Annie/Open
Annie walked into the hall quietly. She had selected a slick, corporate, black pencil dress and jacket. She didn't know these people, aside from Hemingway, whom she'd been stuck on the island with.
She made her way quietly into the room, pausing at each table and making a small symbol in the air in front of herself, before she helped herself to a large measure of clear spirit from the table in the room.
Still, quiet as she can be, she made her way to the back of the room where she pressed her back to the wall and watched the fire burn. She took a deep draught of her spirit and watched each of these people follow their own little rituals of mourning.