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At long last, she saw the proof which she had needed. The small red circle hovering next to the phone icon on her partners cell-phone making it clear that someone had, in fact, attempted to call him. How unfortunate it was that that image alone was far from enough to put her at ease. The annoyed expression which rested upon her mate’s face only reminding her that she was not yet in the clear. She watched as he continued to toy around with his phone. Her assumption being that he had pulled up his call history, for the sake of confirming that the missed call had legitimately come from her phone. When he could not remember her number off the top of his head, his response was to wrap his fingers around her shoulder for the sake of dragging her over to the kitchen. This space being less than ten feet from the door, thanks to the layout of their apartment building. She now found herself in the space where she felt the most vulnerable.

The kitchen was the most dangerous part of the home, in her opinion. This being the one space where weapons were easily assessable; most of them being kept out in the open. The additional dangers brought on by the objects which she could be slammed in to, only added to her paranoia. The corners of the counter were unusually sharp, and made of wood. She had suffered wounds far worse than bruising in the midst of the scuffles which had taken place here. The scar brought on by the most resent of these incidents having only just faded enough to become indistinguishable from the rest of her skin. Thankfully, the counter was not used in tonight’s means of assault. Instead, the flat surface of the refrigerator was used as his means of confining her. He used his arm as though it were the bar of a cage; the limb was pressed firmly against her bodice at an angle, so as to not crush her chest.

He had, for whatever reason, refrained from causing any damage to her breasts. Not just tonight, but for as long as she had known him. She had no idea as to why he might behave in such an unusual manner; but the fact remained that he was willing to strike her anywhere, but on her bosom. The fear that questioning his odd behavior was the only reason behind her having not called him out on it. She hated being beaten. She hated him for treating her as though she were his property. However, being able to avoid any sort of injury was not something worth questioning. If he simply preferred to not damage her breasts, then she would make no move to try and discuss it. There would be more chance of her losing that small blessing if she dared question it.

“Hold it.” Her partner demanded as he held his phone up in front of her. The back was directed at her face, so that only he could see the screen. She, for the sake of getting through this sooner, did was was asked. Her arms were not restrained - it was only her body which was trapped by his grip. Wrapping her fingers around his phone, she held it steady so that he could do whatever it was that he planned on doing. She watched, feeling unusually anxious as he toyed with his screen. She had little idea as to what he was doing; until he began to write something down using the note-pad and pen which resided on their fridge. As far as she could guess, he was writing down her phone number so that he could verify whether or not it matched the call that he had missed.
“Stupid fucking cunt.” That proved to be more verification than seeing the comparison could ever be. The phrase being something which he would usually utter in response to discovering that he had lost an argument. The reality being that this was a man who’s ego was very easily damaged. As such, being proven wrong this one time was something which would leave him in a foul mood for days. She could only imagine how this would effect the trio of Subjects under his care. There being no doubt in her mind that he was abusive to each and every one of them in some way, shape, or form. Having confirmed that her story was accurate, the male withdrew from her. As such she was able to freely move away from any objects which could potentially be used as a means of leaving her body mangled. Thankfully, the ache in her back would be the only thing to follow her into the next day.

The bruise would be nothing to worry about, considering that it was in a location where none would be capable of seeing it. So the slight pain that she would be enduring over the next few days was a considerable stroke of luck, considering what this man could have done to her. Really, there was nothing there to genuinely prevent him from beating her within an inch of her life. Her only real accomplishment here, had been in her manner of manipulating him. She was not totally helpless, despite her lack of physical power in their relationship. All she had really done was pay close attention to his behavior, and provide a subtle means of correcting what she did not like. This was something that would never succeed in preventing him from assaulting her, but it had already succeeded in decreasing the severity of these attacks. Had this incident occurred around a year ago, then chances were that she would have been beaten immediately.

There would have been no opportunity to offer a story of defense. She would have been punished as soon as she had been dragged inside, and then she would have been lectured over every little thing that she had done wrong. Her phone had died? His answer would have been that she should have made sure it had a full charge before she left for work. She had been unsuccessful in leaving him a message? No doubt his response, one year ago, would have been that she should have gone to his sector to make sure he knew that she would be late; even though he would have known that it was impossible for her to do so. She was not authorized to enter any areas of the facility outside of her work zone. They were in different sectors, and therefor, she would have been incapable of reaching him in the event of an emergency. What was worse, was that she was not allowed to rely on others for a means of contacting him.

Be it a man or a woman, if she were to borrow someone else’s phone for the sake of calling him, then that would be a sign of betrayal. This was a man which was so possessive over her, that he viewed any sort of affectionate relationship as a sign of romantic pursuit. Yes, she had friends; but the trick was preventing him from catching on to this fact. As far as he was allowed to know, her attention was on him and him alone. That was the real horror of their relationship. Fighting against his attempts at isolating her, while attempting to make it look as though he was being successful. Remaining vigilant despite the apparent security, she watched as her partner proceeded to make his way towards the door. He had long since shed his work attire for the sake of slipping into more casual clothing. Loose fitting sweatpants and a tee-shirt being the most basic of his at home garments.

She kept her eyes on him even as he slipped into his favorite sweat-jacket. The light grey material being something that was, according to him, comfortable to wear regardless of the temperature outside. Had he not then proceeded to force his bare feet into his sneakers, then she might have assumed that it had simply been to cold inside for him.

“I’m going out for a drink.” The man stated, his otherwise calm voice still holding that minute indication of his repressed hostility. He pulled his hood up to rest upon his head, before zipping up his sweat-jacket so that the night air would not be able to bother him.
“Expect to be doing something to put me in a better mood, once I come back.” He grumbled upon pulling the door open. The words alone were enough to make her cringe inwardly. He was gone before that first unsettling image could creep into her mind. Really, any sort of appeal that she might have seen in him had faded long ago. Their bouts of sexual activity now only being another chore, from her perspective. Albeit, calling that particular aspect of her life a chore, was fairly generous. She was little more than a tool in his eyes. At least where sex was concerned. Truth be told, there had been next to no pleasure involved in the physical part on her end of the relationship in years. The beatings had nothing to do with that. Already feeling that ever familiar sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach, she went on to attempt and find a means of enjoying her alone time.

The first step? To get out of her soiled work clothes, and into something a little more comfortable. As relaxing as a shower might be, she would be better off waiting until after she finished tending to her partners sexual needs. There was no point in trying to clean up if he would come home and see to it that she was left utterly filthy. Her uniform consisted of two parts. The first layer of clothing was composed of silk. The fabric, being well known in its tightly woven design, was incredibly durable. Difficult to tear, it added a layer of protection to her bodice. Considering that it could keep most standard weapons from getting lodged directly into her skin, it was a vital aspect of her dress code; even if it was form fitting to the point that she could see the outline of her genitals when she wore it without her outermost layer. The second aspect of her clothing, consisted of a shirt and set of pants.

This outer layer of clothing was made from ‘artificial leather’, as they liked to call it. The essence being that it was a polyester cloth, which sported a plastic coating of sorts. The thicker, heavier clothes were made breathable thanks to an array of small holes which coated the surface of the faux leather. The holes were so small that a blade could not easily pierce the fabric; but other weapons such as needles, could easily slide through. The overall mix of these two clothing types ensured that her body would suffer less chances of fatal damage in the event of attack. The amount of force that would need to be put into stabbing her while she wore her uniform, would be akin to trying to hammer a nail into brick using only the palm of the hand. While not completely impossible, it would be incredibly difficult, and put strain on whoever attempted to complete the task.

In addition; if a blade were to break following a successful puncture of her clothing, the tightly woven silk layer would ensure that the metal could be easily removed. So, despite how sexual the attire could make her look at times, it was an essential means of survival. There was even a thin layer of metal in her shoes, for the sake of preventing easy damage to her feet. The only real downside of her uniform, was that it was incredibly heavy in comparison to her casual clothes. As such, she was left feeling incredibly light once she succeeded in peeling the fabric off of her. That extra weight made it easy for heat to get trapped, even if the fabric was breathable. So, she did not smell particularly appealing after spending a long day at work. Especially after an incredibly stressful incident, such as the one that she had experienced upon getting home from work.

Thankfully, she could easily counteract her unwanted body odors through the use of some sweet smelling essential oils. A few drops was all it would take. She popped the lid off of the first bottle she could get ahold of, and allowed the strong smelling oil to drip into the palm of her hand. The rest was easy. She spread the oil evenly over both palms, then rubbed her neck and shoulders until the substance was absorbed into her skin. The result of this being that her body odor had been neutralized; and her hands were left feeling extremely soft. Once her undesirable smell had been dealt with, she went on to collect some more comfortable attire. Specifically, a pair of pajamas. She had no intention of going anywhere now that she was home. So there was no harm in dressing as though she were ready for bed. Easily finding the attire that she was looking for, the woman casually slipped into the comfortable fabric.

This was probably her favorite pair of pajamas. The soft, felt-like material was something which she could wear at any time of the year. The fabric kept her warm whenever it was cold, but allowed her to stay cool whenever it became hot inside. After getting dressed, her mind drifted to the fact that she had not eaten in roughly seven hours. This quick shift of her focus occurring as a result of the loud sound which had emitted from her stomach, as a show of protest. She was roughly an hour behind her usual eating schedule, thanks to her tardiness. As such, when the hunger hit her, it hit her hard. This was the type of intense and abrupt appetite that created the illusion of eminent starvation. Now feeling incredibly uncomfortable due to the overwhelming desire to get food in her stomach, she set out to make herself a simple meal. After making a quick return to the kitchen, she began to dig through the cupboard in search of food.

There was nothing particularly interesting to be found. Canned beans, cereal, and other such non-refrigerated goods. In the end she opted to stick to something that was quick to prepare, and easy to eat. Tunafish was one of those such substances. Hence she retrieved a can, and went about the business of setting up her meal. Collecting the needed supplies was that first step. She invaded the confines of her fridge, retrieving everything that she would put in her tuna. Mayonnaise, mustard, sweet relish, red onion, and some tomato. Determining that a sandwich would be best, she collected the loaf of bread which resided atop the counter, and retrieved to slices. She deposited these slices into the toaster, and turned it on, before returning to her task of preparing the tuna. Her ratio was simple. One spoonful of mayonnaise, two spoonfuls of the relish, and around a tablespoon of mustard.

After adding these wet ingredients, she mixed everything together to test for the flavor. There was a very specific balance of flavor between the relish and the mustard. When that balance was not met, she would either add more relish or more mustard for the sake of evening everything out. This time around, there was no need to tweak the food. From there, she diced some of the onion and tossed it into the tuna. She would continue to add small amounts of onion until the consistency matched her tastes. She sliced the tomato, but set it aside so that she could make her sandwiches as she saw fit. Retrieving her toast, she took a moment to shove two more pieces of bread into the toaster before turning back to her tuna. She spread the tuna on one slice of toast, before adding a layer of tomato. Topping it off with the other piece of toast to make a sandwich, she idly cut it in half so that it would be easier to eat.

This process was repeated once the other two pieces of bread had been toasted. The end result had her left with two ideally made sandwiches, with just a couple bites worth of tuna left in the bowl. Food at hand, she left the leftover tuna on the counter as she set out to find a place to eat. There was nowhere in the house which seemed appealing to her. This time of night, there was not anything of interest to be found on television. Hence the living-room held little appeal to her. Outside of cooking, she preferred to avoid the kitchen. Eating in bed was a taboo. The rule being one of the few that she and her partner had come up with on a mutual basis. The very idea of dropping a piece of tuna covered bread atop her sheet was enough to coax a grimace onto her features. The thought of that area of the bed taking on the scent of rancid tuna was far from appealing.

With nowhere inside being of any interest to her, she opted to take her dinner and eat it outside. Easily holding her plate as she slipped through the door, she decided not to lock it on the way out. If anyone were to attempt to break in and rob them, not only would they find themselves incredibly disappointed over the lack of valuable goods, but they would need to get past her first. She knew the faces of most of the people who lived near her. As such she aught to be more than capable of determining friend from foe, whenever someone decided to walk past her to go upstairs. Carefully making her way down the steps, she took her time to reach the concrete path which acted as the border to the parking lot. The sun had completely disappeared only a short while ago, and in doing so it left the sky incredibly dark. What few stars she was able to see, faded in and out of her line of vision whenever the clouds decided that they wanted her attention.

After making it to ground level, she calmly took a seat on the bottom step and began to consume her meal. Of course this would be the moment that gravity decided to inform her that she had put to much tuna in her sandwich. Within the first few bites, a rather generous amount of the mixture had escaped the confines of its toasted prison, only to splatter atop the plate. The faintest of smiles played at her lips as she peered down at the mess that she had made of her dish. When it came to making the tuna itself, she had the perfect system as far as she was concerned. When it came to putting said tuna on a sandwich, she always failed at making something that would not fall apart. The unanticipated contact of an unknown visitor, easily pulled her from her thoughts. Seeming to jump slightly, she slammed her plate atop her legs as she attempted to turn around to look for whoever had touched her.

Initially, she saw nothing; which led her to making the assumption that she was being targeted by some sort of beast. Perhaps by a beast which had not yet been captured and taken to the facility for study. Albeit, when she felt a second contact on her leg and turned her attention to it, she nearly laughed at her own stupidity.

Description
body div#devskin0 hr { }

At long last, she saw the proof which she had needed. The small red circle hovering next to the phone icon on her partners cell-phone making it clear that someone had, in fact, attempted to call him. How unfortunate it was that that image alone was far from enough to put her at ease. The annoyed expression which rested upon her mate’s face only reminding her that she was not yet in the clear. She watched as he continued to toy around with his phone. Her assumption being that he had pulled up his call history, for the sake of confirming that the missed call had legitimately come from her phone. When he could not remember her number off the top of his head, his response was to wrap his fingers around her shoulder for the sake of dragging her over to the kitchen. This space being less than ten feet from the door, thanks to the layout of their apartment building. She now found herself in the space where she felt the most vulnerable.

The kitchen was the most dangerous part of the home, in her opinion. This being the one space where weapons were easily assessable; most of them being kept out in the open. The additional dangers brought on by the objects which she could be slammed in to, only added to her paranoia. The corners of the counter were unusually sharp, and made of wood. She had suffered wounds far worse than bruising in the midst of the scuffles which had taken place here. The scar brought on by the most resent of these incidents having only just faded enough to become indistinguishable from the rest of her skin. Thankfully, the counter was not used in tonight’s means of assault. Instead, the flat surface of the refrigerator was used as his means of confining her. He used his arm as though it were the bar of a cage; the limb was pressed firmly against her bodice at an angle, so as to not crush her chest.

He had, for whatever reason, refrained from causing any damage to her breasts. Not just tonight, but for as long as she had known him. She had no idea as to why he might behave in such an unusual manner; but the fact remained that he was willing to strike her anywhere, but on her bosom. The fear that questioning his odd behavior was the only reason behind her having not called him out on it. She hated being beaten. She hated him for treating her as though she were his property. However, being able to avoid any sort of injury was not something worth questioning. If he simply preferred to not damage her breasts, then she would make no move to try and discuss it. There would be more chance of her losing that small blessing if she dared question it.

“Hold it.” Her partner demanded as he held his phone up in front of her. The back was directed at her face, so that only he could see the screen. She, for the sake of getting through this sooner, did was was asked. Her arms were not restrained - it was only her body which was trapped by his grip. Wrapping her fingers around his phone, she held it steady so that he could do whatever it was that he planned on doing. She watched, feeling unusually anxious as he toyed with his screen. She had little idea as to what he was doing; until he began to write something down using the note-pad and pen which resided on their fridge. As far as she could guess, he was writing down her phone number so that he could verify whether or not it matched the call that he had missed.
“Stupid fucking cunt.” That proved to be more verification than seeing the comparison could ever be. The phrase being something which he would usually utter in response to discovering that he had lost an argument. The reality being that this was a man who’s ego was very easily damaged. As such, being proven wrong this one time was something which would leave him in a foul mood for days. She could only imagine how this would effect the trio of Subjects under his care. There being no doubt in her mind that he was abusive to each and every one of them in some way, shape, or form. Having confirmed that her story was accurate, the male withdrew from her. As such she was able to freely move away from any objects which could potentially be used as a means of leaving her body mangled. Thankfully, the ache in her back would be the only thing to follow her into the next day.

The bruise would be nothing to worry about, considering that it was in a location where none would be capable of seeing it. So the slight pain that she would be enduring over the next few days was a considerable stroke of luck, considering what this man could have done to her. Really, there was nothing there to genuinely prevent him from beating her within an inch of her life. Her only real accomplishment here, had been in her manner of manipulating him. She was not totally helpless, despite her lack of physical power in their relationship. All she had really done was pay close attention to his behavior, and provide a subtle means of correcting what she did not like. This was something that would never succeed in preventing him from assaulting her, but it had already succeeded in decreasing the severity of these attacks. Had this incident occurred around a year ago, then chances were that she would have been beaten immediately.

There would have been no opportunity to offer a story of defense. She would have been punished as soon as she had been dragged inside, and then she would have been lectured over every little thing that she had done wrong. Her phone had died? His answer would have been that she should have made sure it had a full charge before she left for work. She had been unsuccessful in leaving him a message? No doubt his response, one year ago, would have been that she should have gone to his sector to make sure he knew that she would be late; even though he would have known that it was impossible for her to do so. She was not authorized to enter any areas of the facility outside of her work zone. They were in different sectors, and therefor, she would have been incapable of reaching him in the event of an emergency. What was worse, was that she was not allowed to rely on others for a means of contacting him.

Be it a man or a woman, if she were to borrow someone else’s phone for the sake of calling him, then that would be a sign of betrayal. This was a man which was so possessive over her, that he viewed any sort of affectionate relationship as a sign of romantic pursuit. Yes, she had friends; but the trick was preventing him from catching on to this fact. As far as he was allowed to know, her attention was on him and him alone. That was the real horror of their relationship. Fighting against his attempts at isolating her, while attempting to make it look as though he was being successful. Remaining vigilant despite the apparent security, she watched as her partner proceeded to make his way towards the door. He had long since shed his work attire for the sake of slipping into more casual clothing. Loose fitting sweatpants and a tee-shirt being the most basic of his at home garments.

She kept her eyes on him even as he slipped into his favorite sweat-jacket. The light grey material being something that was, according to him, comfortable to wear regardless of the temperature outside. Had he not then proceeded to force his bare feet into his sneakers, then she might have assumed that it had simply been to cold inside for him.

“I’m going out for a drink.” The man stated, his otherwise calm voice still holding that minute indication of his repressed hostility. He pulled his hood up to rest upon his head, before zipping up his sweat-jacket so that the night air would not be able to bother him.
“Expect to be doing something to put me in a better mood, once I come back.” He grumbled upon pulling the door open. The words alone were enough to make her cringe inwardly. He was gone before that first unsettling image could creep into her mind. Really, any sort of appeal that she might have seen in him had faded long ago. Their bouts of sexual activity now only being another chore, from her perspective. Albeit, calling that particular aspect of her life a chore, was fairly generous. She was little more than a tool in his eyes. At least where sex was concerned. Truth be told, there had been next to no pleasure involved in the physical part on her end of the relationship in years. The beatings had nothing to do with that. Already feeling that ever familiar sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach, she went on to attempt and find a means of enjoying her alone time.

The first step? To get out of her soiled work clothes, and into something a little more comfortable. As relaxing as a shower might be, she would be better off waiting until after she finished tending to her partners sexual needs. There was no point in trying to clean up if he would come home and see to it that she was left utterly filthy. Her uniform consisted of two parts. The first layer of clothing was composed of silk. The fabric, being well known in its tightly woven design, was incredibly durable. Difficult to tear, it added a layer of protection to her bodice. Considering that it could keep most standard weapons from getting lodged directly into her skin, it was a vital aspect of her dress code; even if it was form fitting to the point that she could see the outline of her genitals when she wore it without her outermost layer. The second aspect of her clothing, consisted of a shirt and set of pants.

This outer layer of clothing was made from ‘artificial leather’, as they liked to call it. The essence being that it was a polyester cloth, which sported a plastic coating of sorts. The thicker, heavier clothes were made breathable thanks to an array of small holes which coated the surface of the faux leather. The holes were so small that a blade could not easily pierce the fabric; but other weapons such as needles, could easily slide through. The overall mix of these two clothing types ensured that her body would suffer less chances of fatal damage in the event of attack. The amount of force that would need to be put into stabbing her while she wore her uniform, would be akin to trying to hammer a nail into brick using only the palm of the hand. While not completely impossible, it would be incredibly difficult, and put strain on whoever attempted to complete the task.

In addition; if a blade were to break following a successful puncture of her clothing, the tightly woven silk layer would ensure that the metal could be easily removed. So, despite how sexual the attire could make her look at times, it was an essential means of survival. There was even a thin layer of metal in her shoes, for the sake of preventing easy damage to her feet. The only real downside of her uniform, was that it was incredibly heavy in comparison to her casual clothes. As such, she was left feeling incredibly light once she succeeded in peeling the fabric off of her. That extra weight made it easy for heat to get trapped, even if the fabric was breathable. So, she did not smell particularly appealing after spending a long day at work. Especially after an incredibly stressful incident, such as the one that she had experienced upon getting home from work.

Thankfully, she could easily counteract her unwanted body odors through the use of some sweet smelling essential oils. A few drops was all it would take. She popped the lid off of the first bottle she could get ahold of, and allowed the strong smelling oil to drip into the palm of her hand. The rest was easy. She spread the oil evenly over both palms, then rubbed her neck and shoulders until the substance was absorbed into her skin. The result of this being that her body odor had been neutralized; and her hands were left feeling extremely soft. Once her undesirable smell had been dealt with, she went on to collect some more comfortable attire. Specifically, a pair of pajamas. She had no intention of going anywhere now that she was home. So there was no harm in dressing as though she were ready for bed. Easily finding the attire that she was looking for, the woman casually slipped into the comfortable fabric.

This was probably her favorite pair of pajamas. The soft, felt-like material was something which she could wear at any time of the year. The fabric kept her warm whenever it was cold, but allowed her to stay cool whenever it became hot inside. After getting dressed, her mind drifted to the fact that she had not eaten in roughly seven hours. This quick shift of her focus occurring as a result of the loud sound which had emitted from her stomach, as a show of protest. She was roughly an hour behind her usual eating schedule, thanks to her tardiness. As such, when the hunger hit her, it hit her hard. This was the type of intense and abrupt appetite that created the illusion of eminent starvation. Now feeling incredibly uncomfortable due to the overwhelming desire to get food in her stomach, she set out to make herself a simple meal. After making a quick return to the kitchen, she began to dig through the cupboard in search of food.

There was nothing particularly interesting to be found. Canned beans, cereal, and other such non-refrigerated goods. In the end she opted to stick to something that was quick to prepare, and easy to eat. Tunafish was one of those such substances. Hence she retrieved a can, and went about the business of setting up her meal. Collecting the needed supplies was that first step. She invaded the confines of her fridge, retrieving everything that she would put in her tuna. Mayonnaise, mustard, sweet relish, red onion, and some tomato. Determining that a sandwich would be best, she collected the loaf of bread which resided atop the counter, and retrieved to slices. She deposited these slices into the toaster, and turned it on, before returning to her task of preparing the tuna. Her ratio was simple. One spoonful of mayonnaise, two spoonfuls of the relish, and around a tablespoon of mustard.

After adding these wet ingredients, she mixed everything together to test for the flavor. There was a very specific balance of flavor between the relish and the mustard. When that balance was not met, she would either add more relish or more mustard for the sake of evening everything out. This time around, there was no need to tweak the food. From there, she diced some of the onion and tossed it into the tuna. She would continue to add small amounts of onion until the consistency matched her tastes. She sliced the tomato, but set it aside so that she could make her sandwiches as she saw fit. Retrieving her toast, she took a moment to shove two more pieces of bread into the toaster before turning back to her tuna. She spread the tuna on one slice of toast, before adding a layer of tomato. Topping it off with the other piece of toast to make a sandwich, she idly cut it in half so that it would be easier to eat.

This process was repeated once the other two pieces of bread had been toasted. The end result had her left with two ideally made sandwiches, with just a couple bites worth of tuna left in the bowl. Food at hand, she left the leftover tuna on the counter as she set out to find a place to eat. There was nowhere in the house which seemed appealing to her. This time of night, there was not anything of interest to be found on television. Hence the living-room held little appeal to her. Outside of cooking, she preferred to avoid the kitchen. Eating in bed was a taboo. The rule being one of the few that she and her partner had come up with on a mutual basis. The very idea of dropping a piece of tuna covered bread atop her sheet was enough to coax a grimace onto her features. The thought of that area of the bed taking on the scent of rancid tuna was far from appealing.

With nowhere inside being of any interest to her, she opted to take her dinner and eat it outside. Easily holding her plate as she slipped through the door, she decided not to lock it on the way out. If anyone were to attempt to break in and rob them, not only would they find themselves incredibly disappointed over the lack of valuable goods, but they would need to get past her first. She knew the faces of most of the people who lived near her. As such she aught to be more than capable of determining friend from foe, whenever someone decided to walk past her to go upstairs. Carefully making her way down the steps, she took her time to reach the concrete path which acted as the border to the parking lot. The sun had completely disappeared only a short while ago, and in doing so it left the sky incredibly dark. What few stars she was able to see, faded in and out of her line of vision whenever the clouds decided that they wanted her attention.

After making it to ground level, she calmly took a seat on the bottom step and began to consume her meal. Of course this would be the moment that gravity decided to inform her that she had put to much tuna in her sandwich. Within the first few bites, a rather generous amount of the mixture had escaped the confines of its toasted prison, only to splatter atop the plate. The faintest of smiles played at her lips as she peered down at the mess that she had made of her dish. When it came to making the tuna itself, she had the perfect system as far as she was concerned. When it came to putting said tuna on a sandwich, she always failed at making something that would not fall apart. The unanticipated contact of an unknown visitor, easily pulled her from her thoughts. Seeming to jump slightly, she slammed her plate atop her legs as she attempted to turn around to look for whoever had touched her.

Initially, she saw nothing; which led her to making the assumption that she was being targeted by some sort of beast. Perhaps by a beast which had not yet been captured and taken to the facility for study. Albeit, when she felt a second contact on her leg and turned her attention to it, she nearly laughed at her own stupidity.