I don't know what's up with me lately, but I'm experiencing a FanFic revival. I thought I'd add some more to this and see where it goes. I might even finish if I have readers and the proper motivation (reviews, duh).

So, let me know how you feel about it. If I still have an audience left, I'll keep going.

"Good morning, sir." I said apprehensively. "Thank you for dropping by to keep me company."

Taking my hand as I ushered him through the threshold, he grinned. "The pleasure, dear, is all mine."

Stifling a snort at the clichéd flattery, I returned his grin. Unsure of what to say next, I remarked, "Lovely weather, today." Hmm, maybe I shouldn't be judging anyone for being clichéd…

"Ah, yes. The freshness, it's simply invigorating." He said in a disinterested tone. "I don't suppose you would have any scotch around, do you?"

I was genuinely surprised by this question. "Scotch? Why, I don't believe we do."

"No scotch?" A stunned look was plastered on his face. "Well, surely you must have some whiskey!"

"No whiskey? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

Now, I was not accustomed to entertaining and not by any means a well-groomed hostess. However, I suspected that his requests were unmet by no fault of mine. It seemed to me asking a sixteen year old girl to serve you alcohol was inappropriate.

"My apologies, Mr. Baurle. My uncle is not much of a drinker." I confessed, embarrassed.

"Incredible," He mused. "How is Denton anyways? I don't see much of him these days. That fiancé of his sure does keep him on a tight leash."

"He's well, sir. You don't like Miss Rebecca?" I asked.

"Never met her. She runs with a younger crowd than I do, that's for sure."

"Oh." I didn't know what else to say, and the lull in conversation was painstaking.

Mr. Baurle slowly settled into an armchair in the main parlor. After situating himself to his liking, he turned once again to me. "Please, dear, have a seat." I wanted to roll my eyes. He had somehow reversed our roles. Suddenly I felt that I was a guest of his.

"So, Elsie - it is Elsie, right?" I nodded. "Yes, wonderful. Like I was saying, what brings you to New York, Elsie?"

Answering this question was tedious. "Well," I struggled to produce an answer.

"Ah! I know! You're pursuing a better education, aren't you? You look like a college bound girl. You will make a fine secretary, I can just tell. I have an eye for such things. A fine secretary, indeed."

"Oh, well, yes. I am here for school, but certainly not to be a secretary." I lied. My education had been put on hold and ultimately terminated long ago. However, had I continued in school, I never would have pursued the menial career of a secretary. I didn't like how quickly Baurle categorized me.

He didn't look pleased to discover his assumption was incorrect, but recovered. "What school have you enrolled in?"

Again, I was stumped. Another lie formed on my lips. "I have yet to chose a school. You see, I only just arrived in the city, and there are so many arrangements to be made. It's all a little overwhelming."

"Well, I myself am a graduate of York Prep, a fine institution. Naturally, I graduated with top honors."

As the morning drug on, I found myself wondering if York Prep had offered Pompous Behavior 101. Richard Baurle enjoyed talking about one thing, and one thing only - himself. No matter how I tried to maneuver the conversation away from him, he always related my topics to his past, present, or future.

The clock finally struck noon, and declaring he had an extremely important meeting to attend, Baurle left. Strained, I laid down on the couch. I was just about to drift to sleep when a new guest knocked on the door. I sighed and asked a passing maid to answer it.

I sat up and turned around to face the door, uneager to meet another of my uncle's friends. However, I was delighted to see a familiar face.

"Elsie." Skittery tipped his hat towards me.

"Good afternoon!" I replied. "Come in, come in."

"How are ya?" He asked, making his was over to me.

"Fine, just fine. And you?"

"I'm alright, a little hungry though."

"Oh, well Jessie can make you lunch. Just go tell her what you'd like."

"No, no. It's fine. I'm not here for a free lunch. I just wanted to see you." I smiled and he flushed crimson. Squirming and embarrassed, he said "Well, maybe I will go talk to Jessie."

I nodded, still smiling. He excused himself and disappeared. Despite this welcome visit, my eyelids still drooped, heavy. I slept often in those days, weakened and perpetually exhausted. My resistance was useless, as I drifted into a dream before Skittery made it back into the room.