"Yes," the director says, "we're really full. There's no way to ask that question that makes a cot show up here." He wiggles his tablet under your nose. "As I already explained, Center Street still has cots available. Just fill out the forms here and bring them to Marie."
"Marie?" you ask.
"It should be obvious from context that I'm discussing the care director at Center Street," he says. He peels a form off a nearby table and hands it to you.
"Better do as he says, boy," the scowling woman at the door says. "Or you'll end up at Langton."
"Langton?" you ask.
"I would discourage you from staying there," the director says, not really paying attention. "Violence and theft are endemic at facilities not affiliated with our network."
"But they got cots," the woman says. She leaves in a blast of cold air.
"Close the door!" the same man as last time yells.
What's this form look like? I skim it.
"What's this Langton place? Is it really that dangerous?"
"There must be…something I can do…for a cot. Something you might like?" Not my finest moment, but it shouldn't be too hard to charm or seduce this guy.
I'm not dealing with the shelter system. It's too cold for a human, but I should be tough enough to survive in lupus form.
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