<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">In her lifetime she had come to know many expressions, especially the ones on the faces of others following her visions. Ava was not surprised that Wes was cautious, wary of getting close to her. His hand reached for her arm again, and though she was still faint and unsteady, she managed to avoid his touch by sliding against the wall. A side-step ensured that he missed contact, and the brunette continued to wearily inch away from him. “I’m . . . fine.” It was an outright lie. She was on the verge of passing out, the stabbing sensation in her temples subsiding but the remnants of that pain left her feeling ill. The tickle on her upper lip had returned, blood trickling from her nose in a thick, slow-running stream that she wiped at yet again. Her hand was decorated with red streaks, the back of her palm stained. But, she was determined to get to the solitude of the women’s restroom, to be able to compose herself in privacy. As she pushed against the door bright lights beamed on her. The fluorescent bulbs in the fixtures were the kind that made anyone appear worse for wear. She rested her hands against the counter top, head hung as her eyes adjusted to the intensity of light.<br/>
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She reached for the knob to turn on the faucet, cool water flowing into the sink. For a moment she simply stood where she was, listening to the rush of liquid as she caught her breath. All the while she was continually and constantly inventorying her symptoms. The ringing had gone; always a good sign. She could hear more clearly than she could see, but she chalked that up to the exceptional brightness. The nausea was settling thankfully, saving her some measure of embarrassment. While it wouldn’t have been the first time she had to hug the porcelain of a public toilet, it was never an easy experience. Of all the symptoms to persist, it was that damn migraine. The splitting headache would outlast them all, and she would be less alert for it but not completely debilitated. By now she was used to it, able to power through the pain . . . At least for a little while. <br/>
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Ava reached for a few paper towels, wiping the blood from her nose and lips. Soap washed away the blood from the back of her hand, red suds swallowed by the drain. She splashed water on her face, the faint pink stains coming away from her flesh and the cold making her more alert. As she gazed at herself in the mirror she realized she would have to return to the hallway, that if the Hunter was still there, she’d likely have to explain herself. To say she didn’t want to was an understatement. She didn’t like to talk about it, didn’t like how it made her feel or how it made others feel and act around her. Even people of her own Order walked on eggshells around her, afraid that she might glean their most intimate secrets. <br/>
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She dried her hands, looking to the door and wondering if he had turned tail to run. She wouldn’t have blamed him. After all, she had seen <i>her</i>. Elyse. Said her name. Invoked her memory. Resurrected her from the dead. <br/>
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In a way, despite him being the only person who might help her locate her sister, she hoped that he was gone. She didn’t quite know how she was going to face him. Ava raked a hand through her dark tresses, a sigh leaving her as she reached for the door handle. Tugging it open, she peered into the hall.</span>