Natalie's Apartment, Port-au-Prince, Haiti, Sunday

It had been a work-filled two weeks. Distraction tactic after distraction tactic. In the last week, she'd even managed to acquire a guitar, because trying to learn to play that beyond what preliminary skills she already had was a good way to pass what little time she had where she couldn't even pretend she had work to do. And all this because of a confrontation with some guy.

(Except it wasn't 'some guy'. It was never just 'some guy' with her.)

It had been almost two weeks. Enough for things to cool down. Enough for a chance at rational discussion. And if she was right, the fall break crowd was returning to the island today. So actually reaching out – not that she wanted to be the first to do that – wouldn't actually disrupt anyone's vacation anymore.

So. It was time.

And Natalie refused to do anything as lame as taking a calming, steadying breath before selecting Jim's number and bringing the phone to her ear.

[ooc: NFB, but can open also for interaction with people not named in the post!]