The day started off with a bang - literally. The resulting yelp as Tess Abrahams came hitch-stepping out of the bathroom sailed down the hallway, chased by a muttered chorus of hissed invectives. Her eyes narrowed and the woman rubbed at her smarting funny bone and scoured the doorway - which the sensitive nerve had smacked against - with an accusing glower. Already hounded by a nagging fog of... well, what, really? She'd slept a solid twelve hours and still woken up to the feeling of hitting the wrong side of a double-shift. It felt wrong to label the thick sensation fatigue.

Strained? That hit closer to the mark. The disastrous turn the rally had taken the previous week had taken it's toll on everyone, and in bad imitation of a disaster film it had followed all-too-closely on the heels of Apollos' break-in. They were all worn out.

But life went on, ever stalwart. There were still jobs to go to and bills to pay and groceries to buy and all the other mundane little details that made up the day-to-day tide of Redencion. Trying to keep up was just more difficult right now, all things considered; dealing with rogue bits of architecture that saw fit to attack simply went beyond her skill set at the moment.

Tess took a few deep yoga breaths and then smoothed the front of her turquoise linen blouse, gathering a measure of composure as her fingers brushed away creases in the fabric. A backward glance in the bathroom mirror made her frown and, wriggling, Tess twisted at the subtly-fit skirt she wore - a casual but smart thing she'd borrowed from Aimee, in a shade of muted cream that offset the brilliance of the shirt - until the hems lay right. That was another reason she probably felt so ruffled. If ever there was a day meant for the simple comfort of shorts and a t-shirt, it was now: the skies were clear and bright with the promise of a gorgeous summer afternoon but it wasn't obnoxiously warm, a gentle breeze cutting through the season's heat like a benevolent spirit.

Perfect beach day, Tess mused as she padded down the stairs and through the kitchen, forgoing coffee in deference to her unsettled stomach. Perfect lay-on-the-couch-and-do-nothing day.

Alas, the couch that she intended to steal a few moments of blissful lazing on was already occupied. Instead of feeling thwarted yet again, Tess felt a breath of release curl in her lungs and loosen the tension in her shoulders. She smiled, something of desperate relief in the expression, and dropped down next to the comfortingly solid form of Aidan.

"I had a dream last night," Tess greeted, toppling against his side. "That you decided on a whim to become a professional SCUBA diver and took off with your new best friend, Philippe Cousteau. It was so bizarre. But you look great in a wetsuit, so there's that."