Leigh, once she had delivered the ice cream and hot cocoa to everyone, went back into the kitchen to eat hers. Its large emptiness felt more comforting than the crowd of people by the fire; though that room seemed to always exactly fit the number of people inside.
With her task complete, the weirdness of this place was settling back on Leigh. She really wished she could just get her petrol and leave, but somehow she knew she had no place to go. And what was worse? Riding on roads that weren’t roads, or being in a house of oddness, where, it seemed, anything could happen.
Leigh sighed and looked at the guy who’d helped her deliver ice cream. They might as well hang out since they kept bumping into each other, right? “So,” she sipped her hot cocoa, into which she’d directly scooped her ice cream, “You believe in this author stuff?”
Looking into her mug she swirled the melting ice cream around. She hated going from confidant to insecure in a matter of moments. But that's the way she'd always been, especially in unexpected situations. At least she hadn’t burst into tears yet; though given this place it was only a matter of time. Some tough biker chick she was.