Hey everyone! This chapter is a little later than normal. I've been trying to every other weekend, but I was on vacation this weekend, so I figure I get a little break. I'm happy to say that I got a lot of writing done while on vacation, so in other words, Chapter 15 is well underway.

I loved everyones guesses as to what Mary's new line is going to be. I definitely giggled the idea of Mary designing Man Purses. Hopefully, it'll surprise you!

Chapter 10: Phase Ten- Meet the Parents

They were laying in the sun the next day in Park Montsouris. Mary had spread out a checkered blanket that looked like something out of a cartoon in perfection. They had stopped at the boulangerie around the corner to get fresh baguette and quiche, then to the Franprix next door get some wine and smelly cheese.

The park was full of others on a beautiful Sunday. There were picnic blankets dotting the bank of the pond. Some were families, their small children running through park, hands sticky with candyfloss ("They call it Papa's Beard in French. Isn't that funny?" Mary had told him as they passed a vendor). There were groups of friends in their 20s, drinking beer and giggling about their lives. Farther away, there were tiny children on pony rides and slightly older children playing football. On the otherside of the pond, there was a posh, expensive restaurant where well-dressed adults were having a proper brunch. But Matthew was more than content to sit here beside Mary and take it all in.

"It looks like something out of a George Seurat painting," Matthew remarked, slathering some cheese on a bit of baguette.

"Hmm," said Mary, who was lying beside him on the blanket. She was dressed in a dark blue sundress that was smattered with tiny white polka dots. She had had on a wide-rimmed white hat earlier, but had taken it off when they had set up their picnic. It was evident that this was a park for Parisians, not tourists- they were safe here, just part of the crowd. "I like that. I'm going to use that as my caption for my picture, 'Sundays in the Park with Matthew.'"

Matthew knew that she was referencing a musical. Lavinia had once sung a song from it in a revue she was in. For a second he braced himself for a wave of panic, but it didn't come. He knew that he was still affected by those things, but in the early afternoon sunshine of today, he felt nothing but warm calm.

"Hopefully another picture with you will be the tiny boost I need to get people to take my new line serious," Mary explained.

"And what is your new line again?" Matthew asked, "Have you figured it out yet?"

"Um I think so," She said her voice sounding uncharacteristically quiet, nerves tingeing her tone.

"Have you really?" Matthew said happily. "Tell me."

She sat up, tucking her feet underneath herself, her back straight and elegant. Her forehead crinkled a bit, almost apologetic, "I'm sorry you have listen to me prattle on about fashion."

"Oh Mary," He said, suddenly concerned, did she not understand how much respect he had for her, "I think what you do is astounding, truly. I could never think in the way you do, or have the vision you have for details."

She bit her lip, "Are you sure? You go off everyday to save the world and I sit here and worry over textiles and-"

"Shhh," He said, reaching out to stroke a finger down her pale cheek, "Mary, you are incredible. Please don't listen to anyone who doesn't give you the credit you deserve."

She closed her eyes, "I've just been thinking a lot about how you've made such a difference to people and the work I've done can hardly compare."

"We've lived very different lives Mary," Matthew said, confusion etching its way into his face, "You know the anxiety that's gotten me to this point. Just because we do very different things, doesn't mean-"

"That's not it," Mary said again, pursing her lips, before giving a little smile, "I've been thinking about this a bit and how I'm trying to do this new line and you are trying to start up this new charity. I want to feel like the work I do contributes to the world. Not just in giving you sumptuous donations."

Matthew nodded, trying to figure out where this was going.

"I was thinking- what if we tried to do something together? Like I don't know, Tom's Shoes where they give one pair of shoes to a poor kid for ever pair bought," Mary suggested.

"Well it's actually not the best model for a business, it doesn't help in development the way that-" Matthew began.

"But you get what I'm asking," Mary said, her voice more confident and business-like, "What if I could do a line of purses that contributed back to your charity? Maybe like each bag buys ten vaccines or something. Would you be… on board for something like that?"

But Matthew's face had already broken into a huge smile, giving himself away. He felt so happy that Mary wanted to be involved in the work that set him on fire. She wanted to help in his life long crusade against disease and inequity. He was probably being rather dramatic about it, but he was thrilled. He wanted to see how they were going to change the world together.

He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, before putting a small kiss on it.

"Mary," He breathed, "Your idea? It's like, God, this is cheesy, but like music to my ears."

"Really?" She said, her face bright, "I thought it up last night and I was so worried you'd think I was incapable or-"

"Mary," Matthew said, seriously, astounded she'd think anything like that, "If anything, I've learned you are capable you put your mind to."

He drew her towards himself, wrapping his arms around her back to put a kiss on her lips. He could feel her smiling through the kiss.

He pulled away for a moment, "If we are going to do this, I have conditions."

Mary's face creased with worry for a second, her voice beginning to ramble out before Matthew could stop her "What is it? God, are you worried it won't make you look serious enough or hurt your reptuat-"

"No, darling, not at all," Matthew said, pulling her into another kiss, allowing his hand to tangle in her hair.

He smiled at her again, pulling back to explain his conditions, "I simply ask that you come visit me in New York this week. If you can manage it."

Mary chuckled, "That's it?"

Matthew nodded, "We'll obviously need to make some business plans together. And I'd like for you to meet my mother, if you don't mind."

"Oh no," Mary said, "Must I?"

"She'll think highly of you, I'm sure," He said, "Just as I do."

"Are you positive?" Mary asked, "I'm not sure anyone is too keen on the Crawley's these days."

"I've raved to her about you," Matthew admitted.

"Have you?" Mary said, smiling coyly.

"Yes, don't worry, Mary," He said, moving his hand soothingly from where it stayed in her hair, "If anyone knows you as I do, the real Mary, they can't not adore you."

You bought me a plane ticket to DC? Sybil typed, frowning at the text, her forehead crinkling in confusion.

"What is it, dear?" Larry asked, looking up from his eggs benedict.

Sybil bit her lip, glancing at the offending text, but realizing that trying to explain to Larry that a charming, but strange guy she'd met at her wedding dress fitting had just bought a plane ticket to DC was going to be too difficult.

"It's nothing," Sybil said, dropping her phone in her purse, and taking a huge gulp of her mimosa.

"Are you still planning on going to that horrid interview?" Larry asked, slicing his eggs and putting a huge piece in his mouth.

"I just got my plane ticket in fact," Sybil said, trying to not make it sound like she was still baffled that this had just happened.

"I really don't see why you are doing this," Larry said, "You won't be able to accept it."

"Why not?" Sybil asked, her conversation with Mary ringing in her ears.

"Sybil, dear, we've been over this," Larry said, spearing another bit egg, "It's during our honeymoon."

"It's not like it's difficult to change travel plans," Sybil said, "We could just do it another time."

"It might be hard to get it exactly the way we planned it already," Larry said.

"Please, we both know it's not hard to book a trip," Sybil said, "It will be fine."

"I'm just saying it's a lot of fuss to make and for what?" Larry said, now moving on to the plate of bacon he ordered.

Sybil picked at her frittata, "What do you mean for what? I need these connections. You were the one who recommended networking when I asked you for advice last year."

"And you did, dear," He said, "You networked with me and now look, soon you'll be the wife of a congressman."

"Yeah, but this internship will get me experience in what I want to focus on," Sybil said.

"I can fix you whatever connections you wish for, dear," Larry said, taking another bite of bacon.

Sybil supposed that was true of dating a congressman. She would have special privileges that other young politicians might not. Did she really need to do this internship? She had lots of time to start her career. She should just enjoy her wedding and her honeymoon. She could leave the internship till when she got back.

She took another sip of mimosa, while Larry said, "Besides, honestly dear, you probably don't have to work if you don't want to. I'll make plenty and we'll always have your family's money."

Sybil choked a bit and forced herself to swallow, "Are you insane? Of course you know I want my own career. I don't plan on just sitting around spending money. That's not what I went to uni for."

"Woah, calm down," Larry said, rolling his eyes, and putting his hands up, "I'm not saying you have to. But look at you dear, you seem so stressed about this all this political stuff. Don't you think it would be easier if you could just spend your time volunteering or shopping or getting brunch with friends?"

Sybil was already feeling stressed about the interview and the wedding and how very grown up her life had become recently. But no, she couldn't let herself think this. "Larry, I've worked too hard for this. I'm not just going to toss this opportunity away. It takes a lot for people to take the Crawley name seriously. I have a genuine shot in front of me."

She nibbled on one of strawberries used to garnish her dish, trying to mask the confusion. "When we first started dating, you loved my political ambitions. That's why I wanted to talk to you; I wanted to learn from you."

"Sybil, your determination and ambition are some of your most admirable qualities," Larry said, a debonair smile returning to his face, "As is your kissing, I might add. What do you say we head back to your place to celebrate your interview?"

Sybil grinned back, but her stomach felt unsettled. Mary's conversation from days before lingered in her mind. She had never questioned anything with Larry before and she hardly had a reason to now. It was hardly anything really. He was probably just excited for their honeymoon. She knew that she was too. But now that Mary mentioned that there might be another motivation for Larry's love for her, that he might be more interested in the Crawley money than her- now that the thought had entered her mind, she couldn't help but have it tinge every interaction with him. She hated it, but it was true.

"I'm actually feeling a little bit ill," Sybil lied, realizing that she wasn't in any mental state to sleep with Larry right now, "I think I might have had too much bubbly."

"You had one mimosa," Larry said, skeptically.

Sybil shrugged, "Anyway, I'm going to go home alone, if you don't mind. I think I need to lie down for a bit."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Larry said, looking genuinely concerned, "Do you think that someone spiked your drink or something? We could sue, you know."

God, why was lying to this man so tedious?

"No, don't make a fuss. I'm going to call for the car and I'll be just fine in a bit," she said.

She grabbed her purse, ran her hand over her forehead to try to look more unwell, and walked over to press a limp kiss to Larry's cheek.

"Will you text me in a bit to let me know how you're feeling?" Larry asked.

"Sure," Sybil said, turning to exit the restaurant.

She walked into the sunny, warm spring afternoon outside. She was tempted to head to a park, but she didn't want to run into Larry in case he went to Central Park after. So she started making her way towards her apartment. She probably shouldn't bother walking it. She was bound to get stopped by people asking for autographs or selfies (not that she felt as if she had really done anything to warrant such attention). But the weather was too nice to stay cooped up in a car for a few blocks.

She hoped that maybe if she made herself look busy, no one would bother her. Which made sense, since she did need to call Tom and settle this flight business. She took out her phone and dialed his number.

"Hey," Tom replied, "Now before you give yourself a fit, let me explain why I bought you the ticket."

Sybil sighed very quietly at the sound of Tom's voice. She would be lying to say that she didn't go a little weak the knees for his Irish accent. She had read a Buzzfeed or some other article online once that said that Irish accents were the sexiest. Sybil would heartily agree with this statement. Sybil, despite being born in London, had moved to New York when she was quite young. While both Mary and Edith had pronounced, posh English accents, Sybil only had a trace of one- something that had caused her to be jealous of her sisters. Whereas Mary seemed indifferent to the voices of the men that doted on her, Sybil couldn't help but be extremely attracted to foreign accents, especially Tom's.

She gathered herself together to reply to him, "I'm not sure what sort of explanation you have for buying a plane ticket for an almost stranger."

"Aw come on Syb, we're not strangers," Tom lamented back to her.

She laughed a bit, "We've only met once at my dress fitting, where you were all star-eyed and making a fool of yourself."

"I was not star-eyed," Tom protested.

"Right, you just gape open mouthed at all the girls you meet?" Sybil teased.

"Just the pretty ones," Tom corrected.

"Okay, Romeo, why did you buy a plane ticket for Sybil Crawley?" She asked.

"I am actually going to be in District of Colombia that day as well," Tom explained, "Matthew had mentioned to me that you'd be there for an interview, but hadn't yet gotten a ticket. So I simply bought it myself for you."

"Matthew told you, hmm?" Sybil said, pursing her lips together, "I'm calling bullshit. Mary and Matthew put you up to this, didn't they?"

"What? No?" Tom's voice replied.

Endearing, though still a bit of an idiot, evaluated Sybil.

"Well it's probably better this way," Sybil told him, "Now I don't have to worry about you spending your money to buy a plane ticket for a rich girl with a private jet."

"You've a jet?" Tom gawked.

"Basically only my father uses it for company things," Sybil explained, "Mary and I usually just fly commercial, though first class, of course."

"Of course," Tom laughed, "I will tell you that if you accept this ticket I have for you, it is actually economy. You'll have to rough it out with great unwashed."

"Are you serious?" Sybil said, "That's actually rather exciting."

"So you'll come then?" Tom said.

"I suppose," Sybil agreed, "Only because I pity you for having being coerced by my sister and her boyfriend."

Sybil bit her lip, wondering if she should reveal the rest.

"And because Larry is being a bit of dick about the whole thing and I'd like to go to spite him," Sybil explained.

"That's the spirit," Tom cajoled.

"Are you really going to DC this week too then?" Sybil asked. She was entering her building now, already excited to take off her heels and nap on the couch for a good hour before even attempting to think about doing things. "Or was that just part of Mary and Matthew's cover for you?"

"No, I am going to DC," Tom explained, "I'm writing an article on congressional corruption."

"Sound intriguing," Sybil said, genuinely interested, as she boarded the elevator, "I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to tell me about it during our journey."

Tom paused for a second and she wondered if he was surprised.

"Yes, I suppose I'll tell you then," Tom agreed.

"I guess I'll see you on the flight," Sybil said, "Shall I pick you up? I know cabs to the airport can be quite expensive and I have the private car. It's the least I can do to repay the favor."

"I guess so," Tom said and Sybil swore she could hear him shrug.

"Great, I'll text you the details," Sybil said, as she entered her apartment. "See you then, Tom."

"See you then, Syb," Tom said into her ear.

She toed off her shoes, happy for the tranquility of her own apartment. She put her phone on the side table and curled up on her sofa. A nap would be blissful because it meant that for just an hour or two she didn't have to think about the way Larry had made her stomach churn with frustration, or the way her heart started to leap at the idea of this internship and her dream career in DC, or the way that Tom's voice gave her butterflies. Yes, all that was definitely too much to think about for a Tuesday morning. A nap was definitely in order.

She was nearly asleep when she thought of her sister. She grabbed her phone and typed, Fine. I'm going to DC. Please stop dragging darling Tom into your mad plans.

Perfect, Mary replied, I'll be in New York this week to help you prepare.

Sybil rolled her eyes, turned off her phone, and curled up on the couch.

"Mary," Matthew said, "This is my mother."

Matthew watched the two women take each other in. Mary with her hair in a perfect plait dressed in a sophisticated black dress. His mother with her curled hair, endearing grin, and hand knit sweater. It was a bit of a clash of worlds, standing right in his kitchen. But they were his two worlds and he was overjoyed to see these two women who he cared very much for in two very different ways take in each for the first time.

"It's so lovely to meet you," Mary said, shaking Isobel's hand, a trace of nerves across her porcelain face.

"And you too my dear," the older woman replied, grasping her hand with both of hers to give her a warm handshake.

He watched Mary's expression soften as she sensed that Isobel respected her.

He had worried about what his mother would think of Mary. He remembered their brunch weeks before when she had commented on how vapid the "Other Crawleys" were. He hadn't been in touch regularly with his mother since he'd started seeing Mary, so he wasn't sure if her feelings had changed on them. He had reassured his mother that he was very happy with Mary. However, he knew that wouldn't stop Isobel from forming her own opinion. She was just as headstrong as Mary herself.

But Isobel was nothing if not sincere, and her tender greeting to Mary proved that she'd won her approval.

"Shall we start on dinner?" Isobel asked.

His mother had brought over a bag of ingredients. Originally, she wanted to have them over to her place in Brooklyn to cook dinner for them in typical "meeting the parents" style. But unfortunately, her power had gone out the night before, the result of a late spring storm. So the cooking session had been move to Matthew's apartment, with Isobel deciding that Mary and Matthew should help assist her in cooking.

"I'm rubbish at cooking," Mary had admitted earlier, fidgeting on his couch, as they waited for Isobel to arrive, "What if she disapproves of me being with you? What if I'm domestic enough?"

"You made those lovely eggs when I visited last weekend," Matthew pointed out.

"But that's the most advanced thing I can do," Mary groaned.

"My mother is very forward thinking," Matthew said, comfortingly, "I'm sure she won't care about your cooking skills. I'm not very crafty in kitchen either."

So there they were, each of them trying to obey Isobel's directions and trying not to burn down Matthew's apartment. This meant that Isobel was making some fancy sauce for pasta. Matthew was chopping vegetables. Mary had jumped at the opportunity to make salad, as he remembered her mentioning that salads were something she could manage.

Isobel was babbling on, recounting stories of Matthew's youth. Matthew was trying not to be mortified while she recounted stories of him playing doctor with his favorite stuffed animals. But hearing Mary's giggle as she sprinkled feta over the salad almost made it worth it.

When they had finally settled at the table, the creamy pasta steaming and the air fragrant with garlic, candles sparkling in the center of the table, Matthew poured them glasses of the wine Mary had bought. It was undoubtedly very expensive and far more exquisite than anything him or his mother would drink ordinarily.

"So, Mary, what brings you to New York this week?" Isobel asked, as they began to eat.

"Well first of all for business," Mary said. She was sitting so straight in her chair, elegant, but perhaps a bit stiff. He wondered if she was still nervous about making a good impression. "Has Matthew told you? We're working on a bit of business partnership together. I'm going to design some bags and have the proceeds will go to his charity."

Isobel beamed, "How clever of you."

"So we had a few meetings today to figure out the best way to make the impact sustainable," Mary explained.

"It's a marvelous idea," Matthew said, "I think it is really going to make an impact."

Mary gave him a smile and he reached under the table to give her hand a squeeze.

"We've nearly finalized the press release," Mary continued, "So soon, it will go global!"

"It sounds like a brilliant plan," Isobel nodded, "It's very generous of you to want to make a difference."

"I was also helping my sister a bit," Mary continued, "She's on her way to DC for an interview. She's never had a proper interview before, so I spent yesterday helping her prepare."

Mary had arrived the day before in the early afternoon. Matthew had been at work, which he had offered to miss in order to pick up Mary and let her sleep off her jetlag in his apartment. "Don't be silly," Mary said, "I'll just go to Sybil's. Honestly, she doesn't do anything but occasional volunteering. And I do need to knock some sense into her in person." When Matthew had arrived at Sybil's the evening before to take Mary out to dinner, Sybil was in full interview attire, Mary firing interview questions at her.

"Actually if you are thinking of working in a politics, they might ask you more about different things," Matthew had mentioned, which had somehow prompted him to getting in on the interview process. This resulted in ordering pizza instead of a dinner out, and staying up half the night, the three of them focused on Sybil's interview. Somewhere in there, Mary had fallen asleep on the couch, curled under a chennile throw. Matthew and Sybil had stayed up later discussing some of his contacts in DC that she might be able to network with. Eventually Sybil started to yawn and he didn't want her to be tired for her long day. She had offered Matthew a room to stay in for the night, but he'd declined.

This meant that today had been Mary's first time in his apartment. He was nervous at first. Sybil's New York apartment was luxurious and Mary's place in Paris was exquisite. He had a simple one bedroom in Murray Hill. It wasn't the most posh neighborhood, full of noisy recent college graduates, but it was close to work, which made it worth it. He'd had no need for additional bedrooms, it had always been just him- even when Lavinia had been the picture- she had never moved in. There was a view of the Empire State Building from one of his windows and he was quite proud of that. However it was a very small space and lacked the sophistication of Mary's neatly curated apartment. He was hesitant though about what she would think. It would be the first time that it was revealed how truly different their lives were.

She had arrived two hours before his mother had. She had just given Sybil the final inspection before sending her off with Tom. Matthew had held his breath as Mary took in the space, worried about what she might think.

"This suites you, Matthew," she said, "I can see you here."

It was furnished in lots of greys. Stainless steel appliances, dark heathered bedspread on his bed, light grey drapes that let in the sun in the early morning. William's bright gold fur from where he watched on the bed was the only thing that gave the room a true burst of color.

"Because it's dull?" Matthew teased.

"No," Mary laughed, as he watched her take in the details, her heels tapping on the floor as she surveyed the space. He knew that she must look down on it. She had such an eye for details. It was evident in her outfits, the way her apartment was decorated, the designs she made- Mary cared about colors and aesthetics.

She turned back to where he was standing just in the doorway and gave him a smile Her heels echoing as she walked over to him, finally taking his hand and telling him sincerely, "No, not dull. Practical, maybe. Minimalistic, if I am being generous. But this is a space of a someone who cares more about the world than he does himself."

Matthew had felt his face curve into a smile, as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

"You obviously care a lot about your sister," Isobel said, drawing Matthew from memory from earlier.

"I do," Mary said, "Sybil and I are very close."

"Aren't you also related to Edith Crawley?" Isobel asked, cocking her head.

"She's also my sister, but she's a bit more reclusive, so I don't see her often," Mary noted.

"Well you must tell her that I loved her book," Isobel remarked, "It's simply brilliant in every way. Do you know if she has another one coming out soon?"

Mary smiled politely, "Sorry, I wouldn't know. But I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Matthew felt a wave of tension hover in the air. He knew Mary hated when people saw the value in her sisters, but not in her. He knew this was a small test. If his mother continued to laud Edith and forget Mary- it would be hard for them to get along.

Don't mess this up, Mother, he thought strongly.

Isobel smiled at Mary, "It's a shame you don't' get to see her more. I'm sure you're parents are proud of Edith and Sybil, but I hope they are just as proud of you."

Mary looked up from where she was picking at her pasta, surprise in her eyes. Matthew felt a pang in his heart because he knew why the surprise was there- people didn't normally say that about Mary Crawley.

"You're really doing incredible things," Isobel awed, "Starting your own fashion line, moving to a foreign country on your own, finding away to help others? They are all things to be very proud of."

Matthew grinned as he watched a faint blush graze Mary's cheeks.

"You'll have to tell my parents that then, if you ever meet them," Mary said, a shyness to her voice that he hadn't seen before.

"I am sure I'll make their acquaintance at some point and I will certainly will," Isobel said.

Just then, Mary's phone began to chirp.

"It's Sybil," Mary explained, looking up at it.

"Oh answer it, please," Isobel said, "I'm so eager to hear how her interview got on!"

Mary nodded and rose from the table to take the call.

"Thank you for saying those things, Mother," Matthew whispered, once he was certain Mary was engaged.

"Well of course," Isobel said, "She's extraordinary. I know that you didn't find her in the conventional way, but I'm very glad you found her."

"I'm not going to lie to you Mary," Sybil said, "I totally blew it."

Her feet were tapping down the steps of building as she walked out onto the DC Street. She looked up and down the street, realizing that she didn't know which direction she came from originally. She had been so happy to insist in not hiring a car while in DC. She had been eager to ride on metro and experience life as regular human. But now, she was realizing that years of hired cars had left her with no sense of direction.

Crap, Sybil thought, realizing that she'd have to pause her call with Mary to look up directions. She picked a direction at random and started walking. She was too upset to sit still.

"What happened?" Mary asked.

"They were so critical," Sybil said, "They asked all of the hardest questions you gave me. Then, they asked how I would handle people talking about my family. They asked if my family and social obligations would get in the way. They asked if I was aware that my presence might bring unwanted media attention to their mission."

"Oh Sybil," Mary replied, "I'm sorry."

"I tried to explain to them that the media presence would be good. That more people would know about their efforts and take an interest," Sybil explained, "But it didn't really work. They just kind of frowned and stuff."

"Welcome to the life a Crawley," Mary said, "They will always underestimate you."

"I get why you've been so frustrated now," Sybil remarked, "And I'm the one who gets better publicity anyway- this has got to be way worse for you."

"I'm not going to try to counter that, I honestly thought things might go better for you because you are the family sweetheart." Mary said, "Did they say anything positive?"

"They thought my volunteer experience was impressive," Sybil said shrugging, despite the fact that Mary couldn't see it, "and that my leadership positions looked good. They saw the summer seminar I did at Columbia and said that it was admirable. But I don't think it will be enough. Hundreds of people go for these things. I was lucky to get an interview. I won't make the cut."

"You did the best you could, Sybil," Mary said, "If anything, you have more experience under your belt now. Is there anything else you can apply for this cycle? I could see if Matthew has any contacts that could set you up with an internship."

"Would you really, Mary?" Sybil said, hope beating happily inside her, giving her a breath of relief.

"Of course," Mary agreed, "I'll ask him specifics about it later."

"Oh shit, this is your dinner with his mother, isn't it?" Sybil realized, "I shouldn't have called."

She heard Mary laugh into the receiver, "It is. But don't worry. She's rooting for you too. She's says if you ever change your mind and want to go for nursing instead- she'll be glad to have you."

"Oh, she sounds sweet," Sybil sighed, at least things were working out for one Crawley.

"She is," Mary said, "Will you be back in New York tomorrow?"

"I plan on it," Sybil said, "I've got my flight back at noon."

"Good, I'll see you then," Mary agreed.

"Well I'm off to my hotel now," Sybil said, despite the fact that she still didn't exactly know where to find that.

"You've called for a car, haven't you?" Mary inquired.

"Hmm," Sybil said, "Yes, of course, it'll be here in a sec. Enjoy your dinner! Bye, Mary!"

Sybil hung up the call and looked around to realize that she was totally lost. Randomly walking while talking on the phone with Mary hadn't been the best idea, because Sybil realized she was even more disoriented than before. She knew that DC had dodgy bits, all cities did really. Despite the fact that the street was nearly empty, there were fashionable shops and nice restaurants on this block, so it hardly looked like an unsafe place to find herself. Sybil sank onto a bench and took out her phone to pull up a map. It took a while for her phone to behave. It had just opened up on to a map when it promptly died.

"Fuck everything," Sybil groaned, as she dug in her purse to see if she had a back up charger. Of course, this was the one day she had forgotten it. She instantly regretted calling Mary, but how was she supposed to know her phone was going to die at 40%? Now she was alone and lost in DC, as well as most certainly not getting that internship.

Sybil rose from the bench to make her way towards a more crowded street. This one seemed slow in the early evening light. She was vaguely hoping to ask someone for directions and hoping that everyone in DC was too preoccupied with politics to follow reality TV stars from ten years ago.

"Freeze," A voice said from behind her and her stomach dropped.

She revolved slowly to see a dark hooded figure with a gun staring at her.

"I said freeze," the voice repeated.

YIKES! What happens next? It'll be back to the action next chapter. See you then!