To say that this entire trip was frustrating was the biggest understatement of the year. Devon felt like she was looking for a needle in a haystack, wandering around Cuba. Luckily, she had sources of information about the country; sources of information that would actually help her, unlike Lydia fucking Proudfoot. That entire situation made her hate the woman even more than she already did, kicking herself mentally for even thinking that she would give two shits about someone other than her. She had already been searching for a couple of days before she decided to ask her, roaming around, knocking on people’s doors, trying to describe Darren to locals who didn’t understand a word she was saying. That just made her realize that she didn’t even have a picture of him, which made her even more depressed about their relationship. But she was sick of being sad. She was done sitting around, waiting for Darren to come home. The only way things were going to get better was if she made them better. If she went to Cuba, found him, and they just worked things out. That was what she was hoping would happen, anyway. She hadn’t thought that she would go to Cuba and find him in an instant, but she hoped that Lydia would make things maybe a little bit easier. But she didn’t. The next person she talked to was Evan Rosier, since she knew he traveled quite often. She didn’t tell him any details, and just said she was going on a vacation and wanted to know the wizarding areas before she left. That at least narrowed things down.

Raising her hand, she knocked on what had to be the hundredth door, dropping her hand back down as she waited for someone to answer. By now, she was losing all hope. She was beginning to think that she would never find him, and this was just fucking pointless. When the door opened, she looked up with those large brown eyes, focusing in on a Cuban boy who was looking up at her very strangely. Devon sighed and turned away, apologizing as she did so. Her hands moved to press her palms against her forehead, her fingers gripping at her hair as she took deep breaths. She just wanted to give up. She wanted to fucking stop, and she wanted to go back home, and she wanted Darren to be there waiting for her. But that wasn’t going to happen. Even if she was getting frustrated as all hell, and even if there was a huge knot forming in her stomach, she just had to keep trying. She’d knock on every God damn door in Cuba if she had to.

Moving to the next door, she closed her eyes, readying herself for yet another disappointment as her knuckles rapped against the wood. She waited for a couple of seconds, knocked again, and got no answer. Her mouth shifted to the side, biting at the inside of her cheek, looking down at her shoes. “Of course not…” She muttered to herself, scoffing as her back turned to the door.

It was only then that she heard it open behind her.

Who: Santiago Cervantes and Jolene Flint
What: Marriage discussions
When: A...few weeks ago? We're slow :]

( I, Santiago, take you Jolene, to be my wife, )