The streets of Ridgeworth were bare, not a soul in sight. The only sound that could be heard was that of the rain beating down on the barren streets, the same rain that was causing Calliope's hair to stick to her as she walked. Two grocery bags in hand, she made her way back home, trying not to let the groceries spill but trying to retreat from the rain as well. The sky above her churned gray and black as she made her way up the back steps of her house, trying not to slip on the slick wetness.

She set the bags down to open the door, and then made her way inside. She let out a sigh of relief, swept some hair from her face, and removed her soaked shoes to prevent muddy tracks. Her house was warm, and she took comfort in the fact that this dreary place made her feel that way, yet at the same time she couldn't help feeling a dismal feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked around the place. It was very plain, and even though she had lived in this house for over three years, it looked even simpler now.

As she passed through the house, Calliope heard voices coming from her father's study down the hall. That was quite unusual, seeing as they never had many visitors. Who would be here? She saw her mother, who was sitting in the living room and reading. Andromeda McKenna was breathtakingly beautiful, even as an older woman who in all fairness wasn't really considered old. Every person Calliope met told her she looked exactly like her mother. She didn't dare to think so, they were really nothing alike, yet she heard repeatedly the same; she was as alluring and radiant as her mother, even at 16.

"Who is with father?" she inquired.

"An old friend. I wouldn't interrupt," her mother said softly, her eyes focused on her book.

Henry McKenna, a few years back, had gotten laid off of his job as a police officer, ever since then his family had been struggling to survive. Many changes had been made to accommodate the fact that they no longer had money, they sold their home and downsized immensely. Life was noticeably different. They had lived in the better part of Ridgeworth, Calliope never had any worries, and she had everything she needed. She was always in good company, attending parties and although, by nature, she was extremely shy, she loved to at least try and socialize.

Calliope nodded to acknowlage her mother, and remembered that her clothes were still wet from the rain. She decided to change into something more comfortable. As she passed by her father's study, she noticed the door was slightly ajar; she stayed far away enough so that no one would see her, and she listened carefully. She was not one to pry, but it was terribly unusual for father to have a guest.

"My boy, you've done well with yourself I suppose," her father said.

"Thank you sir, I've tried." Came another voice, slightly younger and deeper sounding than her father's.

"Although, I do not approve with the path you have chosen, such a nasty business being a hunter."

Calliope leaned in a bit closer, worry showing itself in the form of lines on her forehead as she strained to hear.

"I have my reasons for going the way I did, Mr. McKenna."

"Well, Dean, regardless of the danger of the situation; you are always welcome into my house. How long are you saying in Ridgeworth?"

"Only a few days, in fact, I wasn't even planning on staying until I remembered that you lived here, and I thought of paying you a visit, for old time's sake."

Calliope peeked inside the room; she saw her father's face behind his desk, his thin mustache below his nose, his brown eyes focused on the man in front of him as he spoke. And she saw the other man, the back of his head, brown hair. He slouched, she thought, in his chair as though he were quite comfortable in the fact that he was what he was. Had her father said he was a hunter, or was in business with hunters? That she didn't know, but when her father's eyes turned towards the door, she quickly moved away, although she had already been caught spying.

"Calliope, come here child." Her father said

She closed her eyes and let out a disappointed sigh. She opened the door and, still wet, smiled sheepishly at her father. He chuckled a bit and the guest turned around in his seat to see. He smiled slightly, the corner of his lip elevated. When her father motioned for her to come fully into the room, she obeyed.

"What have I told you about listening in on others' conversations?" He said

"I'm sorry father, it was rude of me."

"It's quite alright."

She turned slightly to look at the man again, who seemed to be amused at the fact that she had just been reprimanded. He looked different from the men she saw around London. He wore a leather jacket, and a necklace with a weird emblem on it. She could see the outline of a tattoo under his plaid shirt.

"Darling, this is Dean, he is an old friend from years back. And this is my daughter, Calliope." Her father said, introducing them.

"Hello." She said, shyly

"I forgot you had a girl." Dean said, nodding his head to Calliope.

"Yes, well, run along Callie. Say, Dean, might I invite you to dinner? My wife is an excellent cook; I dare say you won't be disappointed." Her father said

Dean thought about it for a second, and then shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head.

"Callie, do tell your mother that we will be having a guest for supper. And for God's sake, child, change out of those dreadfully wet clothes."

"Yes father." She said

She was making her way towards the door when she heard, "Nice to meet you Calliope." She turned her head to shyly look back and then shut the door. He seemed to be harmless enough, she thought, and if her father had enough sense to have him in their home then she had nothing to worry about. She saw her mother in the exact same spot as she had left her, sitting and gazing at her reading.

"Mother, we are having a guest for dinner, the man who is with father." She said, spooking her mother and making her jump a bit.

"Gracious child, you are so quiet, you frightened me. A guest, for dinner? Lord, how long has it been since we have had someone stay for supper? Alright, darling, tell your father that that is quite alright." Her mother said standing and making her way into the kitchen. Calliope did not want to go back to her father's study, but she hastily obeyed her mother. She stood in front of the door, looking down at her still wet clothes and sighed before softly knocking.

"Yes, come in." She heard her father say

She opened the door, peeked her head in and her father raised an eyebrow quizzically, waiting. Dean looked at her too, nonchalantly but as if he had been interrupted by her knocking.

"My mother said she would love to have you for supper Mr…." she trailed off, not knowing the man's last name, and she mentally kicked herself for phrasing her sentence the way she did. Her mother would love to have him for supper, yes. Completely moronic.

"Just call me Dean, and tell your mother thank you." He said.

She nodded her head, and shut the door. No, she would not tell her mother 'thank you'. Perhaps later, for she desperately needed to change into something dry. She moved down the hall, a bit further, and entered her room. It was small compared to what she used to sleep in, but in all truthfulness, she couldn't care less. It did not take much to make Calliope happy. Whether she was rich or poor, it didn't matter at all because she didn't need a lot. She opened her dresser and inspected what little clothes she had left, again, not that it bothered her any.

She removed the wet clothes and let them fall into a mess at her feet, she glimpsed at the mirror, at her not-quite-red-not-quite-yellow curls that were now flat against her face. Calliope wiped the strands from her eyes and then let her hair fall down. She picked the blouse, her delicate fingers fastening the buttons, and when she was fully dressed, she still did not look presentable. She sighed, oh well; it was not as if she needed to truly impress anyone. Dean certainly didn't care, by the way he dressed, although it was quite entertaining and a bit odd, and he did seem to pull it off. Perhaps he wouldn't even notice.