***[POV: Agoraphobic Assistant]***
Working until 8:30 at night was normal for me. Coming back to my apartment and 'working' more was also pretty… normal. But fuck me if this whole week been anything but business as usual.
"Okay, Claire. You can do this. It's just... going outside. At night. Like a normal person and not a fucking basement troll."
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to convince myself that the non-work make-up wearing woman looking back wasn't about to have a complete meltdown. My hands shook slightly as I applied another layer of lip gloss - the third time in ten minutes.
"Get it together. Just going to meet some young woman who needs help with crypto. No big deal. Totally normal Tuesday night activity for me, like eight years ago."
Except the werewolf part wasn't normal. I mean, it is for me now, but it's not generally normal? How come it's only when I'm freaking myself out that I actually worry about how batshit all of this is?
