Code 2 for the illness.
“RP said she will meet you in front of the address.”
We turn onto the street. No sign of anyone in front of the residence, which is a boarding house for people with psychiatric issues.
I walk up, poke my head around, and then into the open front door. She’s inside the residence, gathering her stuff.
“Please come on out.” Mostly because now that I was told she’d be outside, I’m too lazy to go in. Or get my gear, for that matter.
She comes out, sets her 2 pieces of luggage at the door, locks her door and walks over.
“Get my bags.”
“No, I’m not the bellhop. Get it yourself.” I stand my ground.
Or you can ask nicely.
My partner rescues the situation by grabbing one of her bags.