Xarya's gaze remains fixed into Theadora's amber eyes. They're extremely pretty, especially to an Exon like herself, and not solely because of their almond shape. Sure, almond-shaped eyes are rare among Exons, but their color is what dazzles her. Anything that originates from her home planet is either red, blue, green or any shade ranging from white to black. The nearly golden tint of the theater instructor's irises is an unprecedented feat of beauty, something unique she had only imagined, having read about Earthly colors in books.

     " I guess I should let you get on with your evening. Thank you, again. " The alien raises from the bed.

     " Really, it was my pleasure. Never ignore someone in need, right? " The young teacher's smile is visibly heartfelt.

     " Yes, of course. "

Before pulling the door's panel, which was left ajar, she pretends to reconsider her decision, with her hand hovering next to it.

     " Oh, and could you please not mention this to anyone..? " she adds, softly.

     " Sure, it'll be our dirty little secret. " She follows her amused comment with a short pleased laugh and a wink.

Relieved and hoping Miss Hennessy will keep her word, the extraterrestrial walks out of Room 4. She hurries to her own room, attempting to ignore the pang of worry that is slowly twisting inside her chest. A starved snake coiling itself around her ribcage, desperate to strike, to taste blood, to pierce open her organs with its venomous fangs... X exhales unsteadily, inserting her right hand into one of her denim overalls' pockets and clenching her fist around the copper key she carries in it. What is wrong with her? She enters the modest room and her heart misses a beat at the sight of her roommate, who is reading with her back against the wooden wall. Of course... Of course. Nervously ruffling her green curls, she mutters:

     " Hello, Ms. Woodward... "

     " Ms. Pepper. "

The blonde woman barely acknowledges her, clearly focused on the book she's holding with the help of her left palm. Her ocean blue eyes run along the page attentively, the fingers of her free hand fiddling with the small golden cross hanging from the chain around her freckled neck. The English teacher cannot help but notice the lack of a title on the cover of the volume. Its dark olive binding is rather rugged and only bears four bronze lines spaced down its spine to decorate it. In a matter of seconds, though, the curious creature is once again concentrated on her initial mission. She opens the doors of her wardrobe, rapidly grabbing a new pair of white denim overalls from the hangers and pressing it to her stomach as to hide the splatter of dried blood that soils the one she is currently wearing. She also snatches a small metallic vial that was formerly tucked away among a row of her white socks.

Once the Exon is done changing, she slips her bottle of Exonian stain remover into one of her pockets and carefully folds the overalls stained with Gunner's blood, making sure the speckles of blood are not exposed. With that settled, she leaves the washroom attributed to her sleeping quarters. Regardless, someone could still easily see the reddish brown droplets tainting the white surface and wonder about them, if they were to rummage through her possessions. For her to efficiently avoid any suspicions that could arise, she should get rid of the stains as quickly as possible. While it might seem shady that she needs to wash her overalls after a single day of work, simply hiding the evidence would be shooting herself in the foot. At any given moment, Dustin could retrieve the clothing item and, after testing the spots of blood, use it to prove she harmed one of her students. Furthermore, this gives her a perfect opportunity to chat with the colleague who shares her bedroom.

     " Miss Woodward? I was planning on heading to the laundry rooms tomorrow and I thought you might have some clothes that needed washing. Seeing as we are roommates, and I will be going there anyway, I could take care of it for you. "

She pairs her proposal with a joyful smile and an enthusiastic twirl in the direction of her closet. Before Xarya even has time to stuff her overalls at the bottom of a pile of clothing where they won't risk being discovered, Helen answers her:

     " How about we go right now? "

The extraterrestrial turns around, seeing the math teacher slip her novel under her pillow.

     " Oh, really!? Should we be going over there this late? "

     " Yeah, most people do their laundry during the day, so I always do mine in the evening. "

The two females start heading for the North-West Wing, in utmost silence, until the alien breaks it:

     " What were you reading earlier? "

Miss Woodward seems hesitant, she adjusts the position of her laundry bag onto her right shoulder before giving a reply:

     " It wouldn't interest you, trust me. "

     " No, on the contrary! Would I have asked if I wasn't interested? "

The human's head jerks to the left. X's roommate is staring at her, confused.

     " Yes, well... It could've been a simple attempt... " She looks away, rephrasing: " It could have been a polite question, right? "

The extraterrestrial cheerfully - yet firmly - argues:

     " I like to believe I am polite, but you should know that I rarely inquire about subjects I do not care about. Life is far too precious to waste it on bare pleasantries! "

     " If that is the case... "

Xarya gleefully interrupts her:

     " It is! "

     " Well, then, I won't go on too much about it, but it's the interpretation and analysis of a specific revision of the Bible. "

The Earthling averts her ocean blue eyes from the Exon's wide-eyed gaze, not realising they're wide with amazement and not crude judgement. Her freckled cheeks are subtly reddening, something the alien perceives despite the darkness of the oncoming twilight.

     " That is... Amazing! Have you ever thought about writing your own review? "

     " No. I teach mathematics and not English for a reason. " Helen comments, shaking her head.

     " Which is? "

     " Well, I... I obviously am not an expert of language, not by any means... Not even close to it. " She adds a scoff to her wavering statement.

     " Writing isn't about knowing every single word in the dictionary, a feat that is, incidentally, humanly impossible. It's about the attention to detail, effort, passion... If you truly love what you're writing about and the way you are writing it, your piece has no choice but to be magnificent! "

Xarya inadvertently brought her overalls up to her heart, against her chest, with her fingers entwined over them. The mathematics teacher chuckles, holding one of the double doors leading into the North Tower open for her newest coworker. The more experienced staff member leads them to the Beaufort Orphanage and Educational Institute's corridor of laundry rooms. They enter one of the four laundry rooms bearing a plaque with the inscription "Educators" above the doorframe, which is also one of the two with the submention "Female" engraved into the silvery rectangle. The slightly damp atmosphere of the room is surprising to X, who is used to the crisp chemical-laden air of her laundry room on the SunSide. She has visited laundromats before, to wash her Earth clothes, but this feeling is recurrent.

The English teacher picks up the box of detergent from the nearest washing machine, hiding its contents from the other woman as she peeks inside it. The walk to come here would have been a golden opportunity to discover a lot about Miss Woodward, but Xarya was busy elaborating a scheme to get rid of her colleague long enough for her to douse the blood stains on the element of clothing with her special stain remover. The chemical substance is so powerful that a few drops of it could kill an average-sized mammal.

     " This box looks quite empty... Would you mind getting another one? I'll wait for your return to start the machine, of course! "

The extraterrestrial's happy-go-lucky smile and attitude convince Helen to leave the laundry room. Now, she must act quickly. She slams the box of detergent down on the tiled ground, before swiftly raising the lid of the closest washing machine. She produces the thin silvery flask from one of her back pockets and effectively drizzles a significant amount of the bright red liquid over the tarnished part of the pale denim. After rubbing it to make sure it's properly spread, she sets it at the bottom of the washing machine's drum, sighing softly in relief. X twists the small rounded cap of the container back on and drops it into her front pocket, hearing the educator's heels against the mat wooden floor, approaching from the hallway.

Her secret is safe for now. Or, rather, her many secrets all are.