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The early years of her life aside, Layla hadn't spent much time wrapped up in luxury. She'd gone from orphanage to what was effectively the team's Bowery barracks to run-down, borderline post-apocalyptic ruins. The island wasn't bad, although real mattresses, couches, pretty much anything from Pottery Barn would have been nice. As much as she ( Read more... )

Layla awoke to the curious sensation of knowing it was Christmas Morning, and not being consumed with a hollow, distant loathing. As it happened, she felt well rested and sort of happy. She was no stranger to feeling pleased, or smug, or even satisfied with events played appropriately out, particularly when she was the cause. A feeling of general ( Read more... )

Layla had woken up with no Jamie beside her, and for a moment felt a queer sort of panic that made her question her sanity more than the island usually did. After a moment, during which time Richards had slunk up the bed to tuck his wet nose against her jaw and wag his tail a little, she recalled that she had been up, earlier, to let the dog in, ( Read more... )

Even with how long the walk back to the house is, I'm still tipsy when we get there. Not drunk- I can walk a straight line and recite the alphabet backward, but I would probably find it way more amusing than under normal circumstances. I'm at least glad I wore sneakers instead of real heels. It probably made things easier than I realize. But again ( Read more... )

It's strange how good the sleep is when you get there by crying yourself into exhaustion. It's something I've done more than once. Even as a kid, I didn't like crying in front of people. I guess it became habit, saving it all up. I'm sure some people would argue it's not healthy, but if it spares me from insomnia, I'll take that trade off. ( Read more... )

I've been waking up in the middle of the night, staring at the dark, no memory of dreams or falling asleep. It doesn't feel like rest. Awake, and not awake. That's it. So it's weird when I'm aware, for the first time in a week, of being somewhere in between. I know I'm not awake, but I know I could be, shortly. I don't know what roused me, I don't ( Read more... )

It was the first time since her arrival that Layla had been in a crowded place and not had anyone ask about or comment on her tattoo. The lace and feather butterfly mask she wore covered it completely. It added to her general feeling of well being- not the anonymity, because no one there knew or cared who she was regardless of her garb- because she ( Read more... )