Moira doesn't plan on actually going to the Thornton rec center; yet here she stands, in the main lobby, glancing at various pamphelts in her hand. A customer at Coombs & Co. happened to have one of these flyers in her hands, advertising a nutritional pregnancy course, and Moira, having a moment of, oh fuck, this baby is actually happening, noted the information for later. She's still trying to keep her pregnancy a secret; she doesn't need James' father, or, God forbid, her damn mother, finding out. She's in her second trimester now, apparently, and she has to actually deal with the stress in her life.

But she's not thinking about that now. She's thinking about how she woke up from her post-work nap knowing, with absolute certainty, that she was carrying a girl. She'd scryed after, just to make sure, and in a rare instance of her magic actually working right in recent days, the water confirmed her earlier vision. She doesn't know if James would want to know or not; she doesn't know how to tell him, really.

She doesn't know where things stand with James, and it's a thought that frightens her just as much as the baby herself does. She's not prepared for motherhood; she's not prepared for much of anything these days.

So she stands in the lobby of the Thornton rec center, wringing her hands as she tries to read the information about the classes while simultaneously also hoping she blends into the walls.