The sound of the car door shutting stories below her pulled her out of the trance-like state with a jump. Heart hammering wildly, brown eyes quickly scanned the rest of the room for the source of the sound, mind taking too long to catch up to the source of the disturbance. Why was she so panicked? He wasn't someone who would announce his presence with something as simple as the slam of a car door. No, he'd be more calculated, cunning, quiet; she wouldn't know he was there until he wanted her to.<br/><br/>Rushing to the window to try and reassure herself that she was right in her assessment, the woman's eyes scanned the whole of the available parking. No, the car she'd expected to see wasn't there, which had relief flooding her veins. But, another look and that relief became peppered with dread, catching sight of the man moving toward the building. A heavy sigh tumbled free of her lips, heavy in its weight but shaky in its unspoken anxiety, as she moved back from the window and tried to steel herself for what would inevitably come next. For<span style="font-style: italic">who</span>would come next.<br/><br/>Vincent. A man that brought up almost as many emotions as Rafe did.<br/><br/>When everything had gone to hell and they'd confirmed that he'd be the one to keep charge of her, protecting her against the psycho until he was caught, she'd felt overwhelmingly compelled to ask for someone else, anyone else. Someone who wasn't directly involved that wouldn't come with memories she wanted to escape. Given his personal involvement, he had as much motive as she did for wanting him caught, a vested interest albeit once removed as compared to her own. In their eyes, that meant he wouldn't shirk any duties, would remain hypervigilant, and wouldn't rest until Rafe was finally away so that their lives could move on.<br/><br/>But when the person who was protecting you was the man who you'd come to blame, in part, for how everything turned out (no matter how irrational the reasoning), an arrangement like this was going to be more than a little awkward.<br/><br/>With a glance toward her bags, carelessly tossed by the door, Sofia waited, pacing back and forth for the knock that meant he was there, ready to take her away from the comfort of her own home. Did she want to admit she was just waiting around for him? That she couldn't focus on anything else, despite her laptop being open and on the table, a handful of words all she could manage to type on the otherwise empty word document? Or, did she settle in at her table and try to act like she wasn't as lost as she was. As terrified as she was. That she could get a good night's sleep and hadn't been tossing and turning for weeks, barely managing an hour a night.<br/><br/>Deciding on the latter, the woman forced herself to stop pacing, fixing her hair as best she could with some finger-combing before pinching her cheeks to bring life back into her increasingly gaunt appearance. Although haggard, she couldn't and wouldn't allow herself to admit how much he'd affected her daily life. Not yet. Not to Vincent. Not to anyone.<br/><br/>Not even herself.