It was empty. Empty. He had searched the house, high and low, scouted first, then infiltrated.

There had been guards, several, and varied. Two on the entrance, one at each corner of the house. The man He had watched had even had two, on body guard detail. Made him think of the song from the movie. Whitney Houston. So beautiful. But he had been careful. So damn careful.

Careful. He had not even hurt anyone when He had infiltrated the mansion. He could have. He had wanted to. It would have been easy. Servants to silence, guards to guard himself against. Disposal. Many tools, at his disposal. String, fist, hand, blade, other. But he had been good and avoided them, evaded any alarm. And now, He was here.

Victrola mansion. Wealth on a scale the poet-rappers sing about. The safe was empty, and few was here. He cursed softly, in his head.

Where was it? Had someone been warned off? Tipped? To guard against… him? His power welled up inside of his body, like a surging wave, and he fought to ride the current, rather than control it. Break it. That would have been impo—improbable, he mentally corrected. Not impossible. Nothing is impossible. But improbable, sure. Yes. Quite. When the strength came, he had to go with the flow, and use it. Or it would tumble him, like a surfer who turned into a wave at the wrong time, and got broken in the curl. Tossed and turned.

He clenched and unclenched a fist. Knuckles were white. It prevented him from crushing the wood of a nearby desk in one fist’s grip. Would not do to leave marks. Hand print. Fingers, dug into wood. Evidence.

He took a breath, then another. There had to be something he was missing, some detail, some hidden location. The man was better than this. He would not have… nothing.

… there.

~~~

A short time later, he left the mansion. His prize was stowed away in a small black bag, under one arm. Again, no one on the premises had detected him.

On the premises.

As he had left the area, he had noticed a set of eyes. Across the way, in a neighboring mansion, behind a window pane. A woman in a hazard-vest orange sweater, with brown hair, and those eyes. She was watching. Calculation? Was that calculation in those eyes? Judgment? Assessment?! Who was she? Who was she?! Identity. Why, the assessment? Witnesses, He didn’t want’em. Could not do anything. Now.

Now….

Later.

Later, how could do something. Later.

The headlines the next day spoke of theft. Any witnesses, step into light. Speak. It was just a Tuesday morning. She had no use for this much intensity, this early. She had work to do.

——

Some time later, Lenna arrived at the location. She had dressed in the colors of condiments, very trendy, with a visor that had a W on it. W, for win? No. WcDonald’s.
What.

Yes. She lived in a mansion. Her Aunt’s mansion. She still needs must work for a living. She was an actress. That means fast food. Do not turn up your nose, think of the “character it builds.” Her aunt was right, of course. And the place was not “slumming it,” as was put to her. They had Class. For instance, they were Now Serving Breakfast. See? Not Just Hamburgers, So Much More. Sausage. Eggs. And potatoes, fried a different way than the normal one associated with Freedom. Very fitting, since she was not. They were Now Serving Breakfast.

Lenna clocked in, and got behind the counter, by the register. A poem came to mind:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the Golden … door… Arches.

Tired, check. Poor, check. She fed them coffee and bacon and sugary water it was far too early to imbibe. Like a new colossus, Lenna lead the people to their freedom and opportunities. With her best American accent, of course. This was New York.

Sausage, egg and cheese biscuit. Dating today, are we not?

” Woulf you like to upgrade to a large drink? Can I interest you in an apple pie?”

Freedom means the opportunity to make bad choices at 7AM.

Since Lee had realized that she could actually turn off her siphoning to avoid being awake all night, she had had far fewer long, boring nights awake than she had ever thought possible while in a relationship.

But it wasn’t foolproof. She had to actually remember to turn her siphoning off for that to work, and Lee didn’t always remember.

The night before was one such example where she hadn’t turned her siphoning off soon enough. When Tarin had gone to sleep, Lee hadn’t thought that she quite needed to go for a run, but dawn came and she was still quite awake.

And very much craving something sweet.

So Lee had gone out for a walk to a particular little coffee shop that always had delicious pastries. It was definitely further than she normally went for coffee but in this case, for the strawberry danish she was planning on getting, it was worth it.

Except that when she got there, the place was closed.

Lee grumbled in frustration. She didn't particularly like any of the other coffee places within a couple blocks.

Then she saw a WcDonald’s up ahead. It definitely wasn't good, but she could get coffee and Lee thought that there was something sweet that she could get there.