Nyla lay in bed, the side of her head resting on a white pillow. So much of this place was white and clean, including her small cubical-sized bedroom. There wasn’t much in the room but a bed and a small nightstand with a lamp. A window was on the wall opposite her bed, and was open to let in the cool night air. Along with the air came the night sounds of crickets chirping and the wind softly blowing. For some reason she couldn’t go to sleep. It wasn’t like she’d spent the day laying around or relaxing - it had begun with a wake-up kickboxing lesson, then a lesson in swordsmanship, and finally ended with a few hours at the firearm shooting range. Ever since the first few days, Nyla had increasingly became a better, and better shot, beating the accuracy of both Kavita and Takashi, who now each lay in their own cubical bedrooms, sleeping.

Nyla tossed and turned a bit, before coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. She decided to walk out onto the small porch in the front of the building and get some fresh air. Maybe after a few minutes she’d be able to go back to bed and actually go to sleep. Anything was worth a try.

She emerged from the front door and turned to take a seat on the one bench on the porch, that was - surprise - white. But she stopped when she noticed that Pierre was already sitting on the bench.

He turned to her, his messy brown hair evidence of his tossing and turning, “Couldn’t sleep either?”

Nyla sat down next to him, shaking her head. “No, I couldn’t sleep. I tried, but gave up and decided maybe some fresh air would help.”

“Exactly my thought.” Pierre gave a small, effortless smile.

“Has it been working for you then?”

“Not really - unfortunately.”

“I think I’m homesick. I mean, I love it here, and learning all these new skills is great. I don’t even have anyone back home in Philadelphia except my parents a few cities over. But its that familiar comfort feeling that I miss. There’s nothing better than being relaxed at home with a pair of shabby sweats and an old t-shirt on. Especially when you add an exciting novel to the ensemble.”

“You know, I haven’t read a book in so long.”

“What do you do for fun then?”

“Practice. Target practice, self-defense, kickboxing, and judo training. I went bungee jumping a year ago.”

“Maybe that’s why you’re not sleeping - you need to go have some fun!”

“It’s hard to have fun when you’re alone in this white building. The Company hardly ever gets new members, is very small, and you and Kavita are actually the first girls to join the organization. It’s been a boy’s club for quite some time now.”

“Well, I’m glad to shake things up.” She smiled. “Why is everything white?”

“Cheap paint? I don’t know. It just is, and always has been.”

“Let’s paint the walls. Blue, green, purple, red. I don’t think we can sleep because we aren’t getting enough fun, and this building is way too white. How about we finish the training, then paint. Might be fun.”

“I never really thought much about that before. Color would be very nice, and I’m sure its fine to take just a bit of money from the budget to paint the walls....why, its employee morale at risk here!”

“Oh, we can’t let employee morale fall!” Nyla was mock-horrified. “I mean, depressed people with guns can lead to some scary situations!”

Pierre laughed. “Especially *trained* depressed people with guns. That’s it, we’re going to get some colored paint.”
((gosh, I'm having story problems........I want to take this in one direction, but then I don't. My stupid potential love storylines all come after I watch some TV show or movie or read a book or listen to music that makes me feel lovesick. And so I put that into my writing, hook up some characters. But its unsettling to me, because I'm afraid I'm taking the story somewhere I hadn't intended it to go, and its all being led astray by my silly romantic yearnings. And then I end up with a bunch of silly writing that just sits in my computer that I never post. But I'm posting this anyways. I don't need to have Nyla have several version of her story to accomodate my whims like I have for Gareth. Poor guy's nearly been hooked up several times, but none of it was ever really put into story. Okay, I meant to just have a short comment and I've gone off on and on. Oops. I'll stop here. : ) ))

[I’m going to skip the whole “being caught” thing because I can’t write it. It just comes out really REALLY stupid sounding.]

“Robert and Sylvia Beaumont, this…Amelia, is your daughter?” Mr. Conklin shook his head. “You want to press charges against your daughter? You’re long-lost daughter whom you abandoned at a very young age?” The three adults were seated in Mr. Conklin’s office. The lawyer sat behind a heavy, bulky oak desk. The various papers and documents were neatly arranged in boxes that sat harmoniously with the trinkets a lawyer would sometimes possess: a golden paperweight in the shape of a hawk rested in the corner, and a stilled Newton’s Cradle occupied the center-left. Conklin stood and began pacing.

“Yes. I believe that this will be a positive affair towards the Beaumont operations,” Sylvia replied, following Conklin’s progress.

“Hm. Well, yes, it probably will. I truly doubt you two would do anything that would hurt your ‘operations.’ But this is insane. What did she do, try to kill you?”

Robert cleared his throat, “Actually, Mr. Conklin, she did. She rammed her stolen car into ours, forcing it off the highway and into a pole. Our Lexus was totaled, but luckily, we survived.” At this, Robert clasped Sylvia’s hand in a gesture of fake sensitivity.

“Quite fortunate!" Conklin paused and leaned forward, towards the couple, "What do you want then, uh, attempted manslaughter?”

“No. Attempted murder, in the first degree.”

“Whoa. That's...that's pretty heavy. Well then. Tell me everything.”