Sitting in my office, I have a moment alone. A blessed moment to reflect on all the proceeding days and nights have brought forth to our attention here. I know Roman questions my belief that Steve Newlin will be far more useful to us than Nan Flannigan ever was, but I have my reasons for this and have attained enough of his trust that he'll not push me overly so for them. He is right, I am his secret weapon, far more than he realizes. I've learned, through the ages, that my beauty lulls others into a false sense of security. Show a being soft eyes, a concerned murmur, a light touch and they are merely pawns to be used. I have intelligence honed by almost two thousand years of using what I have with precision and mental dexerity heretofore unknown to most. I use what I have, and I use it well. Roman has his agenda, I have mine. For the most part, they meld and mesh fluidly. Roman. Even now the thought of his brawny body and piercing eyes, his command for authority cause the tiniest of shivers which is still quite odd. Nothing moves me. I am a statue. Cold. Impenetrable. Whatever I am, TIME has made me so. Shaken from my reverie by the arrival of Rosalyn, Alexander and Kibwe, I join them to head to meet with Roman and Dieter. Although, I've managed to ascertain that both Mr. Northman and Mr. Compton aren't Sanguinnista, I strongly suspect, along with Nora's admission of her own betrayal, we have others in our midst as well.
