Research. This was a concept she well understood, but one she was unsure she could truly get behind. She wondered what Fee would say - no matter what comforting name this stranger put to it, this course of action still felt too much like fleeing the scene - but found this a question to which she had no ready answer. Of late, when this touchy topic was brought up, Fee had not seemed her usual trigger happy self; there had been as much flight as fight in her eyes, if not slightly more.
But there was more to her line of thought than she would admit to her neighbor, scarcely able as she was to admit it to herself. What was happening to her was by and large a frightening prospect: the voices, the dreams, the movements in the dark. But another, deeper part of her found it equally intriguing, a siren song that called to her more strongly than anything she had felt before. What she felt when she thought on these things was a kind of terror that bordered on lust, with all the fear and trembling of a new and dangerous love. It was this, then, that put the words in her mouth, and gave her the foolish strength to speak them.
"Mr. Sandoa..." She sighed, shaking her head. When she looked back to him her green eyes seemed not vacant, precisely, but filled with something perhaps not entirely of her. "I'm afraid I can't. Someone should know what is happening, and you seemed the right person to tell." She shifted in her chair, clearly making ready to leave. As she rose, she smiled: unearthly, sublime, and thoroughly someone else. "And who knows?" she asked. "You may learn more by my staying than if I left."