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So ended another day at school: another pointless, meaningless, boring day at school. As she walked home, Ylaine wondered how many more of these she would have to endure. She knew the schematics for several incendiary devices. She even had mental lists of suppliers and costs, but the thought left her as quickly as it had come. Ylaine would not blow up the school. She knew enough of Triumvirate security measures to know any such plot would fail and just lead to some sort of punishment or trouble or attention from her errant guardians and their appointed representatives. She would rather get through this ordeal with as little interference from those meddlers as possible.

The only thing of any note was that Ylaine had worn her short pink wig today, which framed her still-young face nicely. It was topped off with a beige schoolboy cap. Coupled with a silken white blouse tucked into lavender mod shorts and a pair of banana yellow suspenders, Ylaine looked like a piece of 60s pop art come to life. One piece of chewing gum and she could have walked straight out of an advertisement from a period teen lifestyle magazine.

So concerned was Ylaine with the idle fantasy of blowing the Liberty Center to smithereens she took little notice of the world around her except to pause before crossing the street. She had no idea whatsoever that she was being followed.

The hotel came into view at the end of the road and Ylaine quickened her step, eager to get rid of the dirty tupperware containers that had at one point held her lunch. She had discovered that if she offered diversion in the form of conversation, Miguel would wash them for her. She did not even bother looking as she crossed the final stretch of pavement and came to the large awning that marked the hotel's entrance. There were never any cars in front of the hotel, and no doorman today, either, apparently. Ylaine slipped through the front doors. They swang in her wake, welcoming Magdelen.

Ylaine stopped to reach into her bag and find a pocket-mirror to check her hair. It was then she finally noticed Magdelen. It gave her a momentary start, as she had neither expected someone to be there nor heard Magdelen's entrance. She froze, fingers against the largest of the Tupperware containers, and stared.

It was Ylaine who finally broke the silence, asking after several very long moments, "Are you looking for someone?" That was the only reason people ever seemed to come to this hotel, as it offered no rooms to strangers nor meals to diners in off the street. Ylaine found the pocket mirror in her purse at last and closed her hand around it, drawing it out but leaving it folded shut for the moment, almost as if she did not want to take her eyes off Magdelen in case the other girl, who looked about the same age but in no other way the same, tried to do something nefarious.

"You shouldn't be here," Ylaine concluded, exhaling slightly. This girl, as odd as she was, seemed not to be a threat. She did offer up answer to Magdelen's question. "This is the... a hotel." There was really no point in trying to keep up with the ever-changing name at this point.

If there was one thing that could turn an anomaly into a full-blown incident, it was the arrival of a third party. Ylaine's daily schedule was no mystery to her friend Sam London and it was therefore no surprise to Ylaine when he walked into the lobby. It might have been a surprise to Magdelen, but certainly not an unwelcome one, for Sam waved and said cheerily, "Ylaine! And you've brought a friend from school!" It was, at least for Sam, one of the happiest afternoon surprises of his life, as he immediately jumped to the conclusion that Ylaine had finally made a school friend.

Something completely and totally unexpected happened next. There was the briefest of pauses, just long enough for the words "Is he your dad?" to register in Ylaine's mind and then she burst out laughing.

This was no laugh of condescension or sarcasm. It was pure, hysterical mirth. It wasn't just the sheer idea of the question, it was the way Magdelen said it and it was without a doubt the funniest thing Ylaine had ever heard in her entire life. She laughed so hard she dropped the pocket mirror and when she reached down to pick it up she was still laughing so hard she fumbled it and it went skidding off to the side and she did not care because that was absolutely hysterical.

Sam did not appreciate the humor quite so much as Ylaine. His happiness faded rather quickly, replaced with a hound dog expression as long and sad as an abandoned airstrip. "No, we're just friends," he said in a small voice, shoulders slumping as he sighed. He supposed by now he should have expected this sort of thing, but it still always managed to surprise him.

"Magdelen, what a beautiful name," said Sam, back to his usual sad smile and faint sighs. "I'm Sam London. Do you--" his eyes flicked back to Ylaine, indicating this question was actually directed to the both of them-- "want anything to eat or drink?"

Ylaine's raucous laughter settled into a chuckle and she finally managed to get hold of her mirror, humming happily to herself and shaking her head as she retrieved it. Sam, her father! Oh, the mere thought of it was enough to bring another snicker to the surface. She finally opened the mirror and did a quick check of her hair. Then she had to do a double-check because the expression on her face was so unfamiliar it was as if for a moment she was looking at someone else completely, someone who was pretty and happy and likable. It was gone as soon as she noticed it, replaced by a look of surprise.

"We do," said Sam, cheerily enough, tone implying "we" referred to more than just himself and Ylaine, "but please, call me Sam." He had almost expected any friends Ylaine made at school to be dire, dour weirdos, so this pleasant little girl with her innocent, curious questions was quite a nice surprise.

Sam had noticed the brief smile on Ylaine's face, too, and left him conflicted. He had never seem Ylaine smile like that before. Looking into the mirror, Ylaine tried for a moment to recapture the smile, but could only manage a discomforting, forced mimicry. She frowned. That looked more natural. She dropped the mirror back into her purse amongst the Tupperware and purse junk.

"Well, um, I supposed you'll be wanting to go to your room?" Sam asked, not sure at this point who he should be directing questions to.

"I'm going to the kitchen," Ylaine said, and set off.