainly makes sense. Putting everything else back, she leaves the records room, walking back the way she came with the same no-nonsense demeanor as she had before.

Once outside, it's just a matter of following the lead to the hotel. Of course, now that she's here, what should she do? Find the senator? Call SHIELD?


That will have to be Peggy's call.

On the eastern horizon, the sun begins to rise, casting its first glittering colors upon the Potomac. Down in the hotel restaurant, Kwabena is dressed smartly, wearing a gray pair of suit pants, gray suit jacket, white shirt, blue tie. A pair of sunglasses rest upon his face, and a yamaka is pressed to his freshly-shaven scalp. A briefcase rests upon the seat next to him as he eats his breakfast, idly flipping through a newspaper.

There is a brief moment where he checks the time, by flipping over a hand to inspect a nice wristwatch. Not quite time yet.

Outside, Congressman Burbidge's motorcade begins its departure from the hotel. Kwabena seems to pay it no mind, for every move he's about to make has been researched, practiced, and meticulously timed.


It's a decision that she waffles on for a moment. Though she doesn't know what Congressman Burbidge looks like, nor that he's leaving the hotel just in that moment, she can tell the motorcade outside is filled to the brim with security. Giving them enough of a berth that she can cross to the hotel safely, she moves into the lobby.

Inside, she scans the lobby, taking in who is where and the general layout. It's something she does automatically now, collecting information and either remembering or dismissing it as irrelevant as she goes. Lobby, restaurant, front desk, people moving in and out. Deciding to get confirmation that this is the right address, she moves with certainty toward the front desk.

Putting on her American accent again, she smiles, putting on a look of hurried exasperation: much like an assistant might have. "Yes, hello, I have an important file for Congressman Burbridge? I was told to deliver it here."


"Oh, you've just now missed his departure," answers the woman at thefront desk. Indeed, the motorcade is already pulling away and heading off into traffic on its morning route.

Moments before, Kwabena unfolded a bill and left it upon the table, his breakfast and morning coffee not quite fully devoured. He doesn't wait for change. And yet, as he leaves the restaurant, he just happens to witness the exchange between Peggy and the hotel employee. There is a moment where his be-shaded eyes look her way, a curious tilt of the head. Something subtle. And then, he's out the door, briefcase in hand, and headed for the Metro station across the way.

"Shall I hold it for you?" asks the clerk. "I'm afraid the Congressman is pretty tight lipped about his comings and goings." She smirks. "I mean, that's Congress for you."


"Did I?" Peggy glances toward the door as she mentions that she missed him. However, the fact that the clerk seems certain that leaving a file for him here will certainly get to him, so there is that at least. As she's doing that bit of pantomime, however, Kwabena moving studying her as he passes is just caught. Her head is turning back toward the desk as it happens and she refocuses on the clerk immediately, "I'll just have to catch up with him at his next stop," she smiles. "It's something he needs to sign, so I think I'll keep it with me. Thank you for your help."

Despite the brevity of the moment, Peggy's agent senses are tingling. Leaving the front desk, she moves right for the doorway, looking this way and that to try and find the man in the sunglasses. Once out of sight of the door, she also pulls out the pony tail and pulls off her blazer, stuffing it into her bag, quickly making herself look just slightly different to hopefully confuse him.

Should she be able to find him, she'll start to tail him, keeping a good amount of distance between them while ensuring she can keep up.


Kwabena can just be glimpsed, across the street, descending into the DC Metro station. Down the long escalator he goes, waiting patiently while others skip past him on the left; the descent into DC's subway system was part of his measurements, after all. He pays for entry with cash, then slips his ticket through the turnstile virtually the very moment the next train zooms into the station.

Congressman Burbridge had voted against recent measures to expand public transportation in Illinois. An odd move for a member of the Progressive Party, and ironic, considering the subway is currently moving Kwabena (and presumably, his time-displaced tail) much faster than the motorcade above.

Four stops later, Kwabena departs from the train. One thing he prefers about NYC; no exit fares. An admittedly disgruntled expression flashes across his face when he slips his ticket through and pays his exit fare, then climbs the stairs and departs onto the busy street above.

As soon as he's out of the station, he lights a cigarette. Somewhat odd, considering the yamaka upon his bare scalp. Two blocks later, he's snuffing the cigarette out into a standing ash tray, and turning himself into a massage parlor. However, it isn't more than half a minute when Congressman Burbridge's motorcade turns a corner and begins slowing… right outside the very same parlor into which Peggy's target has entered.


There was no metrorail in DC while Peggy lived - it's a relatively recent addition to the city compared with New York's subway system. Luckily for Peggy, she had to fight with it a bit in order to get to the hotel in the first place and while she's certainly not adept, it doesn't take navigating the subway map in order to catch the same train as the man she is following. It's a narrow thing. She was leaving enough space for him to hopefully not notice her following him and his meticulous planning caused her to practically run in order to ensure she catches the same train.

Putting the ticket through the reader and practically ripping it out of the dispenser, she rushes - much like a few others desperate to catch this train as opposed to waiting. The doors shut right behind her, leaving an unlucky business man on the opposite side, huffing and annoyed that Peggy wasable to get on while he didn't. She choses a seat near the door, getting off when Kwabena does, keeping with the crowd as they exit the subway and move up onto the street.

She studies him and his smoking, more and more convinced that there must be something happening here. Perhaps he's a contact of Burbridge's. Once Kwabena enters the massage parlor, she waits outside to see if he'll exit. As the same motorcade from the hotel starts to pass by, she's sure there is a connection. If they're about to meet, it would be better if she were inside.

Quickly, she pushes past the doorway and into the massage parlor.


"Welcome to Statesman Services!" announces a young, cleverly dressed and overtly flamboyant man at the counter. "Oh, my, goodness! Look at the figure on you, honey! Listen, there's no need to be shy, I don't swing for gorgeous women like you, if it ain't obvious, but OH. MY. GOD. Mmm, mm mm!" He sucks on his teeth before leaning forward, draping one arm over the counter and smiling at Peggy. "So, what'll it be, sweetness? Shoulders, neck, little of both, or the full body, private " he gestures toward a series of private rooms at the back of the parlor " and goorrrrrrrgeously fantastic Statesman Package?"

The young man giggles a bit after saying, 'package'.

"Oh, shame on me!"

Meanwhile, the Congressman's motorcade comes to a halt. One aide opens the door, letting the tall, older man out. Congressman Burbridge has a weathered, salt and pepper look, with laugh lines upon his face and a coy expression in his hazel eyes. The aide follows as he enters the parlor, smiling toward Peggy as he reaches around to offer the young clerk a hand. "Michael, how are you?"

"You know me, Congressman, I'm fabulous every day, even when I'm stuck drinking this… this shit swill they call coffee!" He taps the top of his Starbucks mug indicatively. "We've got you scheduled for your Statesman Package, feel free to go on back to Room Two."


Blinking, Peggy takes in the well dressed man at the counter with as much surprise as Peggy Carter gives when she's trailing a lead. The easiest to tell is her eyes widening slightly and her eyebrows raising. But, it's back to a schooled expression and her British accent. "Oh. Thank you," she replies, unsure of how exactly to respond to such incredibly praise about her body in a very short period of time. There's no blushing at his innuendos or the idea of a full body massage - though as far as she knew the only parlors that might offer massages were mobster related and most likely involved prostitutes. "I, honestly, hadn't thought of it." She was expecting to see Kwabena somewhere here, but from what she can tell he's nowhere to be seen.

As the Congressman enters, she affords him a brief smile: as much as a stranger might give, but she takes that short period of time to study him. After a moment to hear what it is he's here for, she asks, "Is there an availability for the Statesman Package?" If she can get the same access as a the Congressman, she can hopefully follow him to see where this all might lead.


"For you, gorgeous? Of course!"

Suddenly, a series of well placed bullets streak out of Statesman Booth One, ripping a trio of holes in the red curtain. One strikes the Congresman's aide in the temple. The second whizzes between the Congresman's head and just past Peggy's ear.

The third, however, would have hit the Congresman in his chest, had it not been for the clerk diving to the floor, like so many of the patrons and other masseuses do. The bullet tears a hole through his chest, and he yells out in anguish as he hits the floor.

The curtain rips open, revealing a tall and athletic man wearing what might appear to be a futuristic, body-skimming suit of gunmetal gray. The mask covers all but his mouth and chin of an African male, his lips curled into a vicious frown.

Shift strides forward with purposeful steps, the silenced pistol aimed directly at Congressman Burbridge.


At the first sound of gunshots, Peggy just reacts. Pulling whoever is closest to her down to the floor, she starts to crouch, but is interrupted by the curtain ripping open to reveal the man in the grey suit. While on any other occasion she would check on the clerk - he may still be alright - but there's a man striding forward with a gun.

The crouching position gives her the advantage of being able to leap forward, placing herself between the Congressman and Shift. She makes a quick, hard hit at the gun, attempting to force it to point downward toward the floor. Either way she keeps moving forward, using whatever momentum she has in an attempt to bodily shove him back toward the private rooms and away fromthe patrons.


The gun is whacked downward, for Peggy was not someone Kwabena had identified as a threat until now. It clatters to the floor, and he's shoved back a few steps, until he regains his footing by planting his legs against the wall and vaulting forward.

Then, the man, body and suit whole, transforms into smoke. Black tendrils pass right by Peggy, surrounding her for a moment until the cloud is between her and the Congressman. There's a whoosh of air displacement, and the cloud solidifies into a man once more, his arm already mid-swing.

A fist comes cracking down on the Congressman's temple with a crack. When the Congressman goes down, so does Shift, making to plant a knee into the middle-aged Progressive's midsection.


Peggy braces herself for an impact against Shift that never comes. That startles her for a moment, but she regroups, swinging around toward the killer and the Congressman. Not wanting to take out her gun in a shop filled with other people, she continues in on hand to hand combat. He'll have to engage her or go all cloudy again: either way it will hopefully save the fallen man from another blow. She kicks his gun to the back as she runs forward, grabbing a glass vase of flowers that was previously cheering up the parlor with seasonal branches of cherry blossoms. Not stopping, she swings it sideways, spraying water and flowers as she aims for the side of his head.

Already, her mind is attempting to think a few steps ahead: how do you fight against smoke? Bottle it? Trap it somehow? Suck it into a container?


The blow hits, but the assassin's head transforms to smoke upon impact, allowing the vase to go right on through.

Snarling, Shift whirls about and hisses at Peggy. There's a demonic nature about him, and the voice that comes carries an otherworldly, lower harmonic that chills the spine.

A crackling and metallic popping sound fills the parlor. Shifts skin becomes something akin to super solid obsidian, and his arm comes across in a vicious swipe toward Peggy's face.


Luckily for Peggy, the fierce swing meant to clobber Shift continues through, carrying her with it just slightly. Like a baseball slugger, though her feet are planted, her upper body turns. This means most of the swipe misses her face, though she's not lucky enough to get out completely unscathed. The tips of his fingers score at her cheek, across to her ear. Blood starts to well up, but that's something to be taken care of after she's out of here.

The sudden shock of pain as well as the strange harmonic hiss settles somewhere in her lower back. However, she pushes it away, her face a concentrated mask as she plans out her next move. Okay, so smoke and obsidian.

At least she still has a weapon in the form of the still intact vase that passed through him. Turning back around, she holds the lip of the glass in her grasp, aiming it backhanded in another attempt to hit him straight in the face.


This time, Shift just stands there and takes it. The vase shatters against his super-solid face, his head jerking an inch with the impact, but otherwise unscathed.

Another snarling hiss is released. Then, the assassin moves fast — strength enhanced by the super solid constitution — and snatches up a piece of that vase.

He spins shout, following the motion through with a quick flick of the wrist. The fragment soars through the air and slices the Congressman's throat.

Before anything else can happen, Shift's body disassembles into smoke once more. The cloud settles upon the Congressman, surrounding his head and chest. Even while blood spills from a neck wound, the smoke forces its way into the gagging Congressman's mouth and nose, causing him to choke and gag uncontrollably.

Some of the patrons begin to cry and scream, the initial shock having worn off.


There's a curse as Shift uses the shard of vase to slash at the Congressman's throat. Still holding the remains of the vase, she starts to move to use the jagged edge in another attack. However, before the action is more than a twitch of motion, the man is smoke again, using the cloud to suffocate Burbridge.

The makeshift glass knife is discarded, left to shatter on the floor as she dashes forward. The cries and screams of the patrons are merely background noise to her, focus entirely on saving at least this one life. Dropping to the ground next to him, she holds her own breath, wary of the cloud and not wishing to be trapped in the same manner. One of her hands darts forward, fingers pinching his nose, before she bends over and puts her mouth on his in an attempt to make an air-tight seal and keep any more smoke from getting into him. If this doesn't work, he may still die of lack of air and she will have kissed a stranger for no reason.


With his point of entry sealed by a kiss, Shift tries to enter through the Congressman's nose, only to find that Peggy has plugged it tight. The cloud of smoke breaks off and hovers in the air above the two of them, tendrils flicking out and collapsing back into the cloud in an agitated manner. An eerie, clicking sound comes from the cloud, as certain pieces try to solidify but find that there's not enough of him there to do it.

That's because a quarter of Shift's mass… is still inside Congressman Burbridge's respiratory system.

The Congressman's eyes go wide, looking about, then settling upon Agent Carter. He hasn't been kissed by a woman as stunning since that debacle his people covered up back in '99, but it only provides a momentary distraction. He's still got a vicious neck wound, after all. His eyes water and squint, and then, he begins to cough. Violent, uncontrollable coughs that expel that black smoke right into Peggy's mouth.

Gross. 1/4 of Shift just got spit-swapped. Better hope Congressman Burbridge doesn't have the herp from '99.


It's not so much a kiss as what may turn into reverse CPR if this doesn't work. After a few moments of held breath, the strange clicking noise above her makes her start to straighten. She can't see what is happening behind her and with a man as dangerous as the assassin, that's not a position she wishes to be in. However, she doesn't manage to get up in enough time to not have the black smoke coughed from Burbridge's mouth right into hers.

Scrambling backward, she sputters and coughs, spitting, trying to get the remaining bits of Shift out of her system. The last thing she wants is to be strangled by smoke next.


With each remaining cough, black smoke comes out of Burbridge's and Carter's mouths. The cloud roils up against the door, the air is displaced, and Shift reforms. The cracking sound that accompanies his densifying into super-solid happens so fast this time that it resembles a ripping of metal against glass in the way it sounds.

Then, a boot swings forward and smashes through Congressman Burbridge's skull, sending a spray of blood, along with chunks of skull and brain matter, all over the floor.

Shift looks up at Peggy, pearly whites exposed in a snarl.

"Dubana k'noyaC!"


As soon as the smoke is out of her mouth, Peggy is pushing herself upwards. Still coughing, she ignores the harsh scraping of metal sound. Whatever he says is in a language she can't understand and the demonic undertones still resonant does not make the translation any easier.

The swing of his boot smashing against Burbridge's skull is met with a fierce narrowing of her eyes as opposed to any verbal reply. There are still people in the massage parlor that need protecting. Though it's clear that the Congressman was the target of this attack, who knows what the man is willing to do to ensure either no witnesses or to cover his escape.

Knowing bullets to be useless against a man who can turn to smoke at will when he has his attention on her, she picks up the shard of glass still sticky with Burbridge's blood and lunges forward again.


HYDRA's witchcraft is powerful, but it is not all-inclusive. Somewhere within the subconscious mind of the monster who just killed Congressman Burbridge, there is the mind if a more innocent person, humming along to the tune of Daddy Lumba.

It is this echo that stays Shift's hand. Rather than lunge at the woman, he leaps backwards and just out of the way, then crouches down and leaps again. This time, his vault pushes him right through the door and into the street, where the transformation to smoke carries the power of such a leap and turns it into kinetic energy. The smoke goes shooting up into the air, highlighted by broad rays of red sunlight until it bends around a building and disappears from view.


The man remains out of reach as Peggy keeps moving forward. The vaulted leap through the door causes her to quickly follow, fully intending on pursuing him for as far as she can. That turns out to be just as far as the doorway as she watches the smoke go around the building and disappear. There's no catching him now.

She remains in the open doorway for a few moments, breathing heavily. The cries and gasps of the patrons behind her start to filter in through the battle haze she was in. Turning her head, she takes in the carnage there: the three dead mean on the floor, the blood and the broken glass. Though the adrenaline is still coursing through her system, the pain in the side of her face starts to throb through and she realizes she's clutching a ragged shard of bloody glass rather tightly.

Letting the makeshift weapon slip out of her grip, it clatters to the floor and breaks. Her shoulders drop just slightly as she cradles her gashed hand with the other, taking in the scared faces of those around her.She should stay for the report, but then, how could she explain who she is and why she was here? A sad expression crosses her face as she looks to Burbridge, his assistant and the massage parlor worker. Then, she's through the door, off to find a place to change clothes and clean up before she heads back to New York.

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