Pool_2

have phoned somebody," incredulous second guessings, the ominous, "This got anything to do with Philadelphia?" worries and the ever present, "I'm sure there's a good explanation." Maybe. But maybe not. Furrowed brow silence ran the table followed by subtle vacant pouty squints that signify a preponderance of foreboding. It didn't take a shrink to catch the collective consciousness operating here. "Hey Tusk," Lois again broke the momentum of the silence, "D'ja see the morning news? That Hallam kid? She died in a soccer game - head hit or something." Nathan Ivory was suddeny standing and cursing in an uninterupted stream of invectives. Those who hadn't the background, were nudging each other for clues to Ivory's out of character decomposure. It was clear to Lois, from the general cluelessness, that nobody had seen Shannon, so she left leaving a wake of disquiet. Seth turned to Ivory, "Tusk. There's some weird shit going on. Tell me about that garbage thing," but Ivory just kept swearing.