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It wasn't easy to convince the girl. Hannah pretended she was ex. She told a story of abuse, and it wasn't hard to fake the tears. The girl believed and Hannah was convinced she would avoid the guy after that. So long as he didn't go stalker crazy, she might be okay. She splashed her face with...

"What?" His voice jerked her out of her thoughts - his thoughts - horror. She focused on him, almost desperately and she knew it but right now he was a real, honest anchor and she needed him to keep her here. She wasn't hungry anymore. And this, in actual fact, was how she managed to stay thin...

"I do have someone special waiting at home," Hannah nodded at his question, "his name is Mr. Snuffles and he adores me more than any human ever could. Like you I don't have much time for human interpersonal relationships. It's easier to be alone. At the end of the hard days, I can curl up on the...

His story hit her harder than she expected. She might have told him about what happened to Max, how she'd been the one to wrestle the knife out of the attackers hands, how scared she'd been for Max but ultimately she didn't want to go there. Not yet. The change of subject to his wife and Missy...

@CupAndCough LOL! Look at those eyes. Why wouldn't you always see this picture? ;)

It felt like it might rain. She became further convinced of this when her hair almost immediately turned into a giant poof of static. Hannah sighed and made a mental note not to touch her hair. "Did I look miserable?" She asked. She'd felt pretty miserable but she'd so hoped she'd hidden it...

Hannah couldn't help but smile at his story. She wanted, desperately, to forget her morning clients. She needed a break from their delusions. "I'm sorry about this morning, actually. I think I was a little rude. I just... well, I guess I'm a big baby. A little bit of pain and bam! I can't think...

It was hard sometimes to shake off their thoughts. The client before her lunch break was suffering from massive delusions. The only trouble was she was still having trouble discerning if they were chemically induced or natural to him. She suspected drug usage, but sometimes it was hard to tell...

The knock surprised her, she was just getting her client to settle in when she heard it. She slipped the door open and there he was with her tea. "Oh," she looked from the cup to his face, back to the cup, to his face. Was this for real? Was he for real? She took the cup from him, and as she...

That part Hannah heard. Trauma? PTSD? Sometimes she thought she might suffer from it herself but she'd always been too stubborn to seek any help. Besides, who would she talk to? She couldn't tell people what she'd been through. They'd never believe her, she'd probably get labeled as...

So I'm back... from outer space...

"Oh, well, nevermind about Max. It was just an accident. A freak accident," Missy said, covering quickly. Hannah refilled the kettle and flipped it back on. Burned fingers or not, she wanted her damned tea. She was already over Mr. Curly-Head. He was cute, but in her experience looks could...

"Melissa Carter," Missy held out her hand to him, practically edging herself between the new curly-headed cutie and Hannah. Hannah stumbled back, lifting her hand to her mouth so she could lightly blow on her pink fingers. Shoot. What a terrible way to start the morning. She glanced over...

"Here, try this." Gentle but strong hands grasped her scalded one and wrapped it in a damp, cool towel. "Tha-" Hannah lifted her gaze and found herself struck dumb as she saw the gorgeous creature before her. It was the hair, that delightfully trying to be curly hair that really got her right...

@NRTupper, please edit this post to include any OOC information.

@NRTupper, please edit this post to include the character/sign-up information.

It's not that she didn't like the kid, she just wasn't used to company. Hannah had lived alone since graduating. In reality it hadn't been that long but to her it felt like ages. She wasn't sure how this would work out. So far he seemed like a quiet, polite kid but it wasn't really him that...

I wonder who her father is. What man would so cripple his child in this way? Telling her of monsters, isolating her from the world? Why would a man do this? I don't think I could do such a thing if I had a child. She flinches as she lets the rags fall from her back and I feel another surge of...

They'll return soon... So that's it? This is how I die? Somehow, through some divine twist, I escaped the pirates and now I will die at the hands of these people. These desperately sheltered people. As I look at her, I note the strange stiffness of her posture, and the rags on her back. Is...

When I was a child, 5, maybe 6 summers old, my mother told me about my father. Not because she wanted to, but because she had to. He'd learned of my existence and was coming to take me away. She didn't want me to be frightened so she told me wonderful stories. She told me how he was a rich man...