<em>Anastazja Borkowska, finally arriving.</em><br/><br/>Ana had a huge headache coming off the plane. She had signed up for this modeling thing in New York well over a month ago, though her agent refused to let her do it until she finished her current contract with Juicy Couture was up. Unfortunately, that had lasted far longer than she had anticipated and was therefore arriving late. Thankfully she had called the manager ahead of time and let the studio know she would be arriving late. The woman was the only one that knew her identity as the international model Anna Volkov. Ana sighed and rubbed her temples as she headed for the baggage claim. Her manager had refused to join her in this endeavor and so, she was starting from scratch. The woman smiled as she waited for the claim to come through. It felt like it had when she was first starting out. It had felt good, every accomplishment. Now it just seemed to be the same thing over and over again with nothing new. She hoped that this would help her freshen her life.<br/><br/>The woman thanked the man as he helped her bag off the baggage belt and helped her flag down the taxi. One thing that her looks and Eastern European accent did that was good even outside of the modeling: people tended to help her out more readily than others. It was a sad world people lived in nowadays. Ana thanked and paid the taxi driver, giving the immigrant a healthy tip since he dropped her off. The woman gingerly went to enter the building, only to find it locked. She had heard that there was a fire and the location was moved. Surely she had the correct address. Did she arrive before anyone, was that it? Ana gulped and bit her bottom lip, a bad nervous habit she had. She didn’t like fitting out of place. The woman looked around on the street, then back to the gallery. What was going on?