Summary: To frame means to contrive for an innocent person to be found guilty of a crime - but that's no fun. It also means to provide with a frame, as a picture. Warning - author self-insert and real world encroachment upon a fictional character.

Disclaimers: Yu-Gi-Oh's characters, universe, and plot elements belong to Mr. Kazuki Takahashi. The optical frames mentioned in the story are manufactured by a company called Silhouette. Likewise, the edger is manufactured by Santinelli. The Final Fantasy games, and the specific character mentioned in this story, are owned by Square Enix.

Author's note: I've been an optician for more than twenty years. Of the three O's - ophthalmologist, optometrist, and optician - it's the one that isn't a doctor. Opticians (depending upon the scope of the license for each state and the particular needs of the employer) help patients select eye wear; take the necessary physical measurements for eyeglasses; fit, adjust, and repair eyeglasses; perform various other duties with regards to fitting contact lenses or patient testing; and may craft eyeglasses on site, or in a production lab.

Following the hoary old adage about 'writing from what you know' I thought to write a different sort of encounter with one of the Yu-Gi-Oh! crew. This story assumes that 'Kitt', who is a shameless author self-insert, somehow managed to lose all information about Yu-Gi-Oh! and therefore has no reason to recognize names or appearances she would otherwise go idiotically fan-girl over. Other than that, I'm going to try to keep this as close as possible to a real encounter in the optometric practice where I am employed as an optician. Though some of the characters are loosely based upon my employer and coworkers, all names have been changed.

Framing Blue Eyes

I sighed as the edger cycled to a stop and I mashed the button that would open the wheel chamber. Yup, polycarbonate strings from the lens I just edged had tangled around the feeler arms - again. I retrieved the lens, knew it would be too big to fit in the frame (and would therefore have to be edged down further) dropped it in the job tray, reached back into the chamber, yanked the wet, snarled, white mess free and tossed it in the trashcan. I stared at the stack of job trays piled in date order next to the layout component of the edger and decided that I would still have to take the time to run a calibration. On every other edger I'd ever worked with, such calibrations were needed once every few weeks but with this one, I found it necessary to run it at least once every couple of days. I slotted the tool in place, closed the edging chamber and keyed in the screen I was going to need.

"Kitt?"

I looked up from my balky edger as my name was called to see Bobbi standing in the main doorway to the lab (which I always think of as my lab). She held a patient file in her hand.

"I forgot I have a visual field this morning. Teresa's checking in a family, and Dr. Chartier has finished with her first patient. He's looking at frames. Can you go help him?" I don't know why, I've worked in this practice for nearly two years, but unlike any other practice I've worked in during the past twenty-odd years, my two coworkers always act as if they are somehow putting me out if they have to ask for help. I'd be upset about it, except they do it to each other, too. We are the most apologetic group of opticians I've ever seen.

"Sure. I was just calibrating the feeler arms of this stupid thing again, anyway." I grimaced at the edger and raised a hand as if to smack it. Bobbi laughed. She felt exactly the same way about the piece of equipment. It's a complete lemon, needing repairs and calibrations more often than any other edger any of us have ever used, but that's a whole level of boring detail I won't go into here. I reached out for the file, but Bobbi didn't hand it to me.

"This is my visual field. The guy's file is at the front desk," she said. I sigh mentally. It's one difference I haven't been able to adapt to here. I have always worked in jobs where there's a 'hand off' of a file from one person to the next. It's a way to ensure that files don't go missing, or that patients are tended to and not lost between the cracks. Still, I have to admit, we don't lose files very often, and patients are never wandering around wondering what to do next.

I brushed the white stringy polycarbonate residue from the front of my sweater as I walked through the short corridor to the dispensing area. Dr. Chartier had the entire office redesigned at the end of last year. We had been bursting at the seams before. She'd taken over the retail space next to us, that had at one time been a dentist office, knocked down the wall, and nearly doubled our space. She also had a much bigger and significantly spiffier front desk designed, installed new carpet, new waiting area furniture, and new frame dispensing boards. The lab received a much-needed makeover and the entire office had been painted in her favorite color - blue. Since it's my favorite color as well, I completely love how it looks and the patient feedback has been overwhelmingly positive. I'm sure it's one reason we are still doing pretty well, enough to be able to expand, during this difficult economic time.

Seto's Morning

Mokuba had scheduled the appointment for me. He'd been alarmed the past few months over the headaches I'd been getting, and forced me to mention it to my doctor during my annual physical. As usual, the doctor told me that while I was in top-notch health, I needed to get more sleep - but he also recommended that I get an eye exam to eliminate a visual disorder as the cause of my headaches. I would have ignored the recommendation, but Mokuba, prying little brat he can be, called and made the appointment for me.

Oddly enough, it appears to be all women working in this office. I don't have a problem with it, per se, but it is unusual. The two women at the front desk who checked me in, and gave me paperwork to complete, were a study in contrasts. The older one seemed cranky at first, but it is just a brusqueness to her character, a disdain for idle chit-chat that I can most certainly relate to. The other woman is talkative enough for both of them, but it did not escape my notice that she was busy the entire time she was talking - assembling my file and keying information into a computer while also checking in another patient for some test or another. The other patient seemed content to chat with her and evidently has been seeing this eye doctor for several years. I'm not certain I like the familiar tone in this office - both women have addressed the other patient and myself by our first names. It seems to be something about doctor offices, I suppose, the staff at my general practitioner's office does the same thing. Perhaps it's meant to set us at ease.

The eye doctor seemed competent. I approved of her demeanor, as she was very professional. She didn't chat about anything in her life while she conducted my eye exam. She also did not rush me along as if she was in some hurry to finish my exam and get to the next one. Refreshing, to have no idle chatter, and yet not be rushed.

I'm - dismayed - by the results, though. My vision, at distance, is perfect and requires no correction. Up close however, is a different story. I had not realized how fuzzy things have gotten when I read, or use a computer. Dr. Chartier explained that I've been accommodating (that's a first for me) and forcing my eyes to focus to read, and that's what has been causing the headaches. If it were only headaches, I'd just deal with it, but she explained further that if I don't do something about it now, I will most likely require full-time correction much sooner than I might need otherwise.

Money, as always, is no object, so I asked about laser vision correction. Correcting for perfect near vision would distort the currently perfect far vision I possess. Also, there are some risks involved, and a limited number of times laser vision correction can be successful on one pair of eyes. Her suggestion, as I am still young and the prescription is so mild, is to wait.

Contact lenses aren't an option at this point, either. It's the same problem - correcting for clearer near vision creates far vision fuzziness. She showed it to me, in the exam room. With the correction that makes small print crisp and clear I can no longer read the projected distant chart on the wall clearly.

Well, shit. Eyeglasses. It's the only alternative.

By the time my exam was completed, it had gotten significantly more busy at the front desk. Phone calls were coming in more or less non-stop, and the more talkative woman was nowhere to be seen, but I could hear her voice through a partially open door. To one side of the main room, children played with the toys in the waiting area, and several adults milled around the front desk. Apparently some were picking up completed orders, while others were checking in for their eye exams. Dr. Chartier escorted me to the display of frames for men at the back of the showroom area and it appeared as if she would help me with this part of the process, but the woman at the desk indicated the doctor's next patient was ready for his appointment, and that there was a phone call waiting for her.

A low machinery hum that had been present since I entered the office this morning stopped. Yet another woman appeared. She approached the seeming chaos at the front desk and helped the older woman bring it under control. I couldn't help but watch out of the corner of my eye at this example of how a very small business operates. Perhaps some of the dynamics in action here are also in action in the end-retail stores that sell Kaiba Corporation products, but it's an aspect of business that does not appear on my side of the boardroom table except as an abstract component of bottom line figures.

The patients do seem to like the personal touch in this office. Even though all three of the employees are attired in 'business casual' no one seems to mind. Since Mokuba scheduled my appointment as the first one of the day, he claimed to avoid any sort of delays that creep into the schedule from other patients running over time, or arriving late, I'm in one of my usual business suits. I wondered why I was dawdling about, watching the front desk, and realized it was because I was - uncomfortable - with the task in front of me. Literally, in front of me.

There were about four hundred frames on the displays the doctor indicated were for men. I have seen people with ill-fitting glasses that kept sliding down their noses, or others that made them look vaguely ridiculous. I very much did not want to become one of those people, but had no clue how to go about ensuring I not join their ranks. Several of the names on the frames I recognized - Ralph Lauren, Armani, Versace, Brooks Brothers - but these seemed to be mostly black, and thick, and dismayingly obvious. It's not often I don't know what to do. This entire experience is starting to slide in a decidedly negative direction.

Kitt's Frustrating Patient

I finally managed to help Teresa get some control on the front desk. That first rush in the morning, along with the phone ringing off the hook, is what we say is everyone 'waking up'. We will have a few more micro-rushes throughout the morning, then another major one around the noon hour. It's one reason I like my job. There's always something different, just because people are different, but the overall pattern is the same. Familiar.

Like the guy looking at frames. Well, trying to look at frames. His back is very tight, he's very uncomfortable, so I'm guessing he's looking at his first pair of glasses and he's none too happy about it. The fact that he has yet to pull a frame off the board and try it on is something of a giveaway, but...

I snagged his file from the corner of the front desk. Seto Kaiba. Eighteen. His occupation isn't the 'student' I was half-expecting, it's 'executive'. He's in a suit, but I would feel really silly calling him 'Mr. Kaiba' when I know full well everyone else called him by his first name. If he were older than me I could get away with it, since I seem younger than everyone else but, it would ring really false since he's not. I can't even hazard a guess as to his nationality until I hear his accent, if he has one, to make certain I'm pronouncing either name properly, anyway. Much as I hate mangling first names, I think it's so much more insulting to mangle a family name.

I look further down the file. Yup, first eye exam. He's got 20/20 vision for distance, and a minor correction for reading and computer use. That's a positive - to not need full-time glasses on the first eye exam.

"Seto?" I ventured when I was about halfway across the dispensary. No point in suddenly popping up behind him and scaring him, too. He heard me, and turned, thankfully. Wow! He's got stunningly pretty blue eyes. I'm not going to tell him that, guys get all weird if you call their eyes pretty, but they are. He looked up and didn't correct me, so I guess I pronounced his name close enough. My instinct is to think it's Japanese, and that's how I tried to pronounce it, but with those blue eyes and brown hair, I'm not at all certain I'm right. If there's an opportunity, I'll check the pronunciation with him a bit later, just to be sure. Hey - he didn't smile at me. Most people do. I'm not sure why, but they do, and that's how I start the ball rolling on connecting with them enough to help with this whole glasses frame selection process. Balky edger, balky patient... It's a not-good day, all right.

Geez, what a poker face! This guy is giving me NO non-verbal cues to work with here aside from a 'hell, no, I do NOT want to be here' vibe. So, no shortcuts for Kitt, today. Gonna have to go through the entire process bit by tedious bit - probably have to try on every single man's frame in the store - and then special order something in a different color for him to look at later. I didn't sigh. I wanted to, but didn't. Instead I looked down at the file.

"Dr. Chartier recommends a mild correction for reading, computer, and other near-point tasks." D'oh! I'd forgotten to look at the patient questionnaire that might have some clues as to what stony-faced Seto liked to do. I glanced at it now. He's a nearly complete nerd. Not at all a bad thing in my book, but it does mean most of his life seems to be close up. He listed working with electronics as one of his hobbies. And...

Gaming.

Not a typical gamer from his appearance, but then again, neither am I.

"Gaming?" I asked aloud. "On-line, console, face-to-face?"

"Yes."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Aha! A tiny bit of an almost-smile at that. There's my in!

"Hmm." I cupped my chin and tilted my head away so I could look at him side-long. "Not RPG. Not first-person shooter, either. Tactical, or strategy games, I bet."

"Yes."

My curiosity got the best of me. There's no way he would happen to play the one obscure on-line game I was into, and my own gaming tastes ran to RPGs for consoles. "Which one's your favorite?"

"Duel Monsters."

Wow, he is so not getting the idea that I'm trying to draw him into a discussion here! I sighed. "That's not one I'm familiar with, but, I'm going to bet it has lengthy, necessary-to-read rulebooks and errata sheets." Okay, got a tiny nod. "That goes along with the recreational reading you've listed here and the electronics hobby. Your prescription is mild, and the tendency with my patients with this sort of correction is to stop using their glasses after a while, but you do need to use them. Otherwise, you will have to wear distance glasses years before you would otherwise have needed them."

"The doctor explained that already," my patient said.

"And you listened? That's rare." I grinned again.

"Why else would I pay her for an examination if I'm not going to believe what she says?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Good point. Okay let's see if we can figure out what sort of frame suits you best."

Seto's Decision

At least there is someone to help me with this process, even if she talks too much. I amused myself for a bit parrying her attempts to get me to talk about myself. When she started to suggest that perhaps I should return later with someone to help me, I decided to stop thwarting her efforts to draw me into conversation. I didn't want to drag this process out any longer by having to make a return visit.

Once I started cooperating, the situation improved. I was still slightly annoyed I didn't know this woman's name, but my confidence in her ability increased. Though her demeanor didn't appear to be focused on the task at hand, I found as I answered her seemingly random questions she was rather painlessly gathering a good deal of information about the visual tasks I performed every day. Evidently, she was also gaining some idea what sort of frame would be least objectionable to me - having already realized that I didn't want to have to wear glasses at all.

Mildly interested in the process now, I wondered what she had in mind as she led me away from the men's frame boards.

"This is where we have the Silhouette frames," she said. "If I'm reading you right, you don't want your glasses to stand out. These are a bit more expensive, but they are durable, lightweight, and barely noticeable."

She was right. If I did have to wear glasses, these were the best frames for me. She explained that I could mix and match the chassis with the lens shape which appealed to me more than simply buying what someone else thought would be a good color and shape combination in a heavier plastic or metal material.

Thoroughly in her element now, she whisked frames down urging me to try them on and giving me only the scantest moment to make a decision. It seemed she had an idea of a lens shape already - it didn't escape my notice that she set one frame to the side.

"Men frustrate me," she said.

Overshare, I thought.

"For some reason they limit themselves to such a narrow palette of color for eyeglass frames. If it's not a variation of black, brown, gold or silver, the average guy won't even try it. But, medium to dark tones of green and blue are colors guys can wear, too."

I'm not the average guy, I thought. Aloud I said, "Is this your roundabout way to suggest you have something you'd like me to try?"

She grinned. "Note to self: Seto Kaiba is direct. Yeah. Let me grab it from the lab. We were getting ready to send it back to the manufacturer since no one was looking at it."

While she was absent, I tried on the frame she'd set to one side and confirmed for myself it was the lens shape I liked best.

"I think they named the color right, too. 'Starlight blue'," she chattered as she returned and handed me the frame.

The shape was wrong for me, too big and too rounded, but the color...

"I know it's a definite color unlike the gunmetal and black tones. But there's such little frame involved, since the temples are only a few millimeters thick, and the color is just..." She nodded. I could see an odd level of admiration in her eyes. Funny that, since this was all her work and none of mine bringing these elements together. "I think it's the right choice. The shape I want to use harmonizes with the planes of your face and this color brings attention to your eyes. I feel like I've done my job correctly when that's what happens."

"Do it," I said. "That shape, and this chassis and color."

From that point on her chatter was focused on finalizing the lens options, determining what length temple to order, and literally measuring the distance between the pupils of my eyes with a ruler. If not for how steady her hand was and how practiced and matter-of-fact the motion seemed, I would have wondered at how accurate the result would be with such a low-tech tool.

"Are you sure you don't want me to check your medical insurance to see if there is some discount in place for eyeglasses for you? Your prescription is very mild so you don't need to do anything to keep the lenses thin and light, but even still glasses can get expensive - especially with these frames."

I wanted to smile at that. The woman who checked me in for my appointment had offered to research my insurance for a discount, too. "I'm willing to pay for quality products and quality work. Assure me of that and I'm not worried about the price."

She seemed a bit affronted by that. "That's the main reason I like working here. Dr. Chartier always picks good frames, and she doesn't second guess me if I don't pass a job at the final inspection and decide to redo it - and that's for every job whether there's insurance reducing our fee or not."

The demeanor of the people working in this office might appear to be more casual than the executives I was more accustomed to dealing with, but I did get a sense they knew what they were doing despite that. It was - reassuring.

"I would normally say your glasses would be ready in a week, but I'm getting a new edger in two days. I've worked on the same brand of equipment before, but I want to add some extra time to the estimates just in case, so I'm going to say your glasses should be ready in a week and half. Of course, they could be finished sooner. In any case, we will call you when they are ready."

I nodded, having gotten the gist of her stream of chatter. I elected to pay for everything in full. "May I ask your name?" I said as I accepted my charge card and receipt.

She winced. "Yeah, it always feels awkward to me to introduce myself, so I usually forget. I'm Kitt."

"Thank you for your help today, Kitt. I will wait for your phone call."

"Yup, as soon as your glasses are ready. Have a good day and try not to read too much until you get them. There's no reason to suffer headaches needlessly."

Easier said than done. Aloud I said, "You have a point. Good day."

Aftermath

Slightly less than a week later, I received the call and picked up my eyeglasses. They were just what I needed to make the headaches go away, or at least the ones caused by visual disturbances. For as nice as they were, I knew they couldn't do anything about my most persistent headache - the one who sported a distinctively wild hairstyle and possessed two wildly different personalities - or his loud and obnoxious friends.

Several months later I noticed the glasses wanted to tilt. I was urged to twist the frame and try to straighten it, but I remembered the warning I received when I picked them up to not do that. It was the older woman, the one who didn't chat too much, who adjusted them for me the first time, and she told me that when they got 'out of whack' to bring them back for adjustment.

The low but pervasive machine hum stopped when I entered. The employee standing by the frame boards looked up as the door rang. I shook my head and partially lifted one hand to let her know I was not in a hurry, so she could continue with the people she was already helping.

Curious, I waited until her attention was focused on her patients again, then walked down the short hallway toward the doctor's examining room. If memory served, there was an opening on the right into a room I hadn't been in.

"Cecil! Don't you start playing with me! I've got way too much work to do." It was the woman who helped me pick out my frame - Kitt. I leaned against the door frame and crossed my arms. I must have made some slight noise in doing so, because she turned around.

She blushed as she demanded, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear you talking to your equipment," I replied.

She grinned. "Oh, is that all? That's okay then." I lifted an eyebrow at her. "I don't care who knows I like my new edger - the more the merrier!" She gestured for me to enter the room. I did, while reflecting that no one who knew me would ever consider me 'merry'. "This is Cecil The Paladin Edger. Your glasses were the first drill mount pair I edged on this." She patted the top of the machine fondly. I lifted the other eyebrow at her. She laughed. "My old edger was, uhm, well, full of issues, and the only technician in the area who worked on that equipment had no idea what to do to fix it - not that he let us know that. My boss finally decided to cut her losses and buy a new edger. This one is so much easier to use, and the results are so much more accurate, that I just had to name him. See?"

She pointed to the side of the machine. Sure enough, attached to the side of it was an image of an armored warrior holding a sword. "Cecil, from Final Fantasy four," I said.

"You recognized him? Awesome!"

Yes, I had played the game. I took a guilty pleasure in playing all of the Final Fantasy games, not that I'd admit that to anyone. I looked up from my musing to find Kitt glaring at me.

"I have a bone to pick with you," she said.

"Oh?"

"It was a couple of Saturdays back. I was flipping channels trying to find anything interesting on television, and I recognized you in the finals of some tournament or another."

Right. They had televised the Duel Monsters tournament two months ago. I guess they just got around to airing it on television.

"Why weren't you wearing your glasses?" she demanded. "Aren't you using them?"

"The arena, as so many of them are, is large. In order to play well I have to be able to read my opponent's face. Adjusting my strategy to best derail an opponent's strategy is part of the game. I can't see that far away clearly with my reading glasses on," I explained.

"I see. Still, the writing on the cards you guys use has to be small..."

Amused, I explained, "I know every card in my deck, and what it is capable of doing without needing to read the descriptions during a duel. All the best duelists can." I pulled out my deck and handed her the top card. "Saggi the Dark -" I began to show her I had memorized the data on the card. I stopped, because she shrieked and flung my card to the counter.

"A clown!" Kitt shot a thoroughly disillusioned and poisonous look at me. "I hate clowns!"

I couldn't help it - I smiled. Her highly affronted attitude amused me. "Fine." I retrieved my card, riffled through my deck, and selected another card to show her. I could see the caution in her eyes, as if she worried I might hand her another clown, but she finally accepted the card.

"Gyakutenno Megami," I said. "She is a six star light attribute card of the Fairy type. Her attack value is eighteen hundred, which is slightly overshadowed by her defense value of two thousand. She has no special abilities assigned to her by the game. Her description reads, 'this fairy uses her mystical power to protect the weak and provide spiritual support.'"

"And she's not a blechy clown," Kitt said. She handed the card back to me.

"She's not as useful as the clown," I replied.

"Hmm."

Uh-oh. The was a weird glint in her eyes.

"We could have found some heavy, black, plastic Ralph Lauren frames for you. They would have been 'useful'." I could tell from the tone of her voice she was teasing.

"I," I paused for added emphasis. "am not a clown."

"Why, Seto, I never suggested that you were!" Now she acted as if she were full of innocence.

"However, I do need some assistance with my glasses." I put my deck away and pulled out my eyeglasses. "They aren't straight." I handed them to her.

All teasing fell from her manner as she placed my glasses on the counter - upside down. Almost as if sensing my question, she started to explain. "I'm checking the basic four point alignment. Our ears aren't at the same height, or really, symmetrical at all, so we check the alignment upside down as the earpiece has most likely been curved a bit more on one side that the other to fit you properly. Ah, here's the problem." I could see that it wasn't sitting straight. She reached, without even looking, for a tool from the magnet bar on the wall behind her. It took only a moment for her to bend the frame, using her hands and the tool she selected, to sit straight on the counter again.

"Let's give that a try." She handed the glasses to me. After I put them on, she did a curious thing. She reached forward and tugged the glasses toward herself from the bottom of the lenses until the temples pulled against the back of my ears. She had an abstract look on her face as she reached her fingertips lightly along the top of the temples, where they skimmed along the side of my head, and followed the curve of them behind my ears.

"Not quite right," she murmured, before lifted them from my ears and turning toward her counter again. This time she plunged one of the earpieces into a black pan filled with...

"What is that?" I asked.

"Oh, glass beads. They are heated by the box. If I don't heat the plastic of the earpiece enough, I'll crack it when I change the bend of the temple. It's not quite curved the right way to fit you properly. Have you been bending it?"

I had. It seemed a simple enough thing to curve it a bit more when the glasses were bothering me by wanting to slip forward. "Yes."

"Well, don't. You can get away with it for a while, when they are new, but eventually the plastic dries out, gets brittle and cracks - unless you know what you are doing." She sprayed both lenses with cleaner, whisked out a wipe, wiped the lens surfaces, and turned the glasses to 'face' me. "Give that a try. The earpiece is a bit warm, but it won't burn you."

It was warm. I could tell it was curved much better than before, something she confirmed for herself by reaching forward and tugging the glasses toward her again.

"Good. I like a millimeter or two of movement so they don't dig in behind your ears, but they won't slip on you anymore. And, they should feel straight again, too."

I nodded. "They do. Thank you."

"Hey, that's what we are here for. Don't try to fix anything with your glasses yourself. You can see how many different tools we have." She gestured toward the two magnet bars, each of which was indeed, full of tools. I nodded.

"I'll bring them back if they..."

She shook her head at me and interrupted. "It's not 'if' it's 'when'. They are going to get out of adjustment just by using them. Bring 'em back when they do." I nodded again. "Maybe you'll play that pretty fairy the next time you have a tournament."

Doubtful, highly doubtful. She really wasn't all that useful, and required a tribute to get out on the field, too. "Perhaps," I said aloud. "I should let you get back to work."

"Adjusting glasses for a patient is part of my work, but I do have a lot of lab work to chew through," Kitt admitted.

I nodded. "Have a good day," I said.

"You too."

I looked up at the front of the office after I had seated myself in my car and slotted the key in the ignition. It was a casual, informal sort of place, but still, oddly comforting. It was - I searched for the word - nice, that there was a place where I was special, just because I was their patient. Yes, that was the sense I got from them. I wasn't a champion duelist, or the CEO of a company when I walked through those doors - rather, those things didn't matter. While I was there I was just a patient, but, even with how informal the treatment was, they knew what they were doing, and they cared. A strange business model for sure, at least in my world, but for them, it worked perfectly. I hoped they'd still be around next year when I needed a new eye exam and a new pair of glasses. Somehow, I felt certain they would be.

-end-

Author's note -

I hope you will forgive me for the self-insert. I did try to keep it as true to life as possible. I do tend to chat too much while assisting patients with their frame selection, and I routinely talk to my equipment, too.

For the curious - you can go to my Livejournal (the link is on my profile page) and look at the first entry where I've put a link to the Silhouette frame I'm talking about in the story, and another link to the lens shape I'd fit Seto with if he were my patient. And, well, real. Oh, and just for fun, I've also posted pictures of my lab, complete with Cecil the Paladin Edger as described in the story.