[ she hates this part. the people part. the needing to nurturing and act like a goddamn human being part. she curses in her mind, looks up at the ceiling as if she's going to take this up with whatever higher power might be listening.

the trouble with people asking for numbers is that they can find out if you are who you say you are pretty easily. ]

Yeah. Good idea. [ agreement buys her time to think, at least. ] Let me give you my personal number so you don't have to go through the station. [ she's not at all bothered by how easy this is, in part because she's just so distracted by wanting to get out of comforting him over his neighbor's death-by-bad-choices. ] I guess a pen won't do it. Do you have ... ? [ she waves her hand as if to fill in the gap, huffing when she realizes even the gesture is insufficient. ]