Pray for Those Trapped in the Widow's Snare.

And interesting clothes. What time period did she warp in from? Obviously someone from another world, maybe. He had met a few like that as of late. It really amazed him how he was now used to the oddity of life’s surprises.

"Es freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen, Herr Haswell." She spoke with a curtsey. Hopefully he would understand what she said, or she might have embarrassed herself.

She would turn her attention to her surroundings again. This was quite far from her home...She had to keep this place in mind.

"I’ll…see what I can find. "

"I'll...see what I can find. "

Running. He was always running, whether to escape or to chase, the physical action forever programmed into Julian’s instincts. There was a raid on one of his facilities, out manned and out gunned the dealer set fire to his building, fleeing to the thick woods.

From behind the sound of dogs, barking and snarling at random intervals made his heart quicken, pushing for a faster speed refusing to be the todd in this fox hunt.

Hurtling into a clearing ignoring the burning ache of lungs, Julian spied a cabin and set forth hoping for shelter. He nearly collided with the figure that stood in the doorway, veering to his left and collapsing. Struggling with breath, the man fought for speech.

It was a cozy little house. Decorated with basic furnishings. A few chairs with cushions near a fireplace, a kitchen, and two bedrooms. One for herself, one for guests. Her seemed to form a trail all over the house.