[color=OrangeRed][h3]Angela Degrasse[/h3][/color]

Angela rolled over in bed, smacked her alarm clock to cease its impertinent ringing and then, upon hearing some groaning coming from the rest of the bed, flicked a hand and made it so that last night’s company had never even heard the alarm in the first place. 

She could deal with them later.

Instead, as she slipped out from under the covers of her queen sized bed, out of the room and headed down stairs where she encountered the other half of last night’s consequences. No, not the half tidied remains of the party she’d hosted, which consisted mostly of cocktail glasses and various lovely little things on sticks (and if she was being honest, there ha been far more consumption of cocktails than there had been of things on sticks, as delightful as those where), strewn across the main room of her lovely mansion. Nor was it the disheveled pair of young gentlemen currently being ushered out the door. It was instead the person who had done the tidying and the ushering who was going to be full of consequences.

“Ah, I see you're awake. Good. I was about to come up and stab you with a broom handle, but I am glad I wont have to deal with any more of your company quite yet” the woman, who shared Angela’s fiery red hair that on her contrasted marvelously with her black and white uniform, said as she used said broom to eject the last of last night’s party attendants who hadn’t headed home last on their own accord (or found their way to her room).

[color=OrangeRed]“And a good morning to you, Celia”[/color] Angela greeted her maid and (second)cousin and then asked [color=OrangeRed]“To what do I owe the pleasure of your ire?”[/color] the answer to which she received via an eye roll before the maid returned to the task of tidying up after her medium.

Angela had the good graces to look a little guilty for all of half a second. But only half a second. Tidying up was her maid's job after all, so the only ‘help’ she provided was picking up and nibbling on a nearby cheese on a stick, cringing a little at how it tasted after being out all night, and then asking [color=OrangeRed]“So where is breakfast”[/color]  

“Went cold half an hour ago” Celia replied, before glancing over and seeing the confusion/dismay on Angela’s face and reminding her “Grandma wanted you to look into Executive Elpidio’s call, remember?”

[color=OrangeRed]“Urrrgh. That weirdo?”[/color] she groaned

“That [i]important[/i] weirdo” Celia replied pointedly, not looking away from her cleaning duties as she spoke with her.

[color=OrangeRed]“Yes yes. I know.”[/color] Angela sighed, and then took a deep breath in the last of the dreariness from just having woken up finally cleared itself. She had quite forgotten the note she’d covertly received from grandma via Celia about this very thing last night during her party up right up until this very moment. Or more accurately she had shoved it aside in her mind and indulged herself as much as possible yesterday after finding out about it. Enjoying the finer things in life as much as she could in the limited opportunity that she could.

Theoretically she could have ignored the call and gone back to bed, the consequences of which would be getting an earful from grandma at some point down the line (which was by no means a minor thing, but still) however her maid had very straightforwardly already struck at the heart of the matter.

The Executive was important. He was changing things. Making history. 

She couldn't not be there for whatever secretive request he had.

She let out the breath she’d taken and then clapped her hands [color=OrangeRed]“Right then. Let’s get to work”[/color] (to which Celia reliped by pointing she’d already been at it for an hour thank you very much.)

[hr]

What followed was the fastest and most efficient morning routine the pair of Degrasses could muster (assisted by micro rewinds of time reversing any mistakes) as they transformed the bed head and slightly hungover Angela into the prim and presentable Lady Firestarter. A light, quick but nutritious breakfast was served up after she apologized for squandering the first. Then every inch scrubbed and moisturized, makeup was carefully applied, hair and eyelashes lightly trimmed just so, nails painted, lipstick applied. 

15 minutes before 6, the young woman stepped out the door of her lovely abode, adorned in a lovely flowing orange and pink highlighted dress, which covered the form fitting fire retardant combat gear and the angel bone corset that Celia had tightly secured (perhaps just a little tighter than was necessary today) around her waist. Leaving her stately home in the ever capable hands of her maid (whom she had promised she would return as she always did, because there was a close bond there, even if today they had grated a bit on each other. Last night's company got no such farewell) the Medium set off through the beautiful styled streets of the upper district, heels clacking against the smooth brick road, trading nods or sometimes even brief warm words with the ever present soldiery. 

She was in her element up here. The same could not be said of any of the others she found had also answered the call. Outsiders each and every one of them. Not that was necessarily a bad thing.

The Frederica Simonova, was someone she knew. Of course, who did not know of the people’s hero these days, she was a rising star after all, but Angela remembered the reserved and quiet girl she’d shared a year group with before the cave. She’d been among those who she had assumed wouldn't go anywhere, but my, what a transformation she’d undergone. It wasn't exactly hard to guess what she’d wished for, but Angela was still impressed by the will it must have taken to enact the change that had overcome her. Also a touch of jealousy/disdainful for her effortlessly acquiring what Angela had worked for, all the while snubbing the lifestyle of most Mediums by living in the lower city, as if she was morally superior to them. 

She didn't recognized the tattooed punk who came next, and that, coming from someone who made it her mission to know everyone who was anyone, was saying something. A pioneer perhaps, or maybe even that secret class she’d heard whispers about through her information network (and by information network, she meant her family. But “information network” sounded more suave so that’s what she thought of it as). Someone to keep an eye on. She didn't particularly care for her fashion sense however.

Finally, arriving after her, was Incurro II Lysander who she recalled for two reasons. First, because her extended family had experienced a great deal of schadenfreude from the fall of one of the other great Medium lines their last hair being a black sheep had/would inevitably cause, and second, because his arrival brought up a memory of seeing the man simply stride through one of her burning battlefields as if it was nothing. 

A very mixed bag over all. She let none of her thoughts get out however, simply greeting them with [color=OrangeRed]“I am Angela Degrasse, it is delightful to meet you all”[/color] before turning her attention to the toy collecting executive and saying [color=OrangeRed]“and yourself as well Executive Elpidio. To what event do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?”[/color]