The air was chilled, but the sun was bright in the sky as Cecilia stepped out of the limousine. Her heels scratched against the ground as she stood back, taking in her surroundings. She placed her feet shoulder width apart, leaned her hips to one side, and rested her hands upon her waist. The air cooled her legs through her seamed stockings, and she kept the light breeze through the fabric of her grey tweed skirt. The pleats in the fabric pulled as she shifted her weight to her other hip. The soft black fabric of her fitted blouse was proving to be too light against the early morning air and she crossed her arms across her chest. Her black nylon fingerless gloves poked out from under the sleeves of her blouse. "What an unwelcoming looking place,"she thought.
The sound of the driver opening the trunk shook her from her thoughts. He placed her bags on the ground next to her feet. They exchanged a glance and a nod before he departed. There was no reason to say goodbye, as neither one of them had spoken a word to each other since he had picked her up from the airport. She hadn't wanted to socialize, nor did she need to talk, so the hours of silence had been welcomed. Now she stood, alone, miles away from home and completely lost as to what she should do. The paperwork had been filed, the payments confirmed, and the arrangements made, but now that she stood outside the doors, she wanted sure of what the next step should be.
Her hair moved softly as she looked around for someone to ask for instruction. She didn't want to talk, but she knew she needed to now. The cloud that was covering the sun moved away, and Cecilia squinted slightly against the bright light that now surrounded her. Her hair shone beautifully in the strong rays, shadows firmly softly against the pin curls and finger waves her hair was fashioned in. She pursed her crimson red lips, and then exhaled audibly she as picked up a suitcase in each black gloved hand. She stood still, realizing the act of picking up her suitcases didn't truthfully get her any closer to getting inside. She reluctantly put them back down and sat down on the larger of the two, resting her elbow in her knee, and her chin in her hand. She felt the coolness of her fingertips against her cheek, and the softness of her glove against chin. Cecilia cast her eyes down and focused on the shadow her high heel made against the gravel lot. For a moment, her thoughts tangled in the sensations of touch, and the beauty of shadows, she felt as if she were home again, and away from this strange place that now seemed more like an obstacle than a school. The cool breeze on the back of her neck brought her back to reality. She wondered how long she would have to sit here on her suitcase. She wondered how long she could.

There really was a simple charm to the Mansion, Kealey thought, staring up at the stone edifice as she paused in her walk. There was also a simple charm to New York city after the ridiculously crowded streets and cities in Japan. It felt almost quiet here, not that she hadn’t adored every moment of her trip with Shin. This was just….nice. Knowing she could step out the front doors of the school and walk with the definite knowledge that soon she’d be in a place where it was almost completely quiet emotionally speaking. For an empath, that had all the charm in the world.

The hedge maze was a special place for Kealey, and she’d spent quite some time just wandering through the evergreen branches that made up its walls. She’d come here just to walk and think, and had thoroughly enjoyed the time.

The Mansion grounds were huge, though, and eventually the blond had grown restless inside the living walls. Out she’d gone, to explore, walking up the long drive as she’d done a few times before. Those times had provided a few interesting conversations, and as she sensed the emotions of a newcomer in the direction of the gate, Kealey wondered if that was going to happen again.

She’d felt the girl before she saw her, and as Kealey approached she noticed that the girl obviously knew her way around a closet. The blond smiled, feeling like they already had something in common. ”Hello.” she said with a grin as she reached the gate, keying in a code so that the large metal gate swung inward.

She looked more closely at the girl’s emotions, and they were what one would expect of someone new to a place like the Mansion…but a little less happy than Kealey would have hoped. Maybe she could fix it.

”You look like you need a greeter.” she said. Sometimes, friendliness went a lonnnng way.

Cecilia’s head rose quickly to meet the girl’s gaze. Her expression remained, for the most part, neutral. Her eyes, finely rimmed in jet-black liner, were stirring as she looked the girl over. The sun caught Kealey’s hair making it look like spun gold. At face value alone, Cecilia liked the girl, regardless of the fact her disposition screamed, ‘eternal optimist.’ Though it took Cecilia only a mere moment to study Kealey, holding her gaze made it feel like years.
She stood up; her suitcase shifting slightly as she did, and Cecilia steadied it before rising to her full height. She moved with grace and poise, like every action was either premeditated or rehearsed over the years. Her eyes never left Kealey’s as she moved. Standing in six-inch heels, and at her natural height of 5’6”, Cecilia easily stood a head taller than Kealey. She folded her arms across her chest and spoke, not coldly, but coolly to no one in particular, “I had half imagined someone would have been here to begin with.” Her accent was more French than Southern, but both regions could be found in her words. Her accent was neither harsh nor strong, but rather soft and appealing, simply a sharpness to her consonants and an elongation to her vowels.
A moment of silence passed before a smile broke her blood red lips exposing her pearl white teeth. Her smile was sincere and even bordering on sweet. She extended her hand to Kealey, but not in the casual fashion of a handshake, but palm down, as if she expected Kealey to take it rather than shake it. Her smile widened ever so slightly as if she had just realized mistake. She turned her hand slightly to the side and spoke her name delicately, “Cecilia Amara Babineux.” As her words formed about her red lips, her teeth were revealed as not only straight and gleaming white, but both her lateral incisors canine teeth lengthened beyond the natural line of her teeth, and formed two sets of razor sharp fangs. Immediately her smile dissipated and her outstretched hand shot to her mouth, covering her teeth. She turned her head away and quietly said something that sounded like, “Excuse me.” She turned back to face Kealey, her lips closed, and her hands by her sides. Her lips didn’t open nearly as wide this time as she spoke without a smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The breeze carried Kealey’s scent on it. She smelled of something sweet and memorable, like lightly scented flora.

The girl stood, and Kealey held her gaze easily. Some people were made uncomfortable by eye contact, but Kealey had always found that initial little intangible touch fascinating. Someone had told her, growing up, that the eyes were the windows to the soul. To someone who had a doggy door built in, they served as more of a preview. The other woman moved like a model, so obviously time had been taken to teach her posture and movement. Nobody moved that way naturally.

She’d thought someone would be there to greet her when she arrived. Kealey shook her head and chuckled a little bit with a slight shrug of her shoulders, the cool tone of voice not bothering her in the least, ”You can call it the Mansion initiation. Almost everyone has to wait at the gate for a greeter.” She hadn’t…but that would be a story for another time maybe, once the newcomer was settled.

”Your accent is lovely.” she commented, her own Irish lilt softly tinting the words. ”I don’t recall having heard it’s like. Can I ask where you’re from?”

A hand was offered, turned, then pulled back, all in very quick succession. It was probably because of the fangs. Kealey’s head tilted again. Was that what one called those these days? She supposed she’d let the girl explain herself, when she was ready. Curious, Kealey thought, how Cecilia had reacted when she’d realized how broadly she was smiling, both physically and emotionally. Bending, the shorter blond grasped the handle on Cecilia’s suitcase and continued grinning up in her general direction.

”The pleasure is mine, really…and trust me. You’ll be far better served around these parts if you don’t hide your lovely smile.”

She let the words hang for a moment, neither question or command, then jerked her head towards the large building in the distance.

”We’d better start walking. I hope you’re used to those heels.” Part two of mansion initiation was initiated.

Cecilia bent forward slightly and gripped her fingers tightly around the thick man made strap of her black vintage suitcase. As she stood back up straight, her purse strap slid off her shoulder and to the crook of her free arm that now carried a black hatbox. The shine of her nails matched the gleam on the braided cord handle on her hatbox. The box was of a solid construction, specifically chosen to protect the delicate lace, netted, and satin rose adorned hats inside.
She tightened her left hand on her suitcase; it was heavier than she had remembered. The poor, well travelled, case would have surely burst at the seams had they not been so diligently reinforced when the case was made for her. She had been exact in making certain that not an article that was in her possession was left at home. She had packed, folded, stuffed, and bundled numerous times over to ensure all her possessions could travel with her to her new living arrangements. She wished now that she had grabbed her over burdened suitcase with her dominant hand, but the act had been committed with her left, and pride refused to have her let on even the slightest sign of distress.
“I’m from the South,” Cecilia responded politely but formal manner. She knew the stigma that followed Southerners that travelled to the North. “Baton Rogue, but I imagine you’re hearing my parents in my accent. They were both Parisians.” She would not admit it, but she was proud of French blood, more so than she ever could be about the French bastardized American blood that ran through her stepfather’s veins.
With closed lips, Cecilia smiled in not quite a smug fashion (but with confidence nonetheless) in response to Kealey ‘s comment about her high heels. She walked forward a few steps, her stride as smooth as glass. Her hips swayed slightly with each step, brushing gently against the suitcase and hatbox at her sides. With each step she placed her foot directly in front of the other, her heel toe motion making an audible tapping noises that echoed in the emptiness of the lot. The dark black seams of her stockings ran up her legs as straight as could be before disappearing under the expensive fabric of her skirt. She turned around and walked back to Kealey, her movements as graceful as before. Despite the weight of her suitcase, her walk was effortless. If nothing else, her finishing school had taught her to always be composed.
“I wouldn’t wear them if I wasn’t able to walk in them.” Her smile faded softly, as if she were embarrassed by her forward haughty remark. She looked over Kealey, as if still studying her form. “Shall we?” She asked gesturing to the Mansion with her hatbox and outstretched fingertips.

”Oh! From the south!” Kealey exclaimed, ”I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone from the south before.” This was getting better all the time. Cecilia explained that her parents were French and Kealey had to laugh a little, ”Well that’s one thing we have in common. My parents weren’t American either!”

The girl preferred to keep her own suit case, and Kealey left her to it, watching with a keen eye as the girl demonstrated just how well she could walk in heels. Her comment was met with a nod and smile, and the blond followed, falling into step next to the younger woman as they made their way down the walk.

”If you ever want somewhere to show off that walk…” Kealey said cautiously, but friendly, ”I’m a fashion student in the city and we’re always looking for models in classes.” It was second semester, which meant spring shows…even though Cecilia was a little short…she’d be popular with her form and style.

The walk to the mansion wasn’t short, but it was longer than what was usually comfortable for people, and Kealey refused to let the trip fade into awkward silence.

”So…are you enrolling in classes here or did you already graduate from somewhere else and simply need a place to stay in New York?”

Cecilia could see the mansion ahead of them, coming closer into view with every step. The well-manicured greenery and small rock-strewn walkways were not enough to impress her, and she had to admit she was just as thrilled by the grandiose building up close, than she was by the gravel stains that were imprinting themselves on her well cared for shoes. The terrain was replacing the high gloss shine on her shoes with a dull grey dust.
She stopped on a dime at the mention of modeling. She turned so that she could look Kealey directly in the eye. Her face lit up as her lips broke into a smile. Her fangs were once again noticeable, but she was too sincere with her emotions to care, “Do you really need models?” She attempted to keep her tone cool and relaxed, but her expression did nothing to hide her excitement at the prospect. She had always adored fashion, and often runway shows had been staged in her foyer to allow her to view clothes before she purchased them, but never had she been asked to actually walk a runaway. “Well, if you’re in need, what can I do but offer my help?”
Her lips closed, but her smile remained on her face as she continued to walk towards her new home. “To be honest I can not say either way. I was schooled through tutors, so some tests have been arranged to assess my grade equivalent. There are some courses that I imagine I have already ‘graduated’ from, and others that I may require further instruction in. For now, this is my home, but within a week I imagine I’ll be attending classes.”
As they reached the mansion steps, she placed her foot on the stone rise, but the change in texture caused her foot to slip and shift back. Though the action its self was hardly noticeable, but it was enough to cause her purse to slid forward on her arm and spill a few articles onto the ground. A compact mirror fell open onto the first step, and a tube of lipstick rolled off the steps into the gravel. Much like her shoes had, the black metal tube took on a layer of dull grey powder. A small plastic bag also fell from her purse. It hit the corner of the step hard and burst before it fully hit the ground. The shock of hitting the gravel caused the uncovered liquid to splatter. Droplets of crimson red liquid sprayed up onto Cecilia's nylons and onto her skirt. The remaining contents on the ground pooled around her shoes. Cecilia stood still as a stone sculpture; looking both horrified and intrigued by the blood that now covered her.
“I’m so clumsy at times,” she said absentmindedly as she shrugged off all her baggage beside her. She knelt down and slowly picked up her lipstick and compact, putting them carefully back into her purse. She moved slowly, aware that Kealey would be watching her. Part of her believed if she moved slowly enough she wouldn’t notice her, while the other part of her simply didn’t care. She carefully placed two of her fingertips into the blood that had pooled at her feet. She moved her scarlet tipped fingertips towards her lips; her eyes transfixed by the colour, and her attention drawn to the copper scent that was now in the air. Before she could touch her fingers to her lips, she seemed to break free of her internal struggle, and stood up. She pulled a white tissue from her purse and cleaned off the blood from her fingertips and clothes the best she could. She returned it to her purse, the white face fabric now covered in red blood smears. She knew she would have to dispose of it later, as that much blood would never fully come out of anything so delicate. Gathering her things again she ascended the steps to the mansion’s front door, her high heels leaving intricate wet blood stains behind them. She turned back to Kealey, a forced smile on her lips, “Are you coming?”

Kealey grinned at the change in Cecilia’s emotions when she mentioned modeling. The girl was absolutely thrilled at the prospect. The fact was as scary as it was exciting. New York was a dangerous place for girls who were fixated on the modeling industry…but Cecilia was stationed in the Mansion, surrounded by people who were sure to keep an eye on her and make sure she knew what she was getting herself into.

”I’ll definitely keep you in mind the next time I need someone. This semester is full of work on human models, so it shouldn’t be a stretch at all.”

This was going much better, and Kealey couldn’t help but grin as she realized how close they’d gotten to the Mansion. So time really did fly when one was having fun! It had been proven again and again with Shin, but that was different…they reached the stairs, though, and Kealey shrugged off the thoughts, devoting her full attention back to the girl she was escorting, just in time for the bag to fall from the girl’s purse.

Kealey’s reaction was ultimately based on Cecilia’s own. First there was mild horror, then intense fascination, and Kealey watched with her head tilted as the scene unfolded in front of her. Kealey’s mind was buzzing with questions, some she answered as they flashed, some she tucked aside for later.

Was that really blood? The metallic scent that made Kealey’s nose wrinkle suggested that yes it was.

Was it human blood? A more difficult question, but surely the girl would know better than to actually bring that into the Mansion.

Was the girl dangerous? Kealey frowned it a bit. It sure didn’t seem like she was…any more than anyone else in the school. They’d been alone for quite some time now and Kealey was safe and sound. The blond shrugged her shoulders, questions could come later.

”Mm hmm.” Kealey said, shrugging her shoulders and following the other blond to the Mansion doors. ”We’ll figure out your rooming situation and finish all your paper work…so when you get inside head to the right and down the hall.”

They’d use Shin’s office, just like Kealey always did when she helped out with greeter duties, and as she led the way she hummed, hoping the girl was at ease.

Before entering through the doors, Cecilia turned her head back to look at the steps now covered in sticky red blood. The blood had already started to coagulate on the rock surface due to the immense expose to natural air. She thought it simply beautiful, but at the same time, saddening. The saying that accompanied the mention of spilt milk came to mind. She could always acquire more once she had unpacked, and in the privacy provided behind closed door, she could be more discrete about her mutation than she currently had been. She followed Kealey in, listening absentmindedly, but her thoughts were still with the blood, and what Kealey would possibly think of her now.

She came to the end of the foyer, and turned to the right as she had been previously instructed, but as she began to continue forward, her hand reached out and gripped the corner of the wall gracefully, but firmly. She took a few steps back and came more clearly into view in the middle of the foyer. She looked at Kealey and spoke softly, “I have a problem.” Her words were grave, and her lips seemed to hold the tension of the words like each syllable would be her last, but her eyes remained as distrustful and beautiful as they had been when she first met Kealey.

She walked towards Kealey slowly, each measure deliberate and drawn out, as if with each step she grew more confident to divulge further about her concerning trouble. “It’s about what I dropped outside.” She knew that no matter how much she unpacked this evening, there was no more blood to be acquired amongst her things. She had thought it safer to send the bulk of her supplies hidden amongst the rest of her belongings, which would be arriving within a week, than to smuggle them onto an airplane. The one bag had proved hassle enough. This plan had proved both safe and savvy, up until the very moment her week’s supply of blood drenched the dirty pebbled ground.

“I have an ailment. It’s not contagious, but it could prove fatal it not treated. I was prescribed a radical and experimental treatment, but I do not have a prescription for the medicine.” Cecilia was lying through her fanged teeth. She had never been diagnosed, treated, nor prescribed a thing for her ‘ailment’. She came the conclusion all on her own when she was sitting on the floor of a blood storage refrigerator drinking blood so quickly she stained her hospital gown red.

“I need to know,” she was now close enough to feel the heat of Kealey’s body warm the stale air around them. She leaned forward slightly, and whispered in her ear. As her lips parted they made a soft, moist, click. “Is there a hospital, or a clinic, or a blood donation agency near by?”

Something was wrong, and Kealey had known it from the moment they started making their way towards Shin’s office. Cecilia had been incredibly distracted from the moment she’d spilled the contents of that bag on the ground outside, and Kealey frowned, worrying her lip slightly while her back was to the girl. Sure they took all types, but problems with mutations were so much more easily handled when students were up front. They seemed to be dancing around the bush a bit here, and while Kealey understood that prejudices sometimes made such sensitive information difficult to divulge, there was no way she could help until she really knew what was wrong.

The soft words made Kealey stop, and she turned to see that Cecilia had stopped before they’d really started moving down the hall. Kealey started to move towards the girl, but Cecilia beat her to the punch and marched right up. Well…if marching were graceful and well executed…then she marched. The girl’s emotions were fairly stable, and Kealey didn’t flinch or move back when she leaned close. That would have been no way to treat a new student. The whispered words, however, made her shudder a bit as her earlier conclusions were confirmed.

She took a step back, a thoughtful look on her face as thoughts raced through her head. Surely when they’d made arrangements for the girl to come they’d disclosed her mutation…it was standard operating procedure. That meant if the girl was here, she was no danger to anyone. That line of thought assuaged, Kealey moved on to trying to help with the problem at hand.

”After we do your paper work we can go and talk to the Doctor in our clinic. If he doesn’t have anything to help you, I’m sure he’ll know someone who does.” It was the best Kealey could do, and she had a distinct feeling that Doc would know exactly how to help.

Shin’s office wasn’t far from where they were standing, and as Kealey pushed open the door she smiled. A picture of her and Shin in Japan smiled back from the top of the file cabinet behind the desk, and Kealey made her way behind the desk. The room was in its usual state of semi-organized disarray, and she was glad she’d figured out the system…at least she knew where the required documents were piled now.

”Have a seat.” she said, ”And we’ll get all of this worked out as quickly as possible so we can work on the other problem.” the blond said, already digging for a clipboard and pen to hand the new resident.

She found them and held them out, ”Sorry for the hassle and paper work, by the way, with the wide range of abilities we have around here computers are sometimes a bad idea.”

“I completely understand," Cecilia replied absentmindedly before taking a seat. Her eyes glided over the room, as she felt it was a normal reaction to display, but she was completely disconnected. Her body was crying out to be satisfied by the red liquid that was, by now, evaporating and congealing in the sun’s rays. Her cravings were not from an actual need, but rather from the knowledge that her ‘medication’ might not be available to her when she actually would need it. Her anxiety was worsening by the second as her mind raced and her stress levels elevated. She had never spoke to someone about her ‘condition’, but rather chose to engage in an unspoken agreement of a five-finger discount with her local hospitals and clinics.

Cecilia took the pen and papers and began to fill them out inattentively. The fluid motion of her right hand left delicate trails of black ink across the pages of crisp white paper. In her own tantalizing penmanship she hand wrote her name in full: Cecilia Amara Babineux. She dated the papers and handed them back to Kealey. She had finished them in record time, as if she hadn’t even bothered reading through them, but only rather filled in the blank spots with the correct corresponding information about herself. Though, there was one blank space still left glaringly empty. When it came to discussing her mutation and any special requirements needed, Cecilia hadn’t written a word.

Cecilia sat perfectly still for a minute. Her eyes didn’t blink, her chest neither rose nor fell with the inhalation of breath, and her body remained completely motionless as if carved from stone. Her mind was whirling with thoughts of her predicament, possible solutions, and the obvious fact that she hated to admit to that she was a mutant. She had lied to her Mother and Stepfather about what this school was. She had lied to school about what she was. Sitting here, now, she was lying to the girl in front of her who had been nothing but kind but kind to her.

For a moment Cecilia lost her composure. She stood up so suddenly that she knocked her chair back onto the floor behind her. “This is a mistake.” She collected her things as quickly as she could as she turned towards the door. “ I’m sorry, I can’t be here.” She jiggled the handle, but the old lock was stiff and didn’t budge easily. Any calm and rational person simply would have needed to apply a little more pressure while turning the doorknob, and the problem would have practically solved its self, but Cecilia was neither calm nor rational. She could feel her heartbeat pounding in her temples as she attempted her turn the handle again and again, each time to no avail. In an effort of pure desperation, she dropped all of her bags onto the floor and pulled on the handle with both hands. She rested her forehead on the door and placed both her hands on the back of her neck, interlocking her fingers together, admitting defeat. Cecilia was too embarrassed to turn around.

“I’m not a mutant,” she spoke more to the door than she did to anything else in the room, “I made a mistake in coming here, and I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

Kealey watched the girl curiously as she filled out the paperwork. Outside, she barely moved, barely even breathed if she breathed at all. On the inside though, she was absolutely tumultuous. Kealey had felt those feelings from people before, and she simply sat. There was nothing the blond could do to help Cecilia until she decided she wanted help.

Which apparently was going to be never. As the girl rose, Kealey tilted her head and simply watched. There was no good in chasing after the woman. For one, you couldn’t force a person to do something they really didn’t want to do. For another, Kealey didn’t know exactly what the other blonde’s powers could do and how unstable she was.

The girl denied what she’d only minutes ago confirmed in the entry of the Mansion and Kealey tilted her head. Up she stood, and around the desk the blond went, stopping by the chair Cecilia had vacated only moments before.

” Not everyone here is a mutant.” Kealey said, then shrugged her shoulders. ” I am though. I feel emotions. Everyone’s, all the time.”

She smiled over her shoulder at the picture on the file cabinet, ”My boyfriend can make these little triangle razor things with his brain.”

Kealey paused a moment to let things sink in. ”We’ve got people who make promises, people who can freeze things…all types.”

One more moment to let Cecelia think and Kealey spoke a final time, ”We don’t turn anyone away. It’s fine if you don’t want to stay…but I don’t think you really want to leave. I think you’re just scared. And it’s okay to be scared, in fact…I think that’s one of the things that makes someone human.”

”So I think you should sit back down so I can get you a room. “

Cecilia listened to the girl’s words, but didn’t turn around. She continued to face the door, her eyes closed, and her mind whirling with various thoughts. She inhaled deeply as she stood up straight and smoothed her hands over her clothes. As she exhaled slowly she turned back to face Kealey. She was composed as ever, and the only clue to her earlier outburst was the moisture in her eyes. Tears had yet to fall, but nevertheless her eyes had welled up just the same. Her lush red lips were pursed closed as she chose her words carefully.

“People here, people like you, are feared in the way misunderstood heroes are in fiction novels and comic books. I am feared like a monster in a child’s bedtime story. Mutants have such power, you spoke yourself of people who can freeze things, create things, feel things,” she paused as she attempted to blink away the tears that were still welling up in her eyes. “All these powers bring something to their owners, and I-” She stopped herself before she could finish her sentence.

“And I have no where else to go.” Cecilia picked up the chair and sat back in it. She looked up at Kealey who now very close to her. She crossed one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap before saying, “So what’s left for me to sign?”

She knew what she had said was true. She had no where else to go, but the fact remained that she was out of blood, and there was a small chance of changing this fact without having to say the words out loud: "I drink blood."

A blond eyebrow rose as Cecilia spoke. The girl had obviously lived a sheltered existence, or at least one in an area different from New York….that thought made Kealey laugh…her calling someone else sheltered. The girl’s words were a little off base though, and the blond shook her head, not moving from her perch on the desk. Cecilia was still upset, and Kealey didn’t want to make matters worse by wording things wrong. Some reciprocal tears welled in blue eyes, and she worked over what she was going to say in her head as Cecilia made her way back to the seat an righted it. That was a step in the right direction.

Cecilia asked where else she needed to sign, and pointed out that she didn’t have anywhere else to go. ”Oh Cecilia, most people don’t end up here because they have options.” she said, ”And this place is all that most of us have…this place and each other.”

Kealey studied the other girl, who had sat so very close to her, trying to emanate calm and cursing her powers for not giving her that ability. ”As to your abilities…whether they're caused by an X-gene or not, they all have their ups and downs…and believe me…I understand that the downs can be so very low…insurmountably low, an you’ve got no reason to believe me, but if you give this place a chance, you’ll see some amazing things.”

Cecilia smiled sincerely. “I already have,” she responded with a kind smile. Her mood slowly became more amicable as her breathing steadied and returned to normal. She crossed one leg over the other at the knee; her stockings making a barely noticeable sound as the fabric brushed against its self. Her right foot stayed delicately placed on the floor while her left sat effortlessly against her right calf. The gray fabric of her skirt buckled gently in protest of her movement, and slid slightly up her thighs, but she covered any immodesty caused by shortening of her hem line by folding her hands in her lap. It had appeared as if she had once again regained the cool composure she had earlier exuded.

“Please do forgive my earlier scene,” Cecilia started, “I’m afraid I’m slightly jet lagged from my travels, and sensitive to low blood sugars. If you do not mind, I’d like to simply finish this up as quickly as we can so I can have a rest.” Her excuse was fake and obviously forced, but plausible and therefore not overly suspicious. She would find the clinic on her own, later, and avoid any confrontation. It had been her experience that secrecy and conventionalism had always offered her great immunity and sovereignty.