A
Amberflaxus11
Guest
Original poster
Sobriquet Duncan, better known to his associates as Ket, carefully checked the street address printed in neat block letters, one of the few still uncrossed by a black pen, before parking the rented car outside of the building, the shadows from the truck stretched and distorted against the golden light of sunset. <i>Aurora House for the Mentally Unsettled.</i> His lip curled, and he sighed, forcing his shoulders to relax. Getting angry wouldn't help anything now. <i>Sister, I hope you're here.</i> He'd best focus on the task at hand. After all, a single stray emotion and he could blow his cover. <i>Sure would be convenient for the Feds if I got caught outside of a paranormal prison, though. Would save them the trouble of carting me away.</i> No doubt he'd go somewhere higher-security, though.
Slowly, attempting to give off an unhurried air, he opened the car door, stepping out onto the street, the smell of exhaust and dust overwhelming. He tucked the sheaf of paper under his arm, placing a nondescript bank statement on top and folding the entire wad in half, then closed the door, moving up the neat gravel drive and between rows of pungent flowers. Aurora House was a several-story, sprawling building that could easily house about a hundred inmates, but the street in front was notably empty of cars, with the only filled parking in the staff lot. Many people didn't want the reminder that a member of their family had developed a power, and very few of those came to visit.
He pushed open the stainless steel doors to the building, every sense primed. A receptionist greeted him cheerily, and he responded with a slightly on-edge <b>"Good afternoon."</b> Forcing a smile, he walked forwards, stopping a few feet before the desk. <b>"I'm here to visit a cousin; I know it's a little late for visiting, but I got delayed."</b> Of course, this wasn't about a cousin, but he planned to bluff his way through the foyer and into the auto-locked doors at least. Smashing the doors down wasn't exactly efficient, and made rather more noise than he was comfortable with making. Asking for trouble also wasn't exactly efficient.
Slowly, attempting to give off an unhurried air, he opened the car door, stepping out onto the street, the smell of exhaust and dust overwhelming. He tucked the sheaf of paper under his arm, placing a nondescript bank statement on top and folding the entire wad in half, then closed the door, moving up the neat gravel drive and between rows of pungent flowers. Aurora House was a several-story, sprawling building that could easily house about a hundred inmates, but the street in front was notably empty of cars, with the only filled parking in the staff lot. Many people didn't want the reminder that a member of their family had developed a power, and very few of those came to visit.
He pushed open the stainless steel doors to the building, every sense primed. A receptionist greeted him cheerily, and he responded with a slightly on-edge <b>"Good afternoon."</b> Forcing a smile, he walked forwards, stopping a few feet before the desk. <b>"I'm here to visit a cousin; I know it's a little late for visiting, but I got delayed."</b> Of course, this wasn't about a cousin, but he planned to bluff his way through the foyer and into the auto-locked doors at least. Smashing the doors down wasn't exactly efficient, and made rather more noise than he was comfortable with making. Asking for trouble also wasn't exactly efficient.