Heya! While writing this, I realized that Catherine drinks tea a lot, so I've decided to slip in some symbolism whenever she does to the best of my abilities. Not sure how that'll work out though, haha.

As always, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy chapter 7! :)


"I thought you weren't going to be late again."

Sydney shut the door. She looked ashamed. "I tried to be home on time, really, I… I did. But Daniel needed me to-"

"Needed?" She raised an eyebrow. "Wanted, more like."

"No!" Anger overpowered Sydney's shame and she curled her lip. "Dammit, Jenna, why do you keep doing this?" She threw her bag down onto the floor and began ripping her coat off.

She glared at her and stood. "Because you keep giving me reasons to, Andrea. First it was Monica needing your help with her car, then it was Jeffrey needing a nanny for his son, then it was Monica – again – needing your advice for her sister's baby shower present, and now it's Daniel needing whatever the hell it is you want me to believe he needed!" She realized she was pacing. "I mean, Jesus Christ! At least come up with a more original excuse!"

"I don't know what the hell it is you want me to say!" Sydney threw her arms up into the air. "Wha- what are you implying anyway?"

The scoff that left her lips came naturally. "I'm implying that next time maybe I'll need your help with moving your shit out of the house."

Sydney stared at her incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"More serious than you, I think. Otherwise you wouldn't take the promise you made to me so lightly. I'll always choose you." She snorted and walked farther away. "Please."

Sydney looked crushed. "What, so, that's it? Five years together just… erased?"

Her lips became a tight line and she spoke somberly. "As long as you keep lying to me."

Sydney remained silent.

She dropped her eyes down to the floor. "You can sleep on the couch tonight."

There was a pause.

She and Sydney looked at the teacher expectantly. Mr. Adams looked decently impressed.

"Are you done?"

She nodded and Sydney let out a soft "yeah."

With that, the rest of the class finally began clapping.

"Good!" He exclaimed and clasped his hands together. "Now, what I got from that was that you two were living together, dating or married, and you, Jenna, were suspecting her, Andrea, of cheating. That's how it ties into the prompt of 'I know.' Am I right?"

"Yes, sir," Catherine smiled.

"Alright. Good! But please remember what we said about volume. You were both still a bit too quiet, but, uh… yeah! Yeah, that was good." He cleared his throat.

"You know," he said when they were back in their seats, "I've found that one of the toughest things to figure out in theater is what to do with your hands."

The rest of the class seemed a breeze now that the stress of performing in front of something-teen people was over and done with. She was surprised to realize that what she'd told Constance about feeling good on stage hadn't been a complete lie. She was far from confident still, but once she got to performing, the anxious butterflies in her stomach all but disappeared. She couldn't stop a tiny smile from gracing her lips. That's one lie taken care of, at least.

Her exit from the building was prevented when she heard a gentle voice call her name from behind her. She turned around.

"Oh, hey! Sydney. What's up?"

"Oh, uh, nothing much… Sorry, I was just…" she cleared her throat, "I thought you were pretty good," she smiled uncertainly, "and I just wanted to let you know that."

Is she fishing for compliments? She immediately felt ashamed at how quickly she jumped to that conclusion. She's just being nice, what's wrong with you?

"Thank you! I thought you were pretty good, too." She gestured for Sydney to walk with her and they left the building. "Have you ever taken acting lessons before?"

"Um, in, like, middle school? I guess? If you count a 7th grade play as acting lessons."

She laughed. "Oh, definitely! We're practically movie stars already, you and I, with all the practice we've gotten."

Sydney smiled bigger and came to a stop when they reached the sidewalk. "I'm, um," she glanced to the left, "going that way."

"So am I, actually. Do you wanna walk together?"

"Oh, I have a car… But if that's not too much of a deal breaker for you, I'd, um…" she let out a shaky breath, "really like to get to know you some more."

She's kind of adorable. Before Sydney had told the class that she was 21, Catherine had her pegged at around 17. Not because of her height, as she was quite tall, but her bespectacled face had a certain innocence to it, and her mannerisms were better suited to a teenage girl than a young woman.

Then again, who am I to talk? I was a mess at that age.

Catherine spoke before she could follow that train of thought any further. "I'd love to, as well! Where are you going, anyway? Home?"

They reached the grey Sedan and Sydney unlocked the doors.

"Umm, picking up my sister from school, actually. You know Westfield High?"

They got in, but not before Cat let out a noise of surprise. "Yes, actually. My sister goes there, too."

Sydney's eyes widened. "Really? Wow, what a small world. What grade is she in?"

"10th grade. She's 15. How about yours?"

"Abigail's a senior," she smiled fondly as she turned the ignition on, "and thinks she knows everything about the world."

She snorted in amusement. "Why, did you never think that yourself?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I was a mess at that age. That's what gives me the right to make fun of her."

At that, she let out a laugh.

"You know, I just realized that Violet might die of embarrassment because of this."

They were sitting down on a bench in front of the school. The warmth of the early September sun was steadily becoming unbearable, and she cursed herself for neglecting to put on sunscreen.

Sydney finished the iced coffee she'd ordered while they were waiting. Cat was honestly concerned at how quickly she'd downed it. "Oh, she's in that phase, is she?"

She giggled and swung her legs. "When did we become such crotchety old women? These gosh darn teenagers runnin' amuck, thinkin' they're cooler than us. Get off my lawn!"

Sydney covered her grinning mouth.

Catherine let out a long, light-hearted sigh. "But yes, she's in that phase. The only person who doesn't seem to embarrass her is herself."

Sydney hummed and threw the plastic cup into the recycling bin. "Better than me."

She tilted her head. "As in, you used to be self-conscious, or you still are?"

Sydney's back went rigid. "Oh, no, I didn't mean… I don't know why I said that. Sorry. I just… saw the opportunity for a joke."

She blinked. "Oh. Alright. Well, even if you are self-conscious, I don't think it's weird or anything. Everyone feels like they're weird on the inside."

Sydney smiled awkwardly and looked to the side. "Thanks… I guess."

The silence was broken by the school bell ringing. They shared a look and stood so that when their sisters exited the building they would be able to see them.

Soon after loud, happy voices started spilling out of the school, Sydney made a noise of recognition and began waving her arm. Catherine followed her line of sight and saw a girl that looked, from this distance, only slightly similar to her. Both their hair was black, and both their skin was brown, but they each carried themselves very differently.

Where Sydney was demure in both clothing and attitude, the girl who was most likely Abigail wore clothes that were very much "in" for the average 2011 teen. Abigail's pin-straight hair contrasted with Sydney's afro, either because it wasn't her real hair or because she'd gotten it relaxed. She wasn't well-versed enough to tell. Or even know if she would be able to tell.

She sauntered towards them with the kind of confidence she imagined only a rebel or popular kid would have, and judging by her fashion sense, Cat guessed that she was the latter. She seemed like the kind of girl that would have intimidated her once upon a time.

"Hey, Syyyd," Abigail greeted her sister with a smirk. Her eyes shifted onto Catherine, and her smirk morphed into a smile. "Who's this?"

"This is Catherine. We met in drama school."

Drama school? Well, that's one term to use, I guess.

Abigail's face lit up. "Oh, cool! I'm Abby. Are you coming with us to get ice cream?"

Abby. Too close to Addie. Abigail it is. She smiled apologetically. "No, sorry, I'm only here to pick up my sister. Ice cream does sound amazing, though."

"Oh it is," Abigail groaned, face morphing in exaggerated pleasure, "A Bit Nutty makes some booomb rocky road."

"With a name like that, I don't doubt it," she said with an amused smile. Were teenagers this extra my first time around, too? She spotted Violet exiting the school.

"There she is," she nodded towards her sister, and the girls turned to look in her direction.

It seemed as though Violet sensed the eyes on her, as she almost immediately turned to look at them. Cat could see her eyebrows shoot up even from this distance. She waved her fingers in response, and her sister began walking towards them.

She heard somebody's breath hitch and looked back down to see Abigail's face turn ashen.

"That's your sister?"

Cat and Sydney shared a curious glance.

"Yes? Why? Do you two not get along or something?" It would be just my luck, wouldn't it?

"Um, well…" Abigail pursed her lips to the side in a grimace, "she and my friend don't."

She decided to file that information away for later and saw Violet's expression turn guarded as she stopped in front of them.

"What are you doing here?"

Waste no time with breaking the ice, do you?

"Um, well… You remember me telling you about that acting class I was gonna go to, right?" She waited for Violet to nod or hum or do anything to signify that she remembered, but she didn't. "…Anyway… I got partnered up with Sydney here, and wouldn't you know it, hah, she has a sister that goes here too! Small world, right? B-but anyway, she was gonna come pick her up, and I volunteered to come along, and… well… y'know…"

Violet was silent as she and Abigail stared at each other.

Sydney gently cleared her throat. All eyes turned on her. Save me, please.

"Uhhh… hi, I'm… I'm Sydney."


"Nice to meet you, Sydney." Violet went back to staring at Abigail.

Okay, that I can work with. "Yes! It was nice to meet you!" She turned to smile at her new… friend? Acquaintance? "I'd like to hang out with you again, actually. Do you have a number?"

Sydney's mouth twitched upward. "Yeah, it's five."

The answer bewildered her, and she obviously took too long to realize she was joking, because Sydney's face turned red.

"Oh! Right, aha, sorry. I like that, actually, mind if I steal it?"

Sydney's blush deepened and she shyly waved a hand. "S-sure, go ahead… Not my joke anyway."

Another awkward moment of silence ensued before Catherine broke it. "U-umm anyway, y-yeah, here, hand me your phone."

After that was over and done with, she turned to a very uncomfortable-looking Violet. Abigail wasn't faring much better if her shifting eyes were anything to go by.

"Ready to go?" she asked as confidently as she could.

Violet's eyes snapped to hers and she nodded almost desperately. "Yeah."

"Alright, well, it was great to meet you, Abigail! And, um, feel free to call or text me whenever, Sydney. You won't be bothering me, I promise."

Abigail smiled awkwardly and Sydney nodded. "Sure thing! Um… see ya."

The fake smile on her face was beginning to hurt her cheeks, and after she waved back she turned around and started walking down the sidewalk, Violet by her side. Her smile finally dropped.

She could tell that her sister was burning with the need to talk to her, but she wasn't stupid and so she waited until they were a good distance away before opening her mouth.

"What the fuck?"

Catherine let out a sigh. "I'm sorry, okay? How could I possibly know that-"

"No, seriously, what the fuck? Do you know who that was?" She snorted, and Cat could see embarrassed tears welling up in her eyes. "No, of course you don't, how could you? You didn't wait and ask first."

"Violet, I'm sorry. The thought that you might be a bit embarrassed did cross my mind, but-"

"A bit!? Try 'completely!' Do you know-" her own sharp sigh cut her off. "That was one of cigarette chick's cronies."

Oh fuck, seriously? "Seriously?" She stared at her with wide eyes. "Oh my god, Violet, I'm so sorry."

Violet laughed humorlessly and wiped a stray tear away with the edge of her sleeve. "Yeah, I know. You're sorry. You're so sorry. You're super duper sorry."

She tried to catch her sister's eyes but couldn't.

Abigail did look like a popular kid, but she also seemed relatively nice. How the hell was I supposed to think that she hung out with a girl who'd do that? Would telling Violet that make her even more upset? Do I wanna risk it?

She sighed. Screw it.

"Look… Did she actually endorse cigarette chick's behavior? Maybe she just got caught up with the wrong crowd." The house was within view now.

Violet's eyebrows furrowed and she looked down in thought. "She… did try to make her stop, actually."

Oh, good. She nearly sighed in relief. "See? Maybe she's not a bad person. She was nice enough with me. Maybe she's just scared to stand up to… what's cigarette chick's name, anyway?"

Her sister finally looked at her. "Leah. Leah… something, I don't know."

She nodded. That does sound familiar, actually. "Leah something. I can try to pry some info out of Sydney if you want. Not obviously, of course, but just… ask her how her sister likes the school. Things like that."

Violet's mouth tightened and then relaxed in a sigh. "Nah, what good's it gonna do, anyway? I don't care enough to try and turn her friends against her or whatever you're thinking of doing."

She blinked. "How…?"

Violet smiled. A smile. Good. "What, you think you're the only one here who knows her sister? I know you're not as innocent as you act half the time."

Huh. They reached the house and began walking towards the door.

"Only half the time?" she raised a playful eyebrow, "What makes you think it's only half the time?"

Violet snorted. "Because I've known you all my life. Half the time you act like you're stupid and the other half you actually are."

"Hey!" She smacked her shoulder as hard as she could, but Violet only laughed and pulled her keys out of her pocket.

"Don't get angry just 'cause it's true," her sister was barely keeping her grin at bay as she unlocked the door.

Catherine narrowed her eyes. "Brat."

Violet snickered and walked into the house. "Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go to my room." She turned around to look at her and breathed out through her nose. "Look, I know that even though I said not to, you're gonna do something, but… whatever it is you do, just keep me out of it. Okay? I've already gotten enough shit from those girls and it hasn't even been a week yet."

What the hell, am I that easy to read?

Her sister huffed in amusement. "Don't look at me like that. Most people buy your whole innocent bystander thing, just not me."

Dammit, she shouldn't say stuff like that in here. Who knows who could be listening? She rushed to speak. "Alright. I promise I'll do my best to keep you out of it."

Violet nodded. "Good." And with that, she was up the stairs.

She leaned against the wall and sighed. If Violet can see through me, who else can? Hah. See through me. Ghosts. She shook her head with a small smile. Good thing I'm taking acting lessons, I guess.

"I thought I heard you come back," her mom said from the archway that led to the rest of the ground floor. She looked at her questioningly. "Did I hear your sister with you?"

She straightened up. "Um, yeah, I finished in time to go pick her up and thought 'why not?'"

Vivien regarded her with a pleasantly surprised expression. "Huh." She shrugged. "Alright, well, do you want to come to the kitchen?" She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Apparently we have a housekeeper."

Already? Well, actually this would be the perfect time for her to show up. Her voice took on a skeptical tone. "Sure, um, and how much does she cost?"

"That's the thing," her mother said with a disbelieving shake of her head. "She says she's free. She has some sort of attachment to the place," oh you have no idea, "and just wants to serve us because she served the previous residents, too."

"Huh… Well, alright, I guess." She gestured towards the archway. "Lead the way."

Moira was beautiful. Even at the age she appeared to be and in the simple black dress she wore, the flaming red of her hair contrasted with her pale skin prettily and her face had a kind look to it that made the rest of her features even more attractive. Maybe not attractive in a romantic sort of way, but in a deeper, more maternal way. In a way that made Catherine want to tell her all of her deepest, darkest secrets because she looked like she could help. Maybe only one or two secrets for now, just to be safe.

Vivien placed her hands on Catherine's shoulders and spoke. "Moira, this is my oldest daughter, Catherine. Sweetheart, this is our new housekeeper, Moira O'Hara."

She smiled at her brightly. "It's nice to meet you, Moira. Mom told me you've been working here for a while?"

Moira smiled small from her seat beside the kitchen island and looked up at her with her one good eye. "That's right." She gently shook her head. "Simply horrible, what happened to those boys." She added milk to her cup and stirred.

When her mother let go of her and went to grab another cup, Cat sat down on the bar stool closest to Moira. "You mean the previous owners?"

Moira nodded. "Yes. They were always good to me. I… I was the one who found their bodies."

Vivien slid a cup towards Cat. "Oh my god… That must have been horrible."

She said nothing.

Catherine filled her cup with liquid from the teapot. Honey and cinnamon. Nice. "What, um," she looked up at Moira, "what happened? If you don't mind me asking?" She set the teapot back down onto the island. "I mean, the woman who sold us the house said it was a murder-suicide, but…" she glanced at her mom, "Why would somebody nice like that kill their partner?" The tea was scolding hot, and she did her best to not let it show.

Moira was silent for a moment. "They started arguing more often and more intensely leading up to the incident. Money, I think."

"But," Vivien's eyebrows were furrowed, "you don't just kill the person you love because of money issues."

Moira gave them a look that said 'what can you do?' "Sometimes people just go mad."

Or get murdered by ghosts.

"I cleaned the mess," she raised her cup to her lips, "you'd never know."

Vivien looked concerned and rested her elbows on the island. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Moira nodded gently.

"Do you ever get tired of cleaning up other people's messes?"

She paused for a moment and then spoke. "We're women. It's what we do… I just get paid for it."

That coaxed a smile out of both of them.

Their conversation was interrupted when her dad entered the room.

"Oh, hey," Vivien said, straightening up, "this is my husband, Ben. Ben, this is Moira O'Hara. She was the housekeeper for the previous owners."

Catherine could see the exact moment his attitude shifted. His smile dropped and his eyes widened ever so slightly, but if she didn't know what to look for she doubted she'd notice. She fought the urge to groan.

"N-nice to meet you," he tried to smile pleasantly.

I should talk to her before this gets out of hand, shouldn't I? Her parents were doing relatively well all things considering, and she didn't want them to fight constantly like she remembered them doing in the show. Speaking of, I should probably see if Violet's talked to Dad yet. That time she did sigh. So much to do, so little time.

The Moira she could see nodded with a gentle smile. A car horn sounded from outside. "That's my cab." Good improv. She looked at her mother, smile intact. "I would use the lavatory first if you don't mind."

"Sure, go ahead," Vivien responded, and Moira exited the room.

This is my chance. Her pulse began to speed up. Should I? Should I risk being heard? Does it even matter? The pros of befriending Moira must outweigh the cons of being found out surely?

Screw it.

"Hey, um, I'm gonna go upstairs. Mr. Adams told us to come up with a monologue for next time, plus I still have that drawing I need to finish, so…"

Vivien looked confused. "Mr. Adams?"

"Acting teacher."

Vivien's mouth made an "oh" shape. "Alright."

Ben was still visibly flustered when she left the kitchen. As soon as she was out of their line of sight, she quickened her pace and all but ran over to the downstairs bathroom. Light was peeking out from the crack beneath the door and she could hear the sink running.

She probably just turned the faucet on in case someone passed by. Unless ghosts need to pee, too. Do ghosts need to pee? She shook her head with a huff. Now isn't the time for questions like that, Catherine.

The sound of running water stopped and she could hear feet quietly shuffling towards the door.

Oh god, it's happening.

The light turned off a split second before Moira opened the door. She seemed surprised to see Catherine there and blinked rapidly.

"Oh, did you need to go inside?"

She was quite sure her body was beginning to shake from the adrenaline, and her voice coming out unsteady supported that theory. "N-no, I…" she closed her eyes and swallowed, "is there anywhere we could talk in private?" Oh god, it's out there. I can't go back now.

Moira looked at her inquisitively. "I'm not sure I quite understand. We are in private."

Oh no, oh no, what have I done? "Are we?" She looked at the air around her.

Moira continued to act ignorant. "Are you feeling well, miss? Perhaps you should drink some more tea."

She let out a shaky sigh. "Don't. I-I know. I know… If you know what I mean."

Moira stayed silent and searched her eyes. For what, she wasn't sure, but she wasn't patient enough to wait and find out.

If I wasn't fucked before I'm pretty sure I'll be fucked now. "Constance shouldn't have shot you in the eye. The color's really pretty."

Her façade finally dropped and she stared at her in shock. They stayed quiet for a moment before her face turned neutral. "Are you a medium?"

Catherine's nerves made her have to swallow back a giggle. "No. No, I'm… I don't know what I am, actually. I-I'm human, and I can't see anything that doesn't want to be seen, b-but I know things I shouldn't." She rubbed her forehead. It felt clammy. My heart's beating awfully fast, isn't it? "I know, like, way too many things…"

"May I visit you after? Your parents will become suspicious if I don't return shortly."

She nodded eagerly. "Yes; please. O-oh, and, um, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this. I'm sure they'll find out at some point, b-but I'd like to keep things calm for as long as possible."

Moira gave a gentle nod. "Of course."

"Good. Well, um," she fiddled with her bracelet and gave a shaky smile, "it was nice meeting you."

Moira smiled back, though she was still clearly shaken. Catherine left for her room before she could have a chance to respond.

She shut her bedroom door and leaned against it, needing support for her shivering body. That just happened. That actually just happened. She slid down to the floor and tugged on her hair. She could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly and the control over her breathing slipping. Fuck, no, I don't have time for a panic attack. Not now.

But as she tried to calm down she only made things worse, and what was at first an attempt at breathing deeply became her clutching at her throat, mind begging for air. I can't breathe. Oh, god. I can't breathe. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die in here and be trapped forever. I can't. I can't. It's too much. Please stop. Please just make it stop.

She could see something black appear in the corner of her eye and looked up to see Moira, wide-eyed with concern. Her lips were moving but her words were silent. What are you saying? Why can't I hear what you're saying? Have I gone deaf now, too? Isn't it enough that I'm going to die? Why does my scalp hurt? It burns. Oh, god. I can't breathe. Water. Water. Water.

Moira disappeared, but she still couldn't breathe. Don't just leave. Help me. Help me. Take me outside so I can breathe. Oh, god. Water. Water.

"It's alright." Was that a voice? She looked up and saw Moira kneeling down in front of her. She pressed something cold into her hands. Her voice was only muffled now. "Drink. You're alright." She instinctively raised the object to her lips and realized it was a glass full of liquid.

She's helping me. With that thought, she started gulping it down so quickly that Moira had to intervene and get her to drink it slower.

Before long, Moira put a hand on the glass and stopped her drinking. "Miss? Look at me." Her voice was barely clearer. I can't breathe. Why can I still not breathe?

"Look at me. Breathe with me," she said and placed a hand over her own abdomen. She breathed in and her stomach went out. She breathed out through her mouth, slowly, and her stomach went back in. In. Out. Out. In.

Cat couldn't tell when, but Moira smiled at her gently and said, "Like that, yes. Wonderful. Keep breathing with me." I can hear her properly. Shit, this is so embarrassing. In. Out. Out. In.

"I-I'm sorry." In. Out. Out. In.

Moira shook her head. "There's nothing to apologize for. You've been very brave, miss. Keep breathing." In. Out. Out. In.

She could feel her heartbeat going back to normal. In. Out. Out. In. It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay. You're not gonna die. You've been very brave, miss. Keep breathing. In. Out. Out. In.

If she focused hard enough, she could hear herself beginning to calm down. Her short, rapid breaths had turned into slower, quieter ones, and she raised the glass of water up to her lips for a drink.

In. Out. Out. In.

"I'm sorry you had to see that."

Moira closed her eyes and sighed. "To know the things you know and only now begin to panic shows a certain strength of character." She gazed at her gently. "I wish I could tell you to leave this place. To pack your bags and take your family back to Boston, but… the house has taken a liking to you all. There's nothing I can say."

That's what I was afraid of. She stood up with her help. "Didn't Constance manage to escape? I-I mean surely there's some way…"

The edge of her lip twitched upward. "Constance was always a miserable woman. There's little pleasure in corrupting something already so tainted. Why not use it instead?" She smoothed out her skirt and sighed. "Though I suppose I'm glad. Spending eternity with that woman sounds like a horror."

She tilted her head. "Is that it? The house corrupts until death? Then why hasn't Adelaide died yet? She's hardly terrible." As the words left her mouth she felt her heart drop in realization. But she will. Constance kills everybody around her. 'Why not use it instead?'

Moira was looking at her curiously. "Have you had a thought? Your face is pale."

"I-" She's going to die. No. She shook her head. No. She won't. Not now that I'm here. "I need to protect her. She's a good person and my friend, I can't let her die." She looked at Moira, feeling her resolve beginning to harden. "And I won't keep you trapped here."

Her eyes widened.

"I know how to free you. You're a good person, too. You don't deserve this."

Moira opened and closed her mouth, evidently at a loss for words. "Do you truly mean that?"

She smiled. "I do." She thought of something and grimaced. "However, while I'm still living here it would be good to have a ghostly ally. There are things," is a baby considered a thing? "that if not prevented could literally cause the apocalypse, and you're basically the only person I know at this point that might help prevent them from happening."

Moira's eyes hardened slightly and she swallowed. "And once you've no more need of my help? If those things come to pass regardless, or are no longer possible? If you die here? Will you still free me then?"

She nodded. "I will. If it makes you feel better, I can tell you how to free yourself so that even if I break my promise you don't have to suffer here much longer."

"I know how to free myself. My bones need to be removed from the property. Nobody has been willing to do so, that's all."

She blinked in surprise. Oh. That's right. She cried when Dad built that… was it a shed? Or was it a gazebo?

"Then I'll give you the number of a group of women that can free you. You'd only need to call them and tell them your predicament. Ask for Fiona or Cordelia Goode. They know about spirits and the like; you won't have to waste your time convincing them."

Cat could see the hopeful look she was trying to suppress. Moira opened her mouth. "Give me the phone number and I'll aid you gladly."


I think it's about time she's had a panic attack, no?


FrickHydra: First of all, awesome username, and second of all, thank you for supporting this story! I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)