<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: teal">For a moment the only sound around the orphanage was the false stuttering words from this so-called 'Lance'. Everyone had gone silent- although that was usually normal. Now you could hear a mouse in the basement if you listened close enough. For there hadn't been any new arrivals for a long time, and unfortunately, this place wasn't grand with the welcoming committee. The only thing that happened when someone new came was silent prayers and the occasional curious onlooker from one of the bedrooms. Other than that, it was life as usual, except with one more passenger along for the ride. They were all going through hell and the Warden was driving the bus, to put it in simple terms. <br/><br/>Gradually the Warden's gaze had gone from warm and welcoming to a mix of being pleased and strangely excited deep down. She was great at concealing her true nature, when times called for it. Especially when talking passerby's and police out of entering the orphanage, and ruining the great torture chamber thing she had going on. Sometimes in special circumstances she'd let them into the main hallway and living room. But the basement was locked, and only the most healthy looking kids were allowed to wander out and greet them. It was enough to keep her off the radar and satisfy those who were curious at first glance. <br/><br/>"Well, Lance. Welcome to Brakenforth Avenue Orphanage. There's always room for one more!" the woman said in a cheery tone, stepping aside to let Lance come inside. "Don't you worry about those papers, you can just give them to me and I'll get them sorted out."<br/><br/>Isra had paused on the stairs and scowled with her back turned to them both, <span style="font-style: italic">'Yeah. By burning them.'</span> She jeered inwardly. She studied everything the Warden did when newcomers arrived. The last one to come here was Michael, an eleven year old with some serious anger issues. Not that Isra could blame the poor kid. If anything it was interesting and slightly amusing to watch him lose it, because he always got flustered with his speech and couldn't form full sentences. It turned into something out of a sci-fi movie; Alien babble, as the other kids teased. But he was just as sensitive as the other kids. So Isra always protected him too. If anything, she looked out for him more than the other kids, because he was always demanding that she promise to help them all. That, and his anger often got him into trouble with the Warden. <br/><br/>"My name is Ms. Grishaw." She continued in her fake introductory voice. She didn't truly care whether he knew her or not, and she didn't care about his name, where he came from, or anything else. Like the rest of the kids, all that mattered was that he was here. Another victim.<br/><span style="font-style: italic">'The Warden,'</span> Isra spat bitterly in the back of her mind, still lingering on the stairs. When she'd decided to stay, she didn't know. <span style="font-style: italic">'Your name is the Warden.'</span> <br/>"Wherever you came from, Lance, all of that is in the past. Brakenforth Orphanage is dedicated to finding each child a new home in the future, so just settle in and you'll feel right at home in no time." She concluded with her signature smile. After hearing his question about a boy, her gaze turned over her shoulder questioningly and she spied Isra on the stairs.<br/>"Boy...? Ah! You must mean Isra. Isra! Would you be a dear and come here for a moment?" She called out sweetly. Isra's spine tingled in irritation, as well as the urge to charge and punch that snarky grin off the Warden's face. Isra was always wanting to punch that woman. But she did like one thing. While she was sure he had meant that as an insult, she was always glad when someone on the street mistook her for a slightly feminine man. It meant that her binding was working and she appeared less like a pathetic female. The stereotype for girls was typically the easily frightened and frail ones- she was determined to destroy that image. <br/><br/>As much as she wanted to flee from that request, Isra had no choice but to turn and begrudgingly approached them both, her face neutral with bored eyes. She gazed coldly at Lance and didn't speak a word, awaiting whatever the Warden had to say. <br/>"What?" Isra said dryly to the Warden.<br/>"Say hi to the newest member of the family. His name is Lance." Ms. Grishaw replied.<br/>"....Hi." came the teen's typical flat and dull response. Her usual voice in general wasn't very enthusiastic.<br/>"Oh, come now, Isra! Be more welcoming!" The Warden said, lightly bopping her on the head in what seemed to be good nature. There was a bit more force behind that punch than most would realize. "Now. I want you to take Lance and show him to where he'll be staying, alright?" She said, taking Lance's suitcase and shoving it into Isra's hands. "Make friends, Isra. I'll be in my office. If you have any questions, Lance, Isra can answer them. I have paperwork to attend to." She finished and walked off into her room, shutting the doors behind her. There was a 'click' to signify they'd been locked.<br/><br/>Once they were alone in the hallway, Isra rounded on Lance and shoved the briefcase back into his own hands, then turned and approached the stairs. <br/>"This way." She said. To the side, a few of the younger children were peeking around the wall, looking at Lance in both fear and curiosity, wondering who he was and why anyone would ever come here willingly.   </span></div>