Play of Shadows

03.03: A

Ann eyed the six spindly legs curved over the desk and the massive curve of a spider abdomen just visible behind the woman's torso. It was pure black, as were the woman's eyes behind a fan of pearly lashes.

"Your paperwork has gone through. You may go in when you are ready," the receptionist said.

"What – I am expected, then," Ann caught herself before she could blurt out a possibly suspicious question. She was curious about the paperwork that had apparently beaten her there. The role she was meant to play in the instance was however still unclear. She deemed it best not to draw the NPC's attention to a potential abnormality.

The receptionist hummed in agreement. A flutter motion and a few muffled squeaks had her tilting her head to a corner, her brows lowering in displeasure. Ann followed her gaze to a silk cocoon nestled firmly in a chair mounted on the ceiling. A familiar badger tail stuck out from within the sticky bindings.

"Hush, you. Little thieves must wait their turn," the woman tutted.

The badger chittered in protest.

"Or perhaps you would like to join me for tea? I am feeling rather peckish," the receptionist said meanly. There was no question as to what – or who – would be on the menu, were such a thing to come to pass.

The unhappy squeals halted immediately. The cocoon shrunk in on itself, and the plump tail curled in alarm.

"Third floor, third door on your left," the receptionist told Ann, a touch impatient. The spider legs danced in place.

"Thank you for your help," Ann said promptly, as politely as she could. She didn't fancy becoming a snack, either.

The receptionist smiled. Her lovely red lips stretched into a spider's chelicerae filled with fangs. "Not at all, dear. That way, now," The inside of her mouth was tar black.

There was an elevator. It looked as ancient as the phone and so cramped only one person could use it in comfort. Ann faltered when she stepped inside. The cabin was cast in bronze polished to a mirror shine. A pale porcelain mask floated into the honey world captured within its walls, but Ann's own reflection was entirely absent. Ann tilted her head. The mask mirrored the motion, gazing at Ann with empty eye sockets.

The elevator dinged. Ann exited quickly, strangely unnerved. She took a moment to look down at herself, flex her fingers, touch her face around the mask. The urge to slip the mask off came and went. She needed it on. She always did.

She always would.

Ann shook her head. Her thoughts cleared, and she set down the left side of the corridor, as instructed. The floor creaked under her feet. The same hallway stretched above her head.

The third door on the left was raised off the floor so it sat in the middle of the wall. Ann supposed it was so that when the house flipped, the door would still be accessible – and equally bothersome to use.

"Enter."

Ann dropped the hand she had raised to knock. Clearing the doorway required some gymnastics, and she complained to the man sat behind a stately desk within as soon as she had the breath to do so.

"Why not a single door, from floor to ceiling?" she groused.

K looked at her. He wore a black uniform, Ann noted, cut in military fashion. It accentuated his broad shoulders and rigid posture. The frigid look in the man's eyes and the stiff set of his lips gave Ann a pause.

"Alexander?" she guessed.

The man tilted his head toward one of the chairs sat before his desk. "Sit."