Eva looked up from the papers on her desk at Dom's words, not to look at a screen or tap into a system to take a peek, but to gather her composure. Over the mic system in her office, she spoke back to Dominic: "Will the Nazi poster children who live in my basement please stand down?" The gorgeous, wacky blond twins had a knack for saying horrible things and at the worst of times. It had taken years to completely root them out enough to keep from ruining her facial expressions in mixed company.
Will knocked, Zap opened the door mentally, and the small group of men was revealed to her. Her eyes went from Will's to those of Mr. Zale and as she stood, there was a tiny waiver. "Good afternoon, welcome," she quickly regained her sturdy-as-an-ox footing and then moved around the desk to greet the newcomers. "I'm Evangeline Silvercloud," she extended her hand first to the young man, who looked a little worse for wear. She'd seen that expression on the faces of her children many times. "You're Brayden, right?" she released him. "I'm glad to meet you. If it's okay with your father, my son and daughter are down the hall and would love someone to beat them in Fortnite. Will could show you the way." Then, she turned her attention to Mr. Zale, the elder. Her hand rose again and this time she felt a surreal, slow-motion like approach to getting to the actual handshake.
"There are snacks," the mayor mentioned, looking the father in the eyes, but really trying to entice the son. She smirked and looked away from Nathaniel again before he gave his answer of permission. "I used to go on so many road trips with my dad..." The Latina released a relaxing breath/sigh and then glanced down. She released Nathaniel Zale's hand and held hers together delicately in front of her abdomen.
Once the children's situation was settled, she nodded to Will and then looked to the new librarian. "I'm glad to meet you, too, by the way. Would you like to sit?" His face. It wasn't what she'd anticipated. Dom was a terrible charades partner. "Water?" She needed a drink, herself. She cleared her throat. Then she cut the mics. And blinked. "Right, water," her feet went back to work, stepping out for a brief moment to retrieve two waters from the wet bar fridge in the waiting area of her office. "Here you go," she said gingerly as she placed it down on her desk and returned to her place behind the piece. "That bad?" the empathically-inclined parent inquired.