Maeve did not like it. 

The way her bedroom carpet squished under her feet was weird, the fact that someone turned over her bed sheets when she left the room was unsettling, and the ever-present shadow of a supervising Blessed that followed her outside of the facility was enough to make her insane.

There was nothing that needed to be done, and there had not been for the entire three weeks she had been trapped. 

She woke up. She went to the gym, then showered. She went around the corner to the liquor store with a credit card that never seemed to reach a limit. Drink, eat, sleep, repeat. 

Sometimes she would cross paths with another body in the halls, but it was impossible to know who there was like her, and who was one of [i]them.[/I] She could have asked, of course, but she never seemed to get that far in conversation. 

Mostly because she didn't talk in the gym, and she tried to avoid talking while plastered. Given her current schedule, there had not been much chatter save for mild smalltalk. 

But this morning there would be. They had taken her liquor the night before, and (she suspected) hidden her left gym sneaker to be sure she would not skip out on the meeting. 

Maeve sauntered in, a bit more early than she tended to be to most things, and spotted a vaguely familiar face. Denise? Dalia? She had seen the smallish woman around quite a few times, and swapped words briefly a time or two. 

Danny? Darcy? 

She came to stand behind the couch, opting to lean rather than sit. 

"It's all very 'lamb to the slaughter,' isn't it?" she asked, her tone nonchalant. "Plush it up so they don't see the knife and panic, I guess. Dawn, was it? We've uh, I think we've bumped paths a few times."