My first instinct is to share my awe.

"That's a cool name! Did you choose it?"

A soft smirk angles Persephone's lips, painted with a thin coat of plum-colored gloss.

"No, my parents did... Tanza has a nice ring to it, too. Is that a chosen name?"

I am frankly stunned that for everyone I have met tonight, the concept of changing one's given name is as natural as getting a new haircut, yet another aspect to express one's identity.

Smiling, I nod. "It is. I use they/them pronouns, what about you?"

"She/her..." She studies me with an enigmatic expression.

Persephone's blue eyes are now visible, ever since she moved away from the rainbow lighting. In the soft - but illuminating - yellow-orange toned haze of the corridor, I can observe more of her distinct features. For one, a horizontal scar jaggedly divides her nose into two halves. There is also a dark stripe inside her right iris, on my left, beginning in the top right corner, blending away underneath the pupil and emerging to cross the lower left half of the iris, in the corner closest to her damaged nose.

I sip on my fruit punch, wondering if I should have invited Colin to this. He would have made me feel more at ease, that's for sure.

The redhead inquires, after a few seconds, "So, are you employed? What do you do for work?"

"I'm a paramedic at Gotham General." I specify, "The hospital, you know?"

She scoffs. "Oh, I'm not from around here. It's tough, right? Being a paramedic? You must be hella strong."

"Where are you from?"

The woman swallows a gulp of her beverage.

"Just from out of town," she conspicuously replies, attempting to say it casually.

I let it go, still wary of infuriating her and losing my calm hideout.

"I don't know if I'm that strong, but it is physically and mentally demanding, absolutely. And you? What's your field?"

The mysterious guest snickers, almost speaking to herself, "I work for a travelling agency."

I am tempted to open the borders of my mind only to figure out what is so funny about her answer. Reasonably, I won't. But she questionably seems entertained by her own words.

"I'm sure it has its challenges," I affirm.

Perhaps she feels like her career is less impressive than mine?

"Sure," she responds, chuckling.

"Is that how you met Joseph and Cedric?"

If she shuts me down, I will cease invading her privacy and we can rest silently.

"No, I met them through my mom. Joseph's my uncle. How did you guys meet?"

Her half-smile is not mocking anymore, rather interested.

"I'm their neighbor."

I forcefully stop talking, subtly analyzing Persephone's body language. As an EMT, this skill can be the difference between life or death, but it is equally useful to be apt at discerning people's intentions as a simple citizen of our dangerous city. Luckily for me, I was trained to hone this ability, both in college and in my extracurriculars. Her long legs, clad in light blue jeans, are loosely propped between the yellow wall and the wooden floorboards. It would not be insane to believe she does not mind our conversation.

We simultaneously drink from our cups, filling the awkward pause.

Before it grows, I ask her, "What are you drinking?" even if I suspect that...

"Just fruit punch," she evenly answers.

"Oh, me too! Hopefully, no one spiked the punch bowl," I attempt, jokingly.

The young woman pierces me with her intense blue eyes, giving me the opportunity to realize that the streak in her right eye is an almost black, deep blood red color. The judgement and confusion slowly fade into a blank gaze.

I should leave.

Shockingly, her cold facial expression shatters to exhibit an amused grin.

"At least, neither of us are driving. I take it you're not a big drinker?"

"Not of alcohol." I chuckle shortly.

"Welcome to the club."

I wittily retort, "I founded the club."

To my delight, Persephone joins me in laughter; hers is choppy, but rolls like thunder.

"Whatever, kid, watch your mouth."

"Geez, do I look that much younger?!"

"You're closer to twenty than I am, without a doubt."

"If you say so. You look pretty young, yourself."

We keep discussing, until our plastic glasses of fruit punch are long emptied and we have heard an electronic version of the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy minimally four times. We have coincidentally discovered that we have the same taste in memes, when we both thought of similar jokes which referred to a meme we had both seen. This contributed to how easily we chatted, even if we are compatible and agree on many topics. Namely, how terrible the public transport is in Gotham City.

"Look, why don't we exchange our phone numbers? In case you come to visit again, at least you'll know one more person around here!"

I am praying that is not too forward or out of norm...

Persephone scoffs, as she often does instead of laughing, with a smile.

"Sure, let's do it. You're the only person I know 'round here apart from my uncles."

She shows no sign of reaching for her cellphone, so I pull out my own. I open up a new contact page and hand my device to her.

The travel agency employee sighs hesitantly. "Um, before I do this, I think I should make it clear that I'm not... Romantically interested." She seems regretful, despite her neutral countenance.

I blink, startled by her remark. I had no romantic intentions when I offered to give her my number or at any moment during the evening, as a matter of fact. I guess I understand why it could have seemed that way.

"Neither am I. So, that's good!"

I laugh and, fortunately, she does as well.

"All right... Here you go."

As she types, I note that she is wearing severely chipped nail polish of a muted pink shade, and then she relinquishes my possession back to me.

Our hosts timely announce a game of charades, which turns out to be a lot more fun than what I have known this activity to be. Persephone and I's names were the first that were drawn from a top hat, so we teamed up along with Fanny, Nellie and Dirk. Cedric wore said top hat for the duration of the game, incidentally. Our team lost by about ten points, however the redhead and I accumulated the most points for our group.

After the game, Georgelle is beginning to tell an apparently riveting story concerning a drag brunch at which they are certain that they met Catwoman - or The Riddler dressed as the famous thief, I am not sure -, but I am looking for my neighbors.

Joseph is dipping a chocolate chip cookie in a short plastic cup filled with beer, and his husband has his arm slung over Joseph's shoulders as he caresses the sleeve of his leather jacket, both of them installed on their couch. I do not want to bother them, so I approach swiftly.

"Hey, you guys. I'm gonna head out. This was so great, thanks for the invite."

"Oh, alright. Get some rest, T-Rex," mumbles the man who is eating.

"Thanks, you too. We'll talk later, right? Have a good evening!"

"You too, Tanza," wishes me Cedric.

I wave at Persephone and, to my surprise, she strides over to meet me by the front door.

"I gotta step out," she justifies herself, upfront.

The woman looks slightly anxious, but I do not mention it. Once we are outside, in the darkness, I playfully warn her, over the wailing sirens in the distance: "Don't stay out here for too long, they might lock the door again."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I need to make a call. Good night."

"You, too!"

Once everything in my apartment, including myself, is set for me to sleep safe and soundly, I lie down in my bed. While I pull up my covers, I remember my mind borders. Should I open them..? I decide against it, not until Persephone has left the building, and I concurrently fall asleep.

~

Walking down the bright hallway that leads from the emergency bay to the main hospital wings, I glance outside a nearby row of windows. Snowflakes are falling lazily from the clouds, in clusters that melt because of the stifling polluted air before they can even touch the dark roads or the rare lanes of weak grass.

Reading my patients' thoughts has not proven revolutionary. On the contrary, their minds are overcome with pain, brimming with raw emotions and untamed, in most cases. Their confusion and suffering does not aid me oftentimes. I still appreciate being able to understand what they feel or to follow their trains of thoughts, which has helped me here and there.

I am becoming more skilled every day at multitasking, at using my telepathy during other actions that involve my focus. Cheryl keeps telling me that I am making incredible progress, but I am a little frustrated. I know that learning requires patience and I do not lack self-control... But it is even more hurtful to hear the inner dialogues of those around me when I know I have done nothing to prevent their pain, despite the five days that have gone by since my gangster friend empowered me. I am aware of the dangers of rushing into any mission untrained, so I will wait... But I intend to communicate to her, soon, my yearning to do something, anything. Even if it does not require special abilities. A lot of heroes do not need magic to help their fellows. I could be protecting civilians like I have always done if I were not so busy exploring my psychic gifts.