Katie leaned into the door frame, closing her eyes with a huge grin as she heard the latch opened to the night air.  "Oh you are not going to believe..."  She lifted her hat and let her raven hair spill over her shoulders, "... the night I am..."  then opened her eyes again and found herself facing not Baptiste, nor John.  Nor... hell, who was this girl?<br/><br/>"...having."<br/><br/>Her laughter faded rather quickly as she searched the young woman over.  Quite the specimen, in fact.  Silk and a robe... sleeping over.  Creamy skin, slender, fine figure.  A damn lovely face.<br/><br/>Yes, quite the specimen.<br/><br/>"Shhhh..."  sprang back from the door as if a snake struck at her, standing upright with her hand at her waist.<br/><br/>The girl spoke.<i>"You must be Katie Sinclair..."</i>and Katie checked the number of doors on the street again, though if the girl knew her name it must be Baptiste's.<br/><br/>"Miss..."  Katie cleared her throat.  She suddenly felt like a fool with her hair all down and this ridiculous vest, all dusty anyway despite the efforts.  With a wince, she spoke-- the Missourian accent was clear in her voice.  "You have me at some disadvantage.  Is, ah, this the home of Baptiste du Monde?" Her toe dragged over the stone threshold like a school-child addressing the lady of the house.  "And if so, I don't see how that's going to make us great pals, if, ah, I'm interrupting something."  Her one visible eye was downcast a moment, then flicked back up to Alexandra's considerable form.<br/><br/><i>What a fool... a genteel fellow like Baptiste, and me thinking to show up at his door?  Like he'd have been waiting for her all these months?  Of course, he'd take some sweetly dressed little vixen that probably speaks French and does French... things.  One with a body, at that.  Damn me for a fool.</i><br/><br/>"What I mean to say is... how exactly do you know my name?"<br/>