Not a very good beginning at all.  Mary knew it was all her fault, that she'd allowed being hurt by her parents to become anger that grounded itself on everyone nearby.  The psychology lecture she'd sat last year had really pulled so much of what she was feeling into sense.  It didn't make it any easier, really, to know why she did what she did.  Mary was still largely unable to stop it.<br/><br/>The way Mya was sitting told a story, but it was a different one from Mary's.  Her story looked broken down, not tied up in knots.  Was every girl broken in some way?  Mary often thought so and was always suspicious of the perfect girls.  They had to have something going on that was so bad they couldn't even express it.  That or it was perfect, and she hated them for it.<br/><br/>Less than ten minutes later, two porters came in with her things and were accompanied by Alexa and two other women.  She took one look at her employer's daughter and made up her mind to get out as fast as possible.  Briskly, she put the porters to work with the heavy things, and directed the women to do the decorating.  While they did, she swiftly moved around and set up the lighter items and stowed clothes and toiletries and such.  Lots of clothes.  Lots of toiletries with fancy names and esoteric uses.<strong>"Call me if you need something, Miss Green,"</strong>she said and left without waiting for an answer.  Mary's side of the room now looked like it had been lived in for months, decorated tastefully in a feminine but not girly style.  During the whirlwind, Mary had only moved once to allow the bed to be made then sat right back down on it.<br/><br/>Another ten minutes passed.  Then another.  Mary broke the silence first.<br/><strong><br/>"I was being a bitch.  I apologize,"</strong>she said but didn't look over at Mya.<strong>"Your playing is astonishingly good.  Please, I'd like to hear some more of it when you want to play again.  Whatever you want to play,"</strong>she added.<br/><br/>