The morning inside the mansion began in an strangely peaceful way.
The dining room was filled with clear light coming through the large windows facing the gardens, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee had already spread through the room when Monica entered carrying a small stack of documents under one arm.
She had faint dark circles under her eyes, her hair tied back carelessly, and the expression of someone who found it deeply offensive that the world kept producing problems even while she slept.
Scathach was already sitting at the table.
Monica stopped.
Took two steps back.
Looked again.
Scathach held a cup with both hands and stared into the coffee as if expecting to find the solution to all her problems inside it.
Her face was red.
Her ears too.
And she seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look at anyone else present.
Monica placed the documents on the table.
"What happened to you?"
Scathach tightened her grip around the cup.
"Nothing."
