Aora curled her pale finger around the trigger of the handgun. An ornate knot-like relief wound around the grip and barrel, and it looked more like an antique than anything practical. She smiled amusedly at the artifact; she required something sturdier. With a single shot, she could hit almost any target. A flawless and nearly involuntary aim was one of her only useful skills. It compensated for her lack of cooking skills and common sense. Something held her back from pulling the trigger at that very moment, a small memory that echoed deep within her mind. Forcibly, she laid the gun gently on the table as her silvery eyes rose to meet the man standing calmly across from her.

He was taller than her, meaning that his violet gaze had to fall to meet her own. She did not enjoy being looked down upon, but it was a situation she could hardly help. He ran his hand through his graying brown hair and then scratched his bristly chin, an annoying movement that he had already done more than enough within their short meeting. He was always fidgeting, never holding still for more than a second. His hands were in and out of the pockets of his drab business slacks or adjusting the buttons of his equally dull dress shirt. Aora gritted her teeth, trying not to snatch his hand and snap it in her peculiarly strong grip.

“Miss Serenstien,” he said, his bland voice causing her to hand to flinch away from the gun where it had lingered. He titled his head slightly as the same hand curled and uncurled into a fist. “How do you like it?” He proceeded to ask, trying to keep a lump from forming in his throat so he would not have to gulp.

Aora observed his struggle with a mild amusement that went unhidden. He was obviously unnerved with the meeting. She did not blame him, though. It was not just anyone who could walk into a prison and ask to visit with a criminal for purposes that required the exact service that she was locked away for. “Hm?” Her short response came at last since she was distracted by her wandering mind.

Just then, the door to the small visitation room opened. The man looked past her, pleased to see another inmate being brought in. “Ah, yes… the other I requested…”