Ice Cream (RP)

Circe listens as Benji explains what happened to her sister and, as he does so, an expression of horror and grief spreads across her face. At the mention of so much blood--her sister's blood--she cries out, "Oh my god, No! Persephone, no!" She runs toward her sister's bedroom in tears.

Before she reaches the door, Persephone emerges, drawn by the noise. She looks vaguely annoyed by the interruption. Her hair and make-up look absolutely exquisite, as does her whole ensemble -- even better than Benji has seen her appear before. Circe crashes into her, embracing her in her tears. Persephone becomes agitated, as an emotional response begins to emerge, but then she grunts in pain and falls to her knees as the symbol on her black flares with an infernal red light bright enough to be seen through her linen top. Persephone grunts again, as if the symbol flashing is causing her pain.

Circe falls with Persephone and they are now both on their knees, Circe clinging to Persephone while Persephone struggles with the symbol. Circe cries out, "Pers! We need to get this effing thing off your back now! It's gonna kill you!" The light fades and Persephone pulls herself back to standing. Calm comes over her again -- or coldness, really -- but a look of concern remains. She observes Circe and says, "Hmm. I can't function very efficiently if that is going to happen with any frequency. Wait a moment; you are obviously distraught. More than usual, I mean. Why?" She looks to Benji, expecting him to be able to provide a more coherent explanation than her sobbing, angry little sis.

Persephone nods curtly and says, "Ah, yes. I imagine the sight of my corpse after the hellhound was through with me was grisly indeed. I have the faint scars all over my body."

Circe eventually calms down and pulls herself to standing. Persephone sighs heavily and says, "I suppose it is all rather upsetting. Or, rather, it should be. But I am... numb. As if that part of me has been... quarantined." She looks at Benji with almost no expression at all on her blank face. She asks, "This is likely unhealthy, isn't it? I suspect it isn't sustainable long term, either; I wonder if my Patron has decided I am a liability and has chosen to use me in this way for the short term until this burns me out. Alas, I have no way of knowing. Do you know anyone who has experience with such things? Perhaps your bookstore friend?"

Circe has finally composed herself enough to rejoin the conversation, adding, "Yes! Benji, please. Pers is willing. We need to do this, now."

Max strides through the dusty halls pausing occasionally to examine a flaw in the old decorations. Plastic Surgery clinics were usually bougie joints, or so she believes, and it's hard to see why anyone would choose to set up shop here. Might be a problem. Might also be an opportunity.

She's not a tall woman by any means, but she has an aura of someone 'large for their size,' and her presence seems to take up more space in a room than it really should. She walks with confidence and grace, and a hint of wary danger, like a predator pacing its enclosure simply waiting for a chance to spring to freedom. Her blonde hair is kept in a tousled but aesthetically pleasing mop, with wild bangs that hang to the right side of her face, and intense blue eyes. She wears mostly black leather, pants and a jacket, hanging open with a plain gray T-shirt beneath. She carries a worn duffel bag across her back.

When she gets to Titania's door, she pauses to admire the sheer contrast of the sign with the rest of the building. Who did they think they were fooling? Surround yourself with a dump like this, everyone would think you were a dump no matter how ritzy you looked on the inside. Without knocking, she enters.

She pauses to give the room's inhabitants a brief scan before she approaches the receptionist. "Hi," she says cordially. Her voice is husky and direct. "I'd like to make an appointment. Unless you do walk-ins? That's... probably not a thing, huh?"

Max can't help but smile indulgently at the receptionist's bubbly attitude. "Thanks. Always nice when others notice the fabulousness." She raises a brow dubiously at the comment that she shouldn't change a thing but doesn't remark on it. "Name's Maxine Harvey."

Max's friendly demeanor vanishes in an instant. She says nothing for a while, simply staring at the receptionist blankly, as if she hadn't heard. She briefly sweeps her gaze over the near-empty waiting room before turning it back on the receptionist. "Uh huh," she says unconvincingly. "Business must be booming." She wonders if they know that she's a werewolf. On one hand, she'd only been back from Germany for six months now, and word hadn't really had time to spread across the entire supernatural underworld. But on the other hand, she hadn't exactly been trying very hard to keep it a secret. And if she showed them the werewolf bite, it could well be a dead giveaway.

Silently, she continues staring in silence at the receptionist, ignoring the implied request to leave long after it becomes awkward, gauging the woman's reaction carefully.