Alexis was one of those random people in the house, though she wasn't staying there like some of the others, she had somewhere else to actually stay, but that didn't mean she wasn't visiting as often as possible, often at odd hours and for irregular amounts of time. Which was probably the only reason she hadn't heard what had happened.

As often as not she looked like some full-grown, six-foot-four Pippi Longstocking, red hair tied back in a loose braid or just held out of her face with a knotted bandanna, sometimes both, wearing workboots and jeans that were more utility than fashion, the same way the unbuttoned flannel layered over two different tank tops was.

It was late in the evening, after regular dinner hours, but not yet into late hours, and she had a tarp rolled out across the kitchen table -to make cleanup easier- while she repotted and tended to almost a full pallet of seedlings she'd rescued from the hardware store when she became aware of her audience, "They don't bite. You can help if you don't mind getting your hands dirty."