"There's only one bottle left."

The woman smiled, her cheeks warming with a red tint. The woman's brown eyes rose to Alpha's worried face, before falling back to the tablet supported by her left forearm as her right hand danced over the glass surface to make notes. Dr. Hannah Quinzel was the Assistant Chief of Psychology for the EVE project. She hadn't the authority that Frost required, but to abide by the rules that the Institute had set for her Frost needed someone's assistance. Anyone. Hannah Quinzel was simply one of the precious few that Frost physically saw.

Even if she only saw her through the remarkably strong, daunting, glass of her containment area. 

"Um, please?"

The Doctor's big brown eyes shot right back up to her. "Please?"

Frost paused, suddenly finding herself in the rarest of positions: uncertainty. [i]Did I say it wrong? Is that the wrong word?[/i] After a few quick seconds of reflection, Frost surged ahead, certain that was both the right word and that she had said it correctly. If there was another fallacy in her approach, she would require the Doctor to explain it to her. Eagerly, Frost nodded. "Yes. Please."

The woman's head tilted to the side, just-so. "Frost, working under the assumption of your god-like abilities...can't you just make that last bottle appear right in front of you?"

As she always did when the question of her capabilities came up, Frost withdrew. All the fear in the world towards her stemmed from that question: 'What can she do? What are her limits?' It was a question and concern that was the source of every petty difficulty in her life. While normally she would never concern herself with issues so small, this was personal.

This was about orange juice. 

"I alerted Institute staff of the growing shortage in our ChildNet group message application. I left a note on the kitchen staff's notice board."

The Doctor's expression softened, her tablet lowering to her side, her smile growing. "Frost, I think it's great progress that you're trying to follow the Institute rules set for you to the 'T'."

"Is there a recorded incident of my not following these rules?"

The Doctor ignored the question. Frost didn't mind the pass; she knew the Doctor's position on her, she knew that the Doctor was firmly in the camp of 'Alpha isn't hostile.' It wasn't fair of Frost to contend her status with the woman, seeing as the woman both didn't agree with her current status, and lacked the authority to do anything about it. After watching the woman give the slightest of sighs, the Doctor brought up her tablet again, and typed something quickly on it. Dr. Hannah Quinzel's head nodded quickly down to it, assuming that Frost could just read what was typed on it, despite being on the other end of her containment cell.

It was a safe assumption. The words on the tablet screen? 'Sometimes, Frost, it's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.' Advice from the Doctor that she couldn't possibly risk saying aloud to Frost, not with all the monitoring devices around them, not with all the eyes on them at the same time. The Chief of Security for the Institute checked his mobile device for the live-feed of those monitoring devices for Frost's containment area more than he checked it for messages from his family or his fantasy sports ticker. 

Frost's appearance stiffened; gone was the compliant, nervously hopeful girl in dire need of orange juice. Replaced with the cold, distant, expression of a godling. A sudden change reflected in the tone and pitch of her voice. "My apologies, Doctor. I will bring the issue up with another division of the Institute staff more capable of processing my request."

"Don't worry about it, Frost. I only have one last questio--"

"--yes," Frost cut the woman off, knowing the question before it even left the Doctor's mouth, "I am lonely and do wish I could attend the briefing going on at the current moment."

Her smile and amusement from the orange juice request gone, Dr. Hannah Quinzel simply gave a quick nod. "Thank you, Frost. I will see you in a few days."

Frost didn't acknowledge the woman's departure, her mind busy contemplating the uniquely human nature of the advice the woman had given her. [i]Asking forgiveness, rather than permission...[/i] Frost would stay standing there, closing her eyes gently, allowing her mind to wander off into the cosmos all above and beyond. 

At least that's what the monitoring devices would show. When you can exist at different places at the same point in space/time, it was easy to throw off your surveillance. All you had to do was will yourself into the Auditorium, and so you appeared--even if you did so in such a way to ensure only one of your fellow Children would be able to see and hear you. 

Some, like Daniel, would be able to sense her presence--but that would be the extent of their ability to experience her current presence in the big room. 

But for the Puppeteer, for Alex, the next time her head peeked up from her notebook, she would see the back of a figure standing just feet from her: a long grey coat over the figure's frame, high grey boots with heavy, thick, soles on them peeking out from the bottom of the long coat. The very moment Alex would look up, the figure would turn towards her. 

Under the hood of the coat came blue eyes that sparkled with flecks of starlight, and an impish smile on pale lips. Lips wet from having just taking a long sip from the open plastic bottle of orange juice the figure held in her left hand. "Hello, Alex. How goes the sketching?"