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The rain was so loud, Delilah nearly missed the knocking on her front door. It was Mitra who alerted her, the Musharna using a gentle nudge of DREAM EATER to coax Delilah awake.[break][break]
Groggily, she sat up in bed, disoriented. She'd fallen asleep while reading, her book splayed open on top of the comforter, discarded. It wasn't terribly late - 10:00 PM - but still, it was strange for someone to come calling after hours. Was it some sort of emergency? Vaguely, she tried to remember her newest assistant's name. Was it Caroline? Cassidy?[break][break]
She checked her phone, plugged in next to the bed. Several unread emails, but no urgent texts. Delilah yawned, stepping gingerly from the four-poster, then padded over to a full-body mirror where she'd draped a lace-hemmed satin robe. She pulled it on over her nightgown, tied loosely, the effort of someone half-awake and feeling lazy. She was expecting the visitor to be the young woman assigned to keep her day-to-say schedule, after all (but why hadn't she called or texted...?)[break][break]
She made her way across the condo to the front door, pausing briefly to listen. Mitra floated next to her, ready to assist should things turn sour. Apprehension prickled her senses, but the condo had plenty of security measures. Whoever was outside her front door would have had to pass by several precautionary safety measures meant to ensure residents of the Azure Bay Estates peace of mind.[break][break]
She peered out the peephole, but the dark hallway beyond made it difficult to make out the figure standing there. Too large to be Carmody...[break][break]
With a sigh, she unlocked to door, opening it a crack.[break][break]
To her surprise, a completely unfamiliar man in a rather soaked-through jacket was staring back her.[break][break]
"Can I help you?" She asked, too confused to sound unamused.

MADE BY GUNSMILE

'FLETCHER HYLAND. SLATEPORT PD.'

Delilah Silph [break]

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Her lip curled, heralding a frown. Who doesn't know my face? she thought indignantly, in response to his question regarding her identity. She was a Silph. A very public one, at that.[break][break]
But then he casually handed over his badge - as if that would explain everything, which, it did not - and she couldn't help but notice that his photo and the real-life version didn't exactly match. He looks worn out, she observed. And like he'd rather be anywhere else but here.[break][break]
That didn't exactly bode well. Combined with the fact that he was some sort of officer...Delilah's skin prickled, and she could practically taste the scandal brewing. It left a sour taste in her mouth.[break][break]
"I believe there's been some sort of mistake," she assured him politely. Go home, her eyes begged. Get some rest. She could do the same.[break][break]
"I did not call the police, nor am I in need of any government services at this time. Have a good evening, sir," she made to shut the door, confident that the bizarre interaction would soon come to an end.

MADE BY GUNSMILE

Delilah Silph [break]

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For a man who looked exhausted, he moved surprisingly quickly. Delilah's eyes widened as he shouldered his way forward, blocking the door with his boot before she could finish shutting it. The audacity! She opened her mouth to reprimand his rude behavior, but he beat her to that, too.[break][break]
And his next words were so unexpected, she merely gaped at him in disbelief, her anger forgotten.[break][break]
"I'm sorry, what?" She blinked. "A credible threat to my life?"[break][break]
Was this some cruel joke? Wouldn't her own dedicated security team have brought such a thing to her attention already, were it real?[break][break]
"Whether it is you or someone else, people will suffer. Those around you will find nothing but misery as this region takes everything from them. As it has taken from me."[break][break]
FERNANDO SILPH's words echoed ominously in her mind, but she pushed them away. Frustration leaked from the corners of her mouth as she sighed heavily.[break][break]
"Fine," she yielded, giving in to the sudden intensity of the man's stare. "Come inside."[break][break]
She let go of her hold on the door, abruptly turning on her heel to walk into her living room, expecting him to follow. If he was the sort of man he claimed to be, he'd lock the door behind him.

MADE BY GUNSMILE

Delilah Silph [break]

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"Take your shoes off," she commanded, without turning around. She wasn't about to let this man ruin the carpet with his muddy boots. That would only further sour her already soured mood.[break][break]
She seamlessly made her way from living room to kitchen, found the kettle and filled it. Some tea would be good; her visitor was a soggy mess, and any hope that she would be able to fall back asleep tonight had been dashed by his wholly unexpected and rather alarming claim. She took a seat at the kitchen table - polished wood, Petalburg's finest - and waited for the man to join her. He seemed to be doing some sort of routine sweep of her apartment - police nonsense, she figured - but eventually ambled over to her, reeled in by her presence.[break][break]
"No," Delilah answered promptly, tone clipped. "I don't have any enemies. Why would I?"[break][break]
Why indeed. Go home, Ceres.[break][break]
She fidgeted as the kettle hummed to life, steam beginning to hiss. Rain pounded against the windows, insistent.[break][break]

MADE BY GUNSMILE

Delilah Silph [break]

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Delilah watched half-horrified as the notebook dripped tiny droplets of rainwater onto her kitchen floor. There was something unbearable about her visitor's complete disregard for his things...for himself. She reached out automatically, plucked the notebook from his hands, and dropped it onto the table with a decisive plop.[break][break]
"Fletcher, was it?" She met his eyes, really looked at him for the first time. Dark hair, pulled back. Goatee. Bags under shadowed, tired eyes. A scar on his cheek. She had the sudden irrational urge to run her fingers over it, causing her hand to twitch.[break][break]
"You should use my bathroom. Clean yourself up. I've got plenty of towels." Ignoring his questions, she gestured in the direction of her bedroom. Mitra could follow after him, make sure he didn't do anything indecent.[break][break]
The kettle whined louder. Delilah ripped her gaze from Fletcher and walked over to it, rummaging around in a cabinet for two mugs.[break][break]
"Go on."

MADE BY GUNSMILE

Delilah Silph [break]

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"Tea," she answered promptly. "I've got caffeinated, if you'd prefer."[break][break]
She rummaged around until she'd pulled out two tea bags - black and white, yin and yang - then soaked them in the boiling water. Scrutinizing his efforts, she deemed him "dry enough", then walked back to the table with the two mugs. She set one down in front of him, then picked hers up in both hands, liking the warmth against her palms.[break][break]
Silence as the rain pounded, trying its best to intrude on their conversation.[break][break]
"I'm a model," she answered finally. "And an actress, a singer, and a business owner." He ought to know this, if he'd done his research. How much danger could I really be in if this is the best they could send me?[break][break]
She took a tentative sip of hot tea. Too hot.[break][break]
"But I suppose the fact that I'm a Silph might be reason enough for someone to wish me harm."[break][break]
She could admit that much. At least Fernando wasn't there to gloat.

MADE BY GUNSMILE

Delilah Silph [break]

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She fidgeted with her mug, impatient for the tea to cool.[break][break]
"Multiple precincts? Several reports?" Delilah echoed, incredulous. Was it really so difficult to believe? Didn't her surname paint a giant target on her back? But nothing like this had happened for twenty-six years. Why now? Why here?[break][break]
The answer was obvious, but she ground her teeth in protest rather than admit it.[break][break]
Maybe he's lying, she thought, entertaining the notion for a few seconds. She stared at him, tried to read his expression. He doesn't want to be here, was all she could discern - the slump of his shoulders, the weariness beneath his flat tone - and it was strange that the first emotion she felt upon realizing that was disappointment. Was she really so lonely?[break][break]
"I - " she started, then sighed. She took a decisive sip of tea and winced: it had always been an inevitability that she would burn her tongue.[break][break]
"No," she countered his suggestions. "Nothing like that." She paused. "I suppose my brothers might have earned themselves some enemies, given their...notoriety." She left it at that. "But if a criminal organization - like Team Rocket - wants to kidnap me to get to them, they'll be sorely disappointed."[break][break]
She laughed, and it was a bitter sound.

MADE BY GUNSMILE