Midday, Friday, November 7th.

Carol's tired.  She was up late hunting down carnapper drones - she's one of the few people on the planet who can nail a target the size of two fists going 150 MPH while she's blind and also mildly jetlagged.  With a 100% success rate and zero collateral damage.

So she's been busy.

But the majority of the carnapper drones have been taken care of, rumors of some hotshot ergokinetic esper who's going to catch every car are making their way through the rumor mill.  And Carol is actually just tired and needs a break.  She's going to take a few hours, decompress, and see if San Diego still needs her after that.

And hey!  In the meanwhile, there's a pool!  She's very glad she brought a bikini.  She'd feel like a real heel if she ordered a delivery-drone bikini in the middle of a fucking earthquake zone, and she would expire from embarrassment if she tried skinny-dipping.

And it looks like she's not the only one who's decided to take advantage of the pool.  Maybe she'll say 'hi'.