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After the deals are made, she washes her hands. They smell like peaches, mildly. In the middle of the day, when she calls her mother on the phone there's a calm that washes over her- it's as warm as the sun on her face spilling through the windows, in the smart corner office with the view. Bulletproof glass, a perimeter protected with spells which may or may not work; there's a little control panel to darken them slightly in order to keep the more nocturnal clients about town from spontaneous combustion.
It's a moment full of satisfaction which very much resembles peace. She doesn't mince words, unless it's necessary for a role. She always gets the job done. And it's almost insignificant that she never loses sleep. Lilah wonders what it is to dream. |