Steph rests her head on her knees, listening to the silence. No traffic, out here. No people screaming. Nothing but wind, and occasionally animal noises that she can't even identify.

And Babs, small and crackly on the far end of a phone line, being as incomprehensible as Babs always is.

She knows something. And she's not telling Steph.

"You're not really making any sense," she points out. "I mean, I'm happy to listen to you ramble as long as you like, but it'd be great if you started telling me what's going on sometime soon."