<em>~Mila, in the lounge~</em><br/><br/>Mila wandered into the lounge, smiling as she noticed that the fire had been lit.  It gave the room a warm, homey feeling.  The lounge was decorated with understated elegance; she had a feeling that it would become a favorite hangout for her.  She could easily imagine evenings spent reading a book while sitting in front of the fire.  Or doing other things, she realized with a blush.  Easily, she could imagine herself on the rug with any of these men.  She shook her head slightly, pushing the wayward musings from her mind.  Where had those thoughts come from, anyway?<br/><br/>Smiling at Marcus, she said softly, "Thank you for escorting me, Marcus."  She let go and wandered to where Marisol stood by the window, glancing outside.  "It's so beautiful," she whispered, turning to look at everyone again.  Mari mentioned again the game that Nicci had brought up, and Mila felt a flutter of apprehension in the pit of her stomach.  She didn't want to answer questions for them; what if they didn't like her responses and cast her out?  It was her biggest fear coming into this, that the others would not like her and would decide that she didn't belong with them, either.  Where would she be left then?  Already she had no family who would accept her.<br/><br/>She wanted to refuse, say that she was tired and flee to her room.  But then hadn't she created enough problems tonight by misunderstanding Bo's words at dinner?  No, she needed to prove to the others and to herself that she was a team player and interested in them knowing her.  So she crossed the room and picked up paper and a pen, sitting on a sofa.  When Mari offered a drink, she gratefully requested some coffee.<br/><br/>Mila nibbled on her bottom lip as she contemplated what kind of questions to ask.  Should she make them lighthearted and fun?  Serious?  Sexual?  No, not sexual... it wasn't in her nature to ask such things, although she vowed to answer anything they threw her way as honestly as possible.  She started jotting down her thoughts.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>What makes you angry, and how to you overcome your anger?</em></span>Maybe if she knew what their buttons were, she would not push them.  One question didn't seem like it would be enough, so, brow furrowed, she thought of another.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>What are you afraid of?</em></span><br/><br/><em>There,</em>she thought as she put her pen down on a small table at her side.  That wasn't so hard.  She folded her paper and put it on the table next to the pen.