Shatterverse Panfandom RP

It's humid. And summer. And she was stupid to tell Jack no.

And there are still more Winchesters than you can shake a stick at in Lawrence.

Which is why Jo is on the sidewalk, of the house across the street, painting her toe nails cotton candy pink.

It was the only color she saw yesterday when she went looking around in town and came back with a grocery cart full of varying ammunitions, a pile of multi-sized clothes, batteries and better beer.


Besides, it's pretty.

Kansas City isn't the patron glory hole of the middle she expects.

Sparsely peopled on the edge of a teetering world, where looting and cowering came first. Jo is never going to attempt the second, but she's never been above the first when in need. Which is why she spends a good deal of the day collecting things. First came new clothes, specifically tight jeans and another thin, clinging, long sleeve shirt. Then there is a back holster and then a back pack stuffed through the afternoon with two shirts, two boxes of rifle rounds, canned food, flint and steel keychain, a large bottle of water, a bottle of tequila, a container of salt, a box of tampons and of condoms, betadine and two rolls of bandages.

Beauty personified showed up in the mid afternoon, in the shape of a motorcycle lying on its side in an alley in a deserted part of the town. Her paint job was crap on one side now and some of the casing cracked, looked like it had taken a hard tumble landing here, but her gears and wheels were only well worn, and she purred like a kitten once Jo finished the hot wiring.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship when she started it up and rode out of town, headed west on I-70. Jo didn't know what she was looking for in Lawrence (She'd steered clear back home out of respect.) but it was getting a once over before she headed toward any commune farm outta Topeka.