Ellen comes out of the bathroom, wiping her hands on a towel. The closets are making her experiment with a few things. "Come on in, Jo." She calls, moving books around her room. Might as well get caught up on some reading she never got to do because of some reason or another. Most are books on lore - not surprisingly - but others are books on economics, history, even a few cook books scattered amongst the piles.

Ellen had always loved to read, but between the Roadhouse, Jo and then hunting, she just never had the time. (And Stephen King is a twisted bastard.)

She sees her daughter, crosses her arms and raises that eyebrow. "JoAnna Beth, what the hell is going on?"