<div style="text-align: center"><div style="text-align: center"><div style="visibility: visible; border-top: 5px solid #7E52A0; border-bottom: 5px solid #D295BF; border-left: 5px #252525; border-right: 5px #252525; border-radius: 100%; height: 120px; max-width: 120px; margin: auto;"><div style=" /*IMAGE*/ border-radius: 100%; height: 110px; max-width: 110px; margin: auto; background-size: cover; background-position: center; background-image: url(https://64.media.tumblr.com/9cf566df3161ad60096225557c5cfab8/20cf895db430337c-6e/s250x250_c1/7cd60bf672635638eb331f82da80860e12776bed.gifv); font-size: 0px;">image</div></div><div style=" font-size: 20px; font-weight: lighter; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 5px;">Harper</div></div></div><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">She was nervous, beyond nervous, as she watched a woman coming out of the gate. Shutting the aparatus behind her before facing Harper with a weapon in her hand although it wasn't pointed. Her own pistol feeling so obscure in her hand as she wondered if she should put it down or… </span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri"><i>This is Havenshire.</i></span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">She felt like her knees were going to buckle as the woman spoke because Harper was able to recognize her voice. It was the same voice she had heard through the transmission and it made her want to cry. To hug the woman.. But her mind flipped back to her previous concerns. This very well could be a trap although there was nothing outside of the place that was giving her those vibes.<br/>
"Y-yes." Harper said, trying to project her voice so that the woman would be able to hear her. It had been so long since she had seen people that weren't trying to kill her… "Do you have a doctor?" She asked as she remembered her companion laying down in the back of her car. "My friend… he's… dehydrated and not doing well."</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">Harper still felt weird holding the pistol, especially when it was just in simple conversation but she didn't quite know what to do with it. So an awkward gesture was made as she tried to unzip the opening of her fanny pack so that she could slip the fire arm inside, all while still holding onto the rusted tire tool in her grasp. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I even grabbed this stupid thing." She mumbled more to herself than to the woman standing across from her.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">The zipper momentarily got stuck and she had to jerk it to get it to move until the pistol was out of sight and out of mind. Finally, she smiled, unable to stop the tears that started to roll down her cheeks as she was faced with the prospect of having a safe place to live. To have food in her stomach every day and not have to worry about where she was going to find food or water. To even have a safe place to sleep at night that wasn't her car.</span><br/><br/><span style="font-family:Calibri">"I'm Harper." She called out. "I would very much like to come inside." </span>