Tears were shed for the late Patrice Hayes, her daughter, Cicely watched her father greet, and accept condolences from others. Some she knew instantly, others couldn't be picked from a crowd. It was to be expected from an 8-year old girl, besides; her main focus was on her mother. She wiped her blood red eyes, and reached into her pocket. She retrieved her Simu-mage, which held a slideshow of images. Cicely smiled, as every picture possessed a memory, events that she'll always keep. She broke from her trance to look for her father, Malcolm.

    He was never hard to spot, unfortunately, he was nowhere in sight. She looked for something familiar, a distinct detail. She noticed, that she was the only child, surrounded by adults, tall, towering, black-clad grownups. She was ready to panic, when she heard a well-known voice.

"There you are sweetie, ready to go?" the tone was low and feminine, but gentle. Cicely smiled, hopeful for the face, which controlled that nostalgic endearment.

Disappointment spread like a disease throughout her body.

"You're not--" she started to say, but was too angry to finish her sentence. It wasn't her. The woman who tucked her in, named her, or hummed her to sleep.

It was her, Brenda Alvarez, caterer to Rangers, and close-friend of her father's.

"Come on, your dad's almost finished," she said. They walked past many groups of adults.

"There, he is." Brenda said as she pointed to Malcolm's location.

    He was talking to someone his daughter didn't recognize, not a native of her home, Orista. She eyed him up and down, and made simple observations in her head.

[He's tall and looks like a villain. A lot of hair on his face. What are the sunglasses for? His suit is dark blue....but everybody's in black.] She thought to herself.

She just stood there, watching patiently, she knew better than to disrupt her dad. He and the strange man were encased in Rangers.

They surrounded them completely. Were it not for her father's Quondam uniform, she'd think she was staring at two strangers. She rolled her eyes when she felt the gentlest touch on her shoulder.

"What are you looking at, huh?" it was Brenda. Again, always the enthusiast.

"Sweetie, the car's ready if you wanna get in." she said.

Cicely hated being called sweetie, it reminded her too much of Patrice. She said nothing, but clenched her fists and headed toward the vehicle.

Brenda waited beside the trunk for Malcolm. She watched him, slowly dragging his feet. "I'm so sorry, Mal." she said as they embraced.

Cicely stared at them through the car window, and her anger began again. She clenched her fists tighter through tears. She slid to the other side and grew bitter. Mal was exactly what Patrice used to call him, just as he called her Pat.

Cicely didn't like Brenda at all. It was impossible to like someone who caused arguments between her parents. To always be around whenever Malcolm needed her, it was annoying to her.

    The fact that Brenda wanted to be liked by her, was intolerable. Even worse, it seemed like she was never busy. Cicely slid to the other side in annoyance. She watched the people disperse, and couldn't help but wonder about her future. Since her parents were divorced beforehand, where would she live now? She was always happy in Orista, but her father resided in Madjesko.

"You'll be okay, right?" she asked as she released herself from Malcolm's arms.

"I'll be fi--" is what he was going to say, but he was instantly silenced by the Caterer's soft kiss on his cheek. He kissed her the same way gently, and squeezed her hand.

"You KNOW, I hate being interrupted." he said.

"Yeah, get some sleep, okay?" she replied. He nodded and for her safety, watched her enter her vehicle

"I hope you'll forgive--" he said, as he rubbed his irritated eyes, and he entered the drivers' seat. Cicely jumped at the sound of the slamming door.