Act I. Scene VII

CALE

Agape Lisianto was strange - very strange to a girl of her age for the purposes they claimed to have -, everything Cale expected from that girl seemed to be the opposite of what she showed him; always the opposite.

"Strange," he repeated still inside the carriage, his face resting on one hand, his eyes traveling through the glass windows blurred by the cold night.

Maybe it wasn’t Agape being strange that bothered him - he realized as his face burned; he burned with the memory of how he had acted in front of her.

I had said too much.

Thought too much.

But at the end of the night, a Lisianto would always be a Lisianto and Cale - it was a Lestrad.

The problem was that in Cale’s life - there was no time to get lost thinking about a girl, or the ways her oddities fit into the social view of her. No.

Cale’s life was a troubled mix of things, unofficial missions, political resolutions to be taken care of under the scenes - and attitudes