It had grown to become a difficult and tiresome task to avoid the Agents, each day that passed seeming to bring with it another, though it would be a blatant lie if they said there were a few they didn't like. No real problem was present where they were concerned, some they avoided more for the fear which rose within them, clutching at their stomach with steel fingers, yet it was more their way. Each seemed little more than a copy with a few things changed, their manners and the way they spoke held a quality that seemed robotic, even the way they carried themself made them feel separate.

If Atreus dared to be truthful, even to themself, something about them reminded the child all too much of their old life, something left only within the remnants of memory. When they looked upon any of them within their armour or heard the strange way they had of speaking it dragged forth something new, a buried treasure they had wished stayed buried. Something within them sought to give each a chance, Church had already shown himself to be a kindly person and one they harboured interest in, if simply because he was different from them, though separate something there was too alike for him to not be counted amongst the Freelancers. And then there was Playerone.

They knew not of her connection to them, news seemed oddly slow about the group as it grew, largely catering to those who came to them and make sure all were settled and well, but they had seen her with them. It had been somewhat jarring to see the feline besides the larger creatures, oddly comfortable and at ease, as though she belonged, a thought they had shut down quickly. Nothing upon that line of thought was their's to question, and it did not matter how badly they wanted to ask, to pull the information from her, they would wait until it came up. Yet one couldn't speak all that much on the patience of a child, prone to bouts when it all came spilling out, so like a dog with a bone unwilling to give it up until the end.

All the same they pushed the thoughts aside and instead turned to another path, one they had thought on for a time – medicine. Art was grateful for the help Player had offered when they had barely held themself together, too far gone in their exhaustion to mind the small break down they were forced through. They wanted to repair her, to show they were thankful for her help and so had set about baking, having seen the treats Margaery had made and thinking it might be the best beat. Through the night they worked, unsure on how to go about things with only the faint remnants of their mother's recipe left, but it was thankfully just enough to get them through.

The sun had long since risen, signalling the shift from morning into noon, before they were finished and on their way to Play's room. It had been the first place they thought to check, really the only one, and they could only hope she was in. With a somewhat overdone apple pie, a fresh journal and a few pencils they stood before her room, hesitant now as they stood before the door. Finally they lifted a paw and knocked.

[ [member=1166]Playerone K.G.[/member] sorry for the title, i've been listening to mbmbam a bit recently and it just kinda happened ]