So the sand didn't disappear at midnight. And all research on sand creatures aside, I think we should at least make the most of it for a little bit, at least. I say we party! There should be a beach party or a Sahara desert party or a hey we have sand everywhere party. And at said party we can make bets on which drinks and foods will turn to sand or not. And there can be dancing at said party, cause who doesn't like to dance? Main key word here, party. That should be a motto somewhere for something. When in doubt, party.

So who's with me? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? That was a good show too, Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Funnyness.

[The scene shows a table scattered with an assortment of make-up, powders, creams, blushes eyeliners, mascara tubes. In the background, there's classical music playing. At the moment it's Le sacre du printemps by Igor Stravinsky. A slender hand sets down an eyeliner stick and picks up a tube of mascara. Once the cap is twisted off, there's hesitation and then the tube is tipped so that sand pours out of it.]

That's the second one in two days... Luce! I need to borrow some mascara!

So much for this ending at midnight.

[Eleanor doesn't sound annoyed. Yet. Merely curious. There's the sound of papers being moved around and the general buzz of people in a coffee shop. It's her lunch break.]

None of my pens work. Each one I've tried is completely dry and when I open them, they're filled with sand. I'd ask if this was a prank but considering yesterday and today and how there seems to be more...[The sound of a cup being lifted...silence...and then sputtering.]

...ugh...why...[more coughing.] Before I left Rapture, I said I wanted to feel the sand between my toes and I have. This wasn't quite how I imagined it going, though.

[More coughing and the feed ends.]

[There's the sound of a low chuckle on the audio over the network as Jericho bends down to cup a pile of sand in his palm and watch the grains slowly sift through his fingers. He's out walking, admiring with some amusement both the sand itself and all the complaints over it around him and on the network.]

Were I the nostalgic sort, any home-sickness I felt would be cured at the moment. [He might be lying about being immune to the occasional bit of nostalgia. Feel free to talk to him or catch him wandering about town in the best mood he's been in since arriving in the City.]