As soon as she walked through the doors, Anson knew who she was. Though the photo he'd ben given showed a mere shadow of this woman, there was no mistaking the confidence and strength that made Anson feel smaller by the second. He felt his chest tighten in nervousness but his breath came strangely normal and he didn't feel the folder he was holding dampen in his grasp. Perhaps he could actually do this.

With every step Wilhemida Edith took, Anson felt her presence even more. And still he couldn't figure out why. He'd been in the presence of Slayers before and though every one of them had their own story, this Slayer seemed to Anson to be one of the most unique.

Could that be why she made him feel so insignificant? Was her background so interesting that it captured him in the way a good book would? It was as if he was seeing a fictional character that had leaped off of it's pages walking towards him. Though, he supposed, that's what it would feel like if you were to read all about a person's life only hours before meeting them.

Taking a breath in hopes of releasing the clamp on his chest, he walked forward to close the space between him and Wilhemida. Raising his hand to offer a shake, he said, "Miss Wilhemida Edith."

She took his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. "Mr Anson Tea, I presume? Anmd please, it's Billie." Though dark circles appeared under her eyes, her smile brightened her face. Anson couldn't tell if it had been forced, since entering this world of Slayers he'd learned that most of the time a Slayer would hide their true emotions with a forced smile. But with Billie, either she was a fantastic actress or she was truly happy to be there.

"Mr Tea, did my bags arrive earlier?" Billie asked as she dropped his hand, putting her own in her jeans pocket.

Anson replaced his own hand onto the folder he was holding. "First off, you call call me Anson. Second, your bags did arrive and are in your room. Though I have to say, I was pretty unnerved when they showed up, not accompanied by their owner."

A small laugh escaped her lips, "Yea, about that. I needed to run a little.. errand." The tone her voice told Anson what kind of "errand" a Slayer, new in town, would have to run.

Leaning to her height,the man whispered, "Was it the kind of errand that should've been run by me first?" Anson hated that his voice wavered, he needed to appoint himself some authority and a statement that sounded like it came from a high school boy asking a girl out for the first time didn't seem like it would do it.

Billie leaned into Anson, as well, "That depends."

"On what?"

"On whether you turn out to be my Watcher or a pain in my ass."

Anson was in awe of Billie, not only was she ten years younger and stronger than he'd ever hope to be, this girl's voice was as steady as a rock. She leaned back, standing straight and smoothing her jacket. "My room?"

Anson cleared his throat, "Um, yes. That would be this way." He turned toward the elevator and started walking, feeling Billie fall into step behind him. Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, the nerves a twenty year old riled up, he tried to reassure himself that he was in charge. This wasn't England, he was not the new, young Watcher-In-Training. He was Anson Tea, Watcher of the Slayer.

The two waited under a minute for the elevator and, when it arrived, Anson knew proving his authority would take time. Billie entered first, held the door for him, and asked him the floor number.

Anson could tell that Billie was used to being either alone and in charge or surrounded by other Slayers. But as one of the Chosen Ones, how could she not? But being set up with a Watcher for herself would mean changes she would have to adapt to. He had ten years on her and a Masters in Psychology from Oxford, Anson knew he would be able to crack this girl. Slayer or not.

Clearing his throat again, the new Watcher broke the silence that filled the metal box as it rose up the seven stories to the correct floor. He opened the folder and began the small speech he'd prepared, "So, Billie, I've been reading the file that the Watcher's Council sent over to me. I have to say it's very interesting.. I suppose a Watcher could have gotten worse his first time out. Those who made contributions on your behalf, Mr Giles, Mr Wells, Miss Summers, and Miss Rosenberg, to name a few, really had some things to say. They seem to respect you very highly. And with all that you've been through, I can understand why. I mean, with what happened in Bos--"

"I'm sorry," Billie stopped him. "I know you're just doing your job but I just got in from a fourteen hour flight. And," she peered at her watch, "it's already tomorrow afternoon in my head without any sleep. So do you mind if we save this little trip down Memory Lane for another time?'

Anson nodded silently and closed the folder. He hadn't yet spent ten minutes with Billie and his discontent was starting to boil over. With his jaw clenched, the man looked up at the numbers. Five, he thought, still two more floors of this awkward silence.

"Oh!" Billie exclaimed, as if battling the silence looming overhead. Anson turned to her and urged her to expand on her one word exclamation. She complied, "Willow, uh, Miss Rosenberg. She said that you had received all of the files."

"Oh yea. I had them put in your room." He shrugged, "I figured you could use it as bedside reading."

The girl smiled at him, once again causing him to question her genuineness. "Thank you," she said simply as the doors dinged open. Billie gestured for Anson to go first, feeling that an elevator wasn't the best place for a battle of stubbornness, he complied with her gesture. Billie followed. He turned left and started down the hall, leading his guest to her room.

They came to a stop outside room 713 and withdrew a keycard from his jacket. Unlocking it, he stepped aside and let Billie enter her room.

The room was beautiful, just as all the rooms of the Sutherland Hotel. The view of Billie standing in the entrance hall would make any hotel manager proud. Unfortunately, it was wasted on Anson, he wasn't a hotel manager at heart, he was merely an unemployed Watcher. All he saw was a girl, wide eyed and young, in another temporary home who could still be surprised. Anson placed two key cards on the table beside the door. "Billie?" She turned to him, eyes still wide. "I'd like to meet with you tomorrow before you are set to leave."

Nodding, Billie answered in a small voice, "Yes, yes, of course. I wake up at six thirty but I'm usually not ready to meet people until nine."

"There's no need to try to impress me, Billie," Anson laughed. "No twenty year old is up at dawn, I'm thinking eleven is more typical for your age."

Billie shrugged her response, "Maybe you haven't noticed yet, but I'm not just another twenty year old."

Without another word, Anson left. Before he shut the door behind him, he mumbled to himself, "I'm picking up on that."

"What was that?"

Pushing the door open once more, Anson saw Billie standing there, waiting for his answer. At that moment he cursed the Slayer's spectacular hearing and her superiority complex. Anson smiled and said, "I said, Welcome to Cleveland." This time there was no wondering if Billie's smile was real or not. She was not happy to be there.