Standing in the crisp, autumnal grass, among the dead, wet, sad leaves and barren trees, she looked a specter. The moonlight washed her out, turning pale skin yellow as she shifted her dark blue princess jacket. She hated the cold, especially the damnable cold of England. They said it was warmer than at home √ she doubted that.

Torchlight made her step back and take pause. There was an ungainly revelry, a noise only drunken paupers from some far off Puccini orchestration rising through the park. She moved to a bench, waiting for them. The noise was a ruse, it always was. Her companions were coming. Crossing her legs, she fixed her rose skirt, pulled at a dark brown boot. Nothing matched, as in nature; she would not match and ruin her beautiful natural pattern.

⌠Mercy, have us!■ someone called playfully. They were closer, almost in her grove. She knew it was a little party, filled only by the three people she trusted most. The term ▒best friend▓ held no meaning or appeal for the young woman, as it meant something fixed. In her life, nothing was fixed.

⌠Ah, there you are; you look jaundiced √ what the hell did you eat tonight?■ She watched John tromp into the clearing, beam of his torch falling over her. She winced at the sudden light in her eyes, but it was quickly bearable. She shook her head at John; loveable, silly, easily distract John. He had met her one night in the park and had adopted her as his personal monster movie. That he had previously found it in Martha and Corey seemed not to bother him. She watched him, watching as Corey peered over his shoulder, hands wrapping around John, smiling at her; Martha stood behind them, playing with her own torch, looking only slightly drunk; she always looked slightly drunk, however.

⌠I▓ve yet to eat, it▓s just the moonlight; the such can still be seen tonight.■ She explained calmly as she stood, fixing her skirt once more. ⌠You▓ve all been drinking.■

⌠Only a little.■ Corey laughed, smiling his infamous bright-toothed grin. She turned to Martha hoping for someone to share in her sanity. The other shrugged, waving a painted hand towards them.
⌠We▓ve bought a flat.■ She explained. ⌠We were celebrating at the pub across the street √ Frog▓s Neck, you▓d like it.■ Martha grinned, showing slightly pointed teeth. That she knew it was not the other▓s teeth which were lethal did not calm the sudden nervous flutter to start before she staunched it out.

⌠Oh, have you? Congratulations then. Come, let▓s celebrate.■ She waved them along, leading them to the cinema they usually went to on Thursday nights.

⌠Congrats to you, too.■ John laughed. ⌠You▓re living with us to √ it▓s an attic flat, there▓s a perfect room for you.■

⌠What?■ She stopped, turning.

⌠Yes.■ Martha nodded. ⌠Mercy, if you want our help, we need to know who you are and where you are.■ She rolled her eyes, watching her.

Corey nodded. ⌠You can▓t keep living in this park, it▓s just not cool, man.■

⌠You▓ll catch your death.■ John pointed out. Mercy glared, not liking this, the moving in and domestic life of ▒flat mates▓, as they so wanted. She could see it, though, see in their eyes they could not give up this fight, give her leave back home to her favored spot to sleep. She turned, simply walking away; they had already forced her answer.