Rainie had never gotten along well with most people. Those whom she cared about had weaseled their ways into her life through force. Most of her interactions with people had been from a distance; just watching others with curiosity, and never really interacting with them directly. The most direct interaction with strangers she had was drawing them. And even then, her subjects usually had no idea she was drawing them.<br/><br/>Her violet eyes took in the occupants of the room. She had practice with creating masks. Masks of indifference, masks of calm, masks of happiness or gratitude. The room seemed to be full of masks.<br/><br/>She stood up slowly, her legs now strong. She opened her mouth to speak again, but there was a noise. A soft, breathy noise of something moving in the house. Unobtrusive. Almost polite. As if it hadnâ€™t meant to interrupt her. She peered down the eastern hallway, surprised.<br/><br/>Where they alone?<br/><br/>Rainie stood there for a moment, staring down that hall. Curious. She wanted to know more about this house. With its maple grandfather clock with the swaying golden pendulum. And the dark expanding hallways and endless ceiling. Under all this gray dust, what colors were there before? Up those rickety stairs, would there be more? But her cautious nature wouldnâ€™t allow it. She knew that the likeliness of this place being safe was immeasurably low. Wandering gets you killed.<br/><br/>And curiosity killed the cat.<br/><br/>One of the men, maybe about mid twenties with dirty blonde hair, seemed to break down. The clock was bothering him. She was slowly losing the room, she realized. That would be a problem. â€œWe have to s-stick together.â€ She winced at the crack in her voice. She couldnâ€™t seem frightened. Panic spread like a disease. She found a face and glued her eyes to it; it turned out to be the young man with the cigarettes. Focusing on keeping her expression calm, she spoke steadily,<br/><br/>â€œIf itâ€™s just a house, we have nothing to worry about.â€ She picked a new face, the one of the green-eyed girl who was worried about horror films. â€œWeâ€™ve just got to keep our heads about us, and weâ€™ll be fine.â€ Her voice had taken on a smooth, quiet tone. It was the same tone her mother used when she woke up with nightmares as a child.<br/><br/>With deliberate steps, Rainie crossed the room and stood before the grandfather clock. With a significant look at the scared man with the blonde hair, she opened the door and grasped the pendulum, ceasing its ticking. Rainie stepped back, and wiped the spider webbing from inside on her jeans. She met each pair of eyes.<br/><br/>â€œNothingâ€™s happened yet. Thereâ€™s no reason to panic.â€ She peered down the east hall swiftly, then met someoneâ€™s eyes again.<br/><br/>â€œI donâ€™t think weâ€™re doing much good standing around here.â€ She stated, taking the risk of gaining mistrust. â€œI think we should scope the place out.â€ She glanced at the door. â€œIf we canâ€™t get out, we should find food. Somewhere warm. But we need to find a way out of here.â€<br/><br/>There she was, with her own mask. Hiding her own uncertainties, hopefully for the sake of others. She didnâ€™t speak much to other people, so this felt unnatural. But someone needed to step forward. If she had to be the first to do so, very well. She prayed to whatever deity was up there that someone more suited for the job would take charge.<br/><br/>But, until then, she wanted to see if this place had a kitchen. Kitchens had knives. And knives were useful.