<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Let's Waste <em>Time</em> Chasing Cars</strong></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/38800000/Lea-Seydoux-Paris-Match-Photoshoot-2015-lea-seydoux-38820141-1280-986.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;"><strong>Name:</strong> Félicité Mercier<br/><strong>Age:</strong> 30<br/><strong>Status:</strong> Professor of History JCPA<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Apartment #5, Ground floor of Guinevere Staff Apartments Building <br/><strong>Date &amp; Time:</strong> September 27th | 7:47 PM<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Shane Harris | CLOSED<br/><strong>Playing:</strong> Achille-Claude Debussy (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRZmdzCGLYw)</span><br/><br/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: andale mono;">Léa managed to hold it together until she made her bedroom, while her feet were swift on the wood floor of the hall leading down the small hall that ended with the doors leading to her bedroom and bathroom, they were also silent and so was she. <br/><br/><acronym title="My God"><em>Mon Dieu</em></acronym>! Just what kind of thing did they have in her file? She doubted very much it listed just what her relationship with Ricard had actually been. No doubt the broken bones and black eyes, concussions and bruises were not recorded. Ricard's family would have seen that no indications of his wickedness would have been recorded for posterity. She could still hear the echos of her future mother and sister-in-law in her head.<br/><br/>'<em>Why must you be so difficult Félicité? You know Ricard loves you. Why must you push him to such anger with your insensitivity. You must understand the pressure he's under.</em>' A shudder raced up her spine and the old familiar mix of terror, shame and guilt washed over her. Her breathing sped, her mouth falling open to pant as she slipped quickly through the portal to her room. With a negligent motion she pushed the door behind her. It swung forward softly, silently and stopped just short of latching her closed in the room. <br/><br/>Léa staggered in a step or two before wilting into the wall. The first sob clawed it's silent way up her throat, making it difficult to pull in a clear breath of air. She pushed forward a few additional steps, her shoulders riding along the wall paper and curled in protectively as the muscles of her neck gave up the fight and her face fell forward into her hands. The tears that fell then were silent, like the sobs. She’d learned how to cry silently during her time with Ricard. A few feet from the closet door she stopped, unable to take another step until the emotional storm passed.<br/><br/>With her back toward the door and caught up in the thoughts and voices circling in a rush in her mind, she didn’t hear the door swing softly back open or that Shane had joined her in the room until the other woman spoke softly into the quiet between them.<br/><br/>Léa’s body went stiff, her hands flying to her face as she swiftly cleaned up the evidence of her silent tears. She cleared her throat and pushed up from the wall, keeping her back turned to Shane, praying her eyes hadn’t gotten so red the other woman would note her little break down. These moments were coming less and less, but they still snuck up on her on occasion. Léa loathed that Ricard still had this power over her. <br/><br/>“Shane,” she said trying to push false cheer into her voice as she greeted the girl still standing behind her. Without looking toward her, Léa took another step toward her closet. “I just need to grab my…” her body stopped before the open door to her closet, her fingers refiling through the clothing as she racked her brain for what exactly she’d come into the room for. The pads of her fingers brushed over silk shirts and soft cotton as she moved the hangers around. What was she looking for again? <br/><br/>A Robe! “Robe,” she finished after several heartbeats. The central heating kicked in, the soft sound of air pushing through the vents the adding a gentle counterpoint to the silence. One of the vents was located under the window and it fluttered the sheer ever so gently. With the moonlight filtering in from the window and the candle lit on her dresser with a matching smaller counterpart lit on her nightstand adding a soft, sweet fragrance, the room was a study in contrasting shadows.<br/><br/>‘<em>You could be honest with me. I promise I won't hurt you.</em>’<br/><br/>Léa’s fingers stilled, her head turning just a bit until her profile came into view. With eyes on the landscape out her window, the sight made mussy by the sheer, a small, sad smile quirked Léa’s lips.<br/><br/>“Of course Shane,” the words were soft, almost like she was speaking more to herself than young woman sharing the room with her. “Friends should always share <acronym title="honesty, isn’t that so?">honnêteté, ne c’est pas?</acronym> The words held a wealth of meaning not expressed and yet seemed once again to pertain to something happening in her own thoughts rather than addressing the girl standing behind her.<br/><br/>Léa felt the burn of tears at the back of her eyes again, and swiftly turned to face her closet. The items there, already difficult to discern in the darkness, took on a blurriness that meant the tears were collecting in her eyes again. She sniffled quietly, trying to hide it from Shane.</span><br/>