Loki stared at his new prisoner. She was-

He had been alive for a very long time, and had met many people- most of which he had hated. But none of which had confused him as much as this one mortal female did.

He was going to kill her. There had not been any doubt in his mind the first moment he saw her that she would die by his hands. And yet...he had hesitated. And she had talked. And he had been...amused. For the first time in- he could not even think how long- he had felt something beyond pain and anger, and it had been...intriguing.

And somehow she had ended up convincing him that not only should he let her live, but that he should let her stay with him until he could send her home. He hadn't bothered mentioning that he could send her home in an instant- because he was curious. How long would it be before he tired of her?

And so he had told her to take the room on the second floor for herself, and she had practically fallen into the bed.

He really ought to be doing things. Already a good half the day had been wasted with his own inadequacies. He didn't need to watch her sleep- he had warded the tower. She would not be able to leave without him. Malekith and Griffin really ought to be dealt with...

"You know, if you're gonna be so Edward then I'ma have to protest." She said, eyes blinking sleepily at him.

"Why would you think my name was Edward?" He frowned. Did he look like an Edward? Good gods...

"Edward. You know. Edward. Cullen? Twilight? Vampires? Blood and bizarre relationships?"

He chuckled rustily. "I am not a vampire."

"Not a-?" She sighed. "Oh boy. Kay, see here's the thing- I'ma need you to brush up a bit on your pop-culture, because these things happen. And by things I mean references. And that's where we might run into a spot of bother."

He ignored that. "My name is Loki."

She laughed. "Right. And I'm Santa Claus."

He looked at her. "No...You are Darcy- oh. You are..." He trailed off, annoyed with himself. She was joking. "I am Loki."

"Alright, alright. Settle down there, tiger. Of course you are. Because who else would I meet?" The covers fell down a little as she sat up. It was strange to see his own clothes on her body. Hers had been wet though, and she had been surprisingly demanding. "Could I get a glass of water?" She grinned hopefully. "Pleeeease?"

The girl was near enough to a sorceress for a mortal. He actually wanted to get her some. But he was no servant, and she ought to know better.

"Get it yourself," he said, abruptly deciding that he had lingered far too long with her. His pet could wait. He would visit Malekith after all.

She scowled at him, looking remarkably like a disgruntled kitten. "I don't know where your food is, you heathen. So we run into difficulties."

"Well luckily you only wanted water."

Her belly growled, and she patted it. "Shhh," she whispered to it. "Don't give our position away. That's just tactical idiocy 101."

Loki raised a brow at her dramatics.

He had enchanted his food supply, in just such a case as this. If he was not home then he didn't want to make it obvious that anyone lived there at all. But it was a glamor easily lifted. "You'll be able to find it."

"Realllllly?" She drawled sarcastically. "Because all of a sudden I'm a Hufflepuff- is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Hufflepuff? Fates, but the girl made no sense.

She rolled her eyes at his blank face. "Because they're excellent...finders..." She sighed. "I should stop with the references but let's be honest here: I probably can't."

Ignoring that, he said, "I will be back. Try and escape if you must, but I'll save you some time and just tell you- you won't be able to leave." And he left for Sfvardalfheim.

Darcy pursed her lips, staring with astonishment at the space Loki had inhabited not two seconds ago. He had...vanished.

"Huh. I feel like science has been Professor Moody and I've just found out that actually, people can be portkeys after all." And yet she supposed that it wasn't much more of a stretch to believe than that Jane's device had worked.

Darcy smoothed the sheet, then frowned. "What am I doing? I need to get up." Laying down for an hour or two had helped a bit, and the dry clothes were like heaven, even if they hung loose in some places and were quite tight in others... She rolled her shoulders as she threw the covers off, her bust uncomfortably smushed. "I feel like a tootsie roll," she grumbled.

She was itching with curiosity about this place, but her stomach was rather insistent. It would need a good seeing too, Darcy thought wryly as she descended the narrow stone steps to the first floor. One almost got the feeling of being in a mausoleum, what with the amount of stone everywhere- ceiling, floors, walls... "I'll have to be careful not to develop a Jesus complex in a place like this," she murmured to herself mockingly.

The kitchen was altered from before. Where the cupboards and counters had been bare, now she saw food adorning them, like little jewels of nourishment.

Her belly growling ferociously, Darcy scooped up a few ingredients and set to work making a soup, munching on another apple as she did so.

The familiar steps of cooking were comforting after the unusualness of the past day and a half, and home-sickness swamped her with a sudden unbearable intensity. What were the kids doing now? she wondered. Did they miss her too? She'd so rarely been away from them for even a day, and she didn't like it. She felt utterly at sea without them.

Darcy frowned as she put the last of the potatoes into the broth and stirred. Being a mother was so ingrained in her, so natural- who had she been before it? Who was she now? Without her children?

Nothing.

She made a face. Well, alright. So that was perhaps overly dramatic. But then she felt the circumstances were rather dramatic in themselves, and she could be forgiven.

She looked at the slow bubbles forming on the soup's surface, thinking about her situation. "I guess you could say I'm in some..." she turned her head sharply to look at the pretend camera. "Pretty hot water."

She sighed. "Amazing puns aside though, I really hope this situation reaches it's boiling point soon."

All through his dealings with Malekith, Loki had been aware of a growing impatience. An anticipation to get back to the mortal waiting back at the tower. And it had showed. Malekith was not pleased- used to Loki plying him with silver words that came so quickly to his tongue that he sometimes was surprised himself by their cleverness.

Damned female, he thought blackly. She wasn't supposed to be able to hold his attention at all, let alone without even being in front of him. But he would tire of her soon enough, he assured himself. For some reason that idea agitated him.

What would he find when he returned? Would she still be asleep? He hoped not. He wanted her conscious.

"Ah! Jaysus!"

Loki had to bite back a satisfied smile at her yelp. He was pleased to see her awake. A pot of soup sat boiling on the stove, and she had been stirring it with a wooden spoon. Small flecks of broth had sprayed everywhere when she dropped it at his entrance, but he waved them away absently with a flick of his wrist, leaving the kitchen once more spotless.

Darcy blinked at the shirt she was borrowing as a soup stain vanished. He allowed himself a small smirk.

"Well," she drawled. "Isn't that just a super trick."

He frowned, raising a brow.

She nodded toward the pot and grinned. "Super."

Oh. He cocked his head to the side and she grinned wider. Souper. She was a strange little thing.

Obviously having expected more of a reaction from him, she sighed. "I am so under-appreciated. Anyways, hello again."

Suddenly his throat felt dry. She was clearly waiting for a response, but his brain had blanked, it's only input being that her eyes were very brown. Which he already knew. And it wasn't important. She wasn't important. But the longer he stared at her the harder his pulse hammered in his head, his cheeks feeling hot.

Was he actually nervous?

An awkward silence fell on them as he scowled at the horrible thought and swept into his study.

As soon as he was out of her presence he felt ridiculous. What was going on? He was Loki. There was not a reason in the world that he should feel strange with that female. He simply wasn't used to having someone in his home. That must be it, he thought with relief. And she will bore me all the sooner if I am in her company. Then he could dispatch her, and the world would go back to rights.

Feeling much better, he swept back into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove with curious eyes. "You okay there, big boy?"

Ignoring that, he took in her pale face and the bruises that still sat beneath her eyes. Her hair was still a mess. He considered telling her to get back in bed- she clearly hadn't rested as much as she needed. But he shrugged the thought away. What did he care if she slept?

"Oh, look-" she nodded to his feet. "There's something on your shoe."

He frowned, looking at them. There was nothing-

"Boop." She touched a finger to his nose as he stood up, and then went back to her stirring, grinning. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

Was the woman daft? He stared at her in shock. It had all been too abrupt for him to tense up at the time, but his muscles had slowly processed that she'd touched him and he felt himself tighten accordingly. He did not like to be touched.

Disgruntled, he lashed out. "How did a whore come to be associated with a-" he curled his lip, "scientist."

Darcy smiled confusedly. "I don't get it. Is this like one of those 'a man walked into a bar' type jokes? Cuz I gotta tell ya, I don't do well with those open-answer ones."

Loki's lips tightened. "You." He gritted out, crudely raking his eyes down her figure and then back up. "I mean you. How did you get to be associated with a scientist."

She blinked. "Oh. Ohhhh." She sighed, her eyes filled with disappointment. "You're one of those." One of what? "That scientist is my friend. Although, technically she started out as my boss, but life...anyways, it's really not that complicated. I was just at her work to have lunch with her and I touched something I shouldn't have...so BAM, here I am. Oh god," she made a face. "Please no." She sighed again and looked at the ceiling. "I'm having a real Princess Peach moment." She looked at him discerningly. "Mario?"

He raised a brow. He had no idea what she was talking about.

She pursed her lips and shook her head regretfully. Walking to the small slitted window by the sink, she put her hands to her mouth. "Your princess is in another castle!" She called out, and Loki stared at her in alarm. "Sorry. I've just always wanted to do that." She grinned, tasting the broth. "Mmm. Whaevs. It's done enough. Oh my god I'm sooooo hungryyyy!"

Feeling a bit unnecessary, Loki watched her with fascination. Her face was such a canvas of motion.

"Can you...um. Scoot? Just a bit. I was scouting the terrain earlier, and I found out that your bowls are in that cabinet behind you..."

Loki blinked, his brows drawing together. Huh. He hadn't even been aware of that. He moved aside for her.

"Are you...hungry?"

Funny. He couldn't actually remember when he'd last eaten. You'd think he'd have been coveting food after his incarceration, but in fact he had barely thought of it. He'd thought maybe having it around would trigger his appetite but it hadn't.

He sniffed at the soup. "No."

"Okay," she said easily, ladling some soup into her bowl.

On the other hand... He sniffed again. "Perhaps just a little."

She grinned. "I make really good soup. Careful though- it's hot."

He chuckled as she handed him a bowl of soup. Of course it would be hot. He had just watched it boiling on the stove. "I think I'll manage."

She smiled and shook her head at herself. "Right. Sorry. Just habit, I suppose."

"Interesting habit."

She made a face. "Well, I've got kids, so..." She burst out laughing. "Oh my god, your face!"

"You have...children?" Loki felt nauseous. Children...He had never liked them.

"Yep. Two little ankle biters."

"Ankle...biters..." He shivered in revulsion.

Darcy grinned. "Metaphorically speaking, of course. They're very good about keeping their teeth to themselves. My excellent parenting skills, I assume. But yeah...how long will it take, do you think, before the whole process to send me home thing can happen? Because last time I just touched the thing- it was like a second- and then here I am, so..." Her face was serious for the first time since he'd met her. "I really want to go home."

All it would take was the snap of his fingers. And some magic, technically. But she could be home with her family in a matter of moments. The utter longing in her eyes even had him considering it for a second.

"I couldn't say for sure," he said carefully. "I've never done it before."

Her hand tightened on her spoon, the other fisting at her side. "But you can do it?"

"Yes."

She nodded stiffly, slowly relaxing her hands. "There's not even a ballpark estimate? Like, what goes into it? Can I help?"

Hmm. What to tell her. How long would it take for him to grow bored of her? Did it even matter? He wasn't taking her home anyways... "I could perhaps be ready in about a week." Perfect. He would certainly be done with her by then.

"A week." She paled.

"The moon will be full then."

"Oh. That's important?"

Loki was rather pleased that his face was so blank. "Quite." This was the most fun he'd had in a long time.

She was silent, clearly thinking as she ate. The soup was good. Quite good, actually.

"So what am I supposed to do? For this week."

Loki shrugged, amused by the narrowing of her eyes.

"What? I'm just supposed to sit here twiddling my thumbs? Because I don't think I can do that."

"Do as you will," Loki said carelessly.

"Well- achoO!" She sneezed.

He handed her a napkin absently, the need to be alone suddenly impossible to deny. "I have work to do in my study. Don't disturb me."

Darcy stared at his retreating back. He was the most abrupt, standoffish person she'd ever met. It was rather infuriating.

She finished her soup, feeling somewhat deflated. She missed Ellie and Nate so badly, and there was nothing she could do to get back to them faster? Her current situation was extremely unpalatable- to be at the mercy of a stranger who's sanity and or conscience were questionable? Aye carumba...

Yet despite it all, she felt...safe. It was odd, that.

But now that her hunger had abated, exhaustion was calling to her again.

She was asleep moments after her head hit the pillow.

Loki slept badly. This was usual.

Phantom spasms of pain wracked his body, a shadow above him- wings- so that he awoke gasping, forehead cold with sweat.

Most of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, laying plans.

But that wasn't right. Trying to lay plans, more like. The female was proving annoyingly difficult to dismiss.

Restless, he found himself in her room.

The covers were all wrinkled and bunched; she must have tossed and turned. Bad dreams? he wondered. But her face was peaceful.

She looked so fragile, the light of the moon making her pale skin glow. His lip curled in disgust and he took a few strides to the door, eager to get away- just get away, it seemed so urgent suddenly that he distance himself from her weakness...

Except it felt wrong.

He couldn't explain it. He didn't even like her. She had children, for fates' sake! And she was so chipper and talkative, always yammering on like a gnat in his ear...

So why did he pause? Why did he turn around and come back into the room?

It made him shift uneasily- but the thought of going back to his own room, with it's shadows and emptiness... He couldn't make himself leave.

It was much too light out. Her eyes wanted to sink deeper into her skull. She threw an arm over them sleepily, but the damage had been done.

Groaning, she burrowed into her pillow, still trying to fight the fact that her mind was waking up. But the sound of another set of breaths had her brows furrowing and turning towards it.

Loki? Her jaw dropped open. He was propped against the wall by the door, head resting on his upturned knees, sleeping. Quite soundly, too. All her shifting about hadn't even changed his breathing.

He looked so tired and drawn in sleep, where before he had been tense and sharp; at times even threatening. For a few moments yesterday she had been well and truly scared. He had such an aura of barely contained energy that could easily turn to violence, and he wasn't exactly the most stable horse in the barn mentally. But it wasn't directed at her, no matter what he said. She just knew it wasn't.

Looking at him as he was now it was impossible to fear him, or even stop herself from softening towards him. His pose was so childlike and innocent. She grinned- he would be annoyed to know his sinisterness was greatly diminished, she was sure.

She could tell exactly when we woke up. His whole body stiffened. Darcy wasn't ashamed to say that she watched it all with amusement. She wasn't quite above savoring the deliciousness of his clear discomfort at having been caught.

The fuck he was even in her room at all was anyone's guess.

"Good morning," Darcy drawled.

He scowled, his sharp green eyes glaring at her. Darcy bit her lip to keep from smiling. Clearly he was not a morning person.

A yawn took her by surprise, and she rubbed her eyes, trying to wipe away the last of her tiredness. It didn't really work. The back of her throat was scratchy and her nose was stuffed. A cold was not far off. That was gonna be really fuckin' peachy.

"I thought we talked about the whole Edward thing," Darcy said, trying to needle him.

He cocked a brow. "Do we need to have another discussion on names?"

"Ugh." Dealing with people who didn't understand pop culture references was tedious. "I am not getting paid enough for this," she grumbled to herself. I'm not getting paid at all, she whined playfully to herself. "Edward Cullen- vampire stalker extraordinaire, who took to stealing into his lady-love's bedroom to watch her sleep."

It was pretty funny to see the way his face went from curious confusion right back to scowling. And- was he blushing? Surely not. Still, his pale cheeks had a definite pink tinge to them, Darcy noted with delight. Interesting.

"Dude chill. Work on another default setting, eh? I know you Norse seem to love your crows, but does that really extend to crowsfeet? Because you will get them..." she trailed off. "Dammit. Actually, I don't think you get those from frowning. Whateverrrr I don't even care. Do what you want. Don't let me tell you how to live your life. Also, for someone so famous for their silver tongue, you are pretty fucking quiet." She glared at him suspiciously. "What are you trying to pull?"

He looked at her archly. "Your leg, perhaps?"

Darcy blinked. Her laughter surprised her. "Oh! That's wonderful! I didn't know you had a sense of humor." She beamed at him, amused when he seemed a bit taken aback.

He shook his head though, and snorted, finally unfolding himself from the wall. It was almost criminal how graceful he was when by all rights he should have been stiff and clumsy, after sleeping all crouched like that.

"I am ecstatic to have been able to enlighten you of it." He nodded regally in acknowledgment and swept out of the room as if it was totally normal for him to have been there in the first place, leaving Darcy to her confusion.

And hunger, her belly reminded her. She groaned. Getting up was not sounding very appealing. All she wanted was to snuggle deeper into bed and sleep some more. And pee.

Dammit.

It took more effort to drag herself up than she would freely admit to her yoga instructor, but ten minutes later she was in the kitchen, looking for sustenance. She didn't know where Loki had gone, because she'd checked the study as she was coming down and it had been empty. She wouldn't bother making him breakfast then.

It was warm, and the sun shone through the old, narrow windows. Was she allowed to go outside? She wondered. Hadn't he said something about her not leaving when he was gone? Whatever though. She'd do what she wanted.

Unless he had a freak out like he'd had yesterday. She pursed her lips with annoyance. There was no way she'd go against him if he got like that. Something traumatic as all hell had happened to him in the past, because even she could tell he had some sever PTSD going on.

She didn't know how it was even possible, but she'd forgotten for a while that she wasn't in charge of this situation. He held literally all the power in their deal.

And why would he even help her? she wondered suddenly. He didn't seem like the kind of person who just did good deeds- and if the stories were anywhere near accurate then he had some other agenda. But what? What could he possibly be getting out of their arrangement? She certainly hadn't promised anything.

The butter sizzled in the pan, and she cracked an egg into it, huffing as a piece of shell slipped from her fingers to the floor. When she straightened after picking it up she stiffened, her vision growing spotty. Not now, she thought with annoyance. She probably should have had a drink. Or eaten a piece of fruit. But I just wanted eggs, she thought. It was so unfair.

Knowing what was coming, and that sometimes it could be skirted if handled delicately enough, she slowly sank to the floor, keeping her back against the counter to lean on. Dizziness swamped her even as she did so, the back of her throat going dry and unpleasant.

She kept blinking, trying to focus. The black spots were very distracting though.

"What are you doing?"

Why did he always have to sound so annoyed? It didn't seem fair. It wasn't like she wanted to be stuck with him. Talking would take too much effort, and she was a little afraid she might throw up if she opened her mouth. So she ignored him.

Just focus on the spots. Connect the dots and then...and then...

Loki watched in surprise as Darcy crumpled the rest of the way to the floor. Huh.

He looked at the stove, butter sizzling angrily in the pan, an egg half-cooked inside it. Stepping around her, he finished making the egg and put it on a plate.

Darcy was still out. Well, I guess I'll have to do something about that, he thought reluctantly. It wouldn't do to just leave her on the floor.

He stared at her dispassionately before sighing and scooping her up. His journey up the stairs was slow and careful; the stairs were narrow, and carrying her as he was he had to angle her so that her head and legs wouldn't hit the wall. It wouldn't do to make her even more helpless. Already her weaknesses disgusted him.

Once in bed she made a small sound, her brows crinkling slightly. Enough that he was confident she would be fine. He left immediately, thrown by his actions.

It had been years since he'd voluntarily touched another's skin. Years since he'd eaten. Years since he'd slept. Years since he'd laughed. And now in the space of a few days, he was doing all of those things. Because of her.

He prowled his study restlessly, glancing up at the ceiling warily. Her bedroom was directly over it.

What was it about her that was so extraordinary? Or was she even? Would he have acted the same way no matter who was in his tower?

Unlikely...

What surprised him most was that not only had he sought her out the night before, as if being near her might possibly help- but that it clearly had. He had fallen asleep in her presence.

It was astonishing.

He barely knew her. He certainly didn't trust her. And yet he had allowed himself to be as vulnerable as he could possibly be in her presence.

The memory made him growl, his hand threading through his hair angrily.

What was happening to him? What was she doing to him?

And he wasn't supposed to keep her. The thought had occurred to him briefly that morning when he'd woken up. Despite his discomfort that she had caught him in her room, and despite her gratingly cheery nature, he had considered it, in that brief moment on waking, when he had been so surprisingly rested for once, even if his muscles were sore from cramps.

But she had kids. Kids. He shuddered. Much as he disliked them, people seemed rather fond of them in general, especially their mothers. Well, most mothers, he thought darkly.

He shook the memories away before their sting could turn into something deeper.

The idea of killing her felt unpalatable now. Which might turn out to be a problem. Because if he couldn't keep her and he couldn't bring himself to actually kill her, what was left? Would he actually...bring her home?

He glared at his desk. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it had never been his intent.

But he was overreacting. He must be overreacting. It wasn't as if he liked her. It was as he'd always thought- he'd be sick of her in no time. He would be relieved to be rid of her when the time came.

Satisfied, he turned his thoughts to how to deal with Griffin, and that weapon that he wanted so badly.

It was night when he returned. Later than he'd planned. But he'd been trying to deny his eagerness to get back, and so he'd found other errands that had to be done first.

I just want to get sick of her, he told himself, but his mounting eagerness as he climbed the stairs to her room made a liar of him.

He had thought she might be in the kitchen again, but perhaps she was tired still. Though fates knew she'd slept far more than he had in years, he thought peevishly.

What he expected if she was asleep, he wasn't sure. He just knew he had to see her.

She had not lit a candle. The moon was obscured by clouds, and the room was all shadows. Annoyed and restless, Loki slipped out of her room aware of a sharp disappointment. He tried to retire to his study, but the walls were too confining. He rubbed his wrists anxiously, just to reassure himself they were not manacled.

He'd been in a dark mood all day. Nervous, and jumpy. Knowing that he'd be talking to Darcy had kept him sane enough, but she was asleep. And suddenly the last thing in the world that he wanted was for her to see him like this. So out of control, so pathetic. So weak. He lashed out at the walls, that seemed so happy to close in on him.

Gods but he hated weakness above all else.

He tried to clear his mind, but it wouldn't be cleared. Images and shadow claws tore through his mind and his mouth turned to sandpaper.

Not again, he begged tiredly. Not again...

But the panic was already too high, and he couldn't fight the blackness anymore.

Darcy moaned weakly. Everything was all muddled and fuzzy, but she was sure of one thing: she was on fire. She had to be. It was too fucking hot- it was impossible that she could be this hot and not be on fire. But how?

She tried to shove the sheets off of herself but they were so tangled, and she couldn't quite work up the energy. They were like snakes, choking her to death. Alarm filled her- she was going to die.

She made a sound of protest- death by sheet? That was not the way she planned to go. So unglamorous; so...ugh...

But just when she thought her finally minutes were upon her because she must surely be ashes soon- relief! Sweet, blessedly cool relief. A hand to her forehead. She wanted to cry, it felt so good.

It must be Loki. He was saying something, she thought. But she couldn't make sense of anything. Her mind was fixated on the feel of his hand to her forehead. And then suddenly it was gone, and she thought she really might have started crying. He was so mean. Why would he do something so mean?

But then he was untangling the sheets and she could finally breathe again, and that was something at least.

She was asleep again, thankfully. Loki got so nervous when she was awake. She would moan and mew in such distress, and there was so little he could do. He worried. She was so fragile. So annoyingly, hatefully fragile. There was one point, near the beginning, when he'd suddenly though: I'm going to lose her. It had hit him like a thunderbolt- this certainty that surely her fragility would take her from him. Which had confounded him- that he'd known her for a day only, really. Two days, if one was being liberal- and yet the thought that she might die absolutely terrified him. Why should he even care? And why to such a degree? But he did. Fates help him, he did.

Her fever had broken that afternoon though- finally, after nearly a week, and Loki felt every breath coming easier.

The birds were singing outside as he chopped wood. One would think they'd be frightened off from the regularity with which he seemed to take down trees with fireballs, but no. They always came back.

His last black-out had been a week ago now. He couldn't say what he'd done- only that he'd woken up in Darcy's room again, angry and drained, despite having slept. That he kept winding up falling asleep near her infuriated him and only served to shove his face in the fact that he had no control over what he did during those black-outs.

Magic always soothed him though. He often played with ice while he thought, tossing a ball of it up in the air, or absently carving figures out of it.

He knew he was obsessive, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Until Agda was dealt with he wouldn't be able to really rest. Constantly he felt that wariness of not knowing where she might be. It was exhausting.

The clouds were threatening rain. He ought to be checking in with Malekith again, who would be annoyed at Loki's inconsistency- but he couldn't find the energy. Or the desire, when it came right down to it. With the sky about to open up on him and Darcy leaving him soon, he was suddenly aware of the hollowness that must surely have been growing steadily in him. When not out of his mind with fury, he was...bored.

Maybe Darcy is awake now, he thought- pitifully hopeful. This obsession with her was growing embarrassing. He'd even caught himself wondering about her kids. Whether they had her strange sense of humor. How old they were. If they had her expressive features.

He shook his head in disgust. Going out of my mind...