[COLOR=lightblue][b][u]The Authoress[/u][/b]

  "[B]You're welcome![/B]" said 'Sandra' with a cheerful grin. She didn't mind its amorphousness. It was its ethereal essence that fascinated her, the way it seemed to glimmer slightly under the restaurant's light. "[B]Amourphous or not, it still looks nice.[/B]"

  Her gaze drifted down to his metal legs. Was he a cyborg? No, that couldn't be. From what she could tell, his upper half was supernal. Prosthetics, then? But why would a spirit need prosthetics? She looked back up at him, brows furrowing slightly. It was then she realised that he still seemed a little restive so she gestured to the seat next to her.

  "[B]Why don't you have a seat? There's nowhere else to go anyway, what with this place being in space and all[/B]," she added, glancing over at the windows to see the shattered remnants of a collapsed star burst outwards. 'Sandra' took another sip of her coffee. It was then she heard a voice address her and she looked down to see a pair of [I]bloodstained black gloves-[/i]

  It took the Authoress some effort to refrain from breaking character. She looked again.

  It was a midget of some sort, completely smothered in clothing, with the only visible part of its body being a pair of brown eyes tucked under bushy eyebrows. The gloves they were wearing were ragged, worn from use, but they were not covered in dried blood. They were not a biologically 11-year-old child. They did not have black hair. They were not Erised. It had been irrational to think that her adversary was here; her watch hadn't beeped once.

  "[B]Yes?[/B]" answered 'Sandra', her smile as polite as ever.[/COLOR]