"Is that some kind of joke?" A humorless beat. It gaps the space between hand and newspaper and she gets a sense it isn't. "Right. What kind of monsters?" She takes it, loose pages unfolding in a noise not so unlike the flapping of wings. The motion feels ridiculous; a leisure she isn't used to. One requiring she be in a chair with legs kicked up on the nearest desk, and in not doing so she performs the function incorrectly.

Carolina reads, however the words go nowhere. She reads and finds she cannot recollect the last sentence. Can't make out the images printed in halftones on the page. Not because she's incompetent, rather because she can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Too focused on the eyes. So many of them, real and fake, staring through her.

Carolina hasn't a single idea what this man thinks he'll see, but she doesn't like it. And so back into the newspaper she goes, expression turned stony. Something about a Love Tunnel— God, is this all nonsense?

"Nothing very interesting. A stroll through the park, let's leave it at that— what does half of this stuff mean?"