The cover of the diary was a black leather with a leather fastening, this was secured by a silver lock. embedded in the leather was an intricate swirling pattern only visible under certain light.Each page was in perfect condition and it lay open on the desk in the library. The page it was open on was perfect as all the rest apart from a few ink splotches and more red splotches. The red ones were unmistakable blood.. The handwriting was elegant but every now and then it became shaky. The entry was dated and even timed.

'It appears i was exposed to some hazardous gas last night. I do not feel like it was so but i guess i must try what i am told. Perhaps this was an attempt on my life, however it was unsuccessful which is just as well. I should keep myself aware of such events, unfortunately all i remember is falling down some stairs...I'm guessing that's how i got this bruise on my nose. I must have passed out from the gas then. It makes sense in a weird way. I have been bed ridden since then, Arthur suggested it was best i rested. I guess i should be more careful in the future. I keep biting my lip in frustration, it all seems, too perfect. The gas leak and the fact so many important individuals were down there when it occurred... Maybe i was not the aim of this assassination, or maybe we all were. I must thank the one Arthur said who found me. Count Escobar and Alessia, the Marque's lawyer's daughter. I hope they too are alright, but that is not an important issue right now.'

Slowly Sakura Rose began to stir, and in a very dazed manner her green eyes became open to the world yet again. Blinking a few times, her vision adjusted enough to see two figures to her immediate left, one sitting, and one standing rigidly with a hand on the seated figure's shoulder.

"Ma...ma..." came a sad, weak, little voice, muffled somewhat by the oxygen mask cusping her face. As she reached to remove the newly discovered annoyance from her face, Mrs. Dawson immediately reacted, standing up and hovering over her little girl to give her a kiss on the forehead and a light hug "Oh my precious!" she doted. "I'm so glad to have you back, we were so worried!"

Just a moment later a nurse whose facial features were somewhat obscured, but was clearly wearing a white coat came in. "She's awake! Terrific! Just in time for lunch!"

The direct sunlight beaming in the room made it hard to see what was going on. "Could you please... pull the curtains... the light is giving me a headache." Well, she wasn't sure that the light was the source of the dull ache in her head, but it was enough of an annoyance to require being addressed.

As the curtains fell, her eyes adjusted and she took better note of her situation. She had a few pads placed on her chest monitoring her heart rate and breathing rate. There was a small clip of sorts taped to the end of her finger that was measuring her oxygen levels. On her small wrist was a plastic bracelet that said "DAWSON, SAKURA ROSE - 14/F" followed by some medical record number and a barcode. She knew she must be in the pediatric wing of General Hospital. The only thing that truly made her room any different from an 'adult' hospital room was that the wallpaper was a sky blue, with white puffy clouds, and various smiling teddy bears holding onto a rainbowed assortment of balloons. The child's parents stood back as the nurse did her job, "I'm just going to take your vitals really quick, hun, before you can sit up and have a little of your lunch if you feel like it. In case your tummy is upset, you're on a full liquid diet for right now to minimize the chance of you feeling sick." The nurse scanned the barcode on her bracelet then proceeded to use the child size blood pressure cuff on her arm, and place a plastic covered thermometer in her mouth. "Eighty-eight over sixty five, temperature 89.2 degrees."

"Ready to sit up?" "Yeah" Sakura Rose replied, attempting to stretch her arms, and being annoyed at the lack of coverage a hospital gown gave one. The bed moved and an extendable arm was placed over her with a tray of milk, cranberry juice, chicken broth, green jello, and orange sorbet. The girl stared at the green jello as if there was a dead rat on her plate "Could you move this over there where I don't have to see it?" she motioned to a small table in the corner where her mother's purse rested. The nurse hesitated, then Sakura Rose added on "Please?" The nurse looked to the parents who just quietly nodded. It was better than having an unruly child THROW things they don't like at the pediactric nurse, so she complied.

Opening the lid off the plastic juice container, the nurse left the family alone. Now that his daughter had gained some of her senses back, he finally let out the question he had been holding on to this whole time "Sakura Rose, what did you think you were doing... wandering downstairs with all of those older teens?!" Her mother interrupted "Reggie, now's not the time to interrogate our poor dear."

The taste of the cranberry juice was... oddly more detailed than normal. Perhaps because her mouth had been so dry. "I assure you it is not like that, Otousan." She took a deep breath. "I'll tell you everything later, but I promise I was only trying to be good."

The rest of the girl's lunch was filled with her parents telling her what happened, who rescued her, and who else was in the hospital in rooms near her. She was surprised to hear that she potentially owed her life to the cockroach-Count, and refrained from telling her parents that he almost skewered her with a sword at the dinner party.

A passage from Merrick's Jounral.

Well, regardless of the circumstances, I would be hard-pressed to describe last night as uneventful. What's more, I'd be hard-pressed to really describe it at all! The main part of the event was already discuess in several newspapers, and I have enclosed a clipping of one of them here with a paperclip, but I'm sure the harpies in town will be talking about it for years to come. I'm already getting phone calls from relatives I never see asking about this or that and I'm already dreading the inevitable interest in my well-being that an event such as this can stir up in "concerned adults". It isn't that their concern isn't touching, for what it's worth, but assuring family members that I'm perfectly fine and not now "touched in the head", as my Great Aunt Florence put itcan become tedious and only really leads to three different outcomes:

-They begin to ask questions about myself and my direction. They then begin to talk about the duties of the aristocracy and the responsibilities of carrying on the family name, as if falling unconscious is supposed to somehow make me renounce my ways as an artist and "grow past" it into business or management or even law. Below is a particularly memorable piece from a conversation I had with my Uncle Robert just moments ago:

"Merrick, I know you have it in your head that you want to play at being an artist for a living, when you're older", he says. I wince over the phone as he talks about me playing at my art and I already know where this is going, "but... I had hoped that this recent encounter with death would have made you re-examine what was really important in life... about what would happen if you did die. Legacy. You are an Ames Sombres and the oldest son. Do you know the chances of making it as an artist? Or do you just plan on frittering away your inheritance? What if your parents died tomorrow? Do you think you'd be able to even take care of yourself with your little crafts?"

I don't say anything really except, "Well, it was good to hear from you Uncle Robert. I have much to think about." He wishes me well and I hang up. These conversations are rarely anything less than excrutiating and made much worse when I remember that most of them are being put up to it by my father. I am an enemy in my own home.

-Sometimes I end up talking to one of my older and less grounded Aunts. About four minutes into the conversation, it usually becomes evident that they don't really understand what happened. Why, dear journal, is it so easy to tell? Because at about then, they will often try to relate it to something their son or nephew went through at some point or another. For example, one conversation with my Great Aunt Gladys went something like this, if memory serves:

"Oh, such a shame. My son Renfield had a similar trouble a few months ago when he hired on a new chef. Baked beans were the man's specialty. The man served beans at every meal! And the meals themselves were no better: French onion soups, asparagus with cauliflower cream dressing, cornbeef and cabbage, lentils and curry. The man had it out for my poor poor Renfield. He was no one to be around for at least a week and you can imagine the servants weren't too happy themselves. Anyway, I'm glad to hear you're getting over your little gas problem."

It's a source of deliberation imagining that these people talk to anyone outside the family, but then, there's very little I can do about that, short of keeping them at arms length, isn't there?

-The third possible end to these conversations tends to happen more frequently with my cousins and younger relatives. Sometimes my father's younger brothers. This is where they tell me how easy I have it and how I can do choose to be an artist if I want to because my father made it so easy, and then they begin to brag about their own accompishments and say I've done nothing with my seventeen years of life. The specifics of what these people say are generally what I remember the least. It's mostly formulaic and so terribly petty that I wonder why they even bother, at this point. I told my mother about this, and she called it nonsense. My cousins are good people, and they'd never say such things. My father, on the other hand, said "Maybe I do make it too easy for you. I should make it harder for you. Maybe then you'd learn to appreciate hard work and taking care of yourself."

At this point, mother interrupted to ask about jams and wine for a tea party later that day. Bless her.

So, aside from minor argument about what I was doing in the wine cellars (which is a little stupid to be asked when it's on record that you don't remember), I've been in my room as the sun does not look terribly inviting today. Occasionally, the family physician, a doctor Schtein comes to check on me, but otherwise, I've mostly been left to my own devices for the day.

From the diary of Appolonia D'Angelis

So, I wake up in my room after passing out and having what the doctors would call "cardiac dysrhythmia complicated by unknown factors", my dad, classy guy that he is, has them use a defibrillator on my unconscious body and sticks me with adrenaline himself. So while I'm spazzing out on the hospital bed and the rest of the doctors have no idea what to do, he picks me up, slings me over a shoulder and drags me back to the house. Maybe I didn't mention this already but I'm pretty much naked while all this is happening. When I finally do come around, he offers me a glass of water, smacks it out of my hand and then smacks me onto the floor.

"You were overdosed down there weren't you? Weren't you?"

He doesn't really wait for me to answer before he kicks me in the stomach.

"What are you doing with your life? What are you doing?"

I grab an end table to stand up, he punches me in the face. Mom's just standing there watching, and all I can think is, blood's such a pretty color. Would be a lot nicer if it wasn't mine, though.

"You think I don't know what you do? You think I was born" kick "yesterday?" kick "ANSWER ME!"

He paced for a minute, putting a little bit of distance between us, and I think I must have laughed at this at the idea that he was actually going to let me answer, because all of the sudden, he got this mean look in his eye like I insulted him and said, "I'll teach you to laugh. I'll teach you to fuckin' laugh!"

So I took a step backwards and almost fell down, but lucky me, mom finally chimed in, "Dear, do you think she was doing drugs? The Marques said it was a gas leak. There were other kids there..."

He turned quickly and yelled, I guess at me, "Get the fuck out of here, you whore, you goddamn Delilah."

Yeah, so I'm not one to question good luck too much, so I limped my ass out of there, and started climbing the staircase. I was barely to the top when I heard another smack and more yelling.

"What are you doing, Maria? You think I don't know where all those kids are getting their drugs? You think I don't already know this shit?"

"I-it's not that, it's-"

I shut the door behind me and make sure it's locked. Then I look in the mirror. Shit. There's no way I can hide this.

Bastard cut my face.

After the nurse took away Sakura Rose's almost emptied lunch tray, she looked over to her parents. She felt so... tired but she knew it had to be done, to get the weight off her shoulders. "I'll tell you exactly what happened that led to my being here. I hope that in light of my motives you will consider not punishing me too harshly... after all having all these wires hooked up to me is a small punishment in itself..." she began, addressing Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Dawson III

"You see I was attending the party and making light social intteractions with youth I knew, and some I didn't know. Once two girls mentioned exploring the house. That was obviously an insult to our host to go where we were not allowed, so I left them to do as they will, and I instead found Young Master Merrick. I talked with him and walked with him to the corridor that led to the gardens, though the night air was much to chill for my light chiffon shrug, so I left him as well. What happened next was absolutely unexpected. I am not sure how it happened, but I ran into The Marques, himself. A really regal gentleman with a lordly countenance. I introduced myself humbly, and had mentioned that my friends were all scattered about. He asked me to find them for his announcement to the party. Having been charged with a personal favour to our host set my mind on fire so to speak, and I hurried around and tried to gather everyone. I couldn't seem to find them and I was most vexed. However just as I was considering perhaps attempting to follow wherever they might have gone... to perhaps check out the splendour of upstairs, a servant of the Marques had a specific message for me, letting me know that the underground of the estate was almost as large as the above ground part. It was a most queer thing to say, and before I could ask if he saw anyone downstairs, Alessia had found me and told me that Miss Appolonia was trapped behind a door downstairs. In order to aid in helping my new aquaintances and to serve the wishes of The Marques well I immediately went to see to the problem, being more precautious than the other girl, taking light with me, opening the door and even jamming it in an open state so it would not get stuck again. It must be at that point the gas overtook my body because I cannot remember much after beginning to descend the stairs side by side with Alessia."

After a moment of silence, the girl's Father spoke up "Well that is not nearly the mischevious behaviour my mind's eye had seen. I am proud of you for striving to attempt to curry favour with our most honourable host. However..." The girl winced and her heart sank "You should have told us first before running off." "Yes, Father." she replied meekly, averting her eyes. "I do think this ordeal has been punishment enough for you, and I do love you and only want you to be your brilliant best."

At this point a Doctor came in. Upon yet another check of the bedridden child's vitals, he removed the constant monitoring equipment. "She is doing well, and should be discharged in time to spend the night in her own bed, but we would like to keep her here just a few more hours in case there is anything unforseen." "That's wonderful!" the Mother exclaimed, relieved that no permanent harm has come to her one and only daughter.

The small voice piped up a bit "I would like to rest a bit, perhaps I can watch some TV?" "Sure." the doctor nodded and briefly showed her how the remote control attatched to her bed works. "If I'm not mistaken, there's a live concert in the Park tonight. The flyers were all in our mailboxes but alas somebody has to stay and work at the hospital." Sakura Rose looked slightly bemused. Nothing of the sort ever happened in New Haven, the incorperated town that basically hosted nothing but multi million mansions and had no commerce or other 'city' things of it's own. The very hospital she is currently in is located in Port Charles, NY, the nearest 'real' city. It must be quite a large park to host a concert... she turned on the TV and scanned the channel until she found it. "Hmm. The Stephen Clay Experience. I have heard of them... rather mysterious and dark. Vaguely reminds me of the Visual Kei artists..." she then nestled the best she could into her sheets, just like a little kitten, and made herself comfortable.

Kataro had refused to stay bedridden, much to the protests of the private physician and his butler. His body was sore and aching, probably from the fall, so instead of his usual stroll he limped with determination to the library. Each step sent a shock of pain up his left leg. He sighed slightly as he finally sat down in one of the library chairs. He noticed Arthur had followed him there in complete silence and was standing beside him now.”Arthur, if you would be as kind as to fetch me the family history for the two who found me, or the ne…” The butler had already left and returned with the newspaper handing it to the young master. Kataro scanned over the line up of pictures of the youths involves, like some criminal take in. He sat memorizing each face and name. He remembered nothing but maybe someone else who hadn’t fallen might. He glanced up the physician. “My leg is fine right?” this was said as much more of a command or requests then a question. He glanced at Arthur as the examination on his hurting leg began. “Arthur, find me the location of these people, make some phone calls arrange a visit to or from each of them.” He was determined to at least figure out who he was hanging around when he had almost been assassinated. Arthur seemed concerned but quickly walked off to do as he was told. The physician had started massaging the leg and nodded at Kataro. “Well it seems like it was muscle cramp, possible from the gas when it immobilized you.” Kataro smiled like he had beaten something before pushing off the old brown armchair that was in the library. It had been his father’s and was worn and old but he refused to let it go.

It took a few minutes for Arthur to return and when he did he found the young master’s lunch almost untouched beside him and the young master himself looking rather disdainful in the mirror at himself. “Is something the bother young master?” he asked Kataro turned, he wouldn’t speak his mind but he could swear that he was paler then before. Only one who gazed upon the youth everyday would notice. “It is nothing Arthur, what did you come to tell me?” The butler moved forward handing Kataro a short list. Each was a name of someone there that night and next to tit either an appointment time or where they currently were. He glanced at the top name, who according to her parent’s was not home however Arthur had managed to track her down to one of a few locations.

Kataro wasted no time, leaving the expensive food behind with only a bit or two eaten, mostly of the creamed potato the chicken untouched. His butler had stayed behind this time as requested and cleared up the dish worried about his young master. Kataro headed to a few locations first but eventually ending up at a malt shop, Sarsaparilla, inside he found her and so he sat down next to her. He glanced up at the menu and after pondering for a while ordered a plain vanilla milkshake. HE glanced towards her and spoke in his usual blunt manner. “Miss Appolonia D'Angelis, I do hope you are not to busy, I have something I wish to discuss with you. May I say, you are awfully hard to track down.”

Alfred gave a stretch before stepping towards the door thinking, "Sweet bloody Christ I'm tired. Why isn't there a bloody bathroom attached to the room? Well, hopefully the Marques keeps 'em near his guest rooms." Before leaving the room he gave his suit a quick straightening mumbling, "Can't remember anything from last night. Hmph, last time I drink to excess."

The Marques' head butler, an elderly man with a waxed mustache, appeared before Alfred with a decanter of something red.

"Good morning, Lord Churchill. I trust your rest was to your expectations", he asked, "The master asked me to bring you this. It is a bottle of something that will expedite the natural bodily processes during this, the last of your most dire of hours."

There was no change in the butler's outward expression, but something in his tone seemed... perhaps sarcastic. Maybe... implicit. Yes, the better word was implicit. As if there were some greater insinuation to his cryptic words than the simple content of his verbiage. But then, this particular butler wasn't known for being particularly garrulous. When he did speak, it was often with great purported meaning, if not purely functional.

Alfred stared for a second, slightly taken aback before chuckling and saying, "Ah, very funny sir. I'm usually not one to have wine in the morning, but I would hate to insult so gracious a host as the Marques." Alfred gave the room a quick glance before spotting the glass he had emptied and grabbed it and came back, holding the cup out for the butler to fill asking, "Could you inform me of where I may find a phone so that I may contact my driver? That is, unless the Marques wished to say something over breakfast?" He thought to himself, "Though I'm not particularly hungry, it would be nice to meet the Marques while sober enough to remember it."

"Not to worry, sir. This draught is of a different nature", replied the butler, quickly filling the cup, "But unfortunately, the Marques is usually engaged during the day and only finds the time and vigor for guests during sundown. It is his sincerest wish that you may take this bottle with you and this letter, with his compliments. You are, of course, welcome to stay and wait until nightfall for the master's return, though one does imagine you to be a busy man in your own right." The Butler bowed and continued, "Now, if there is anything you wish, you need only speak aloud and a servant will run and fetch it for you."

Strangely, if he were to look around, Alfred would certainly notice that there weren't any servants anywhere to be seen. The entire house would appear empty.

Alfred nodded with a smile as he set the bottle down on the nightstand and took the letter saying, "Thank you my good man. Well, you're right, I am quite busy, but could pass an invitation on my behalf to the Marques to join me for dinner? It won't be a grandious party like his, just a simple dinner befitting a gentleman such as himself. It would be my way of thanking him for allowing me to rest here tonight. Could you tell me where the privies are my good man? Nature is calling." Alfred chuckled at the little joke before taking a sip of the beverage.

he glanced at her, she was unusual for a noble, the way she spoke and held herself, even the way she dressed. On this thought however he felt his cheeks tint, very obvious against his pale skin he smiled slightly. "cowboy? well that one is definitely new." he quietly comment before remembering why he had come there, "I want to discuss with you what happened last night. It seems something occurred and according to the newspapers you were down there too, i believe i fell and i do not remember anything after that,i was hoping someone could jog my memory.If not there is always the chance being around those who were also down there might help us remember." He paused and sighed, "plus i do believe it may have been an attempt on someone's life and wish to see if i can figure out if anyone in specific was the target or just all of us." he paid for the drink when it came sipping it he wondered if perhaps the gas had messed up his stomach, he didn't really feel all that hungry and this milkshake seemed sadly bland. He ignored it though and continued to drink.

"There are... facilities built into every one of the guestrooms, if you please", he said, asking permission to move past the guest, and then walked into the room he'd been left in, bringing attention to a neglected-looking door some feet to the left of the bed. He then bowed again and strode off disappearing right around the corner.

Apple giggled a bit at the suppositions of her current companion... and a bit at his red cheeks. Still, even if he was being a bit melodramatic, it would probably be in her best interest to find out what he was talking about.

"Now why would anyone want to do away with a pretty young thing like you", she asked coyly, playing with some loose hair near her ear. She then turned her attention to her shake, sucking the cold and tasteless strawberry milkshake from the glass. At this point she wasn't even enjoying it, but drinking because it was there.

"pretty young thing like me?"he said slowly seeming to take in the words one at a time. "you mean besides the fact i am the soul heir to my family's money and my parent's were murdered? i guess you could say... its just a feeling that someone might want me dead..." He realized how morbid this sounded and couldn't help but smile about it all. He continued to drink the milkshake even though it was bland and seemingly tasteless. He didn't comment on it at all.

Apple listened intently, with a look of bemusement. When he was finished, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a compact and some red lipstick, which she applied to her lips, checking in the compact mirror. After applying the red to her lower lip, she asked, still focused on the mirror, "So, you know my name. I didn't really ask you how, not that I care, but...", she began applying the lipstick to her upper lip, "What's your name?"

She ran her tongue over her lips and then rubbed them together, before finally leaning over and kissing the boy on the cheek to get rid of the excess, leaving a rather prominent pair of ruby puckers on his face. And then, she put away her make up, leaned on the counter and gave him a sideways glance while finishing off her milkshake.

The Count growled a bit as the two nurses held him down to reattach the IV into his arm. Really, it wasn't necessary to use two nurses. With his broken ribs, he could barely even move his arms. The first time he'd ripped it out was mostly adrenaline and shock at waking up in a strange environment and the fear of possibly being attacked by the great undead legions. As it was, he stayed on his back indignantly grumbling as a self-important nurse condescended to him about the importance of staying still to avoid further pain and complications and how everything was alright, as if he didn't know why the IV had to be there. He was the one in pain, damn it! When he didn't resist, they let go of his arms, which was something of an improvement and promised to let him use a wheelchair with assistance. There was a lot of smiling and nodding from the nurses, and lots of "harumph" and glaring from the Count, but soon enough, he was alone. He hoped he'd get that wheelchair soon enough. He wanted to check on the other patients, if they were still there.

Kataro watched her with the make up and nodded,"newspaper, as for mine i'm..." he was cut off when she kissed his cheek. He stared cheeks flared red. It was obvious he wasn't used to being round girls. "uh...." he shook his head and pulled a face. What an inconvenience she was being and a distraction, he didn't have time for that right now. "Kataro Sousuke." He blurted out with great confidence. He gently touched the lipstick on his cheek. He wondered how he would remove that. Woman were both mysterious and slightly frustrating he bet she was only doing this because she could and not because she thought he was good looking or anything.

He seemed both surprised and caught off his guard by her. "actually i..." she cut him off telling him he would be her escort without hesitation then he shook his head. "i have places to go and people to meet... what about your schedule." he was subconsciously rubbing the mark on his cheek trying to remove it as he watched her ask for the check without using words. He sighed softly and pulled out a phone from his pocket. He speed-dialed 1, Arthur, and spoke softly. "please bring the car round... i will have company so we may be making a detour from our previous discussed schedule, i expect you to make calls to inform people when changed are made, thank you..." he hung up and glanced at her. "Arthur will be here soon with the car..." he said to her have managed to lessen the mark but it was still prominent against his pale skin.

Caleb's eyes snapped open, as in waking he instinctively began taking information in about his situation. He was lying down. All of his limbs had feeling in them. Had there been a window in his room, Caleb would have noticed something peculiar about his body, but as it stood he had no idea why he was in a hospital. He'd escorted his grandfather to the Marquis's party, a necessary task to ensure that the family name remained on people's lips. Grandfather Jacob was on the harsher end of eighty years old, however, Caleb was more than happy to speak for him amongst the social elite. He'd heard that they'd all brought their children, most of whom would be around Caleb's age, which presented him with multiple ways of forming alliances with such powerful families.

This situation, with so many ways to win, would have been lucky enough for one evening. Like a deck of cards with twice as many aces. Caleb's only real concern was how enthralled his grandfather seemed to be with the obviously senile ramblings of Count Dante but since the count was of high enough standing to be invited Caleb assumed a friendship between the two would not pose him problems. He was patiently observing the two elderly men and devising how to approach the arriving guests when the Marquis himself asked Caleb if he might like to be taken on a short tour of the mansion's gallery instead of lingering in the drawing room. The Marquis called Caleb an "accomplished young man" and was curious as to how he could be already prepared to run a gigantic company. Caleb had no interest in art, but that scarcely mattered. He was delighted to have finally been taken seriously- yes, he was the head of the company now, and the fact that someone completely new to New Haven saw that meant Caleb was further along in his plan than thought. They'd entered the gallery together, Caleb pretended to marvel at the fine art and paintings, and then it all melted before his eyes and here he was, in a hospital room decorated with smiling teddy bears.

Grandfather Jacob probably didn't even know Caleb had left the party. Useless old fart. A servant would be along soon enough to retrieve him. Caleb made a mental note to thank the Marquis for making sure he was taken to a hospital after he had fainted. It would be well- perhaps the Marquis would feel some obligation to him, it being the food or air or something about the man's party that might have caused Caleb to faint. Then Caleb would have another private audience with the Marquis... Oh, could anything ever go wrong, so long as he was involved? He shook a little with glee.

A plate of lime green jello wiggled as he moved bringing Caleb's attention to the food near him. Cold broth, melted sherbet, and some juice sat on a tray in front of him. Caleb sat up so that the jello was even nearer to him, wriggling as if it wished to leap up and slide down his throat. Repulsed, he pushed the tray off the table and found that he had plenty of strength. It was as if he had simply fallen asleep and was now refreshed. He stood up in his hospital room and looked into the hallway, seeing plenty of bustling nurses. Had he yelled from his room, he would probably get the attention of one of them. But if he wandered down the hall, a little lost lamb in white dressing gown, the maternal instincts he'd found rampant in nurses would guarantee him the attention of at least three; a sufficient amount to bring Caleb new food and information about what had happened to him.


However before a nurse noticed Caleb, a familiar voice caught his attention. There were other party guests here! He looked into Sakura's room to see the girl and her parents. He heard the last snippets of conversation, the girl sounding meek, her parents doting, and he quickly ducked out of the way for the doctor's entrance. He continued to listen until he heard the television in her room. She would be there for a few more hours, giving Caleb time to make an impression. He knew that if he introduced himself to people who were in the throes of familial love and concern, anything he said would be completely forgotten in their emotional state. However a young girl alone and bedridden was a perfect situation for him to establish a relationship.

Caleb returned to his room, finding the mess of food he'd left had been already cleaned up. A nurse was probably looking for him now, the poor harried thing. He sat on his bed and listened intently for Sakura's parents' exit.

After taking care of business, Alfred contacted his driver and headed home with the decanter, finding the beverage quite good, "I must find out what this is and order some myself." Upon arriving at his home he ordered his servants to draw the curtains through the house, finding the sun gave him a headache, and to light the lights (his house is illuminated solely by oil lamps and candles to give it more of an old world feel). After taking another drink of the red beverage his head butler, Mikhail (russian) came in saying, "Sir, the canvas and frame you ordered arrived while you were out this morning." Alfred nodded with a smile, he had ordered a large 12 foot tall by five foot wide canvas and ornate frame to hang in his main entry hall. (his house is more of a chateau, modeled after this one but without the tower to the left, has an additional story, and is made of darker stone with an overall earthier shade File:Château de Chenonceau - west view from Catherine de Medici Gardens 1a (4 May 2006).JPG - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia ) "Tell me Mikhail," Alfred asked as he took a sip, "What self-proclaimed artist hereabouts would you say is capable enough at their trade to capture my likeness?" Mikhail thought for a second before saying, "Sir, there is a girl, Faith Bard, who is said to be quite the prodigy at the arts." Alfred nodded before saying, "Find where she is and I'll pay the girl a visit. I'll be in the war room." Mikhail bowed as the two headed in opposite directions. Alfred went to one of the houses' dining halls that he called the war room for it was decorated with arms and armor of different times. On one side of the wall were mannequins dressed in the armor of Britain's military eras from the middle ages to the present day with weapons, all functional and loaded, presented on the wall above. On the opposite wall it had the same set up, except the mannequins and weapons were that of Britain's main enemy of the era. Along the center of the hall were small tables with detailed mockups of historic battles through the ages using miniatures. The figures were made of steel and everything else was made as authentically as possible with one naval battle set in real water, using small rods to keep the boats in place. After a bit, Mikhail re-entered with Faith's number and gave it to Alfred who thanked him as he took it and dialed the number.