Chrysanthemum barely remembered how her newest obsession came to her attention. It was likely a business meeting. In fact, that sounded right: she was talking to a Supervisor from some other company. (That was the extent of Chrys’s interest in him.) He spoke a lot, but somehow he got on the topic of a business they once worked with, and the former CEO who seemingly dropped off the map.

What happened to her? The question was enough to pick at Chrys’s curiosity, and she was between games, so she had plenty of time on her hands, (ignoring the mandatory time required to run Van Hart Enterprises.) Looking further into her departure, Chrys found out the woman was ousted from her own company. Chrys was not one to take the moral high ground, with her own rise to power coming as the result of a different kind of “hostile takeover.” She did wonder what that kind of fall from grace might do to a person. Someone who had so much power, suddenly made vulnerable… weak… susceptible…

The possibilities made her heart flutter.

New York was a large city, and one person among millions could get lost in the shuffle. Thankfully, some of those millions worked as private investigators, and some of those could be paid to keep questions to a minimum. Chrys liked to do her own following; it was therapeutic, watching people. She enjoyed being the unwatched observer, holding all the power and knowledge in a one-sided relationship. Unfortunately, her time was not limitless, and when it came to tracking someone down, she could hire a handful of professionals to locate her targets and drudge up the initial dirt from which her research could bloom.

”Lori Faust. Thirty-two, going on thirty-three, publicly known mutant.” The room was dimly lit by the glow of multiple screens displaying reports provided by her PI helpers. Chrys was the only person in the room, analyzing information aloud to herself. ”The driving force behind Faust Pharmaceuticals, proprietary source for M, defunct and off the active market, respectively. Led an organization known as The Order, also defunct. Retreated to the Mansion. Not even Sanctuary, after all she did for that place.”

She clicked her tongue disapprovingly, feigning sympathy for how far Lori fell. ”My, my, being in control has not suited you in the past, has it?” The corners of her lips curled into an unnerving smile.

As Chrys’s eyes scanned her monitors, she was reaching into her purse for a small, leather-bound notebook. ”Unverified rumors from more than one employee that she might have kept company of her own. Some live-in man. Very curious. Definitely worth more research.” The reports gave her a start, but she had her own digging to do and questions to ask. If there was a photo floating around somewhere, she would find that, too.

Flipping through her notebook, Chrys had times, locations, and activities listed on several pages. She had spent her days off from work in one of her many wigs, keeping track of Lori as she went about her day. She had amassed three days’ worth of Lori’s life, clearly outlined in organized rows. The original notes would be kept; knowing Lori’s habits and routines would be useful going forward, and her handwriting was hastily composed as she was often jotting details down on the move. She took out a fresh piece of stationary and copied down the times and locations in more legible, elegant handwriting.

At the end of Lori’s itinerary, Chrys added an additional message she had already composed carefully earlier in the evening.

Oh dear,

Not as busy as you used to be once upon a time, are you?

Maybe it’s better this way. Certainly easier, right? You used to have so much to worry about, after all.

Anyway, have a nice morning. It should be almost 7:00, right?

I can’t wait to see what you do next! (And I will see.)

In place of a signature, she drew a heart. She considered drawing a small, multi-petalled flower, but that would be a careless clue, and Old Chrysanthemum would have been careless. New Chrysanthemum was taking her time and playing carefully as she established the game.

First contact was important, and so was sending a message. Lori would understand that she was out there somewhere and that she was watching. She would work the next day, but she had eight people hired to track her movements for two hours at a time throughout the day. No one person would follow long enough to be noticed, and none of her PIs would know just how closely Chrys was following the woman’s movements. ”I had to take those first days for myself,” she explained softly to a photo of Lori on the monitor. ”Those first days of watching… those are the most intimate. When you don’t even know I might be there yet.”

She was going to know now, though. Lori would wake up the next day, and a new itinerary would be waiting at her doorstep. She had to know Chrys was not just present; she was omnipresent. As much as Lori was aware of her and looked for her presence, she would eventually realize that her stalker was everywhere, yet still out of her reach. She had to know that she was not the one dictating the game; she was just a piece on the board, not a player.

And of course, it was only a first impression. Chrys had learned that patience came easiest when she allowed her fun to build, and she was hoping to enjoy a longer game with Lori.

Taking a black hoodie off a hook near the door, Chrys left her apartment. She had to hand off the letter to someone who could leave it in front of Lori’s door without being detected, and New York had people more suited to the task who cared enough about money to leave the letter sealed along with their lips.

Chrys nearly skipped out of her apartment. First contact always made her giddy like a love-struck schoolgirl.

A slap to her behind and she went from zero to awake.

"Ouch!" She grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at Calgary Vance, chief white house speech writer and proud owner of a rakish grin and a terrible case of bed head. "You'd better come kiss it better."

"If I do, we'll both be late." He did return pillow volley, though.

Lori interrupted a perfectly good stretch in order to bat the pillow away. She rolled out of bed with Manolo Blahniks and loose stockings as the only things left after the evening's diversion. They moved around the small space and each other with more than a little accidental contact.

"Are you coming to Washington this week?" He pulled a pre-prepared protein shake from the fridge while Lori grabbed up her wrap dress and stopped by the kitchen counter to sip the last dregs of melted ice and whiskey.

"Are you changing that line on human trials in the Veep's address tomorrow?"

"Ahhh. Nooo. You know he won't go for looser standards." They bickered in a generally good natured way. Lori pushed her arms through her dress sleeves, tidied her stockings, and grabbed her tiny clutch so that she could reapply her lipstick in the reflection of the kitchen's stainless steel microwave by the morning light that streamed in through the windows.

She didn't live anywhere currently. Putting herself at the Mansion made it a target. Rupert was hot and cold, always. The Sanctuary was full of sunshine and self-help bull****. She wasn't an assassin, she'd extricated herself from the needy mutant community, she hadn't stolen anything in years, she didn't do big pharma anymore, and she sure as hell wasn't about to go back to bartending.

So, Lori had decided to expand her influence by making the political circuit as a lobbyist.

Someone's bed was always open and if not that, their wallets and leverage. She'd been toying with the idea of suing Jaager lately, but without an end-game in mind she wouldn't move forward.

Not everything was about money.

They both left out the front door, Lori stepping on something paper stopped to scoop it up and got another swat to bookend her morning.

"Seriously?"

"Dinner? Tonight?"

"Can't." He was getting too serious. Lori scooped up the envelope. It... had her name on it.

"Ah shoot. I was supposed to be at that deposition 2 minutes ago."

"Hey Cal? You tell anyone I was coming over last night?" Lori's eyes flicked up from the page in time to see Calgaray waving from behind the closing elevator doors.

"Sorry! Rain check!"

She frowned and opened it up.

What an odd little note. No name. It certainly could apply to Lori, but she couldn't see what benefit the person got from it besides trying to spook her. Lori twirled her clutch as she made her way to the stairs and analyzed the note which was more interesting than the itinerary by far. The way that the h's and capital letters slanted made it look like a right-hander. Was the person unsure of themselves? They asked a lot of reassurance questions.

Waste of time, Lori decided two flights down. She tore the letter and itinerary into little ribbons, except on a whim she tore the heart off the page and tucked it in her bag.

The ribbons went in the trash.

Chrysanthemum thanked the cleaning lady for her assistance with the mess in the living room. Several glass objects had “fallen” and the dish and food she had been eating “accidentally” ended up smashed against the wall. The woman was smart enough not to question Chrysanthemum’s inconsistencies, which was why she was employed.

The fit she threw was an Old Chrysanthemum moment, but she was composing herself again. Getting angry and flustered meant a lack of control, which was an improper way to react to bad news.

Reports came in and Lori’s response to Chrys’s letter was… lackluster. She was not a woman who saw being followed as a threat. With the shady past she carried with her, perhaps stalkers were just a problem she grew to live with, like any other inconvenience. It was fine; Chrys was not some lowly stalker, and now she had to make that clear.

After her little… outburst, Chrysanthemum pieced together the shreds of paper collected by her PI after Lori discarded it. She was pleased the man made the choice to scavenge the torn letter, because it gave her the chance to piece it back together. Lori had torn it and discarded it, but one clear piece was missing. She had kept the heart Chrys chose as her signature. It was too neat a hole to be a scrap missed by the collector. The thought of Lori keeping the most intimate part of her note lifted Chrys’s heart. She did not have Lori’s respect yet, but maybe she had her curiosity. It was a start!

She was in her office; the only room help was not allowed to enter. Photos were splayed across her screens from various points in Lori’s day, but her eyes were studying the morning photos of Lori’s flirtatious farewell with a handsome man. There was an initial flare of jealousy, as though the man should have known Lori was her plaything, and he had no right to intrude on her game. Old Chrysanthemum again. With a moment to cool down and think, she was thankful for the man.

”Calgary Vance, White House Speech Writer. Promising career, boring, not interesting.” Maybe in a different context, Chrys would have had an interest in Mr. Vance, but she had such a perfect plaything to occupy her desires.

”Lori Faust, promising political lobbyist. What a scandalous little thing, you are,” she purred. Vance was not the only person with political influence she was sharing a bed with. It was a strong power move, and a small part of Chrys respected that.

Of course, that was not the part plotting the next move. ”Tsk tsk, haven’t you learned by now? When you try taking control, things fall apart. Some with a little help…” Chrys was willing to nudge the natural order of things along to get what she wanted.

She selected three photos, and in all three, Lori’s face was not clearly shown. A photo through a window of her, still in a state of undress, talking with Vance in the kitchen. The two brushing up against each other in the same state of undress. One shot outside the front door with Vance giving Lori a playful swat on the bottom. They were perfect; she was not ready to get Lori’s face out to the public yet, but in those photos, the right people would recognize her.

She scheduled emails to be sent overnight, sharing the photos and a brief explanation of their relevance. ”Pictured, Calgary Vance, Chief Speech Writer for the White House, carrying on an illicit rendezvous with an unidentified political lobbyist. Overheard discussing the Vice President’s speech and a portion of said speech involving human trials.” It could seem flimsy, but with the human trials line remaining in the speech, it would give Chrys’s claims credibility. With the sorry state of media, at least one source would take the bait, and the rest would follow. It helped that Chrysanthemum was hitting all the relevant news sources on a National level, as well as in New York and D.C. for good measure.

Lori was trying to gain influence and control powerful men to get what she wanted, so it was important to rip that support system away from her.

The photos were the important play, but Chrys would be remiss if she did not write up another note for Lori. Now that they were in contact, (more or less,) the last thing she wanted was for Lori to believe she stopped thinking about her.

I’m almost disappointed, but we only just met. I can forgive your rudeness. You’re still learning.

You’re still playing your games, but haven’t you figured it out by now? Some people were meant to play games, some people get played.

Your new bedmate is nice, but I liked the last one more. Of course, after tonight, I’m not expecting you’ll be welcome in that kitchen again. In fact, I bet a lot of your potential partners might be wary around blonde hair and a nice butt.

Just know, when they leave you alone, you’ll always have me.



(PS- Will you steal my heart away this time, too?)

The note was once again accompanied by Lori’s itinerary for the past day. Chrys looked the letter over three times, partially to proofread, but mostly because of the tingly feeling it gave her thinking about Lori receiving her letter. From what her PI managed to overhear, (and boy, did that man deserve a raise,) the blonde lobbyist was hesitant to commit to plans with Calgary that night. Chrys was certain she would end up in another bed for the evening; she was using politicians not only for influence and gifts, but for a roof and a bed. Through her research, Chrys had yet to find a permanent address Lori had in her name, or even associated with her.

She could have one more night. The next day the news would break. Even with Lori’s face not clearly shown in the photos, there was enough of her hair, body, and distinguishing features. Anyone intimately associated with Lori would recognize her, and the gossip would tear through the political space, putting people on their guard for the time being. No one was looking for a fresh scandal in the age of internet and dirty journalism.

Lori had to know Chrysanthemum was not some passive stalker, watching the blonde to get her kicks. It was time to start proving that, even from the shadows, she had influence of her own.

The television had been switched on for the day and then probably never touched again. Now, two overly makeuped individuals were silently shouting it out in a muted episode of Couple's Court, or something else with nice consonance. Surely it had once shown some MMA fight or gridiron something the night before and no one was actually trying to read lips.

The mid-week, mid-day hotel bar had a few lunchers and one soggy fellow who was nose to glass and already teetering in his seat. Lori knew this kind of crowd when she'd worked behind the bar. It was the quiet before the dinner pick up. The regulars and the mid-day drunk, bless his heart. Lori smoothed her skirt and eased up onto a stool. She had learned long, long ago that she couldn't spare her worries for others. She couldn't save them all. Hell, she couldn't even save herself.

"Grey Goose and triple sec with lemon on the rocks and can we swap to the news?"

"Olive?"

Lori got where he was coming from, but the kid was way off base.

"With a lemon?"

Her 11 o'clock had cancelled, but her check in time at the hotel wasn't for another few hours so Lori diverted to the bar to check her phone and take a breather. Lunch was a maybe that was downgraded to a hard no when the bartender, with a shiny Chris nametag, managed to swap over the Wolf News and Lori had a distinctly out of body experience.

That was her on the screen. Her curtain of messy, stringy day between showers hair. Her half dressed. Her cleavage. Her high heels. That was her and that was Calgary. The look on his face was a man in lust. They had cherry picked moments that made Calgary look proprietary and assured and self-satisfied.

All Lori could think was thank goodness she'd already changed for the day and no wonder her 11 o'clock had cancelled as the photos flicked by. No photo showed her face directly, but anyone that knew her, or her body, would know.

Lori noticed an electro-magnetic induced rainbowing of the television screen and she slipped her heels off to stick her stockinged feet on the ground and drain off the sudden spike in energy. She'd been keeping her reserves incredibly low, but with the sudden perceived threat, her body couldn't seem to help itself.

That was Lori and Calgary in Calgary's apartment. That wasn't peeking in through the open door. They were almost like a lifestyle shoot. She didn't get to examine the photos each for as long as she would have liked. Were they taken through the window? Mega zoom? Was someone out to smear him or could this be related to that second envelope she was dutifully not thinking about?

The bar phone rang as her drink was delivered in a hurricane glass. What? The poor kid was all confused. Lori sipped the drink, amused and more than a little curious. The second envelope had started to establish a pattern. The heart. The same paper and itinerary. She knew that she couldn't aknowledge or alter her habits just because she knew someone was watching. Contact had been made in order to change that behavior, introduce some self-doubt or fear or whatever made the watcher get their jollies.

Chris looked around with the receiver at his ear and then locked eyes on Lori.

"It's for you."

She left her toes grounded, despite the risk, because whoever was on the other end of that phone line knew her well enough to find her here. Her schedule, the fact that her meeting had been cancelled...

Was it the stalker?

"Faust speaking."

Ah. It turned out to be her boss. They had some words to exchange about what was on screen, not all of them good. What could Lori have done to prevent someone from peeping in the windows?

There was a thrill in watching the photos she so meticulously picked out airing prominently on Wolf News. It was not the only place the photos were being run, but the channel had a knack for reporting on political scandal. Seeing Lori’s bare expanse of flesh on camera, exposed to the world, and knowing she was responsible? It was a pleasure all its own.

Of course, she had to keep herself under control. Suspicious noises or comments might draw attention, which would be unfortunate as she sat in a booth near the hotel bar, picking at a cobb salad. The aim was “unspectacular,” so she had a short, dishwater blonde wig and a large pair of sunglasses to obscure her face. To an onlooker, she had the appearance of a hungover hotel guest nursing a Blood Mary. It was important to be insignificant when she was a maybe a dozen feet from her new plaything.

There was a strong temptation to end the games when she was so close to Lori. She had the syringe in her purse, (because she always had the syringe in her purse.) If she was looking for a quick, breakable plaything, it would have been the right choice, but that was not what Chrys wanted out of the clever blonde. She wanted something long-term, which meant commitment and, sadly, patience.

She was looking over the top of her glasses to get a better look at Lori’s reaction, but the television gave her the best indicator. The screen’s colors were warping, and Chrys was certain it was a consequence of Lori’s mutation.

A phone was brought to Lori, and she clearly had a moment of suspicion. Chrys liked that. It was still too early to make phone calls herself, though that did not make the call any less a part of their game.

The conversation between Lori and her employer was a tense one, considering the lobbyist was turning herself into a potential liability. It could have merited a dismissal, but Lori would be fortunate enough to keep her position for the time being.

It would have been poor form for Chrysanthemum to fire the woman when she had just spent so much effort making her the star of the day-time news cycle.

Looking down at her phone’s large screen, she reread an email chain she took part in an hour earlier. Van Hart Enterprises had various vested interests in the tide of American and International politics, and they had the money and influence to get their voices heard. There was a team of lobbyists operating under a different umbrella working towards goals that would be most beneficial to the company, and that was where Lori Faust truly came across Chrysanthemum’s radar so prominently. Her name came up in a boring business interaction, but Chrys’s preliminary research revealed that she had (technically) fallen under her employment recently.

It was kismet. Lori and Chrys were destined to meet, and Lori was meant to be hers. It was the obvious answer, or at least a great excuse to dump resources into stalking her new blonde obsession.

Madison, the woman responsible for their lobbying initiative, was not on board with Chrys’s decision making, but she had no place to question her. The supervisor was pulling for an immediate dismissal, but the CEO wanted to make sure Lori laid low, which meant retaining her employment. Their employee was being slandered, and there was no definitive evidence she was even the woman on camera. She was the victim in this, and Van Heart Enterprises took care of their employees.

The job kept Lori so busy, it seemed like she spent most of her time in transit. Chrysanthemum would arrange for an apartment to be rented on a month-to-month basis as they figured out what to do with an otherwise useful employee. Chrys was certain she could be an asset once the media firestorm calmed down.

She was certainly a fan of Lori’s assets and potential usefulness, after all.

Moving away from her emails, she opened up the Note app on her phone. She would transcribe her writing by hand later, of course, but it was important to draft.

So you’ve hit a rocky patch. It certainly happens. To you more than others, it seems.

Luckily, someone out there must be looking out for you. Who knows how long that might last? People are fickle. Then again, isn’t it nice? Things just working to your benefit without having to try? Of course, you’ll likely try to control everything and spoil a nice thing. Seems counterproductive to me.

Enough about that. Color me curious: the coiled wires in your body. It sounds absolutely fascinating. Do you feel them? I lose sleep wondering about that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy your housewarming presents!

She opened her to do list and listed out special requests to place for Lori’s new apartment. Vodka, triple sec, lemons, and cocktail glasses, (because Chrys was not an idiot, unlike the young bartender.) The request would be arranged anonymously, because the building managers would have questions why the owner of their penthouse was sending gifts to a new tenant four floors down.

There was a theme now, a definite definable thread to the letters Lori received. Give up control. And give it to the interested party who'd been leaving her notes, Lori assumed.

She stood with the now familiar letter with heart two paces in to her new apartment's living room. She hadn't wanted a new apartment, but hadn't been opposed until she found the letter... and the gift. Grey Goose. Lemons. Triple sec. Lori was clearly getting too predictable. She couldn't place when she'd ordered that drink. What location? Which time had her interested party been watching?

And why? What was the point?

Until Lori finished puzzling through it, she stood paralyzed with her traveling duffle in her off hand and the latest note in her right. She didn't want to touch anything, but it was tempting to send out an electromagnetic pulse in order to sizzle any potentially spying eyes.

But then, that would be a deviation of her behavior.

Lori realized that this was almost like a game. She'd been trying to not play and by not playing her interested party had gone above and around Lori in order to maneuver her. She was now standing where her interested party wanted her to stand, was reading what she'd wanted to read, and probably feeling those first flutters of fear just as expected. Based on what Lori knew about people she'd been cobbling together a profile for the sender of her letters— female, right handed, curious, manipulative, attention to detail, and in a position of monetary if not political power. Lori added a mental note that she probably already worked for her since the apartment was a result of work happenings and the gift was already here, but it was only speculation. Anyone could order housewarming presents, right? It was just a matter of knowing where to send it and this person, her interested party, had already demonstrated their ability to dig up the details of her Lori's current life.

Which was problematic since this latest detail, the wires coiled around her arms, was an artifact of Lori's past. She was able to operate with relative anonymity because she didn't give people reason to dig into her past. The actions she had taken when first coming into her mutant powers were the kinds of things that got a girl jailed or worse. Lori didn't care about the things she'd done. She'd done them. It was pointless to regret things she could not un-do. It was not pointless if her interested party wanted to use these things as blackmail to do what she wanted.

She still didn't even know what the architect of this game wanted.

And that was absolutely maddening.

Without knowing anything more than what she'd gleaned from the letters this was a one-sided sport. Lori could only move her own piece on the board and even that was done blindly. Give up control. The game maker's subtext was tempting since all the strings were already in place. But it wasn't in Lori's nature to give up without knowing something about what she was walking into.

Her only avenue of control was herself.

She could try to cut herself out of the game and try to slip away into anonymity, always moving and always sleeping with one eye open. Lori figured she was too old for that. Her current connections were closed to her, not that she would have used them if she left and started over from scratch.

That left playing the game as her only option.

Lori went to the kitchen counter and set her duffle on a chair in order to scrounge out a pen.

An idle supposition floated through Lori's head. The apartment was furnished. Had her interested party decided on this furniture herself?

Lori pulled out a receipt from a bodega, she'd purchased an orange juice on her way over. Harmless information to hand out considering the depth of what was already known.

"Shouldn't you already know that?"

Let her lose a little more sleep. Lori knew the answer had been given in a magazine interview. Some little rag from Georgia with a focus on uplifting mutants or something dumb like that. They'd interviewed her when her healed wounds were pale skinny stripes of mismatched skin on her arms. Of course they'd asked and collected a photo, but they were a small time publication and these were the days before smartphones were as ubiquitous. Web sites were cruddier. Did they even have the resources to digitize their back issues? These were questions she hoped might keep her interested party up for just a little while longer.

Lori left her duffle and went out to see a man about a personal, legal matter that she knew would have to be settled before she played this game in earnest. Would her interested party be interested to know that she wanted to update her will? It was an excellent thing to keep up to date and an even more excellent cover for beginning litigation against JW. What was the point of having a will if she had nothing to leave behind?

Lori complied with Madison’s recommendation to lay low and relocate into the apartment provided to her. Even if she was suspicious of the random act of corporate kindness, Lori was practical. Remaining employed was better than finding herself suddenly unemployed without a plan, and renting an apartment for her would be an over-the-top step for her stalker to take.

Then again, Chrys was making herself known for over-the-top gestures. How else did you win someone over?

There was one bug in Lori’s apartment hidden in the television listening to the room. Anything beyond that would be reckless, given her target’s mutation. The bug was mainly there to see how Lori might react. She was a smart woman; once she saw the third letter, she would assume her stalker had a hand in what was happening to her. Would she respond to her suspicion by electromagnetically ruining her apartment? (And likely a neighbor’s electronics along the way.) Or would she start to play along? Even if she was not as excited about the game as Chrys, she might have been growing more curious to find out more about the woman behind the heart.

Chrys was pleased as she listened to Lori’s entrance into her temporary residence through to her departure. At no point did she hear the static of an audio feed being lost, which was promising. She waited long enough to receive a confirmation text that Lori had, indeed, left the building before she made her way to the blonde’s floor.

Getting into her apartment could have been an excuse to play dress up, sneak into the main office, and steal a key, but it would have required a lot of effort for minimal fun, so she had instead planned ahead. The last tenant of Lori’s apartment “vacated unexpectedly,” and somewhere between cries of pain, she just took it upon herself to copy his key before having the original mailed back to the front office. She had plenty of time to prepare for her potential plaything, but she needed toys to entertain her along the way, after all.

What she discovered left on a desk elicited an excited gasp. It was not fancy or ornate, but it was voluntary contact from Lori. Touching the receipt made her tingle.

She might have initially had more plans for her trip to Lori’s apartment, but the note turned her into a bubbly schoolgirl, retreating back to her office with her reward.

Chrys was back at her desk by the time she thought to check her phone for new reports. Lori was handling legal matters, but all reports would claim they had nothing to do with the potential predator in her life—at least not directly. Lori was taking the time to update her will. The egocentric part of Chrys (which was most of Chrys) initially thought she might have it in her head that her stalker had plans to kill her.

There were other reports though; meetings with an attourney. Lori had an upcoming legal battle in her life, and Chrys had been tossing around whether it would benefit her to get involved. ”I don’t need her money. I have money.” Realistically, she had more money than she needed, not that she did not enjoy living lavishly and excessively. ”I can help her case. Play the guardian angel again. Possibly too obvious. I could work against her needs. With no money, it keeps her from having options. Then again… a will.”

Now that was a curious detail. For Lori to write a will, there had to be someone in her life worth leaving money to, which was an important detail to sit on. ”Not ruling out interfering, but I’ll leave it for now. Let her sort out her affairs.” If the case was resolved, Lori would have fewer reasons to leave the apartment when the time came, and Chrys was all about limiting the time she would spend off leash. Metaphorically. Well, and literally.

Chrys took her pen and stationary and began her reply. She scrapped three drafts since she was initially writing with a hasty hand, but she slowed down and finished the small message she was looking to deliver.

Hello again, doll!

I don’t yet know if your coils hurt, but I’d love to. Pain can be fascinating, don’t you think? Just the right amount… and maybe a little more beyond that.

It’s touching to hear from you. I was beginning to think I was the only one who cared! I worried you might be heartless, but heartless people don’t keep others in their lives as something important.

You are important, dear. Important enough to keep.



PS- I thought such a kind gesture deserved a present. Something nicer than a record of sale.

As Chrys made the final touches to her letter, her phone jingled, jolting her out of her focused headspace and almost resulting in a misplaced stroke. She picked up the phone, but her tone was anything but inviting as she spat, "What!?"

Everything about her softened as the voice on the other end hesitantly explained herself. ”…Yes? …And you looked to… I see. And? …Oh my, so you were able to locate him?” A small moan of success and pleasure passed her lips unexpectedly, which she quickly followed with a short, ”Apologies. Anyway… could a meeting be arranged? …Yes, very, very good. Thank you, this has been excellent work. Follow up with the name of who I need to reach out to. Goodbye.” Chrys normally would leave a call without a true farewell, but she found herself in a surprisingly good mood. Luck was shining favorably on her, and she was not one to waste such a gift.

Chrys vanished into the room that held her makeup, clothing, and wigs, emerging as a brunette with light, medium length hair. She had to run and make some purchases. She had to find nice stationary that was not so distinct it could be traced back to one store. Lori deserved some quality pens as well, and what would the point of gift giving be if she did not wrap it all in a nice box and a tidy bow? It would be left in her mailbox on the ground level along with the note, because Lori already knew she could make it into the apartment. No need to be showy and reckless, after all.