#;eva

The weather was so unpredictable lately. When Joanne had woken up this morning, the air had been frigid, but the sun was shining brightly. As the day progressed, though, storm clouds blew in, obscuring the sun. And then snow began to fall in thick, heavy flakes. Now it coated the road and piled up against the door, the wind blowing it at a diagonal against the building. It wasn’t a big deal for her -- she didn’t have anywhere to be after this. Once the shop closed up, all she had to do was walk up the stairs to her flat. But it wasn’t herself she was worried about. It was her one and only customer, and her little pug. She turned to face Eva, a frown creasing between her brows.

“It’s really coming down out there. You didn’t drive, did you?” She thought about that, then amended, “Actually, walking out there isn’t really good, either. Petunia’s paws might get cold.” She offered up a small smile at that, but she was worried. Frowning, she looked pensively out of the window for a moment. Going out in a storm like that ... it was dangerous. And she didn’t like thinking of Eva in dangerous situations. She did think of it, more than she cared to admit, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Still half lost in thought, staring out the window, she mumbled, “Maybe you should stay at my place until it dies down ...”

When Joanne saw her, she was hit by the strangest sense of vertigo.

She caught the other woman’s eye through the window. Joanne had been dusting off the shelf and the woman was walking past outside. But, even though they were at roughly around the same height, Joanne suddenly got the impression that she was looking down -- far, far down, as if from the top of a building -- to see the other standing on the ground. The sensation made her stomach lurch, and several books toppled to the floor as she grabbed at the shelf in an effort to support her suddenly weak legs.

Then the sensation was gone -- and so was the woman. The cling of the bell above the door suggested that she hadn’t gone far, though. Joanne bent to pick up the books, her face burning, wondering what on earth had come over her. She looked cautiously towards the door, as if expecting something more to happen. But it just a woman standing before her -- an attractive woman, surely, but a woman nonetheless. There was no strangeness about her. Joanne stood, trying (and failing) to act nonchalant.

“Welcome to Kipling Books,” she said. “May I help you?”

Hannibal eyed the young woman   carefully, canting his head as he watched her.            “You aren’t exactly human, are you?             You’re certainly...different.”