Rose read the email over three times before going to reply. She was surprised to find something that seemed genuine, so far she had entirely failed to find a good way to advertise her services. It would probably help if she had a name for her business too but she really hadn't thought that far ahead. So far she had tried those crappy little magazines where people talk about their alien encounters and some cheap online sites, and all she had gotten where people standing her up and a seance she bluffed her way through so some upper-middle class lady could think she said goodbye to her cat.<br/><br/>Rose replied with a time, the address of a cafe she liked and a reminder that if it was a genuine problem she only accepts cash.<br/><br/>She then packed in her laptop and stuffed it away in the suitcase that held everything else she owned at the moment and sat cross legged on the bed. She could go find some nicer cloths, head out into the club, have some drinks, dance a little... Rose immediately decided against that. Instead she pulled the laptop back out, crawled under the covers and began googling other instances of people coming back to life.<br/><br/><br/><br/>The next day she arrived at the cafe early, ordered a massive peppermint white chocolate mochaccino with extra cream and sat herself in the corner to wait.