[b]Ada Cinet - 5 minutes out from Boerne, Some rich German guy's house - Clayton Burrows[/b] [i]Who the hell was Frederick von Westphalen?[/i] Ada had slept like a baby, not in the metaphorical way, where one slept completely silently and without issue, but in a way closer to reality in regards to babies, where she woke every other hour with a fright. Either to fight some imaginary sicko she heard in the creaky house, or in fear of the fact that she was sleeping in a house with man she knew nothing about. Clayton seemed like a decent person, he had kept his promise to her, gotten her out of Bandera after she had gotten them both out of the horde and he was frank about his lack of any desire to take advantage of her-- still, she had fallen asleep without taking any real precautions. Her lack of sleep had influenced her the night before, but she knew it was mostly because of an instinctive desire to trust. Regardless. She was up for good now, she couldn't have gotten more than 4 hours of sleep, even less REM sleep, but still, she felt refreshed just to have new clothes and a night in an actual bed. She had changed out of her gore covered garb a bit after the two had secured the place for the night. Whomever Frederick von Westphalen was, he had a wife. Or perhaps just a girlfriend? A daughter who for some reason kept clothes in his room? A penchant for cross-dressing, maybe? Whatever it was, she was thankful for their presence in his drawers. The house didn't appear looted at all, apparently Boerne-- and Bandera-- perhaps Texas as a whole, weren't exactly overflowing with survivors. It was a double edged sword for Ada, part of her stubbornly wanted to keep away from others, another part though... after spending the night with someone decent like Clayton... perhaps longed for the companionship she hadn't had before all this began. Either way, the lack of looting gave her a better selection of what she got to wear. Black skinny jeans, brown blouse... they were big on her, but not uncomfortably so-- and darker clothes were much preferable over the attention drawing bright clothes that Mr. von Westphalen had seemed to prefer for himself. Besides, belts were good, anything leather was good, leather could withstand a bite or two, and it was getting colder. [i]Who the hell was Frederick von Westphalen?[/i] Ada had been awake for at least 30 minutes now, staring at the ceiling of the dimly lit foreign mansion, recounting her night, how she had gotten here, what she was wearing, the mysterious older man she had met, and... thinking of that question. [i]Who. The. [b]HELL.[/b] Was. Frederick von Westphalen???[/i] Ada could think of several answers, the most prevalent among them being, [i]'Someone who is probably dead now.'[/i] That didn't satisfy her, though. What was a wealthy German doing in bumfuck Texas? Was he alive? What did he do before all this began? Was he a good person? [i]Why do you care?[/i] She didn't know. She had guesses; that she was using her curiosity towards minutiae like this as a distraction from reality, that by thinking of people like this, they didn't die in vain, that her own isolation had begun to wear at her sanity, and she had developed neurotic thinking patterns. But she didn't really know, just like she couldn't ever really know who Frederick von Westphalen was-- not unless she left the bed at the very least. Maybe she was just curious? She fished out the driver's license she had found the night before, staring into the faded image of Frederick von Westphalen. He didn't even look German, he just looked like some redneck-- also who leaves their driver's license on their night stand? Was this even his house? She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head before the staring contest she was doomed to lose ended in a yawn. She wiped the sleep out of her eyes as the pale blue light of early dawn began to touch her face. With a grunt, she rolled herself out of bed. A chill shot its way up her spine as her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor of the bedroom. Her legs still felt sore, but the only soreness one felt after an intense workout, it wasn't painful to stand like it was when she had passed out the night before. Mr. von Westphalen had a gorgeous selection of boots to chose from, but Ada had ultimately opted to stick with her reliable converse. Less noise was better, sickos never went directly for the feet anyway. She did find herself taking from the selection of new socks, however. As she crouched in front of his sock drawer, putting on her shoes, with the added comfort of new silk socks, her mind when back to the question of his identity. She couldn't find a leather coat in his room, so she made her way to his bathroom. His room was sparsely decorated, but the few pictures he did have seemed to show him-- Mr. von Westphalen, the man in the picture on the license-- with other people, mostly women (girlfriends? Coworkers? Family?) and a select few rotund, hairy, and very serious looking men. They were very stereotypically German looking. The house didn't have it's own water-- but he had enough in reserve to help with basic hygiene. No point to it, really, she'd probably end up covering herself in sick intestines before day's end, but it helped her feel better about herself. Despite her curiosity, she found herself only passively looking for clues to the man's identity, perhaps out of respect for the well preserved house. Still, on top of the toilet she found a book titled [i]'Mainzer Adelsverein at Biebrich am Rhein'[/i] and Ada found herself trying to make sense of the foreign tongue and she made her way downstairs. A few pages seemed to be bookmarked, with highlights and notes thankfully in English. Most of the pages seemed to be in regards to something called the 'Adelsverein' and notes that talked about a revival of whatever that was. Ada couldn't make sense of most of it, however, an article did seem to imply Mr. von Westphalen was, through his Great-Great-Great-Grandfather, the Great-Great-Great-Nephew-in-law of Karl Marx. Which was certainly... something? Ada let out a yawn as she reached the bottom of the stairs and placed the book on a table next to the door. Sleep only did so much, she was still fatigued, she needed to eat soon. From the bottom of the stairs she looked towards the kitchen, and in it's direction, Clayton, the other man of mystery in this house. He had fallen asleep at the extravagant glass dining room table, apparently having stayed up much later than her to keep watch out of the several windows on the lower level of the house. Ada gently walked over to him, not wanting to wake him. He slept in a way that anyone from a distance wouldn't even think he was sleeping, he wasn't even slightly hunched over. She recalled the night before, they had both been disappointed to learn that, despite an excessive lifestyle, rich people tended to keep their kitchens stocked with fresh... generally perishable foods. They were going to part ways soon. Unzipping her bag, Ada began gently placing a few of the cans she had gotten from the trailer yesterday near Clayton's sleeping form. Ripping a blank page out of the Mainzer Adelsverein at Biebrich am Rhein book, she wrote a note to him. [hider=Ada's note] Hey, so, Clayton (I am spelling that right? Right? I mean it's not a hard name but I hate fucking up on stuff like that) anyway I left you a few extra cans of food I had on me, figured it was the least I could do for a payment of sorts, you got us out of there in record time after all (even though it was totes your fault they swarmed, I'm not mad or anything, though, it was actually just a nice reminder to [s]see other people[/s] see other GOOD people actually... you know, [u]living[/u], despite me having first greeted you at gunpoint, I feel like I should apologize for that, but you know how it goes) wow, that got off the rails fast anyway, we've known each other all of what? 12 hours? IF you count time spent asleep. So it's not going to be much of a tearful goodbye and more of a 'I hope you don't die' type thing. You seem like a good person, even if you have the whole 'lone wolf' thing going on, I hope I see you alive again anyway, hope you enjoy 7 cans of corn, beans and peaches! -- Ada[/hider] Hoisting her bag back over her shoulder, Ada closed the door to the house gently behind her. As she began to walk, she got out her mp3 to play for her some [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UYi1cjJVkq8]faint and faded music[/url]. Behind her was Clayton and the Westphalen house, mysteries that would remain unsolved, ahead of her lay a cracked street, a cool Texan morning and a towering hospital, ripe for the picking. Despite the size differences of the other clothes, her new leather jacket felt fitted to her small form, and her looted pistol fit right between the belt and jeans. As her eyes darted across the street, for any movement that could threaten her, she couldn't help but feel a bit rejuvenated as she began walking in tune with the beat.