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"I think that is a great idea! We don’t need to be strangers and do any of this alone. My name is Olivia Cole but everyone can just call me Liv. I prefer it that way as Olivia just sounds a little old fashioned. It is nice to meet you guys though I wish it could have been under better circumstances. What are your names?” 

[i]She’s friendly

She seems wise

Olivia like Olive Garden

Is there any relationship?[/i]

“Sssssssh,” Skye said to no one, but himself.

"Magdalene Camiron, or rather just Mags. My dad gave me that nickname a while ago. I-I..."

[i]Poor dear.

She seems sad.

Let’s be her friend.[/i]

“We do have the same affliction,” Skye mentions, again to no one in the room could see.

[i]He’s finally arrived.

He looks greasy.

I don’t like him.

He looks dirty.[/i]

“That’s not nice,” Skye says to himself, “You’re suppose to give people the benefit of the doubt.”

Were these people worth it though? He wondered. They all wondered. Listening to the electric hum that he began to repeat, rocking back and forth. It was soothing. The whine and moan of electropathy. A mechanical physiology.

Two things happened. The slamming of the chair took away the trance. The electric security had fizzled. White noise now shattered with discord of the sound of the chair. He tried to focus back on the thing he liked the most about this place.

Then a hand. Sensations of touch. An unfamiliar. Unwanted thing. Violating. A chill running through his body. He squirmed and flung her hand off him.

[h2]“DON’T!” - “YOU CAN’T!"[/h2]

He began to rock back and forth, slowly groaning to himself.

“Mmmmmm, No!” he muttered to himself, “No! No! No!”