Eyes of a Tragedy

Over the past few days, Kerrigan had made a lot of progress. The hole in the roof had been fixed, some of the furniture had been shoved around to account for what she felt was a more efficient distribution of space, and one of the oddly-smelling bedrooms seemed to have vanished: there was a wall where it once was.

Or at least it looked like a wall, and that was all that mattered.

The only thing she hadn't managed to solve yet was the ball pit question, but she had full confidence she'd find a solution eventually. Maybe call in a little assistance (and only assistance, she could do the grunt work herself, thank you. It was just the logistics that bothered her). At the moment, she was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, Ghost visor pulled over her head, a few balls lying still by her feet. She fiddled with the wiring on some unidentifiable contraption, tapping a faint rhythm on the floor with her boot.

"Hey, Jimmy," she spoke into the device; paused, then repeated, "Jimmy, hey." She leaned over, dog tags jingling against the wires, "Hey, heroboy, this won't find you till I get home, but you've got no idea..."

[ open for anyone who said they'd bug kerrigan/wants to bug kerrigan. upcoming thread with mouthy_merc will come last chronologically yay timezones, get your shots in before and win a prize! metaphorically ]