[switch preplay]
The whole ordeal was pissing Sarah off.
That morning, like every other morning since her arrival on the island, she'd woken up in a bed she'd come to think of as her own in a hut which now belonged to her and which had belonged to the her before her. That part was confusing, she didn't like to think about that part (she couldn't help thinking about that part). Unlike every other morning of her life, things had been a little different when she'd rolled out of bed.
Somehow, it didn't strike her as entirely fair that Ellie and Devon had woken up as children and she got to wake up as a man. Even without a mirror around, the proof was incontrivertible. This was far beyond anything the CIA had dealt with before, that was certain.
As she moved about her hut, trying to find something she could actually wear out, the situation just became increasingly frustrating. Her center of balance was different, unfamiliar, her physical capabilities changed and shifted in ways she would need more time to figure out. It gave the advantage to anyone who came at her, and that was the last thing she needed at what was likely to be a time of mass confusion as it was. She doubted, after all, she was the only one this change had affected. It wouldn't have fit the pattern.
One pair of sweatpants (a little tight but workable), a formerly over-sized sweater and a quick workout routine later, she'd at least managed to clear her head and think through the situation. It would take some time and effort to get accustomed to the new situation, but she could do it alone. The last thing she needed was to give Casey a reason to laugh at her. Besides, no one could say for sure who she was now. A glance in one of the Compound mirrors confirmed that. It would take some closing looking and a wild imagination for anyone to suspect who she was, and a change of clothes would only help that. She spent a brief while in the basement bathroom, running through the details of a new cover story, adjusting her outfit - slacks and a shirt she'd managed to coax out of the box. By the time she'd managed to stop herself reaching reflexively to touch long hair that wasn't there anymore, she was good to go. Discarding the clothes she'd been wearing in the clothes box, she headed upstairs, a new arrival.
Weird as the whole thing was, that part felt kind of good.
That morning, like every other morning since her arrival on the island, she'd woken up in a bed she'd come to think of as her own in a hut which now belonged to her and which had belonged to the her before her. That part was confusing, she didn't like to think about that part (she couldn't help thinking about that part). Unlike every other morning of her life, things had been a little different when she'd rolled out of bed.
Somehow, it didn't strike her as entirely fair that Ellie and Devon had woken up as children and she got to wake up as a man. Even without a mirror around, the proof was incontrivertible. This was far beyond anything the CIA had dealt with before, that was certain.
As she moved about her hut, trying to find something she could actually wear out, the situation just became increasingly frustrating. Her center of balance was different, unfamiliar, her physical capabilities changed and shifted in ways she would need more time to figure out. It gave the advantage to anyone who came at her, and that was the last thing she needed at what was likely to be a time of mass confusion as it was. She doubted, after all, she was the only one this change had affected. It wouldn't have fit the pattern.
One pair of sweatpants (a little tight but workable), a formerly over-sized sweater and a quick workout routine later, she'd at least managed to clear her head and think through the situation. It would take some time and effort to get accustomed to the new situation, but she could do it alone. The last thing she needed was to give Casey a reason to laugh at her. Besides, no one could say for sure who she was now. A glance in one of the Compound mirrors confirmed that. It would take some closing looking and a wild imagination for anyone to suspect who she was, and a change of clothes would only help that. She spent a brief while in the basement bathroom, running through the details of a new cover story, adjusting her outfit - slacks and a shirt she'd managed to coax out of the box. By the time she'd managed to stop herself reaching reflexively to touch long hair that wasn't there anymore, she was good to go. Discarding the clothes she'd been wearing in the clothes box, she headed upstairs, a new arrival.
Weird as the whole thing was, that part felt kind of good.