When sitting in idle anticipation, awaiting the arrival and subsequent help of someone else, the mind tended to wander–especially if that mind belonged to a writer. A mind often leveraged to conjure forth intricate narratives, loquacious verbiage, romanticized mundanity, and highly descriptive scenes could seldom sit still, so while the writer’s body remained anchored firmly in place, his consciousness couldn’t help but range far afield through the uncharted realms of imagination. As he waited Khalid reminisced, waxed poetic, made mountains out of molehills, and generally got lost in thought. Agonizing over his current crisis wouldn’t solve anything, after all, so like dough he kneaded his beleaguered brain in an attempt to coax out character concepts, plot points, and compelling turns of phrase he could use later. Whether they generated any usable material or not, these mental exercised made the minutes fly by, but this frenzied daydreaming also occupied the thin man to such an extent that even as he stared at the complex’s front entrance, he didn’t notice the unfamiliar silhouette approaching the doors until they swung open to admit her.

Khalid straightened up, blinking repeatedly as the sudden disturbance stirred him from his absent-minded reverie. His eyes, fixated on a vista so distant that nobody else could possibly see it, refocused on the foreground and allowed him to witness the newcomer for the first time. In an instant Khalid realized that he’d never seen this person before, and if not for his well-practiced composure, he would have raised both brows in puzzled surprise. Of course, in terms of appearance there was nothing strange about her–and that was what was so strange. For all intents and purposes, this woman looked one hundred percent human, with not even subtle monstrous features or behaviors to betray a true nature breaking through the facade. It went without saying, though, that no human should be able to so brazenly stroll through those unassuming doors. That paradox could only mean that there was more than met the eye to this woman. Khalid hypothesized that he must be looking at a very convincing shapeshifter, or a powerful illusion. It did occur to him that he might be looking into a mirror, and that another practitioner of the arcane arts had managed to penetrate this place. Regardless, and much to his chagrin, it seemed that this woman’s true nature lay beyond his powers of perception right now.

Stumped by the question of what monster this woman might really be, Khalid took another tact, and opted to re-evaluate her as a human instead. Just what sort of person was he looking at? A quick examination made the answer crystal clear, but even without the telltale tags on her clothing that identified ‘Holloway’ as a US soldier, Khalid might have been able to guess. Though women in the army didn’t need to cut their hair if they wore it up, hers had still been cropped to a military-authorized trim, and despite growing out a little since then it gave no indication of styling. There was a world-weariness etched into her face, far deeper-seeded than that of the sad-sack salaryman or unemployed doomscroller. Those stony features had no doubt been hardened by terrible trials, evidence of an equally hardened heart, and those bandages were just icing on the cake. Even the way she moved across the foyer, her posture rigid and straight but too powerful to be called stiff, suggested a sense of discipline so thoroughly drilled in that it had become unconscious and involuntary. Her eyes were vacant, almost glassy, like she wasn’t all here, and some part of her remained on those distant battlefields. When those eyes roved over Khalid, he wondered if she even saw him.

He didn’t necessarily mind being ignored, though. When one thought of United States soldiers and middle easterners, the association was seldom positive. Of course, he had neither family history nor personal grudges to hold against her, and there was nothing about his place of origin -political, societal, or spiritual- that commanded any particular allegiance from a non-practicing Muslim like him. Still, Khalid did not like any being that might think to command power over him. No one, monster or man, living or dead, was entitled to the respect of Khalid Alhazred. No one.

Of course, for all Khalid’s overthinking, what actually happened in the lobby was very uneventful. Holloway entered, walked right by the thin man in his chair, and stopped at the vacant front desk. Under normal circumstances he might have objected to someone cutting the line, but she could go first this time. Right now he happened to be very interested to know more about who -or what- this newcomer was, in part because of something that happened right after she passed by. His stone talismans, dangling from his belt, shuddered and opened their eyes. They peered after Holloway as she receded from their owner, their enchanted lids only sliding closed again once she got a certain distance from them. That was all the confirmation Khalid needed to know that there was some sort of magic in play. “Curiouser and curiouser,” he quoted beneath his breath.

Since it would be rude to stare, Khalid turned around again and settled in to wait. Luckily, neither he nor Holloway had to wait long. The rhythmic sound of large scutes sliding across the floor announced the return of Miss Theria Lasthena to her post. If she was perceptive, she might notice Khalid scoping out her arrival with what looked like a pocket makeup mirror. Once he confirmed that her glasses were on, though, the mirror vanished just as quickly as it appeared. “Good morning, Miss Lasthena,” Khalid replied as he rose, turning to face the gorgon without a trace of anxiety on his face. As always, he spoke with measured, grammatically perfect English, flavored with a noticeable but hard-to-place accent. “Please, take all the time you need.”

In short order, his business cards and posters were printing. “Thank you,” he told her with a respectful nod of his head. It was polite of her to not say anything about the eldritch smell that tended to cling to him thanks to the Shoggoth. He did think it strange that Holloway didn’t remark on the odor either…perhaps army rations had dulled a couple of her senses? Or perhaps the smell of a Shoggoth simply wasn’t all that extraordinary to her. Khalid gave Holloway a wide berth as he waited for his papers to finish printing, listening to her exchange with Theria. [i]People like you, hmm?[/i] Her words backed up what her appearance suggested about her not being on active duty, implying that she needed somewhere to hide. That same desire brought most Umbra Rose tenants here, but her military trappings made Khalid wonder just what she might be fleeing.

Then the cover slipped, and Khalid did not fail to notice. A creature emerged from Holloway’s clothes, a serpent that she identified by name and command as a separate entity, rather than a part of her. [i]Slick, eh?[/i] It receded the next moment, leaving Khalid with more questions than answers. Before he could ponder much, however, his satchel stirred. The Shoggoth within bubbled up like bread in a baking oven, threatening to spill through the gap and into the public eye. Momentary panic spurred Khalid to turn away and grab his spray bottle in order to spritz Horace through the opening. After a moment, the unsavory sludge relaxed again, but Khalid remained alert. “What’s gotten into you?” he murmured, more to himself than the creature. Once he made sure that the Shoggoth was placated, the eruditionist returned his attention to the ladies. Just what was this 'Slick', to have prompted a reaction like that…?