The next day, I was woken up by the sun shining in through the rather grimy windows and onto my face. I was laying on the couch in Graves' living room, consisting of the couch I slept on, two chairs, an office desk serving as a table and an old TV. Everything was mismatched and probably all stolen. I was covered by a blanket that wasn't there when I feel asleep and I couldn't help but smile to myself knowing he must have put it there.

"Morning, Sunshine." Came Graves voice from behind me. He was leaning on the doorway to the next room. Still shirtless.
"Morning." I grumbled sleepily, standing up and stretching.
"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he laughed. I realized I was still in the dress from the Largos party and probably look like hell with make-up smeared all over my face.
"Yeah, well… shut up. We can't all be as pretty as you all the time."
"True, but consider it something to strive for." He said and tossed a towel and some clothes at me, "Why don't you go take a shower, and then we can talk about your situation and what we're gonna do with you. Bathroom's the next room over."
I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut as I grabbed the clothes and headed to the bathroom. "My situation". In a perfect world it would be that Pavi took the knee to the groin as constructive criticism for his personality and left me money as an 'I'm terribly sorry I was going to slice your face off' gift and never contacted me again. In the real world, I was in some deep shit.
I looked in the bathroom mirror and saw what I pretty much expected to; hair messy and tangled, make-up smudged, bags under my eyes, the works. I should really work some more sleep time into my schedule. I washed my face in the little sink to get the make up off and looked back in the mirror.
I don't see what the fuss is all about. I mean, I'm not hideous but I'm certainly not so extraordinarily beautiful that my face should be sliced off and made into a mask. In fact, the best looking thing about me are my GeneCo eyes and those wouldn't even be part of the mask.
I tried to imagine it; my face hooked onto Pavi Largos. My features distorted and stretched as I become nothing more than this mans sick accessory... I wonder if he would cut the mouth out or fit it to his own? Or how long he would wear me? When he's done, is my face tossed out like a piece of garbage? Would anybody wonder or care whose face he was wearing when it was mine? Would he get complimented on it as if it were a new suit? Would he remember me for a second after he was done with it? Does he remember any other woman he's worn?

"You know," came Graves' voice from outside the door, "most people use water when they bathe." I smiled at the comment, glad he broke my twisted train of thought and turned the shower on.
"Soap's useful too." He added over the running water
"Coming from the man whose office is a dumpster." I retaliated
"Wow, never hear cracks about that. Good one." He said dryly. My smile widened and I went into my much-needed shower.
I kept it no more than fifteen minutes though I could have easily stayed under the hot water all day. I towel dried my hair and combed it out with my fingers. I put on the clothes that Graves had given me; a pair of his own gray sweatpants and a plain dark blue t-shirt that where almost comically too big for me. I still felt a hundred times better than I did in that stupid dress and eight pounds of make-up, though I can't remember the last time I've ever looked so… natural.
The second I stepped out of the bathroom, Graves was standing at the doorway.

"Were you standing there the whole time?" I asked
"Of course not. I went in for a few minutes and watched you. Look, I know you freaked last time when you saw me with that kid but you've gotta read this." Graves handed me a copy of the Metro Gazette before I could decide if he was kidding about watching me. Across the cover was a picture of that girl Graves was with, and the words "Last Nights Opera- Shilo Wallace says "No" to GeneCo".

"Wait- what the fuck?"
"Yeah, you missed quite a bit. Read it, and I'll meet you in the living room." Graves said and he walked away. I was already tearing through the story trying to comprehend it all. Rotti Largo, Blind Mag and some Repo-man guy are dead, it's all over some chick named Marni, this 'Shilo' was supposed to be Rotti's kid, he killed her father in front of a damn audience? Even for my last few days, that's beyond screwed up.
I walked into the living room to find Graverobber sitting on the couch next to the very Shilo girl who was even more fucked than I was. She was also dressed in Graves' clothing; just one of his shirts that was long enough to serve as a dress on her. He sat next to Shilo, touching her hand but stopped immediately once he saw me. I wasn't really sure what to do. I mean, what do you say to a girl who just witnessed three deaths, one of them her father, after finding out everything she had been told by him and her entire life was a lie?

"Um, hi." I greeted. She looked at me with her big brown eyes, then at Graves as if he would tell her what to say back to me. It was silent for a bit.
"Don't worry, she's really not as bitchy as you think." Graves reassured her. I punched his arm as I took a seat on the other side of him on the couch, "Ow, never mind, she definitely is."
"Hi." Shilo said hesitantly. Poor thing looked scared to death of me. Not entirely without reason considering our last meeting. We all sat in uncomfortable silence for a little bit.

This should be fun.