Penny carefully backed away from her phone, keeping her hands up as she did so in the event she needed to lunge forward to catch it. She took a breath when it stayed wedged upright on the edge of the paddock fence.

“Okay… I think that’s staying,” she addressed the phone. “So… hi. I guess…. I saw they launched this livestream thing, and since people kept asking about how Hodge is getting a bath… well, I can just show you.”

She blew hot air into her cupped, frozen hands. The towels were warmed and hung on the rail. The bucket of warm buttermilk was steaming at her feet. Outside the immaculate paddock, snow flurries blew across the dead, barren grass.

“It’s very cold today,” Penny said, dipping a large, porous sponge into the buttermilk, “so this is going to be a quick touch up sort of bath. Hodge doesn’t like being cold. If you look here–maybe you can’t see it from that angle…. He rolled in his stall and got some poop smushed on his butt. I’m mostly looking for spots like that to clean off.” She sponged the greasy, dried spot of greenish-brown poop, crinkling her nose. “What else should I say…? Oh, I’m using buttermilk. When I was little, I watched Charlotte’s Web, and the pig got a buttermilk bath. I thought that was weird, and also didn’t know buttermilk wasn’t milk and butter mixed together. But, I got my hands on some buttermilk and wanted to see if he really would be whiter after.”

Hodge was typically very tidy, so there were mercifully few spots for Penny (and for him) to clean. Her fingers were numb by the time she toweled him off; the buttermilk and towels both having rapidly grown cold in the late November air. She finished by covering him with a blanket, being sure not to use the one thick with a wool liner since he was refusing to go out of his stall unless dragged. The stables were heated. The lighter blanket was more of a comfort than anything with the unicorn being in a mood since winter settled in.

“I’ll go put him back, and I guess see if anyone watched this,” Penny said. “I think you can leave comments while it’s going, but I don’t know and obviously couldn’t see them with the phone way over there. So… yeah, I guess if I see any questions I’ll try answering them. One sec.”

She brought Hodge back to his stall and took time babying him and giving him a whole, heaping scoop of the sweet feed with extra molasses mixed in. She promised to be down later with more treats and scurried back to the paddock. She grabbed her phone and turned the camera so it faced the scenery instead of her face.

Just photoshop the poop off.

Wait why is Hodge wearing his horn?

He’s going to freeze!

Way too cold. You can see his breath!

Penny’s so pretty! Keep it up, girl!

OMG, I can’t even see anything.

What a disaster, lmao.

How’s she get his tail to look like that?

Can you photoshop live video?

Horse makeup?

She ended the stream without responding to any of the comments. They’d chalk it up to her not knowing how to do it.

“Well, it was kind of a disaster,” she mused to herself, tucking her phone away.

She abandoned her boots and coat in the foyer, not bothering to put the boots in the cupboard or the coat on the rack. She pulled at the tangled ends of her brown hair with frustration over how quickly her winter coat had knotted it, striding lackadaisily away from the mess she left.

“–reasonable, sir,” Mrs. Adams’s voice came from the small sitting room. “Penrose is one, and a difficult enough one at that; but to want to add others….”

“It isn’t adding, my dear Mrs. Adams,” Silas said. “I am merely saying that using my compound for kids like Penrose will be a boon overall for the Auctorita. Added bonus, I can mostly stay home under the guise of chauffeur. I’m not as young,” Mrs. Adams cleared her throat warningly, “as I was. Field work doesn’t suit me anymore. As tough as that is to admit at times.”

“Again, sir, I stress the enormous difficulty these children bring with them. Has that girl done more than glare at you these last weeks?”

“Penrose brings unique challenges with her,” Silas murmured. He clapped his hands–Penny jumping a mile–and his chair groaned as he shot from it. “Right. I’m writing up a proposal to send to the Regere.” He chuckled. “Or Evora. I doubt the Regere has ever read his own email. Probably fries computers getting within an inch of them.”

Penny leapt aside to avoid Silas running into her. She narrowed her eyes as his expression went from surprised to warmth, tossed her hair, and strode off.

“You had better have put your outdoor wear away properly this time,” Mrs. Adams called after her.

She allowed herself an extra long shower with extra fragrant soaps. She washed away the cold and stable smells, mulling over what Silas said. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have more than one foster kid; they collected a bigger stipend when they did, as was the reason the Lamberts tolerated her and Aaliyah in their house for so long. With the mansion and the expansive grounds, it had not dawned on Penny that Silas was out to make an easy dollar off her. The stipend was certainly never discussed or mentioned as it was with her other foster families.

The clock read just after two, but she saw no reason to dress for the rest of the day. She took her time rummaging through her pajama drawer before settling on a green buffalo checked set. She flopped onto her bed and grabbed her book on Yorkish kings from her nightstand. She only just opened it when a knock sounded on her door.

“It’s unlocked,” she called. Under her breath, she muttered, “They can’t give me a second to myself.”

She didn't bother to look up or further acknowledge Silas or Mrs. Adams. Silas would try lightening the mood by speaking anyway, and Mrs. Adams would scold her for failing to welcome her properly.

“My goodness…” came a familiar, feminine voice that had Penny yank her head up from her book.

Aisling was there, wearing an understated maroon and cream patterned sweater and long, navy skirt. Her dark hair was loose and uncovered. Her dark eyes were brimming with tears. She fought between a sob and smiling. 

“Y-you look so much like Keena now,” she said. She wiped her eyes. “I always knew it, but….” She gave a strangled sob. “Oh, Penny! You've grown so much!”

“Aisling….”

She launched off her bed and threw her arms around Aisling. They were both crying, clinging to each other. They sank to the floor when their legs started to grow tired, still hugging. It took several minutes before they calmed down enough to catch their breath; to break apart and have their sobs turn to happy, relieved laughs.

They set themselves up on Penny’s large bed, sitting crossed-legged as if they were two girls at a sleepover whispering secrets and gossip. Aisling told Penny all about how St. Brigid’s was rebranded, removing the nuns for more state approved volunteers and social workers. She had been investigated due to her relationship with Penny, but that fizzled quickly once she explained they had a familial connection. That still did not entitle her to know where Penny had been sent or to contact her, not unless she renounced her vows and sought guardianship.

“I prayed on it several times,” Aisling said. “I wrote the same first paragraph to resign so many times I could recite it.” She smiled down at her hands, stopping herself from continuing to pick her short nails. “Silas tells me you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder. No, Penny, don’t look sheepish. You have good reasons to be angry. I’m afraid you're taking it out on Silas. You should be mad at me.”

“Why you,” Penny asked. “Because you didn’t pick me over God?” She scoffed. “I’m too old to be that conceited.”

“I should’ve told you more about my sister. About why you weren’t with her. About everything,” Aisling said. “I could have found ways to explain it to you that were appropriate for your age. Explaining to varying ages is part of my job description.”

“It doesn’t change that he convinced her to give me up,” Penny said stubbornly.

“She knew she had to give you up,” Aisling said. “Silas helped have you placed under the care of the Holy Cor rather than just state care.” She squeezed Penny’s hand. “He’s a friend. He truly is.” She locked eyes with her. “He told me about what happened since we were separated. I am so sorry, Penny. For all of it. For everything that doesn’t show up in reports too. And, I understand that would make trusting anyone scary, but you can trust Silas. I swear it on our Lady, on the Almighty Himself, that you can trust him.”

Penny cleared her throat several times, blinking rapidly to keep her tears off her cheeks. She was too tired from crying upon seeing Aisling and didn’t want to fall into another sobbing session. She nodded, taking long, calming breaths.

Aisling patted her on the back and stroked her hair, her own smile was watery but she too fought off the urge. She took a breath like Penny’s.

“I know this is asking you to narrow in on such a huge topic, but what do you want to know first? I’ll tell you everything I can.”

Asking why Keena gave her up was the obvious choice, but instead Penny asked, “Do you hate my mother?” She adjusted herself so that she was up against her mound of decorative pillows. “I know you aren’t supposed to hate anyone, but… you never liked talking about her. I just thought… maybe you didn’t like her.”

Aisling smiled ruefully. “I did hate my sister. Or, I thought I did. As I matured, and grew wiser in my faith, I learned I could love my sister and dislike many things about her at the same time.”

“Did… did she hate you too,” Penny asked.

“No; Keena was every bit the big sister,” Aisling said. “That was one of the things I hated. That was sheer ignorance on my part.” She chuckled. “As the baby, I couldn't understand her role as the eldest; I could only resent that I thought she was treating me like I was a child. Despite me being a mage too.” She heaved a sigh. “And of course, I was hypocritical and used her role as the eldest against her when our brother was killed. She couldn’t win with me, and that was my failing, not hers.”

Her heart blipped. Even when she was small, she knew the death of their brother was a big factor that drove the sisters apart. With Aisling’s refusal to speak about Conner’s death and Keena in general, Penny had assumed her mother was at fault.

“How did Conner die,” Penny asked. “You said you’d tell me when I was older.”

Aisling was silent for a long time. She stared at her picked nails, stopping and starting her picking a few times. Her dark eyes were unfocused as the words structured themselves in her mind.

“You’ll have to bear with me, Penny,” Aisling said at last. “Everything sort of bunches together around that point, and it’s difficult now to remember the exact order, or even if the order is important.” She blinked, eyes focusing. “Can you remember much of your Bible studies with Mother Mary Clare?” She laughed lightly at Penny’s quizzical look. “It’s relevant. You were starting on the Hebrew when you were sent away, right. Did you make it through Genesis?”

“Almost.”

“Almost is enough.” Aisling drew herself up with a deep breath. “Does ‘tehom’ ring any bells?”

“The deep. …But what of it,” Penny asked. She mulled it over as Aisling fell into another lapse of silence, clearly trying to figure out how to explain something. “The… phrasing of it is weird. Like it’s a living thing.”

“Exactly,” Aisling said, relieved. “She is. More than I understand.” She flopped onto the mound of pillows next to Penny. “My sister… Keena attracted trouble. Another thing I never understood and disliked her over.” She cleared her throat. “We of the Holy Cor understand the Deep to be a legitimate, physical and spiritual threat, not just a word in ancient text. Keena called her Tiamat.”

“And Tiamat killed Conner?”

Aisling shook her head. “Tiamat was waking, and with our family highly sensitive to magic, we knew something was happening.”

She explained how Malachy–Penny's grandfather– being a learned and accomplished mage had spent years studying when Tiamat was likely to wake, and had started taking steps to protect the family should the worst happen. One of these steps was a protection spell that backfired, not only killing him but drawing all manner of vicious beasts their way, forcing them to flee with only the clothes on their back and the money in their pockets.

“Keena took charge, and at the time I thought she was overstepping and running over our mother, but hindsight… Our mother was terribly in shock. We all were, and someone did have to take the reins. But…” Aisling noticed she was again picking her nails and hastily stopped. “I understand that we needed money and lodging, but my sister rushed into the first opportunity without really thinking it through. And Conner went right along with her.” She smiled sadly. “Connor fell into the middle child stereotype a bit. He latched onto being the only son, and I think once our father died, he felt he should step up more. He never could keep up with Keena… no matter how hard he wanted to.” Her eyes hardened. “And Keena was too oblivious to see how badly he tried.”

Aisling told her that in order to get money quickly, Keena found work through a self professed businessman who turned out to be a smuggler. Even after learning this, Keena and Connor kept working for him, typically doing some sort of guarding or lookout duty that only bordered on the illegal. Due to Keena’s magnetism, she was singled out as a favorite and given more work. And, due to Connor trying to pull his own weight, he asked for more, often dangerous work, until he crossed the line into illegal. Connor’s first big job was the one that killed him.

“Silas told me later,” Aisling went on, “that operations like that tease you with small, inconsequential cargo first. It’s just a bunch of counterfeit designer clothes, or cheaply made jewelry until you get in deep enough.” She shut her eyes. “It was people.” She exhaled. “Connor tried to call the police, and was shot. Worse, they left him there for the authorities to find. Tried to pin things on him. Keena….” She shook her head.

“She quit after that, right,” Penny asked anxiously.

“She had before this. Or, at least, had pulled back a great deal,” Aisling said. She snorted. “She was trying to hold down a retail job.”

“Really? Like… at Walmart or something?”

It did not add up with what little she had been given about her mother. Silas called her a phenom, said she was the type of person that could change the world. Aisling had reluctantly spoken of these criminals being drawn to her, to wanting her to take on a more prominent role.

Aisling grew tense. She crossed her arms to stop from ripping at her nails. She stared into the canopy.

“The leader of this group was a man called Roman. He was older than us, about twenty years older. He came off nice enough, even a bit charming, which is probably why Keena and Connor thought working for him was a good idea. …Maybe they went to him trying to fill the void our father left. I don’t know.”

“Did he kill Connor? Like, did he do it himself or order it?” Penny flushed at the unreadable–other than shocked–look Aisling gave her. “Guess it doesn’t matter which….”

“It did to your mother… and he did it himself.” She shut her eyes in dread. “Roman was your father.”

Cold shattered down over her, spreading from her head to her limbs.

Her father had been left off her birth certificate. No one spoke of him. Silas said he was not a good man. She felt stupid for not assuming he was connected to her uncle’s death–his murder. She felt stupid for not realizing the Fox family completely and utterly collapsed around the time she was born.

“It’s okay, Penny,” Aisling said soothingly, taking her hand.

“Did… did he want me? I know he wasn’t named as my father, but… did he even know about me?”

“He knew,” Aisling said darkly. She gripped Penny’s hand as if afraid she’d disappear. “Silas helped hide you. I was in the process of taking my vows, and as soon as I was allowed, Silas helped have me placed nearby to watch you. To protect you.”

“From my father?” Her heart skipped. “It wasn’t a custody thing… was it?” Her mouth was dry as Aisling shook her head. “He’s not still looking for me though, right?”

Aisling got off the bed at this. She went to the window, leaning against it with her arms tightly across her chest. Penny swung her legs over the side of the bed, but stayed seated, watching.

“There must’ve been another way…,” Aisling murmured. Her shoulders stiffened. “Roman killed Connor, and Keena just….”

They both startled at the rapping on the door. Penny shakily managed to say the door was unlocked, and Mrs. Adams pushed it open. She stood, leaning heavily on her cane, and inquired about Aisling’s overnight bag.

The young nun was quick to excuse herself.

Penny let Aisling’s words hover about in silence until the unfinished thought became the most nagging. She wandered off, half to find Aisling and half to sort out what she had learned. She found herself outside Silas’s study, hesitated, and knocked. She stuck her head in when his voice murmured out it was okay to enter.

“Ah, Penrose,” Silas said, mildly surprised. He set his pen aside. “I was going to send Mrs. Adams in an hour or so with something for you and Aisling. No need for you to come down to dinner and interrupt years of—.”

“What happened with my mother and… that man,” Penny interrupted. She tinted pink. “That Roman guy.”

Silas set his twinkling blue eyes on her. He frowned, giving a small nod. He gestured for Penny to sit in one of the chairs before his desk, which she accepted.

“Aisling told you Roman was your father,” Silas stated. “Sounds like she didn’t cover the full fallout.”

“It sounds like he wanted to kill me and murdered my uncle.”

He grimaced. “Well, she got that far. That saves the awkward bit about your own father wanting you gone.” He looked at Penny as if assessing exactly how old she was, and how he would phrase things accordingly. “Keena killed Roman.” He shook his head, sighing. “She was on edge enough having to give you up. That was already well over the line for her. But Connor? Yeah, that was lightyears beyond it.”

For the second time, Penny felt chilled. She wrapped her arms around herself to hold in all the warmth the comfortable office had. It was bad enough learning her father was a horrible man, and a murderer, but her mother was not clean either. What was worse, her mind snapped back to the night she and Aaliyah fled the Sizemore house. She snapped. She barely remembered what she’d done, just knew Mr. Sizemore was hospitalized as a result. She carried murderous blood in her veins, and it already was influencing her.

“She didn’t hide from it, if that’s what’s going on in your mind,” Silas said. “She served eighteen months, and was released. It was ruled justified self defense. There was overwhelming evidence that Roman was cruel and sadistic, and his little cronies were found armed—.”

“Cronies,” Penny choked. “It-it wasn’t just him she killed?”

“No; there were others…,” Silas said awkwardly. He knitted his fingers together and placed them on his desk like a guidance counselor. “Roman, plus eight others. As I said, it was ruled justified. They, without any doubt in anyone’s mind, would have killed your mother. Keena wouldn’t have spent more than a day in prison if the justice system moved quicker. Eighteen months was the fastest my people could manage, not a reflection on her whatsoever.”

Her father trafficked people, killed who knows how many, and her mother murdered nine people, her father among them. It was too much. It was getting harder to breathe. She was forgetting how to breathe.

“Penrose,” Silas said, his steady voice cutting through the static building in her mind. “Head between your knees.”

She fell across her knees, heaving as she stared at the oak floorboards. She heard Silas stand, felt his hand between her shoulderblades as the chair next to her creaked with his weight.

“Slow breaths,” he said. “Nice and deep. Ssh, steady, Penrose. It’s a lot to digest.”

“P-Penny.” She turned her head to catch sight of his face. “It’s Penny.”

The crows feet around his eyes deepened as he smiled down at her. “Okay. Penny.”

-----------------------

This was such a pain! I couldn't get the right balance of what Aisling would say and what I could cover in paragraphs, and then what needed said now verses what could be moved for later or even "off screen". but, yeah, that's what re-writes are for (Penny and Nellie both need the first half of their book/s condensed a lot as is. I suspect Ira's will too.) I read Charlotte's Web a few months ago and was reminded of the whole buttermilk bath thing, and I kind of want to try it out but have no white animals. I also looked it up, Instagram Live launched late November 2016 and that lined up nicely with Penny being at the compound and having a small time skip (being taken there either the end of August or start of September since school had just restarted when she went to the Sizemores, and then a month passing before Silas pops up).

I have no idea if I will ever get to explain Silas and his connection/wealth (Penny's book would get closest but it isn't about him, so maybe not). I said in a random comment on one of the chapters for Nellie's that Silas comes from dwarfs centuries and centuries ago. This didn't just translate to shorter, stocker stature, and a bit of a longer lifespan with graceful aging (I think he's in his 60s at this time but looks closer to late 40s) but it comes with old wealth that has been handed down generations. He's from a long line of misers and successful entrepenuers, and he's added multiple properties, a 9-5 job with high earnings, side gigs writing across various topics like self help, wealth management (adding teen advocasy and light hearted popcorn type fantasy novella later on). His family was somewhat prominent among the "dwarven" communities, so a network grew around that. That's why he has a string of housekeepers like Mrs. Adams and why they are all described with a similar short and stocky build. It was all these resources that led him to be a founding member of the Auctorita.

Penny had never seen a mansion until arriving at Silas Javernick’s compound. It was somehow more unlike a house than the group homes and facilities she had been in while being the most homey place she had ever been.

She had an enormous bedroom with a queen sized canopy bed–that she never drew the curtains on because it made her feel suffocated–and a giant picture window that faced the stables. The decor was vaguely feminine without the frills, and she was told by Mrs. Adams upon arrival that she could swap out things as she wished, but had yet to take advantage of that.

There being stables was a feature that put the mansion outside of the house feel. Hodge had been captured and carted to the compound with her, and now resided in a large box stall that was always kept with fresh shavings and clean water. He was turned out in the small, attached paddock periodically, but mostly kept indoors. His adjustment was going bumpier than Penny’s.

Her stitches were gone. Her nightmares had started to calm down. A month came and went before she knew it, and the only source of disquiet now what that she had yet to meet Silas Javernick. Her only contact was with Mrs. Adams who acted as the caretaker and her lessons master. She no longer had to go to school and try fitting in, but found the workload much more intense. She had regular lessons about creatures and the history of the Realm alongside regular subjects. There was a big focus on unicorn lore and handling.

“Mr. Javernick will return tonight,” Mrs. Adams said, jarring Penny from a medieval tapestry. “He is quite eager to meet you. I want you in that blue set I sent aside for the occasion.”

Penny hummed to indicate she heard and understood. Her eyes dropped back to the tapestry recreation of the penned up unicorn. The burning question she had ever since meeting Mrs. Adams boiled to the surface.

She cleared her throat, aiming for nonchalance, saying, “He knew my mother, right? He’s not… not my father… is he?”

“Of course not,” Mrs. Adams said without hesitation. “How absurd. Now, if you’ve finished analyzing, put that away and be dismissed. I expect an accurate description and interpretation tomorrow by lunch.”

The rest of the day was spent wandering through the garden surrounded by a picket fence and grooming Hodge. She was allowed to use whatever she wanted to keep him clean and happy, and was given old remedies for hoof polish and mane conditioning to try out. Some of these were strange enough that she posted pictures of them, and whatever worked or didn’t work she was sure to do before and after shots. Those had a surprising following on their own, and she saw her follower count climb to fifteen million. Not that she paid much attention to it.

There was never a high from gaining followers, but whatever happy little blips she had felt had evaporated around the time of that horrific camping trip. Life was more fragile and fleeting than she had grasped; Beth-Ann, Aaliyah, and even Brooke had shown her that.

“It was never about believe or not,” Penny muttered, combing Hodge’s neck. “I was a bored little kid with a phone and a unicorn. I’m not responsible if people believe in you or not.” She packed away her brushes and gave him a hearty pat. “I know it’s fenced in, but you should try going outside more. It’s not your glade, but it’s better than shot and dissected.” She booped his velvet nose. “I have to go look nice for this Javernick guy. I guess a snob is better than a pedophile….”

The blue outfit–a royal blue knee-length skirt, pale blue blouse with a ruffled collar, jacket in royal blue and navy houndstooth–was set out on her bed when she returned to her room. She stared at it, examining each article, for far longer than needed. It took even longer to put it all on. She caught the briefest glimpse of herself in her vanity mirror, stomach twisting, and sat on the edge of her bed out of sight of the mirror.

The sky outside streaked red and died away into inkiness as she sat, staring down at where the hem of her skirt met her knees. She jolted as a knock sounded on her door, and cringed as Mrs. Adams’s disapproving stare floated across her mind.

“It-it’s unlocked,” she called.

A short, stout man entered. He set his twinkling blue eyes on Penny, and gave her a warm, easy smile. Despite the friendliness he exuded, she recoiled as he approached, drawing up her feet onto her bed and taking care that her skirt was plastered down.

“It’s good to finally see you, Penrose. May I come closer?” He approached on her shrug but kept a few feet of distance, and did not dare to attempt to sit. His smile broadened, but there was something other than friendliness and joy in his face. “My goodness… you look a great deal like Keena. Aisling said you did, but I still wasn’t prepared.”

Slowly, she lowered her feet. “You talked to Aisling?”

“I did. She reached out about a year ago asking for help in finding you. Apparently, there was a priest that had been asking around after her, said he knew you, but when she was able to get leave to see you, you were no longer in the area.”

Her lip shook as tears fell from her eyes. That priest had tried to help after all. He had not only used her to get information about Brooke and Mr. McBride. She buried her face in her hands, choking on a sob.

“I had Mrs. Adams send word to her the moment you arrived. Once she has leave again, she’ll visit. I don’t expect you’ll need to wait long.”

“My goodness me!” Mrs. Adams stood in the doorway, looking scandalized. “Mr. Javernick, what on earth are you doing here? Your dinner is growing cold.”

“Now, now, Mrs. Adams; it can be reheated.”

“All the same, sir, I’d rather not,” Mrs. Adams said sternly. “Penrose, dry those eyes and head downstairs. You two can get acquainted over a hot meal.”

Dinner was some kind of fancy steak wrapped in pie crust. Penny ate her portion in no time, earring disapproving throat clearing from Mrs. Adams the entire time. The old woman’s quick tongue had apparently been stopped by the presence of her boss at the table; he did not give Penny’s lack of manners a single glance.

“Mrs. Adams said you knew my mother,” Penny said after she caught her breath from gobbling her meal.

“I did,” Silas Javernick said, daintily picking through his own dinner. “We were great and constant friends for a decade.” He smiled down at his plate.

Penny lowered her silver chalice of water. “...Were?”

“Are,” Silas said hastily.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Something had happened when she was around twelve. She had understood Aisling was never a candidate for guardianship due to her vows, and with the rest of the Fox family dead, that left only her mother. Until two years ago when the caseworkers started bringing up foster for adoption.

“Mr. Javernick?”

“Silas. If you’d like.”

“Mr. Javernick… What happened to my mother?”

He set aside his fork and knife. “Mrs. Adams, I think a cup of tea in the small parlor is in order.” He stood–Mrs. Adams staggering with difficulty to do the same–and smiled down at Penny. “Shall we?”

It was a bit of a show just to be sat down and told her mother was dead, but Penny humored him and allowed herself to be led off to the small parlor. She wasn’t sure what made a parlor a parlor and not a living room, and had a brief wonder how many of these random living rooms were really called something else as she sat into a worn, over-stuffed leather chair.

“Thank you,” Silas said, taking the tea from Mrs. Adams. “You can retire for the night. You’ve well earned the extra rest.”

The elderly woman let out a disgruntled huff at the suggestion and stalked off to the best of her ability.

“Well then, Penrose, where to start? I’m sure your aunt told you many stories already.”

“Aisling didn't like to talk about Keena,” Penny said. “She told me more generic things, like she was the oldest and sensitive to magic, but not a mage.”

“Magic is strong in your family,” Silas said, nodding. “Your grandfather and aunt both had the gift. I believe all members, your dear late grandmother too, had sensitivity to it….” He traced his finger on the teacup handle. “Your mother was… something else. A phenom; that’s what we called her.”

Aisling could do magic. That was far more phenomenal than being able to sense it, no matter how strong the sensitivity was.

“You know, you and I have been connected from your start,” Silas said, smiling fondly. “I was always hoping to meet you.”

Her heart missed a beat. “M-Mrs. Adams said you weren’t my father.”

His jovial face darkened. He looked into his cup, swirled it, and sipped. There was a pause after with him continuing to stare into his now empty cup before he took a breath and set his eyes once more on her.

“Your father was not a nice man,” Silas said frankly. He set his cup aside and draped his arms on the chair’s arms. “I helped your mother put you in care. And, I kept tabs on you for her up until the state meddled.”

Penny blinked, her eyes narrowing in a glare. Silas spoke about her going into the system, of helping put her there, as if it was a great accomplishment.

“You…,” she started, speaking slowly and carefully, “helped my mother give me away?” Heat rose in her chest. “And, you think that was… good?”

The hint of a smile that had started returning when talking about him helping Keena get rid of her fell away.

“She never wanted to,” Silas said.

“Oh, so, you talked her into it,” Penny said scathingly. “Good to know.”

“It was to keep you safe,” Silas said. “Your mother—.”

“Keep me safe,” Penny spat. She launched to her feet. “Didn’t Mrs. Adams tell you where she got me? Did you know why I was in jail? Aaliyah could’ve been me. Brooke. Beth-Ann. Even Paige, getting ready to age out with a big, dark nothing on her horizon.”

“Penrose—.”

“No!” 

She felt the tears coming, and stormed for the exit. He would not get to see her cry. She stopped, whirling back now that the distance was safe enough he wouldn’t catch on.

“You were a terrible friend to force her to get rid of me,” she growled. “I hope she realized that before she died.”

“She’s not dead.”

Penny stuttered in her exit upon those words. Hesitantly, she looked back at Silas, waiting. She crossed her arms huffily, glowering at his gesture to sit back down.

“I don’t expect Aisling to have told you why you were given up,” Silas said. “No, likely not with you being only nine when you were separated. I expect she stuck to the histories of the Holy Cor and Knights of Ferblanc.” He cleared his throat as Penny continued staring with zero give. “As I was saying, your mother was considered a phenom; people like that are a rare sort. They change things. A place. People. Everything, if you let them. And, others are drawn to them. …Good and bad types.”

She had questions starting to build, but was not ready to play into Silas’s conversation.
“So? What’s any of that got to do with her not being dead?”

“I don’t believe she is,” Silas clarified.

Penny’s hackles rose. “Goodnight.” She spun on her heel and stormed off.

She was halfway up the grand staircase before turning around. She ran out onto the grounds, making a beeline for the stables. She hunkered down in Hodge’s stall, cozying up to the unicorn and burying herself in the clean shavings. His deep, sleepy breathing lulled her to sleep.

-----------------------------

It's a short one, but I didn't want to jump into another scene with the length of this. I thought Silas would get to say more about Keena before Penny broke off the conversation, but it didn't work out that way. You meet Nellie first, so meet Silas first through her, but he has more connection with Penny/Keena. A big connection being he was the person that helped Keena give Penny up, and then helped get Aisling assigned to the group home to watch over her. (He was also friendly with Keena and Aisling's mother, in the way that you're friendly with a good neighbor and might have a cup of coffee with them outside on nice days.)

That unnamed priest really was trying to help Penny find Aisling. He was multitasking in helping turn in Mr. McBride. I almost had him try to mention something about someone getting back to his requests the last time you see him, but I think it would've messed up the timeline too much, so left that out. Aisling would've been individually reprimanded in addition to St. Brigid's being investigated due to her sometimes obvious favoritism towards Penny. That, plus her being part of the Holy Cor and not really a Marian nun, would've made things complicated, convoluted, and drawn out. I lost track of times/dates in my head a bit, but it should be about five years between Penny being removed from Aisling and the Holy Cor to right now.

I guess the only other note is to say that the fancy steak in a pie crust is beef wellington. I'm 100% sure Mrs. Adams told Penny that's what it was called, likely tells her what each part of every meal is called as part of her refinement lessons, but that Penny ignored her so just had 'fancy steak in a pie crust' in her mind. (Sidenote: beef wellington is made with puff pastry not pie crust, but when I made it I used pie crust since I had no puff pastry, lol.)

An ear-splitting scream rang out across the house; Penny throwing herself into a sitting position, drenched in cold sweat. Her shaking hand went to the large, bandaged bite beneath her pajamas, feeling the small bumps of the stitching.

The bedroom was plain and of a modest size with just one window. Pre-dawn gray light was beginning to shine through, washing out the sharp corners of the walls. It was a cold, listless room, but familiar in that Penny had used it before when the Sizemores watched her during her time with the Lamberts. Comfort was still not a word that came to mind despite this familiarity.

There was no more sleep to squeeze out with her nightmare coming so soon to sunrise. She stared at her blank ceiling, mouthing what she could remember of a mantra, prayer, or hymn that Aisling used to repeat to her over and over when she was small. She stayed put until she was certain breakfast was well underway downstairs.

“You need to work on those nightmares,” Mrs. Sizemore said crossly, setting cold cereal on the table. “Trauma or no, we have jobs we need to get up for.”

“Don’t think seeing a girl’s guts all spread around is an easy get over,” Aaliyah muttered under her breath, further covering her comment with a long drink of coffee.

Penny and her briefly met each other’s eyes before continuing with breakfast in silence.

Her fostering by the Sizemores had been delayed a week to treat her injury, be debriefed by police and rangers, to start off on therapy, and to be sure the Sizemores still wanted to deal with her now that she had extra baggage (and a smaller stipend with new expenses resulting from that baggage). Whether Aaliyah was explicitly told what had happened, or if she overheard something, she had been giving Penny a pass on her usual bullying. She was not nice to her in any regard, mainly ignoring her, but in ways Penny appreciated that more.

Her friends at school, and Colton, wanted to hear all the details, ask how she was, but there was an unspoken rule between all of them not to bring it up. It felt stagnant between them, and as if everyone was trying too hard not to pull away into other groups or activities to escape the crushing lapses of awkward silences.

There was the tiniest highlight of Colton now avoiding her as much as she had been avoiding him before. He would make a show of greeting her, sometimes putting his arm around her shoulders as they walked, but then spent the rest of the school day apart or with a friend or two between them. Penny knew it wasn't sustainable; it was a question of which of them would be the first to say it out loud.

She flinched as Colton dropped his arm around her shoulders as she arrived at school. He quickly withdrew.

“Did I touch your…,” he trailed off, his eyes lingering on her shoulder.

“Only surprised me,” Penny said. Her green eyes darted to her hand as he took it, swinging it in time with their steps. “You’re extra happy today.”

“My mom says you should come around for dinner,” Colton said. “This weekend or next. It feels like… I don't know, like things are getting to be okay again.”

Heat flared in Penny’s chest. “Okay again?” She crossed her arms and stepped away. “Beth-Ann doesn’t ever get to be okay again.”

“I didn’t mean—You know what I was trying to say,” Colton said defensively. “What happened was awful. You know I believe that.”

She unbristled. “Sorry….”

“Paige wants to come. Whichever weekend works out for you,” he said. He smirked. “It’s kinda grown up, right? The girlfriends coming over for dinner.”

She froze as he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She barely was able to force out a smile as he bid her goodbye, heading off to his class. She touched her cheek, walking in a stupor towards geography.

Hodge was not going to like this.

---

The unicorn was antsy when she visited that evening. He flattened his ears when she petted his neck, but allowed it. He refused the butterscotch chip molasses cookie she made for him. She knew he'd gobble it up the moment she left.

“You know it's a bribe,” Penny muttered. “You’re too good and honest a creature for that. Oh, hold still a sec, you’ve got a major burr.”

The task of painstakingly removing burrs with her fingertips was oddly soothing. There was a degree of focus to it so that she didn't pull too hard or prick herself too badly. It was good for clearing her mind, to stop it from showing her images from that night. Hodge had been getting a lot of burrs since that camping trip. Much more than before.

“My counselor wants a specialist to evaluate me tomorrow,” Penny said. “She isn't saying it, but she thinks I'm a lost cause. …Guess that tracks.” She patted his neck, receiving a disgruntled snort. “I know. I know. I got to stop all this with Colton. It isn't fair to either of you. It's…,” she moved away from the unicorn, “it's that I don't think we can go back to friends after this… Maybe if he wasn't into this boyfriend-girlfriend thing so much….”

Colton was the only friend she had that she still saw consistently, and that was with how much she gave him the cold shoulder. There would be no one left if she dumped Colton. There may be no one left if he dumped her. It was always possible there would be no one if they stayed together, everyone growing bored with their couple act.

Penny finished up a braid in Hodge’s mane. She gave his neck a long, steady stroke. “I had no one before. So long as I have you, it’ll all be okay. …I wonder how Brooke is….”

She shook her first friend from her mind, bid Hodge farewell, and hurried out of the glade. She was halfway back to the Sizemores when a chill ran down her spine. She slowed, froze, as the hairs on her arm rose. She spun around, immediately feeling defenseless and helpless when all she managed to grab as a weapon was her cellphone.

A willowy man was climbing from an old car with a mud splattered front bumper. He wore a lot of black, as if he could not do without it, and his lank, jaw-length hair looked previously dyed or bleached with the ends being off colored and not sandy brown.

Penny lowered her guard as an odd sense of familiarity crept into place over the initial alarm.

“Penrose,” he asked. His voice was distinct, with a croak and rasp that she could not mistake. “Penrose Fox, right?”

“Who wants to know?”

His lip curled. He took a step forward, stopped as she took a step back.

“I heard about your case,” he said. His jacket shimmered slightly as he opened it, showing off the inside pocket. “Can you see that from there? Do you know it?”

She took two micro-steps forward, squinting. Her heart missed a beat. A smile hesitantly formed on her face as she locked in on the marking: 🜩.

“Y-you’re with the Order of Ferblanc….”

“Somewhat reluctantly, but yeah.” He let his jacket fall loose. “Friend of mine told me about what happened. You met her. Bowen Crabtree.” He gave a dismissive wave. “Nevermind. Probably didn’t exchange names with her busy killing that not-deer chomping on your shoulder.” He winced. “Sorry… that was too blunt.”

Penny shrugged, reading over her stitches and staring at the pavement. There had been a rescuer, but she had only barely registered the person was a woman with all that had happened. She had not even delivered Penny back to camp, merely taking her to within sight of the clearing before dashing off–-presumably to handle the rest of the herd and clear a path for Beth-Ann to be found.

“She’s the keeper for that stretch. If you were wondering. She wasn’t some random park ranger.”

“I figured she must’ve been… I think,” Penny said. “Beth-Ann, officially, was mauled by a mountain lion. A random person would’ve completely freaked out and gone with rabid deer or something.”

“It’s easier.” He pointed to her phone still in her hand. “But… you don’t share the whole idea of keeping the Realm quiet, do you?”

She shifted away from him, crossing her arms tight. “You never said your name?” She glared. “You could be a bad guy. Being part of the Order doesn’t automatically make you a good guy.”

He laughed a deep, slightly wheezing, laugh. “Ezekiel Zickefoose.” He gave her a courteous nod. “Eek, if you’d like, but never in front of other Knights.” His smile faltered. “You can sense something off about me, right? Like magic, but not exactly the same. That’s my superpower; naturally more resilient against magic. Pretty useful for a Knight.”

“Yeah…,” Penny said, sidestepping. She looked at her phone, gulping at the time. “Well, Mr. Zickefoose, it’s cool getting some connection to the Realm again, but I do have a curfew. I’d exchange numbers, but…,” she looked at this grown man trying hard not to be a full blown goth, “kind of weird. Sounds like you know about Hodge, so you can just DM me.”

“Right… I’ve held you up. I wanted to meet you before tomorrow.” He gave a small, sly smile. “Your counselor thinks I’m some type of mental health consultant. I just wanted to let you know that I'm not.”

She stared, eyes once more flicking over his appearance.

“I can’t really help with what happened except to be someone who knows what really happened.” He dusted his hands together. “There. Now your hour tomorrow we don’t need introductions. You can just talk. Bowen said you’d need it.”

“Thank you,” Penny said, unsure. “Umm, I do need to go….”

He didn’t try stopping or delaying her further, but Penny could feel him staring after her as she walked on. She bolted once she turned down the next street, stealing a glance back.

“What a weirdo….”

Ezekiel Zickefoose stayed on the edges of her mind as she sat down to dinner and prepared for bed. There was something about his voice she couldn’t shake, something about how he looked that sparked familiarity. She must have been familiar to him as well with how he immediately jumped to his nickname and watched her go. He had no real reason to intercept her, pretext of giving her the heads up or not.

Her phone buzzed, distracting her from staring into the nothingness of her ceiling. Her heart plummeted when she saw it was Colton’s customary goodnight text. This one asked a follow up question, so it felt too rude to leave it answered.

Did you get a chance to ask about dinner?

A simple ‘no’ worked, but was too blunt. She deleted it and tried again, but ‘not yet’ wasn’t right either. It was dancing around the glaring issue, the one she was hoping he’d pick up on enough to call it quits mutually. Her insides squirmed with guilt as she slowly wrote out:

Dinner won’t work. I don’t think dating works. Sorry.

She hastily silenced her phone and put it screen down so as to not see the light from the notifications. She gulped the stale air, half surprised to find tears leaking from her eyes. It was hard to say if it was the crying itself or knowing she hurt her–now former–friend for so much longer than needed that embarrassed her most. It was being a coward not explaining it all in person.

Penny took deep, slow breaths and forced her mind back to Ezekiel Zickefoose. There was not much to latch onto outside of his voice and appearance. She stared hard, hearing Mrs. Sizemore leave for work for the overnight shift. She continued staring with nothing to grasp as her eyes grew heavy and the sounds of thumping came from the stairs. Her eyes were shut, breathing starting to even out as her ears caught murmurs from Aaliyah’s room, drawers or something being shut or banged about.

Aisling’s room was being raided by an unknown man and woman; they were packing a bag for her because her mother had died unexpectedly. That man… he was goth trying hard not to be with a croak in his voice.

She sat up, breathing hard. The familiarity… the voice and fashion… how he seemed to know her–depite them not meeting before–it all added together. That woman with him at that time may’ve even been Bowen Crabtree, but she had no reason to think that and couldn’t remember enough of her rescuer to connect the two.

“...Please… not tonight… please….”

Penny stared through the wall that separated her room from Aaliyah’s. She blinked slowly, ears straining, annoyed at the distraction from this revelation that Ezekiel Zickefoose was connected to Aisling. She flinched at the sound of a slap and a yelp.

She was out of bed and throwing open Aaliyah’s door before she knew she had even moved.

Mr. Sizemore was bearing down on Aaliyah as she cowarded in the farthest corner of her bed. Her buttoned pajama top was torn open. She held her face where she’d been smacked.

“Ger back to your room,” Mr. Sizemore demanded. He straightened when Penny stayed frozen, and lumbered towards her menacingly. “Get back to your room, and you keep that mouth of yours—.”

Penny heard static. She saw red. There was a scream from Mr. Sizemore, high pitched and pained. Her foot hurt, and it took a minute for her to realize she had kicked him and was continuing to kick him. Even once she realized, she kept kicking every inch of him as he thrashed about on the floor trying to protect himself. She grabbed a lamp, threw it over him with a guttural yell. She searched for anything else to use.

“Penny!” Aaliyah grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “S-stop! You’ll kill him!”

She kicked him once more in the stomach, or groin, grabbed Aaliyah’s wrist, and ran down the stairs. Her mind was racing, tripping over itself, not making sense of anything. She kept her grip on Aaliyah tight, and the older girl didn’t stop her or fight her off. They dashed from the cul-de-sac, down into the woods, and out into Hodge’s glade. Only then did Penny stop to catch her breath, and release Aaliyah.

“Y-you idiot,” Aaliyah snarled. “You messed up everything!”

“What?” Penny glared. “I just—.”

“Took me out of the only place keeping me from a homeless shelter,” Aaliyah snapped. “I got nowhere to go!” She scoffed. “You never got it. Brooke resented that. Pretty Penny, too pure for the creeps. You’d get believed. Couldn't have that.”

Penny took a breath. “How long’s it been going on?”

“All my life,” Aaliyah said, faux-nonchalance breaking with a crack in her voice. “Or, Mr. Sizemore specifically? Since the Lamberts used to pawn us off on them.”

A shrill, braying whinny rang out. In the dark, Hodge looked like he glowed. He charged from the woods, lowering his head to point his black horn forward into a skewering position. He went for Aaliyah, but Penny blocked him, shushing him and speaking calming nonsense.

Aaliyah fell backwards. “Th-that’s from—It’s r-real. That’s a real unicorn!”

“Ssh, Hodge, easy there,” Penny said, ignoring Aaliyah. The colt kept trying to charge around her, to get at the intruder. “Easy there, handsome; she’s a… Easy there, boy.” To Aaliyah, firmly, she added, “You might want to back up a bit. You’re too close to me. He’s protective. And unicorns are aggressive to non-vir…gins.” She whipped back to Hodge, her face hot as she tried blocking the choked sob from her nemesis. “Back up! Back! Hodge, quit it!”

“Penrose!”

Hodge immediately diverted his aggression to Ezekiel Zickefoose upon his arrival into the glade, rearing up to spin around and charge. Penny opened her mouth to yell for Hodge to stop, choking on her words when a road flare sparked to life. 

Ezekiel waved it, roaring and yelling at the colt until he bolted for the woods.

“Hodge!” Penny abandoned Aaliyah, racing towards the treeline, but was caught around the middle. “Get off me!”

“No, Penrose,” Ezekiel scolded. “The cops are searching for you and that girl. You need to get back on the street before they start combing the woods.” He put his hands firmly on her shoulders. “That little spook won’t destroy what you have with that animal. Don’t worry. He’ll be back. Now, hurry up.”

There was another ten to fifteen minutes of snapping Aaliyah out of her shock and getting back to the neighborhood. It was another second after they set foot on the sidewalk near the Sizemore house before the police found them. The house was a swarm of lights, one of them being an ambulance.

Penny was separated from Aaliyah–no real loss–and taken away in a different car. The officers tried talking gently to her on the ride into town, but by this point her adrenaline was plummeting. She was doing all she could not to fall asleep. Tears pricked her eyes when she pictured Hodge’s wounded, frightened expression. Ezekiel was wrong for scaring him off how he did.

She was brought to a windowless room with a table and three uncomfortable, metal chairs. It looked every bit like the stereotypical interrogation rooms from random clips she had seen on the internet. She was given a bottle of water and then left alone. The room was too cold to sleep in despite her grogginess, and the chair too uncomfortable to bother attempting it.

A grizzled officer entered. He handed her a blanket and sat opposite of her with his beady eyes on his clipboard.

“We talked to Aaliyah,” he said. “She said she and Mr. Sizemore were having an affair. She apologizes for leading him on.”

“That’s bull–That isn’t what happened,” Penny said.

“I guessed as much.” He glanced over his clipboard. “Did he ever touch you?”

“Mostly ignored me… Guess I was lucky.” She straightened. “Why would Aaliyah say that?”

“Scared. I hear it a lot, unfortunately. Especially from kids like you two. Let’s see…. Did you mean to injure that man?”

Penny shrugged. “Is it bad? I don’t really remember it.”

“He’s not fathering any kids any time soon.” The officer’s mouth twitched but he quickly wiped his face back to neutral and stared at the clipboard. “There is a predicament with all this. You being a foster, and attacking your foster parent… we can’t exactly release you back to them. I tried contacting your caseworker, but she seemed…. Well, she answered the first call, and hasn’t gotten back to us.”

“Which means…?”

The old officer sighed heavily. “I suppose you go into holding until morning. Possibly the detention center after. Just until we get things sorted out.” He shook his head, his expression sour. “What a waste. Plucky little thing like you, we should give you a steak dinner and put you up in the best hotel for the night.”

There was not much comfort knowing she had done the right thing, not when faced with a long, cold, lonely night in a holding cell. She suspected it was more comfortable than the ones they kept adults, but that was not saying much. The cot was loosened bands between a frame; she had little choice but to be stuck hanging in the middle, and there was no real protection from the draft sweeping beneath all during the night.

She bounced between irritation at Aaliyah for failing to be truthful, and horrible, uncomfortable sadness at how things had turned out for her. Brooke popped into her mind often; Aaliyah’s charge that she had resented Penny went with it. She nearly drifted off, but whether due to all these bad thoughts or just the situation at hand, she would find herself snapping awake with a mingled image of Beth-Ann or Mr. Sizemore, both lying on the ground, sometimes both dead, sometimes both writhing.

The exhaustion kept her from fully processing that a young, female officer was standing in front of her cell with a tupperware similar to those used in airport security.

“I have your phone, a change of clothes, toothbrush, and we got you a bagel sandwich from down the street.” She opened the door and gently placed the tupperware on the floor. “There is someone here wanting to talk to you. Think you’ll be up for that in twenty to thirty? Give you a minute to change and eat?”

Penny didn’t respond, still staring blearily at the woman. She must’ve taken her silence for confirmation, because she left without pressing the issue. Penny could hear murmurs of her speaking to someone before the heavy door of the holding area cut off the sound.

She changed and was halfway through her sandwich before picking up her phone. Her heart dropped at the seventeen missed calls and forty-six unread texts from Colton. She cleared the calls and messages, scrolling to the most recent text at the bottom.

I deserve some kind of response. Ghosting me is immature.

Her jaw clenched, her hackles raising.

Sorry. I got arrested last night and didn’t have my phone until now.

The responses came in short and quick, expressing disbelief but not at her words, at the situation. News of her arrest had spread already. Then came the asking if she was okay, and the pleading for some kind of explanation. He went as far to ask if her decision had anything to do with witnessing Beth-Ann’s death, and expressed he could wait it out.

I thought about breaking up since before then. Hodge doesn’t like this dating thing. I’m never dating anyone.

The dots kept going and going, indicating Coton was doing a lot of typing. But, the response was short when it finally came through.

You’re breaking up because of your photoshop unicorn?

He’s real.

The dots moved again and again, before stopping with no reply.

She turned her phone off, sighing heavily.

“Ready for your visitor?”

“Sure,” she said, tucking away her phone.

It was not her caseworker that entered the holding area despite that making the most sense. It wasn’t Ezekiel Zickefoose or Aaliyah, or anyone she knew. It was an older than old stout woman holding herself up with a cane. She hobbled forward resolutely, and set a stern gaze upon Penny.

“I am Mrs. Adams. I was sent to negotiate your release to my employer, a Mr. Silas Javernick.”

“Should… should I know who that is,” Penny asked unsurely. “Is he famous? I’m not very good with remembering celeb—.”

“Straighten up, please, Penrose.” Penny straightened. “You do not know him, nor do I expect you to, but he knows of you. He was acquainted with your mother.”

“M-my moth–?”

“Yes. Your mother. I was quite clear.” Mrs. Adams gave her a look over. “I’ll have you sorted once you’re out of this miserable place. Will not take but a few hours.”

The arrival of Mrs. Adams, and her matter-of-fact stating that she would be released to someone that knew her mother was a level of surreal Penny was too tired to wrap her brain around. She sat on her uncomfortable bed, and finished her sandwich.

--------------------

Bowen Crabtree is a name I saw at baby gym and it was just too good not to use for fiction. I have no idea if the real one is a boy or girl. I was going to try to use it in the Beatrix and Wrenna books, but my first thought was of the loup garou, and I wanted something more traditionally Cajun. Crabtree has some Appalacian ties, so it worked better here. Which, Zickefoose is supposed to be a very distinctly Appaliacian surname that I've been avoiding until I got a "good guy". Eek and Bowen both were in chpt 2 raiding Aisling's drawers; Penny's insticts about the woman that was with Eek being Bowen is correct (because I want to use the name, lol).

The idea of Penny being "too pure" was always going to be a rift between her and others in the system. The reality is that people probably sense something kind of off about her so avoid her, particularly foul adults who would quickly gather she wasn't easy to mislead. It wasn't about purity or prettiness, that was just something other girls would grab at with how they'd been treated.

Penny being arrested for assult and sprung by Mrs. Adams was one of the big scenes fom her childhood, like the one with Hodge being upset she had a three second kiss, that was core to her.