Per 
"Why is this stupid-ass phone not working anymore?" Blanchette asks loudly.
"Maybe Trashdump McGee has a solution to your problem!" Loka says, appearing from the bushes.
"Not him. You do know I hate that guy, right?" Blanchette turns her head violently towards Loka, "He's just so…"
Loka smiles, "Cute? Charming? Hot, perha-"
"Ew, no! Over my dead body!" Blanchette cuts Loka off.
"Will you two knock it off?" A frail voice reverberates across the house, "Just because I'm rapidly deteriorating, does not mean I don't own this goddamn house."
A middle-aged woman steps inside the room. Her left hand almost completely indiscernible, her right foot contorted past it's natural limits, cracking like glass. Her right hand is holding crutches, there's a triangular tattoo on the ring finger. Her eyes, tired, but sharper than a knife. On her weathered shirt, a nametag is sown onto it's collar. 'I belong to Carnelia' is what it says. She slowly walks to a nearby seat. Sitting down, she looks at the two young adults in front of her.
"Listen, you want to fix your phone?" she begins.
"Yeah," Blanchette answers.
"Here's his address," Carnelia pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket, "He lives near Aileron now, the IRS and the Foundation are still on his ass. But, I think he's got time for some charity work."
Loka grins and looks at Blanchette. Blanchette sighs and looks at Loka.
"Lets get this over with."
