faceless secretary

“Auugh.” Buttercup growled, slumping over in disappointment. There never was enough snow for a snow day. All she wanted to do was start a civil war with snow balls. Was that so much to ask?

"Well if it’s gonna snow when it’s s’posed to be spring, it might as well be enough so I don’t gotta go to school. That’s the least it could do.”

"Think of it this way: the sooner the snow melts and stops falling, the sooner that spring is on its way--summer too. Not only is the weather nice during that time, but you don't have school, either. Wouldn't you rather be able to play outside in the nice weather without having to worry about school--or not go at all?

There was always a small part of Antonio that wanted to become a doctor. Taking anatomy courses when he was in college solidified this fact, but, as he found out, the human body is as amazing as it is terrifying. Also, working by yourself in a lab as opposed to the pressure of working on another, living human being took away the luster a little bit. There are many things doctors had to go through that he wouldn’t want to have to deal with. Taking care of people always appealed to him in some way because of his over-caring nature. Trying to enrich the lives of others through science was something he was much better at so he stuck with the scientific field—the fact that he could run a lab in his basement and not a hospital appealed to him a lot more as well. If he couldn’t be a doctor for others, at least he could attempt right now.

Sara’s selflessness isn’t a surprise. Antonio has always known that she cares for others a great deal, but this certainly proves it. Thinking of all the infections, scarring, etc. that could happen when leaving alone an injury of this nature worries him a little bit, though. At least this time he knows he’s being over-dramatic. “I understand why you wouldn’t go to the hospital at that particular time, but I’m sure they would understand if you sought help at some type of urgent care clinic because it isn’t an emergency, but they always have doctors standing by.”

The professor gives her a small smile and a nod, communicating with her that he doesn’t mind whether or not she removes her blazer. Though, the act of trust doesn’t occur to him until her shoulders are bare and she’s offering her arm for him to look at. He’s trying hard not to blush and keep professional composure, but this is certainly the first time he’s been in this situation. Every other time he had fixed someone’s cut, burn, or scrape, they had been a student, colleague, or one of the girls.

He’s patient as she pulls off the bandage, only touching her arm when she’s finally offered it to him. Handling her as if she’s the most delicate person on the planet—and, of course, taking great care not to cause any more discomfort to an already painful looking injury—he angles her arm towards him so he can get a good look. Luckily, this isn’t a situation where he needs to read small text or he might require reading glasses. It doesn’t take him very long to make any decisions about her injury. Still holding her arm—something he notices is much smaller than his—he says, “The bleeding hasn’t stopped because the muscle underneath is one of the ones you use the most. It’s hard to heal because the skin won’t stay together. I could try to keep it together with a butterfly bandage then put an antiseptic ointment on it before wrapping it up again. Washing it with something harsh like alcohol or hydrogen peroxide would only break down the tissue more and halt the healing process.” Someone could argue that he’s talking a lot in a nervous situation, but other than that, the nerves he suddenly has are transparent. He hopes she doesn’t notice the overcompensation.

Antonio sets her arm down again as gently as he did when he picked it up and gives her a small smile, still trying to avoid blushing or any type of reaction like that. He clears his throat and looks down for a moment. “Do you have a first aid kid around that I could use?” There’s a pause and he adds “If you do want me to fix it, of course.”

Tangerine curls bob around slowly as Antonio speaks; what he's saying does make sense to her--yes--but it was a diagnosis given to her by someone who seemed--hence, they weren't actually one, mind you--to fit the role of a doctor, given that they were so close; he was serving as her company for the time being, of course. And even though Antonio wasn't a doctor, what could one even say to something like this? It wasn't a severe injury--at least, not to Bellum, for she had survived long enough with treating the wound by herself--so she wasn't worried for her sake in the slightest, though she had been wondering why it would occasionally cover the bandages that she wore with spots of crimson, and it was apparent that her question was now answered. The professor went on to explain means of how to properly treat the wound, and Sara did take these to heart, but she couldn't help but to think about how worried he seemed to be when announcing said ways. She still did not look in his direction, rather she glanced away as her lips parted slightly, but then she finally responds, keeping the sound of his worried tone locked in a chest within the back of her mind.

She finally shifts in his direction; "I suppose I should have gotten this checked out sooner. I haven't done much beyond cleaning around the wound because I would imagine that something like"--her right hand raises as she gesticulates for emphasis--"peroxide--like you said--would only worsen the pain." Though her words weren't as medically inclined as Antonio's were, she still seemed to be on the right track. It was in the short moment of silence that followed that Sara finally realized how genuinely concerned Antonio must have been, He handled her arm with great care; his voice took on a nervous tone as he--she assumed--could only imagine what could happen in the future; even the fact that he offered an examination in the first place showed care, let alone the fact that he was now willing to bandage her arm properly as well. Sara almost deemed the addition if she had wanted for him to heal her as funny; who would deny medical attention in a situation such as this one? She nodded, curls bouncing. "Of course; I'd hate to slow the healing process or cause any more damage than I might have already brought upon myself." She paused for a moment. "I'll see what I have in my bathroom." And then she left.

The trip to her bathroom didn't take long; she could practically complete the adventure with her eyes close, seeing how she had been living in this house for the majority of her life. An open door frame shouldered by two floor plants led to a hallway; the beginning led into a small staircase--only five steps made up this particular staircase--that led into the rest of the hallway. The walls were littered with various photographs from Bellum's life, allowing whomever wished to walk along said hallway to glimpse upon the hanging photo album that defined her life, despite the fact that hardly anyone ever saw these pictures. Finally, she was led onto a landing, consisting of a few doors. The door placed straight ahead of her was the one that led into her bedroom; the two on the left led to separate rooms that she had arranged differently--one was a guest bedroom while the other was a quaint library-like room. The last door on the right led into her bathroom--her desired location--and she walked in, darting towards the place that she had pictured in her mind ever since Antonio had mentioned various medicines that would assist in treating her wound.

Above the toilet was a cabinet that was built into the wall. It branched out into a small towel rack--which she utilized--underneath itself and above said rack was two cabinet doors and an open area that was occupied by relaxing images of the beach, even though it was rather difficult for one to see such (though it was quite simple for Sara, given her height). Opening the cabinet doors, her fingers began shifting through various items. A tube of toothpaste was pushed aside; her hairbrush was placed somewhere else; various makeup was rearranged in such a way that she could get a better view, but alas, Sara could find nothing that Antonio spoke of. Walking over to her sink, the woman bent down and situated herself as her knees bent forward, thighs pressing against one another. As one of the doors was opened, her hands began sorting through various items (and it was quite easy to find her way around, seeing how everything was properly organized) until she produced a rather large, clear bag and produced it by putting it on the ledge of the sink after she stood back up. Sara poked around inside of it for a moment to find that various boxes of bandages lived in there, accompanied by the medical tape that she had already been using, various medicines that ranged from chewable tablets to liquid medicines--which did include hydrogen peroxide as the professor had warned about earlier--, tissues, and cotton in both the form of swabs and balls. Sara wasn't sure if what he required was to be found in here, but it was what had served as her first-aid kit for around the house, so it would do. She then turned off the light and briskly headed for the living room once more, her body undergoing a small spasm from the cool temperature and the absence of her blazer as she passed through the gallery of her childhood and years later.

Once the coordinates had been given to the driver, Gwen relaxed upon hearing that she had presented the correct location and soon they were off. The redhead crossed one leg over the other, idly fixing the fabric of her tights, and wasted no time in peering out the window to see all what Townsville had to offer. Hey, just because she was on a mission of intergalactic importance didn’t mean she couldn’t play tourist while she was at it. She had to admit, Townsville was one of the nicer places she’s been to—but Gwen had made that conclusion several times since arriving.

The ride was rather silent—but not unwelcome—until Sara had spoke to her about the three little girls she had mentioned before. A small smile graced her lips and the teen nodded her head toward the elder woman. “No problem. I’m sure they’re just out playing about somewhere.” It was easy to pick up on the code, but the driver seemed not to pay any heed anyway. Not that she would have minded if he did, but Gwen wanted her operation to go without much panic—and the less people who knew about it, the better.

The taxi gave a gruff sounding ‘here you ladies go’ and Gwen reached into her pocket to pull out the money, leaving a generous tip for the man because he had been kind enough to travel such a distance—and he seemed to be in a mood. Sara had already left, and once she was sure she had everything situated she too got out of the taxi, waving the driver off with a warm smile and a cheerful, “Take care!"

Adjusting her sweater sleeves, Gwen moved to join Ms. Bellum staring out over the docks. She didn’t say anything right away, allowing whatever moment of peace the elder woman had, as she stood idly by until the teen was acknowledged. “It wasn’t a problem.” She returned the smile, lifting a hand to wave it dismissively. “It was the least I could do, you paid for dinner." 

Gwen glanced over at the restaurant just nearby—Acquerello—and wondered just how expensive a place like that would run. She didn’t particularly care for expensive foods, but her mother was and the hybrid was sure that had she ventured here with her parents it would have been for other reasons that looking for monsters that lurked in the very depths of Townsville’s bay.

“I couldn’t help but notice that smile earlier. Were you thinking of someone special?" She egged on, playfully, but not too bold as to sound like she was prying; the teen could honestly relate to missing someone right about now—a certain goggle headed jerk—even as she stared out over the bay; the moon cascading its glow over the silent waters, almost giving off an eerie feeling with each ripple.

Silence was around, but not because she wasn’t listening, no. Gwen was concentrating hard on the waters surface, searching. There was a heartbeat, and the rhythm of the sleeping monsters pulsated in her ears. She flinched.

“There’s something down there alright. Man, I should have brought the Rustbucket." There was a momentary sigh. The Rustbucket would prove useful to diving below, but she had to be sure how deep the bay ran before contacting the Plumbers to have it brought over. “Does it usually sleep for extended periods of time or can we rouse it awake?”

Although Gwen had begun speaking--and Sara was listening to her--the woman's attention was still directed upon the dock that led out to the midnight blue waters for a moment, still in remembrance of the person that the teenager had just curiously asked about. Sara remained vague about this topic, however, lest they get sidetracked from the actual topic at hand. "I was--yes. We had actually met at this restaurant a few months ago for dinner. It was very nice." And it was. Never before had Sara gone out with that particular man in a romantic sense--if the evening could be considered romantic, for it just seemed like a friendly evening with perhaps some hints at something just beyond friendly relations--but it turned out to be a successful evening, if not a bit uneventful. However, as Ms. Bellum mulled over before, her daydreaming--if it could be considered as such--was not the main topic of the evening, and Gwen had already started over towards the edge of the bay, in which Sara followed closely behind her.

The waters were calm. Aside from the moon's rippling effect, creating a cascading white light that fell down the waters, nothing could be seen or made out with a particular eye. Sara would concur in saying that there was something down there--if not for the earlier reports, than the use of her other senses to further locate the monster--though she wasn't entirely sure upon the answer that Gwen had brought into the conversation. "It's sleeping habits have yet to be determined. I've heard reports that it'll wake up one moment, fall asleep, and then wake up right afterwards; I've also heard that it can sleep for days without any signs of arousal. I've also heard that it doesn't completely emerge from the waters. Instead, it makes itself known by--"

The ground shook once more; Sara fell short of breath and took a stumbling step backwards, regaining her balance in a stumbling frenzy as her arms tensed and her elbows jutted outwards, fingers spread and bent like claws. It was as if she shrunk backwards as the waters began rippling furiously, whipping the moonlight around like a rag doll. Rocks danced and trees swayed in time with the splashing waters. As she snapped her head towards the right, the swaying light from a nearby lamppost was hard to make out; the entire city was shaking in such a frenzy that everything appeared as though it were a rushed smear. The light did not captivate her attention for long, however, for something had sprung from the water, shaking back and forth as it slapped upon the land that surrounded the bay.

It was made out quickly; it had actually been what Sara was about to conclude her sentence with. A green tentacle dripping wet with the mild waters of the bay dotted by purple spots that acted as suction cups--which could be assumed were for ripping the greenery from the earth around them, hence the absence of some trees and bushes and some roots torn from the ground that Sara had yet to notice--was now dancing around in the sky, the end of the tendril-like appendage just barely basking in the silhouette of the moon. It whipped around and began slapping an area west of the women; and then it slowed, almost as if it if were looking for something. It abruptly stopped afterwards and immediately plunged back into the waters, creating a large splash of water that flew into the sky, but, given how far away Gwen and Sara were standing, only a few cool water droplets could dot their skin. The earth was now at peace once more, and aside from the waters that had yet to calm down, everything was back to normal.

“SNOW DAAAAY!”

"While I'd hate to crush your enthusiasm, I doubt that you'd have a snow day today, Buttercup. There's hardly enough snow on the ground to attempt to make a small mound, and it'll probably melt away in due time anyway.

mscerebellum

… You don’t look familiar.

"Neither do you; I can't say that I've ever met a talking hedgehog before."

The moment she starts, Antonio is put into a strange state of worry that usually only occurs when his girls talk about some of what happens when they’re fighting crime. It’s the kind of worry that occurs when he truly cares and there are only a handful of people that could stir up this sort of reaction in him. 

"Months?" He echoes quietly, but allows her to continue. True, the news of Townsville was so instant at times that it was easy to miss events even just a week afterwards, but you would think he would have heard anything at all. Considering the fact he kept having to leave for extended amounts of time on business, it’s easy to believe he could have missed something. Something that big, though? He takes mental note to look into it later. 

While working on his own train of thought, he still is aware of everything she says and he watches her touch her lip when talking about the injury that occurred. Most of her mouth is concealed behind orange hair, but he still watches each movement. 

The hero in subject would be asked about later because the worry is still his most prevalent feeling and he can’t seem to focus on anything else. Of course she would put the safety of Townsville before he like his daughters, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it. That’s the problem with keeping company with such pure-hearted people, they always put others before them even if it means they could get hurt. 

Just as the rest of her story leaves her lips, Antonio stands and makes his way towards her. He’s making observation, but jumping to conclusion pretty quickly. “So you haven’t seen a doctor about it?” He finishes his question when he’s standing just before her. Without being invited, he takes a seat on the edge of the couch she occupies. “I’m sure you’re more than capable of fixing up your own injuries, but might I take a look? I’m no doctor of the medical sense, but I’m more than used to fixing up this sort of thing and set it on a path to heal faster.” The professor reaches for the arm he’s focused on but he doesn’t touch it unless she allows him to look at it. 

A noticeable wave of shock overcomes her as Antonio begins questioning about her well-being in a genuinely concerned way. The shocking part isn't when he seems so concerned about her--that's assumed of him, given his fatherly and perhaps overly-protective nature--rather the entire idea of someone seeming so concerned about her in the first place. Sara Bellum had always been made out to be the person whom others could count on. She was expected to offer positive and helpful advice when getting through tough times; she would complete all of her assigned work--and perhaps even work that was due in the future--on time with a diligent nature and with excellent effort; and she was the one to have this all expected of her without much in return--so she had gotten used to this. Her parents hadn't gushed or worried about her when she fell over and scraped her knee--of course, in dire situations, a completely different nature overtook them, but not in simple cases such as these--rather they simply bandaged her up and sent her on her way. None of her teachers had to sit down and speak with her when she wouldn't do well on some sort of assignment; Sara only learned from her mistakes and improved upon them in the future. Sara Bellum was a seemingly selfless woman with a foreign concept of people worrying about her; she was usually worrying about the well-being of others behind a cool and collective exterior.

Sara allows Antonio to sit upon the opposite end of the couch that she had been occupying for the past few minutes and turns to face him. As he begins to inquire about seeing a medical practitioner of some sort to inspect the wound more thoroughly than she had, she grows just the slightest bit sheepish, especially upon hearing it come from someone else opposed to herself just reassuring her that she would be fine and that she would heal on her own. ". . . No, I haven't. I didn't think about joining all of those people that were rushed to the hospital afterwards because I had to check on City Hall. I also figured that my wound wasn't as severe as other ones that I had seen, and I didn't want to waste time that could have been better spent saving someone else that was more hurt than I." The secretary pauses, her gaze--although not visible--steering off for a moment. "I suppose I should have, though--especially within the past few months after this incident had come to an end. I've been fine in the meantime, like I've mentioned before, but perhaps I can make a doctor's appointment for sometime this week." And she speaks before he surprises her once more.

His logic makes sense to her; while he isn't working within a medical field, he probably does know more about this sort of topic than she does. Not only that, but Antonio had come to prove himself to be a trustworthy person. Sara honestly didn't expect for the professor to take one look at her wound and claim that she needed immediate medical assistance without actually meaning what he had been saying. And while everything within the situation seemed to be piecing itself together nicely, there was still one thing that Sara was hesitant about. Her blazer was far too tight to make an attempt to roll up her sleeve. It would most likely only make it to the end of her forearm and the friction would leave a stinging sensation from the temporary burn that was bound to be left behind. The only solution lied within Sara actually removing her blazer to free her bandaged wound; and after a few moments of internal contemplation, she found that she was alright with doing this in front of Antonio, so long as they could both remain mature and professional about it--which she was sure that they could. Even so, she still addressed the matter. "Oh, yes--of course. I think that your diagnosis--no matter how detailed or not--may act as some sort of relief for now. I'll have to take off my blazer, however; are you okay with that?"

She begins to do so anyway. Nimble fingers work at unbuttoning the three black buttons that hold together the flaps of the jacket. It isn't long before the article of clothing is falling from her bare shoulders, only to be caught by her right hand, in which it drapes it behind the back of the couch. Underneath her red blazer is an undershirt--a camisole, if you will--of the matching color, filled by ample breasts. The only signs of undergarments found upon her are the white straps that act like fraternal twins with the corresponding strap from her camisole that they link up with. Once Sara finds that she's comfortable, she turns her body in such a way that it reveals the white bandages wrapped around her left bicep with the faintest stain of red found in a faint ring about three-fourths of the way around her muscle. Slowly, her right hand reaches over and begins to unwrap the bandages, traveling around her arm about three or four--maybe even five--times before the wound makes contact with the open air. The incision isn't too deep into her skin, but it does make an impression. It's already begun to scar, but blood will occasionally seep through at times, hence the faint remains of the bodily fluid upon her bandages in the first place. It's a reddish-pink color now, with new skin beginning to take the place of the flesh that had once been. However, this process has hardly taken place yet, given that the time of the infliction of said wound was not so long ago and it was quite the injury.

Starting to become a slight habit, his eyes are on the telescope once again and his mind can’t resist plotting all of the things he could possibly do with such equipment. Antonio even begins to wonder where the telescope would do the best. Would wind affect it in any negative way? How well would it do when there was cloud cover? Would it still point in the direction of the star even if it was no longer visible unless previously looked up on the database. The database is supposedly extensive and he wonders if it knows of bodies in the night sky that even he hasn’t heard of. 

The long train of internal planning and curiosity is cut off when Sara comes over with his water bottle. The professor sits up and moves his body to the edge of the couch so he can reach for the bottle that she hands to him. He thanks her when the cold plastic is in his hands and gives her a smile. Without wasting a moment, he takes the cap off of the water in order to get a drink. 

Mid-drink he can’t help but notice the way her arm kind of gives in as she puts weight on it. Two years of anatomy and physiology in college didn’t have to tell him that weakness like that isn’t normal. Instant concern is felt, but before he can inquire about it, she’s already continued the conversation. 

His experiments are brought up and he thinks fondly of his lab. It has been unused in the last couple of weeks. Something he feels a little bad about. The lab down in his basement is just as much of his baby as the Powerpuff Girls are. “If I can help it, I’d like to stay out of the papers for now. Most involve students and the stress of reporters hounding them about work with me on top of the regular stress of college might be too much to handle for a few of them.” He shakes his head and shrugs, though he is smiling still. It disappears, however, and is replaced by a concerned expression because her visible weak point is still fresh in his mind. 

"Sara?" He starts. "Are you alright? I couldn’t help but notice you stumble slightly when you sat…" But on the chance that she doesn’t want to talk about it, he corrects himself. "Unless I’m reading in between the lines… Which could be the case. I think it happens more when you become a dad." He offers a small smile. 

Her body freezes as he calmly addresses that he did--indeed--catch sight of when she had put too much weight upon her arm and it had caved in where her wound lied. She looks downwards at an angle and catches a glimpse of one of the lights glistening upon the toe of her right heel before she sighs and looks over to the right, her eyes examining nothing of particular interest--it's as if she's staring at the wall, because she is. On the inside of her mouth, her tongue brushes against her upper lip and she finally glances back to Antonio, her hands smoothing out her skirt in an attempt to give them something to do. She does decide that it would be best to talk about the situation, lest the professor find out about it later and possibly become more concerned--and perhaps a bit annoyed--with the situation that she had been keeping from him ever since the first pang of pain shot from the incision in her bicep to her entire arm. "I'm alright now," she begins, albeit slowly, "but I am wounded--yes." She swallows. "I suppose that it would be best to tell you about the entire situation now opposed to having you find out about it later.

"It happened a few months ago. The city was attacked by an earth creature and the girls were no where to be seen. It was sudden and unexpected--how and when the monster arrived. There were no signs beforehand that led anyone to believe that we had been harboring the creature for however long that it might have been under the park. I had been giving, what you could call, a tour to a stranger--a stranger, in which, that would end up helping the city immensely--that had stumbled upon the city just a little bit before the monster had even announced its presence. As we entered Townsville Park, that's when the ground had begun to shake and the monster branched out from within the ground; though I cannot remember what had triggered it to become so angry in the first place." The memories were hazy by now; a young child that had been obliviously playing within the dirt with a plastic bucket and shovel had dug into the creature's head, rousing it from its slumber. In Sara's defense, she wasn't looking in the general direction of the event when it had happened, nor had she wanted to remember the entire event so clearly. "I could only think of the citizens' safety at that time, and as I had begun to evacuate the surrounding masses, one of it's tendrils lashed out and managed to split my lip open." Her fingers gently graze over the area. "But that's healed now.

"The stranger--the man--that I had mentioned before spoke about certain powers that he possessed in his own lands." Her tone took on that of a sarcastic level, as if she still couldn't believe what had happened--but oh, how she was thankful that it did happen, indeed. "He claimed that he fought off ghosts among monstrous turtles, I believe; and although it seemed much too far-fetched, who was I to deny it? Townsville has had its fair share in odd cases as such." A pause; "We were blessed with such a selfless soul; he wasted no time in springing into action, allowing myself to seek assistance elsewhere in the city. That's how the wound came about--as I'm sure you're wondering. As I was running to seek help elsewhere, a car had been thrown into a glass building ahead of myself at the time, sending shards flying everywhere. One had managed to slice through my blazer and my arm; and I later realized that a piece was still stuck inside of my arm, let alone the fact that my makeshift bandage at the time was only pressing it in further. I eventually pulled it out," she quickly reassured (and let it be known that she hadn't once went to any sort of medical practitioner during this time, deeming that other citizens had been much more wounded than she, which was both correct and incorrect), "and applied the proper bandages. Now, I'm just letting the wound heal; though, as you can probably tell, it's taken a bit of a toll on my left arm, at least."

Sara adverts her attention towards her left arm, looking in the general area in which her arm was split open. Once again, her fingers gently brush over material of her blazer in the area of the cut to demonstrate where it had been. She honestly didn't think it was that bad; it was only a cut about half-an-inch think that circled about two-thirds of the way around her bicep. Ms. Bellum had decided to brush this off, for she had suffered worse (the fight with Sedusa came to mind; Sara still bore multiple scars upon her upper back when the seductress had kicked her backwards into her glass table). Her head rocks from left to right slightly--as indicated by her curly locks shifting as she moves--as she looks back to Antonio; she remembers something and something that can only be described as a wave of guilt washes over her and leaves as quickly as it came.

There’s a moment of hesitation as the professor awkwardly stands in the center of the living room, analyzing the situation. His body turns towards the kitchen that she has just gone into, but then he turns towards the couch because she gestured for him to sit if he wanted to as well. The analytically driven mind of a scientist is a problem at times in the way that it makes simple decisions a lot harder than they need to be. He takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way over to his couch. The couch is closer to his telescope after all.

Occasionally he’ll smile over to the new equipment, still unable to believe he actually has one. If he ever bought one for himself like that, it wouldn’t be for a long time. Funds for something like that would slowly build up because he would put it to the side carefully and only when he knew there would be no reason to need it for something else. 

Looking around, he realizes she’s just like him in the way that her house never seems to change. Every time he comes over—which isn’t often—it seems mostly the same. This time the only new addition is the presents he wishes he could have gotten sooner. 

She inquires about how he is and he develops a thoughtful smile, wondering how he’s doing as well. There isn’t time to sit back and inquire within himself about his status in terms of how he’s doing. Not wanting to bring the good mood that he carries down at all, he decides he can’t say he’s stressed. Not right now, at least. There’s just so much he could say. “I’m very busy,” he starts. “I am doing well, of course. There just seems to be a lot of projects all at once.” 

When no longer so focused on himself, his eyes go to her in the kitchen. Always the proper hostess, but he doesn’t want to cause too much of a fuss simply because he’s here. “A drink of really anything is okay with me. Water would be great, thank you.”

There is so much to catch up on, he feels like, and he doesn’t want to waste a moment. “How are you doing, Sara?”

A moment of contemplation darts through Sara's mind; should she tell him what had happened while he was away, or should she just let it slide completely?--After all, it had been in the past, and it was apparent that this made itself out to be an event that Sara did not want to remember in fondness, let alone at all. She hesitates for a moment. "I've been . . . Alright. It's been very quiet at City Hall without the mayor, but it does allow me to accomplish more work much more quickly than before."

How could she even begin to bring up the fact that Townsville had almost been demolished? The main reason why she doesn't want it to be brought up into conversation is because she doesn't want him to worry or feel bad--but it isn't because of her. The main reason why this particular fight had made itself out to be one of the more prominent ones within the city's history of monster attacks was because the Powerpuff Girls had not been present at the time. In that moment in which the monster finally introduced itself--it was born from earth, therefore it protruded from the ground in the most grotesque manner--the city decided that its fate should lie on the shoulders of a secretary and a mere tourist--a lost one, at that--but thankfully, not only did the secretary have some skills of her own, but this certain tourist had been a hero in his home lands--he spoke about powers that he possessed that assisted him in saving princesses alongside his brother; it wasn't a surprise that he didn't hesitate to give a demonstration of said powers when the city was in a state of emergency. But against that, the pastel triplets that would have normally saved the day in a matter of minutes weren't there at the time, and Sara could certainly see why Antonio would feel bad about this. It certainly wasn't his fault; and she honestly wasn't upset. Although the monster did manage to send the city on the verge of debt after all the damage it caused, none of the citizens were fatally injured--perhaps a few were sent to the hospital with minor wounds (which would have included her, albeit she refused on account of having to get back to work--especially when the mayor was absent) but nothing more. The safety of the citizens of Townsville was one of Sara's main priorities.

Her hips rock back and forth as she struts across the carpet of her living room once more, bottle of water in hand. Her right shoulder--which also happened to harbor the accompanying hand that held the water bottle to begin with--leaned in slightly, offering the drink to her guest as she finally entered the living room once more. As he accepted the offer--assuming that he did, of course--Bellum backs up and makes contact with the couch across from Antonio; she knows the layout of her house like the back of her hand, of course, therefore it isn't much of a surprise that she could run up and down the small flight of stairs with ease knowing how many steps she had ahead of time among knowing the direct path to her bed from the light switch next to her door frame in her bedroom once she's ready to drift off for the evening. As her rear finally makes contact with the couch, there's a quick moment in which her palm presses upon the material too harshly and the muscle caves in for a moment, twisting where her wound lies. Her face--or what can be seen of it, that is--refuses to let this show as her entire appendage is subtly cradled by the rest of her body, her hand now rubbing the inflicted area as if she's a bit cold.

It's best if she continues to have a conversation with him; and, of course, she wants to as well. Her attention drifts to his telescope for a moment and her mind fills with the curiosity about his projects and any upcoming scientific discoveries that he might be planning. Although Sara can hardly wrap her mind around the things that he does for both a living and a recreational activity, she's happy to see him so excited for something that he's spent his entire lifetime doing--it's rare to see someone actually acquire their desired future in these days.