Of all the places in New York that Kyle had expected to find himself one day, his current location was not one of them. After all, the man he'd been before had been about violence, chaos, putting his mettle against the mettle of all those that he could find. Blood had been his liquor, battle his addiction. This place had nothing to do with that, save for some choice items that depicted as much. Even now, his concerns lay with threats to him, to those he cared about and to those he believed were being threatened by needless violence...and those had little in common with what currently surrounded him. With that all said and done, there was only one question that dared come to mind.

"What am I doing in a museum?

Simple. You're following your instincts.

The question bounced about inside his skull, even as the answer pinged itself back as Kyle twisted his head which way and that to stare at the pieces of art around him, arms clasped carefully behind his back. Carefully, slowly he tread, his eyes always keeping the dark haired man in shades at their corner, while his attention appeared to be on the portraits and scupltures around him. It was a hard trick to pull off, keeping one's attention on a person without them catching wind of trouble. Twice now, Kyle had had to shuffle his attention away quickly when the man glanced behind him, hiding his face and prying eyes.

It would have been easier if Kyle didn't find himself actually admiring some of the items around him. Pictures of battle here, a scene that was as chaotic as any fight, but only because of the complexity of it, sculptures that were twisted in ways that made no sense to Kyle, yet his eyes could not be drawn away. Kyle was no art lover, anyone who knew him could tell you that. But he did know how to appreciate what someone had worked hard to create, so at least if he was caught looking, he could give an honest answer about his interest in such things. And not everything worth looking at was on the walls either.

There were several women around that were pleasant on the eyes as well, something that Kyle had used as an excuse to hide his true intentions before, feigning to speak to someone to draw off heat. In here, he had yet to use it, but he always tried to keep one in sight so he could use the excuse if needed. A win win, as some would say. Just because he'd become a colder man after his run in with the general, it didn't mean he was stupid.

Clumsy though, that still remained. In the process of trying to keep the man in sight, Kyle forgot for a moment to pay attention to his surrounding. So when he encountered resistance and the short cry of surprise from a woman, Kyle snapped his head around to find himself staring down at the woman he'd just knocked from her feet. The cry had drawn attention, so Kyle was quick to act. Reaching down, Kyle offered a hand to the fallen woman, even as the words left his mouth.

"Apologies. I let my brain and eyes wander off on me for a moment. Are you alright?

Today was the sort of day where Evelyn would rather be hiding in the back room somewhere, organizing paperwork. The museum was getting full, people were in that mid-day lull, and they were getting careless. Customers were touching paintings they clearly shouldn't touch, bumping into things that shouldn't be bumped into, and she was starting to think someone would be responsible for damaging something irreplaceable. She didn't want to be around when it happened, and she certainly wasn't the person to deal with the resulting problems.

Some staff were good with patrons. They could stay polite and remind them to behave, while Evelyn just wanted to terrify them and send them scurrying away by calculating how long it would take them to pay off the fee for damaging the Victorian Era dress or ancient Egyptian mummy. They would be a corpse too. That would show the them. But Terrifying patrons was something she tried her best to avoid, at least in order to keep her job. She would just have to behave, examine the paintings to make sure no damage was done and pray the day would be over.

Easier said than done.

Just when she was thinking she was doing well at being invisible and staying out of the way, someone had the audacity to knock her to the ground, running into her with enough force to send her elbow slamming into the hard floor. She yelped in shock, grabbing her stinging arm and curling slightly against the sensation of pain that drifted up her arm. It was definitely going to leave a bruise, and now her skirt was going to be dirty. And people were staring. Her cheeks grew warm under her pale hair and her eyes darted sharply up at the figure holding out a hand to her. The blue color quickly vanished as her echoes started chattering.

[Lean figure, fighter build. Slight scaring shows evidence of battle over the years, canine teeth slightly elongated. Long hair, perhaps independent attitude, yet well kept, cares about appearance. Attention was caught by another man in the room. Hostility? ] She frowned momentarily, then let her hand slip into his, to be pulled to her feet.

"I'd pay closer attention where you were going, if I were you. The paintings aren't as repairable as the employees." She remarked, steadying her feet under her as she ran her hands across her skirt, dusting herself off.

As soon as the woman's hand found purchase within his own, Kyle pulled back, assisting the woman in her effort to stand with the simpliest of ease. She wasn't heavy and if Kyle had needed to, he could have easily lifted her from dead weight...probably with one arm. It had nothing to do with showing off or ego, if the question came to thought. He was just that physically capable.

The woman was blushing, the heat from her embarressment coloring her pale cheeks a rosy red, a color that stood out against her fair skin and equally pale hair. When her eyes moved to glance at the people who were gawking, Kyle shot them a look that suggested they mind something pretty on the wall rather than the woman he'd just helped to his feet. Most got the hint and found something suddenly interesting about the piece of art in front of them; the rest just shrugged and went back to whatever they had been doing before. Some even stuck their nose up at him. A lesser man might have taken offense at that; Kyle just shrugged it off. Stick their nose up all they wanted; it made their chin's easier to hit.

That said and done, Kyle turned his gaze back to the woman, missing entirely that brief moment when she seemed to space out after looking at him. Her statment made him grin ever so slightly, though most of it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "Again, apologies. My attentions were drawn elsewhere but that's still little excuse for the mistake. Still, if you don't mind me saying, I'd rather glad I just knocked you over and not one of these pieces of art. I'm well off, but repaying you for the mistake would likely cost far less than repaying the museum for one of these art pieces."

Kyle's eyes darted to one side for a moment, doing a quick take to see where his target had gone. He was still within sight, a few art pieces ahead, speaking in low tones into a cell phone. That drew Kyle's suspicions for a moment but so long as he remained within sight, nothing had changed. However, the man was paying a bit more attention in Kyle's direction, so Kyle quickly turned his attention to the woman before him. A perfect cover chanced upon at the right moment, it would seem. And she was far from painful to look upon, unless one could be pained by looking at such beauty.

"An employee, did you say? I can understand how one might enjoy visiting this place from time to time but work here? Doesn't it...and apologies for the question, get boring?

Evelyn took note of the ease with which her companion pulled her to her feet. She wasn’t very heavy, so it wasn’t surprising, but it was still notable he put little into the action. His response to the staring was to give a sharp glare to deter such actions, and her echoes couldn’t decide if it showed a protective edge or an assertive element to his personality. Her powers chattered unhappily as they tried to sort it out.

His comment made her chuckle slightly, and she pushed her hair out of her face. Inwardly, she was also glad she was the one getting knocked to the ground rather than one of the paintings she had such respect for. A bruise would heal, but if something would happen to one of her favorite Renoir or Monet pieces on her watch, she would never forgive herself. ”Some things are beyond monetary value, and least in my eyes. The work of a master artist is a treasured thing and I do what I can to ensure they are around as long as possible for others to enjoy.” She quietly remarked. His attention was focused elsewhere, which made her feel curious and intrigued. [Attention divided, trying to watch individual on other end of room. Conversation serves as possible cover.]

Well now she just felt used.

Some of the blue color returned to her eyes as she begrudgingly tried to push the echoes away. She hated thinking that someone would pretend to be interested in a conversation with her just to keep up appearances. That was petty, and she felt her face turn to a frown momentarily before she pulled it back to a more neutral expression. ”I try my best to stay behind the counter. I find the paintings are easier to deal with than the patrons.” There was a small clipped nature to the statement, then she composed herself again.

”I hardly find the museum boring. There are always new things it can tell you about other civilizations and cultures. Even the patrons can be interesting from time to time. You certainly seem to have your own interest in one in particular.” She said it quietly as she turned away from him, pulling her attention to one of the works of art on the wall. Her eyes skimmed the artwork for any signs of wear that weren’t there before, and she was pleased to find it was still perfectly aligned on the wall.

Now, there are two kinds of people in the world. People that talk with someone while only half paying attention to them in lue of something else and people that give someone their full attention and block out everything non-essential around them. Kyle was the rare third type; his attention was on the woman, while he kept a small portion of his perception to keep tabs on his target every few minutes. That being said, every word, motion and tone that the woman used was heard and seen, so Kyle missed nothing.

Something in her tone of voice, the way it suddenly sharpened when she spoke of the paintings over patrons, told Kyle that something had changed. He was not quite sure what, but for a moment, the friendly manner she'd had before had been replaced for a moment by something else; annoyance perhaps? Anger? Kyle could not say. Either way, it was not those words that caught his true attention. No, the mentioning of his interest in another patron caught his ears above all else. How had she noticed? He'd made no real sign of glancing at the man, his eyes on here while the shadow was watched from the corner of his eyes.

Before, that might have made him nervous. Now it just made him curious.

"I cannot understand why you'd prefer the counter. You're doing a good job dealing with me so far. Coming up beside her, he let his eyes study the work she was studying, taking in the art with the ignorance of a man who never quite dealt with such things, yet could appreicate their beauty and hardwork all the same.

"As of current mode, my interest lies in you. You say I'm interested in another patron? Well, which one then, for there are many. If you're correct, I can tell you why in return. But on a note; my attention may be divided, as you say, but that does not mean you are not getting the most of it."

Evelyn took in the tone of the man's voice. While some people were nervous when she pointed out their actions, he seemed more interested in the hows of the matter. There was a time she would have welcomed such curiosity. Now she was more careful about whose interest she peaked. She had yet to decide whether she liked unwanted attention or not; sometimes, she wanted to flaunt her mutation, and find someone who actually appreciated it. Other times, like now, she disliked the sensation that someone was only interested in how her powers could benefit them.

"Doing well at first is always easy. The majority of people are fooled by the right smile and curtsey, and answers to their questions. Long term interactions have a tendency to strip away formalities and make people uncomfortable." She said lightly, initially avoiding admitting the true source of her powers. She gazed closely at the work in front of her: They were in gallery 815, in the European Art wing, and this particular work was The Dance Class by Edgar Degas. [1974, oil on canvas. Ambitious work, 24 women, one man, light impressionistic touch to paint brush, evident influence of the art era and his companions, yet holding classical influence.] Her eyes sank to a deep colorless grey for a moment, then she focused on the words he was saying. She redirected the echoes without moving her head, and spoke in a light and barely audible tone.

"Your body language is revealing, and while you keep your head from turning to face the other patron, your eyes dart to the side and your body shifts in favor of the direction he is going, feet occasionally pointing that direction. When you knocked me over, your first instinct was to diffuse the situation, make sure I was alright, but then you checked to make the wrong attention wasn't caught. Your subject of interest...dark haired, wearing shades, was speaking into his phone a moment ago and he keeps pretending to look at that painting of The Dancers Practicing at the Barre yet the current angle he keeps turning to look would have him staring at the frame rather than the artwork. He is distracted. Unfortunate. It is a lovely art piece. Her voice took a wistful quality, and she pushed her hair from her face as she gazed at the work in front of her.

"As I've said. The longer you spend around people... She let her hair fall back across her face and lightly rested her palm against her cheek as she continued to stare at the painting, watching his reactions from the corner of her eye.

Kyle had to admit, the girl had the right of it. First impressions could be falsified through the simpliest of means, if the person had the right fortitude to keep the ruse alive. Working in a place like this, all this woman had to do was just as she had said and most patrons would find that sufficent. People who constantly vistited this place were no different, should the woman learn their name at some point. All she would have to do is put the mask on again and play a little harder at the part.

He did not miss the hidden message in her words, however, so he was quick to return a message in kind."Sometimes it is doing well at first that is the hardest and continuing the easiest. And while true that some people might grow uncomfortable, its always true that some might enjoy the time spent."

Her explanation didn't deter him from his suspicions; sure enough it was solid reasoning to his question. But some part of him, instinct that he'd called upon in the past that had saved him many a times told him that she was hiding something still. If he wanted to learn what it was, then he would have to prove that she was worth the attention she seemed to think he wasn't giving her. His eyes wandered to the painting she was admiring, slipping from view the man for the moment. He was not like to vanish so soon, not if Kyle's suspicions had been correct.

"A most interesting...and rather though explanation. I stand in awe of your skill. But you speak in an interesting way as well, as if you were reading from a script that only you could see. Nevertheless, it was impressive. I find myself wishing I was at good at you at such a thing.

Still, I gather that change of tone earlier comes from your belief I'm using you only as a means to an end. I will admit, its not false. But nor is it entirely true either. Can I not speak with you, earnestly, and learn something new while still keeping my eye on something that bothers me?" He would have smiled then, if smiles can so easily to him as they did before. Instead, his expression was neutral, but his eyes and attention were sorely focused on her. "I have still offended you, however, so allow me to apologize for that. And to ask what name I should be calling you, instead of merely thinking of you as "the woman." Then maybe you can tell me more about this place you seem to enjoy so much...save for the troublesome patrons."

Something about the wording of his answer relaxed her just slightly. Her shoulder's lost some of their tension and she grew more curious about the stranger that had so rudely run her over. While he had been distracted before, he was still giving her a large potion of his attention. It would be silly of her to get upset his attention on her was divided when she spent most her life with divided attention. The echoes of information coming off every individual in this room made it hard to focus on any one thing. Yet she tried, letting her eyes take in the brushstrokes and aesthetics of these masterful works of art.

Perhaps initially his interest in her had been a diversion, but now she could see the faint curiosity that leaked into his features. She had seen that look in faces before. Until people understood what was happening in her mind when she gazed at them, she seemed like a mind reader or something of the sort. Her level of observance offered things just mind reading alone couldn't teach her. She had the ability to learn and to analyze. From there, the world had endless possibilities.

"Every gift comes with it's price. To be able to observe the world as I do is not without it's downfalls. But you can always learn: people are not so guarded with the little things they give away. Posture, vernacular, eye cues; the slight tilt of a head and the arch of an eyebrow, every movement conveys a meaning. People rely so much on what is said, they forget to watch for what isn't." She said with a slight curl of a smile on the corner of her lips. She nodded at the painting.

"Look at how an artist can convey meaning without movement, without words or actions. They take a single snapshot but can pack so much information into it." She trailed off, and took in the rest of what he said. She turned her gaze away from the artwork for a moment, and her eyes focused on him instead. She wasn't listening to echoes, just to his words, which left her eyes a lovely yet icy blue.

"I've met far too many people who see me as a means to an end. My cautious nature is less from your actions, more from the combination. I don't mind conversation, and getting to know people. But it takes time to truly understand someone's intentions and deduce whether or not they mean something ill for yourself. I apologize if my distrust seems more personal." She gave a slight nod of her head in apology, then pushed her hair from her face.

"As for my name, it's Evelyn. And I'm always willing to talk about the museum. I find it far more fascinating than myself." the smile flashed for another moment, then she crossed her arms lightly across her chest. It was a natural defensive stance, one that can without thinking about it, but then she let one arm drop ever so slightly, showing she was opening up slightly to the conversation at hand. "And what about you? Do you have a name you're willing to share?"

Kyle listened to her carefully, letting every word sink in as if he were water, the words weighted with stone and cast inside the depths of his body to forever remain. Oddly poetic, when he thought of it like that, but as the woman had been saying, artists have a way to conveying things not said or spoken. Poets were much the same, only they often spoke around the matter, never directly, but the meaning was there just the same. And each word had a meaning, just as each word the woman spoke had a meaning.

Everything she said was true, or at least, Kyle knew it to be true. It was something he factored in whenever he was fighting someone; the play of their muscles, the slight shift of a foot or arm that might give away an intented attack, the subtle changes in their facial manner, the tone of their voice when spoken. Each might give a clue to a future danger or reveal something that could be of use in further confrontation. That skill could also be used when simply dealing with people, as he was now, in determining if one had gone too far.

Turning to watch the painting for a moment as she spoke of it, Kyle silently agreed. Artists were good at what they did for one reason; they could produce something that spoke volumes without a single word ever being spoken. A picture is worth a thousand words and that was true of every painting here; they were words merely waiting to be discovered.

"There is truth to that, without a doubt. And there are many paintings and pieces of art here that wait for their messages to be understood, no doubt." For the first time since their conversation had began, the woman turned to face him fully, instead of avoiding him by investigating the paintings instead. Which is why for the first time he could see that her eyes were a lovely icy blue.

"Don't stress yourself about it. It would be a lie to say that wasn't part of my initial intent. But you don't have to worry; my intent was never to cause you ill. In any case, it would have been an insult to not give a lovely intelligent woman such as yourself the proper attention. At the giving of her name, Kyle bowed his head slightly, tipping his body forward in a half bow in response. Old school? Perhaps, but it was far from an insult to show the lady some respect.

"The pleasure is mine, Evelyn. As for a name I'm willing to share, I offer my given name. My name is Kyle. So...pardon the question, but I can't help shake the nagging feeling that theres more to your reading of people than meets the eye. I can understand if its something you would rather not speak of but if, per chance, you did, I would perhaps be willing to offer fair trade as repayment." He smiled lightly at that, an honest smile with no ill will behind it. "I offer the right to you to ask any question of me and I will answer it without lie. I promise that on my word."

Evelyn felt a slight rush of color to her face at his compliment. As her echoes gave a flicker of information, she felt the comment was genuine, which was what startled her so much. She grew up in a high class society. She spent time around people who would compliment you whether you were an old hag or you were the daintiest creature on earth. She spent time with parents who considered her 'pale' and 'a bit too skinny, much too frail'. She always thought they blamed her appearance on her mutation. As if her ability to process information stole the color from her hair.

Yeah, because that was logical.

Her eyes... They ignored entirely. In fact, growing up her parents rarely looked her in the eyes. They unnerved them. The way they went from icy blue to an almost colorless gray was uncanny and spooky if you happened to be looking, but thankfully, the changes were more subtle when she was just listening to the echoes. As she looked at Kyle, he could probably see small areas of her eyes where the color faded then reappeared. Her eyes reminded her of a blue sky sometimes: the grey of her powers were just little clouds passing through.

A tilt of the body, a slight bow; formal, old fashioned, perhaps, but it was something she was used to. She gave a nod of her head and a slight smile in response. The question let the smile fade a bit, and she gave a slight chuckle and she wandered to the next picture. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye though, blue eyes barely visible behind a veil of white. "Well, Kyle. Your trade is most enticing to consider. Truth, I've found, is something people hesitate to give lightly. Unfortunately, I have a tendency to uproot it from them." She chuckled like it was a joke only she really understood, then she pushed her hair from her face and let her hands trail through the ends of it.

"People call me Holmes. I'd say friends but it's usually not friends who do. I have a sort of...hype-awareness, to the world. Everything around me, it gives off what I call 'echoes'. I listen to them. I learn. I can tell you the age of that picture by the pigments used in it, the type of paint, the material in the canvas. I can tell you the name, artist, date, era of any painting in this museum. Most of my colleagues think I'm spooky, but they keep me around because I keep things authentic, correct. I'd never let a counterfeit pass through these walls, I'd know it in an instance. People don't like me because they can't lie to me. And I don't forget." She gave a wispy little smile that could be intimidating to the wrong person, then turned her attention back to the painting.

"So, you're correct. There is more to me than just reading people." She paused for a moment, then dropped her voice ever so slightly, eyes staying forward but echoes focused on the room around her. The sounds, shuffles of feet, noises grew more distinct as she let herself hone in on the other patrons. It was perhaps 10 minutes until close, people would soon be thinning, so her question would have to come now before it happened. Part of her wanted to know about the man pretending to look at paintings on the other end of the room. But her curiosity had been peaked by the one pretending to look at paintings next to her. The question she chose was worded carefully, and she watched for the reaction to the statements, "The question I have then is, is there more to you than fighting and following strangers?" He hadn't told her he could fight. She read that off his build, the battle scars, and other defining features when he had walked in. She had been tempted to ask what his powers were, she was fairly certain by now he was a mutant as well. But focusing the question so much would limit the answer.

Sometimes, giving people the ability to manoeuvre a question showed what they would rather avoid saying. And that, in itself, gave you more than directly asked could do.

When Evelyn wandered to the next picture in line, Kyle was soon to follow. His eyes briefly glanced from her to the man once again, to confirm that he was still there and still not being a source of trouble, before bringing them back to bear on Evelyn and this new portrait. Like the one before it, the picture was vague but enticing to the eyes, its message cleverly hidden beneath the facade of color. No doubt Evelyn knew it but to Kyle, the meaning was still lost.

That slight coloring of the cheeks had caught him unawares. Most the woman Kyle had encountered as of late were oft not to do that, whether it be because they were above such petty things as blushing or too emotional cut off for them to rise. It had been a while since Kyle had dealt with someone who was...for lack of a better word, normal, in a sense.

Everything else got pushed aside as Evelyn addressed his deal. An answer to his question in exchange of an answer to one of hers, that had been the deal. And on her end, she did not disappoint. Calm as the water on a windless day, Kyle watched and listened and took in everything Evelyn told him, his mind taking this new information in stride even as the implications behind it tore open new paths in his mind. Her ability to read people came from a mutation; though it was likely that she was capable of reading into people in the exact manner she had described before as well. If her power was as she described it, it would make Evelyn invaluable in any number of places or circles. She could tell if men were lying, prove things that science could falter at, know secrets that one might wish to hide. Kyle knew, in the depths of his mind, that such a person could be a valuable friend...or the most frightening of foes.

That explained how she could tell his attention had been divided earlier, even if her study of his body manner hadn't been a good enough explanation. With that in mind, literally, did that mean her "echoes" could tell her what he thought of the color of her eyes, of her hair, her face, her body? Kyle may have been colder than most in certain regards, but he was still a man, prone to his mind trailing off into the imagination if left untended. Quick as the thoughts came to light, Kyle shattered them back into pieces across his mind...but it might have been too late. And if she never forgot, as she said, then Kyle might just have left a terrible impression on her for life.

When she was finished and Kyle had finished musing, his eyes on her and the painting in one go, he let her return his question with her own. Kyle had expected her to ask what his interest in the man was or perhaps even what power dwelled within him. Instead, she asked a question that Kyle neither expected nor could have anticpated. It was also the one question that caught him completely flat-footed. For a long moment after, he said nothing, his eyes focused on the painting in front of them, his eyes taking on that distance look of someone who's not entirely in the reality of the moment. When they turned back to Evelyn though, they were sharp and clear....and a little sad.

"There is much more to me then that...though I do not know what yet. In this moment, all I know is that the world is a big place, with problems great and small that hurt both human and mutant alike. I cannot say who's right and who's wrong...but with my own hands, I can only fight what feels wrong to me. Be the victim mutant or human, if I believe the act is dark and terrible, I will do everything I can to stop it. If there's more to me then that, I hope new encounters might help me to discover it. Until then, I will do what I can with what I know and have.

It would seem that the hour is growing later than I thought. I should be going soon, I think. Before I go...would you, by chance, happen to have a way I can, perhaps, call you later?" Not remarkablly flashy or witty, but who needs that when someone could see through that flash with a single glint of their eye?

Evelyn was always curious how people responded to the truth of her mutation. She rarely admitted what exactly her abilities were, and never in it's fullest. Perhaps she just thought if she didn't speak of the Playbacks, they didn't occur. Perhaps one day she would stop remembering. But this memory, too, like all the rest would pass through her slumbering mind. She would remember the slightest curl of his mouth into a frown or a smile. She would remember the lightest change in color on a face that had probably long since abandoned such things as blushing. And she would remember watching, waiting for that glimmer that would cross the face when the individual realized how useful such a gift could be. She had seen that look, seen that change in people and watched the wheels turn in their mind as they considered how. But this time, while the thoughts likely rose, his face did not change.

Neither did his actions. He listened, processed, but he did not seem to have that altering danger. The echoes were telling her his interests were still genuine. That in itself was a rare moment she was glad, at least for now, she could hold onto.

And then she released the question, and watched the response. The furrow of his brow as he contemplated, the focus of his eyes on the painting, eyes slightly glossed as thoughts passed through his mind, trying to decide an answer. Then his eyes met hers, and there was a small amount of sorrow there. There was certainly something upsetting about the thoughts in his mind. Yet his posture was still firm, his facial expressions more neutral. For the moment, he seemed to be at a stand-still: not quite fighting, not quite surrendering. Perhaps not lost, perhaps...waiting.

"The world is a big place, with problems great and small that hurt both human and mutant alike." Evelyn felt a inward connection with that statement. Because of the echoes, she saw the good and bad in everyone. She saw the flaws and she saw the strengths. She tried to process what she found, but in the end, the only compass she had was her own, and it was always shifting and changing. She tended to take a neutral position in life, but it was not always easy, and not always clear. Yet this new acquaintance... He seemed remarkably more balanced than many people she met. She decided his answer had been worthwhile, and felt content she chose it over her other curiosities.

And then, another question. She blinked her blue eyes, and that slight pink returned to her cheeks. Then a small smile crossed her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye she could see some of the patrons starting for the exit, and knew she would have to move to start her evening rounds at the museum. "I've a phone and a number one could reach it by, if that's what you'd like." The answer was perhaps a bit on the playful side. She didn't have a pen, but she wasn't planning on writing it down. That wouldn't be much fun. "The first three numbers are shared with this museum. The last four can be found on the door of my favorite detective." There was a twinkle in her eyes as she turned and started towards the front of the museum, giving a backwards glance at him. She gave a smile. "Just be glad it's not the name of my favorite artist. That would be a much trickier answer."

Oh, but wasn't she quite the wicked little devil. Evelyn, from first appearances and the way she had talked and acted, had given off the image of an innocent and sweet girl, one who was shy in her own right and preferred the company of paintings to that of others. Considering her gift, that would not have been surprising. If she could hear these echoes all the time, being around people constantly, especially larger groups of them, would have been enough to drive anyone insane.

But as Kyle knew, first impressions were usually just a mask, a disguise for what a person was really like in the long term. She may have had an angelic appearance and mannerisms, but after talking to her for just this short while, Kyle had seen that a mischevious side lurked just beneath that surface. Beneath his own mask, Kyle smiled inwardly. There was far more to this girl then meets the eye...and she had piqued his interest.

Following in her wake, Kyle soon found himself part of the gathering flow of people making for the exit doors. The man he'd been following was already out the doors; whether or not the lack of him doing anything was a blessing or trouble to come plagued his mind. Shoving it aside, he nodded to Evelyn and flashed a small smile her way. "You do make things harder to come by, I'll give you that. But no great reward comes without challenge and this one should not be hard to solve. When I do, I would enjoy meeting under different circumstances. You are a mysterious young lady in your own right and it would be a pleasure to see what other mysteries await discovery. Enjoy your evening."

Turning, Kyle headed back outside, taking the steps in easy time as he made his way to where his bike was waiting for him. All in all, he had expected trouble. Instead, he'd encountered something far different. The thought brought a small smile to his face as he glanced back up at the numbers of the museum. As soon as he had them, he drifted his mind to what the number was on Sherlock Holmes door...he might have to pay a visit to a book store or the internet for that one. Still, it was an easy puzzle and she'd be hearing from him soon enough.

Just as he was about to pull away on his bike, he caught a glimpse of the man again, getting into a dark black van that pulled around the corner. Driving slowly, Kyle passed by just in time to hear the man speaking to someone in the van before the door closed and traffic took him. "It's on. Tonight, soon as its dark. A few guards, shouldn't be trouble. All those paintings just for us."

The other man didn't speak much or at least, Kyle didn't hear much. But he heard what he needed to hear. "Call the boys." And just like that, Kyle was past them and into traffic...but now he wasn't going to go very far. Trouble was indeed the flavor of the night...and it seems he might run into Evelyn sooner than he expected.

They were short staffed, and Evelyn expected to be working late. A flu had been going through the museum, and at least two of the security guards and one of the curators had caught it. Jensen was concerned that she was staying so late, but had promised to call him and at least get a ride home instead of taking the subway tonight. Sometimes, she had to compromise, as much as she hated the molly-coddling.

She hated working late. And she loved it. It was a strange sensation of mixed emotions she got wandering through the dark museum. The hallways echoes eerily, and her mind had troubles processing the sounds. The darkness made things look further or closer than they really were depending on the way the dim lights reflected off things, and it was like listening to confused chatter in her mind as the echoes debated distances, textures, or art pieces.

She checked on her favorite pieces of art, helped move a few pieces to the back to be looked at in the morning. She swept what needed to be swept, and then cleaned the hand rails and door knobs and felt the place was beyond ready to be open in the morning. Just when she was about to head out, she thought she heard a noise somewhere towards the European Art Exhibit.

Her European Art Exhibit.

Like a mother bear, she prowled in that direction, holding onto the handle of her broom like it was a deadly weapon.

Which it wasn't.

A problem that she did not have time to rectify.

When she got there, a number of mask wearing men were starting to gather up her beloved pieces and place them on a cart. They were reaching for one of her favorites --- one of the Degas pieces she had regarded earlier-- and without thinking she blurted out "You lay one mitt on that painting and so help me, I will end you." It sounded intimidating and dark, until they turned around and saw the pale little creature that said it. Then they laughed.

The man had done his recon well. Before him and his buddies had even entered the museum, he knew exactly which pieces they were going to make a run for, where they were located and where the cameras and guards would be. The cameras had been easy enough to cover up with still images and by knowing the timing of the guard's patrols, the men were easily able to subdue them through several well placed ambushes. As for the alarms, they were tough but in the end, they had been bypassed as well, all in thanks to the techman on their team.

It had been well after dark when the men had made their move on the museum. A group of ten men, a large group by any robbing standards, had been planning this move for months, carefully planning every single step. Seven of them went in, while two remained behind in their getaway vehicle while the last was nearby, monitoring things from outside and listening for trouble on a police scanner. The rooftop man could see down streets clear in any direction, so he was there first line of defense in case trouble was coming.

He never did see the shadow that descended down upon him.

Inside the museum, things were going just as planned for the robbers. The guards had been neutralized and several of their target paintings were already being loaded up for transport to their getaway vehicle. Each of them was armed, but most of them had their weapons away now; only two still had them in hand and they weren't expecting to have to use them any more than they already had. Those two were on watch, keeping an eye out for possible kinks to their plan, while the other five continued to carefully remove the pieces and prep them.

Not a one of them could see the shadow that lurked just out of sight, waiting for his chance to strike.

Not a one of them, the shadow included, expected Evelyn to suddenly appear with a broom in hand and challenge the intruders.

The first reaction was shock. The men hadn't expected this woman to appear and for a moment, they all froze as they expected her to suddenly scream and bolt. When she didn't, guns were suddenly raised as two of the men were suddenly on her, one snatching the broom from her hands as his partner kept his weapon trained on her. The other five just snickered a little before their leader told them to stow it and get back to work. Of them all, he was the one who was angry with this development. He kicked her over before his comrade with the gun on her turned to him.

"What should we do with this one boss?"

"We didn't come here to take hostages. Make sure she doesn't shout out but don't use a gun. We don't want to attract attention. Make it quick."

Glancing at one another, the one man shrugged before pouncing onto Evelyn and putting his hands around her throat. "Sorry about this but...you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'll make this quick though."

The words had barely left the man's mouth before a hand was suddenly against his face. Before the shock could truly register on him, that hand slammed him violently down to the floor while his comrade was suddenly flying back amongst the others from a hard kick to his stomach. "Not as quick as this I'm afraid." The source of the voice was all but masked in darkness, save for the glint of purple that illuminated one eye. The men turned to this new intruder, their flashlights snapping on. In the light of those devices, the blades on his arm shone brightly, half of him covered in shadow and light. He didn't turn from the men, but in the short time after his arrival, Kyle had helped Evelyn to her feet, his body shielding her from them.

"Are you alright Evelyn?"