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But for One Letter By Masked Scribe Looking back, Jean could only wonder in astonishment just how drastically his situation had changed, not once, but twice. He had been offered a chance to live his life as an entirely new persona and everything changed for him overnight when he traded in his life for hers. But now, she found herself terrified for her life and in hiding just how did it come to this? About Seven months before, Jean's life was mostly mundane. He was an actor, and used to dance and hoped to break out in the business, took auditions and whatever role had come his way in hopes that would be the one that got him recognized by someone big. Even did a few commercials. He had a more steady job too, like most starving actors. In fact, he was on his way to that job at the moment, He was riding along the tram to get there. The car was hardly crowded, Most people would be getting off work from their 9-t0-5's soon. The young man wore a dark green synthetic wool coat with a gold and red striped scarf and left his short-cropped hair bare. Under that, he wore a red sweater and some bluejeans. Even with the layers of clothing and sitting down, it was quite obvious the pale-skinned, blue-eyed young man was quite skinny and shorter than average height. Jean seemed to be staring off, aimlessly into space just watching the wintertime urban scenery go by just like the green-haired teen aged girl besides him or the old man sitting opposite of him on one of the tram's bench-style seats. Anyone who'd followed computing trends from the millennial time and though the decades until now would know better.. Thanks to the miniaturized computer computer adhering to the back of his neck and snugly pressing against key areas at the base of his skull where it meets his spinal cord it could use his own senses as it's display via Augmented Reality, and his mental commands. He was checking his messages and the weather report for today, and grimacing at the prospect of more snow tomorrow. The music from his computer, so personalized to his tastes and likes that only he could hear it, faded and a pleasant, ethereal woman's voice announced 'Your destination is coming up.' That was his stop, somewhere downtown and after he left the tram station he walked along slush-covered sidewalks nearly on autopilot. He'd gone this way so frequently that he could probably walk the approximately 350 feet-on especially boring days, he counted the steps-by memory alone. He only bothered to pay attention to make sure that he didn't step a booted foot onto a patch of ice or something and not slip and end up on his back. Galatea's was the name of the club he worked at as a performer, it dominated most of the first floor of a 12 story building, and like most nightclubs it didn't really appear too remarkable during the day. He paused for a moment outside to stamp off any dirt, slush or muck that he'd potentially trail inside and then he entered. Inside, there was only a few lights, and it was mostly abandoned. No, not abandoned just empty. There was a big distinction between the two. If people are the lifeblood of a building, then abandoned places are dead, corpses of what they once were. The club was far from dead just hibernating, in suspended animation until the time was right to come to life. "Hi Sophie!" He smiled and nodded to the only other person he saw there at the moment, the petite Asian girl in form-hugging (And tip- attracting) outfit consisting black pants with a white top with long sleeves rolled up past her elbows, black vest with a red tie tucked beneath it. Her hair was in a ponytail, and her ruby lips pulled into a smile as she answered. "Heyas Jean, you know my cousin's making another film, he's always got a role for you hon!" Sophie's cousin was an independent filmmaker. His fare always ended up something between Tarantino and Troma, but it got his name and face on the net (in a good way) and he always had a ton of fun on his productions, nonetheless. "Sure! I'm up for it, he knows where to find me. I just hope he doesn't make me wear one of those bulky monster suits like he did for Personal Space Invaders: A Love Story!" He maneuvered though the tables chairs, and booths and past the large stage that dominated one wall of the club. Even under low light everything had a whimsical, almost gaudy look to it, bright, sharp colors, and a faux-gold trimming around the stage. Beyond a door, things were a little more grounded backstage. In an hour, the club would open, and that gave him plenty of time to get ready. As he headed for the dressing rooms, he found himself face to face with Christina Aguilera. Well...not the Christina Aguilera of course but a damned good likeness of her, circa the early Aughties. She smiled kindly at him and stepped aside for Jean. "Hey, Jean how're you?" The illusion of the sultry young starlet only lasted as long as 'she' didn't speak. His voice was pleasant enough, and had a lilting quality about it, but it was decidedly masculine. "Hey Alex, I'm alright. You're early, as usual." "Well, never hurts to be punctual, right? Always takes me a bit more time so best to get an early start on things,." The dressing room was full of others men already in the process of becoming facsimiles of popular songstresses who first broke out on the entertainment scene nearly eighty years ago: Beyonce, J-Lo, Jessica Simpson and more. Jean took off his boots, scarf and coat and set them down with a locker that would soon hold the remainder of his clothing. Then he grabbed a familiar set of padding for his hips that would enhance in some places and restrict in others, a white bra and panties set and yet more padding to fill into the former of the undergarments and ducked behind a a spot of relative privacy produced by a vintage silk screen in order to change. With a routine ease he stripped down to his pale, slim and hairless frame. He stepped into the dull eggshell white hip paddings like a pair of shorts, the composite article of yielding rubbery padding on the sides and back and a stiff, flat front section with a spot for his penis to hold it comfortably while maintaining the illusion slid up his long toned legs quickly and gave him a woman's graceful curves from the waist down. He followed immediately by adhering the false breasts to his chest. The C-cups were flesh-colored on the 'front' but the backs that clung so easily to his chest were the same color as the hip pads. He put on the underwear, and stowed the remainder of his clothing into the locker. The appliances gave him the body of a thin but very shapely woman now, and Jean's movements when he walked matched his new body type. His false hips rolled with every step. He sat down in front of a makeup table that was set up for him. There he found various bits of makeup, and a blond wig. He washed his face with a wet towel, then tried it off, and immediately went to work. A thin but thorough layer of concealer was applied on his face and even neck to help hide any blemishes or stray stubble; Jean touched this up with foundation until it had a more natural look to it. He followed up by carefully applying an eyebrow pencil, then in turn using blush, shadow, pink lipstick and finished with a pair of false lashes that framed his blue eyes. He examined his handiwork in the mirror with a critical eye. His lips seemed plump and full, his skin looked flawless and smooth with high cheekbones and a smoldering gaze. He smiled in satisfaction and then turned to the final step. The wig was straw blond and crafted into a pair of pigtails. He put it over his own nearly shaved head and adjusted it, he felt the millions of micro-armatures on the wig's underside engage and cling to his super-short hair follicles and scalp with a rippling sensation like dozens of painless pinpricks rippling from his hairline to his neck. Now that it was anchored in place, it might as well be his own hair. He stared at the mirror again, and Britney Spears stared back at him from the reflection. He smiled and snapped on a set of glossy pink false nails, then stood up, it was time to get dressed, and time was running short, judging by the sounds from stage side, music was starting to swell up. And that meant that Galatea's was starting to stir to life. The outfit consisted of a catholic schoolgirl's outfit out of a man's wet dream. White blouse with the sleeves rolled up, partially unbuttoned to show some cleavage and tied up in a way that left his flat stomach exposed. Short pleated dark skirt, white knee high socks and dark Mary Jane shoes. Jean had just enough time to do some last minute preening before it was time for curtain call. His heart was pounding his body felt like it was electrified. His cue couldn't come on soon enough! Even though it was just a routine sort of show, the kind that was done four times a night for four nights a week, Jean adored every second of it, to be on stage, all eyes on him and he entertaining others. It's where he felt that he truly belonged in the world. Most of the show was lip-syncing and choreography. He could look like Britney no problems. The resemblance between the two was a little uncanny. Sounding like her was a different story entirely. It was the same for all the other girls on stage. What they could do was dance, mannerism and act like them, and this they all had down to an exact science. A glance out into the audience shown the typical mix of couples of all kinds, people who came in small groups and the assortment of regulars. Jean noticed something else, definitely not a regular. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone sitting near the back. He stood out first of all by his height, easily over six feet and towered over the patrons that sat in front of him. Were he just tall, that'd just be something interesting, but the way he sat in his three-piece suit and leather long coat that covered his broad shoulders or the little, small quick motions he made that unnerved him. Even though the club was a bit dark, and the bald man was wearing a pair of mirrored aviators, he could tell that he was staring right at Jean. He misstepped. Out of hundreds of performances since he started working as a performer at Galatea's, he'd misstepped exactly twice on stage and both of those were on his very first day of work. As far as gaffes go, it wasn't even a big one, a slight stumble in a routine so quickly and seamlessly recovered that most wouldn't even notice anything was amiss. The rest of the shows that evening went without a hitch, no doubt thanks to the absence of the tall bald man that gave Jean the creeps. When it was all over, he felt as he always did after a night's work. A bit worn out and tired. The process that metamorphosed Jean to Britney was reversed. The others were doing the same. Their Beyonce and Jessica were both baseball fans, so they were discussing if the Cub's legendary curse would be broken against the Osaka Tigers and they'd finally win the International League Pennant. "Hey, Jean, you alright hon? You were a little unsteady on your feet up there for a second. That's not like you." Alex was halfway out of costume now, and asked Jean with a tinge of concern in his voice. "Hmmm? Oh, well, it's not an excuse, but did you notice that guy in the audience in the first performance?" "The one with the cybernetic third eye in his forehead? Larry? I always thought he was pretty nice when I talked to him." "No, not Larry. This guy was real tall, bald head, sunglasses, sat in the back?" Alex nodded as the realization hit him. "Ooooh! Yeah! That guy! What was up with that? Was he someone you knew?" "No, I think I'd remember meeting someone that terrifying." Jean chuckled nervously as the wig came off with a willful tug from him. "Mmm, maybe I'm just making a mountain out of a molehill right? He's probably just some tourist or something, y'know?" "Yeah, you're probably right. But if you want, I could walk you to the tram?" "Thanks, Alex, but that's kind of out of your way, isn't it? I think I'll be alright." He gave his friend a re-assuring smile and the two of them resumed getting ready to return to their respective homes. By the time that he was dressed again in the boots, jeans, sweater, coat and scarf that he came there in, the encounter with the strange, sinister man in the audience was all but forgotten. It was well after midnight by the time they were done, the way back to the tram station was illuminated by streetlights.. There was plenty of air traffic over the city at that hour, both manned and unmanned, including a triangular black and white police patrol drone that hovered just 20 feet above the street. Even at this hour there was a lot of pedestrian traffic downtown, albeit it much thinner than it would be in the daytime or even earlier in the evening. Jean walked along with his hands in his pockets, not really interested in anything other than the ride home and a good night's sleep. Just like when he arrived at work, his way back was roughly on autopilot. He takes the 350 feet back, turns a corner and sees the tram station, just as he had expected. What he didn't expect to see however, was the tall bald man from the club earlier. Still there he was, big as life and even more imposing now that he had a good look at him. His attention snapped to Jean and with a primal reaction, he ran. There was absolutely no sense of reason behind it, it was raw instinct to run. Antelopes never questioned why they fled from lions, they just did and that was the same impetuous that caused Jean to turn tail and sprint as fast as his legs could take him away. He never ran so fast in all of his life, when he thought he had some distance between the two he looked over his shoulder to see if this man had given chase. He almost tripped in surprise at what he saw: Not only was the man running after him, but despite his head start? He was actually gaining, and fast! It was like something out of a nightmare. Jean tried a different approach, just letting this person catch up to him was unthinkable. If he couldn't out run him maybe he could hide from him. He coaxed whatever he could out of tired, aching leg muscles and turned into one blind alley. He repeated it again, and again stopping only when he was sure the man wasn't hot on his heels. He ducked into an alcove of a building and there he caught his breath, and waited, and listened for the guy. He also thought finally of trying to get into contact wth the police so they could take care of the situation. When he tried, he was met with translucent bold red large letters flashing in front of his eyes: 'Error: Unable to Establish Connection! Reason Given: Signal Interference." Of course not... One way or the other, he was on his own. Figures it'd be like that when he needed a nice big, intimidating cop with a nice, big intimidating gun the most. He took a deep breath and assessed the situation. His heart no longer pounded like a drumroll, and he was breathing more or less normally. His legs didn't feel like they were on fire and best of all? It seems that he lost his pursuer. He dared a peek out of his hiding place into the alley and saw no sign of the bald man. So far, so good! He stepped out and a quick look in AR at his Chronometer told him that he had a bit of time to make it back to the tram station before he'd have to wait another hour before riding home on it's next circuit around. He took no more than three steps back than his pursuer showed up again. This time, he did it by leaping from the roof of the other building in the alley, onto a large metal recyling receptacle with enough force to crush it and nearly knock Jean off his feet. He swore, quite loudly and bolted, not even putting more thought into 'where' other than 'as far away from him as his legs will carry him..' It was bad enough before, but the guy was augmented to boot? Jean was really in for trouble now! This time he didn't even bother looking back, If the man was loaded up with performance-enhancing, and possibly combat-aiding, implants then it's not a matter of 'if' he'll catch up but 'when.' If he didn't want to die in a way that only a deranged lunatic with superhuman strength could devise, then his only hope was making it to a public place. It was just by dumb luck that he stumbled off onto a main street, where he nearly bowled over a middle-aged man in a tan coat and brown ascot cap "Whoa, buddy!" The scowling black man said as he adjusted his hat, then narrowed his eyes towards Jean "Where's the fire?" Jean looked behind him. The bald man was nowhere to be found. He didn't buy for a second that he'd lost him, he was probably just biding his time, his gaze turned up to te tops of nearby buildings, and he only turned to the man when he didn't see anything. "Oh, um...sorry, I'm just a real big hurry, is all." He spoke breathlessly and gave the man a sheepish smile. He doubled over with his hands on his knees. "Well, still watch where you're going." The man wandered off back to whatever to wherever he was going. Jean wasn't going to relax by a long shot, but as long as he was surrounded by lots of people like he was here, then at least he was relatively 'safe.' He took his time getting his second wind this time before he walked along the sidewalk. But now where to? Walk the rest of the way home? No, he'd be better off going to the nearest precinct and reporting this. Surely they'd be able to help, even if he'd have to go there in person to get it. So following an Augmented Reality ma that his computer showed him, he walked to the nearest police station, taking great pains to avoid any routes that would leave him isolated. He didn't get too far before doubt started to creep into his mind. Exactly what would he expect the police to do, looking at the guy, it wouldn't surprise Jean one bit if that bald man could take on a whole SWAT team without breaking a sweat. And more importantly, would they even believe him? Without any proof, the whole thing smacked of a bad prank, didn't it? Maybe he should just try to go home? Hail a cap, get it to take a long, convoluted way home and hope he either loses the guy or he loses interest in him. He was just about to do that when he noticed something else on the virtual map that rendered that moot. Floating along the criss-crossed streets and not far at all relative to Jean was an icon he recognized belong to one of his neighbors and a good friend. He was out for a drive, and surely he'd give him a lift! He held onto the first thing that was really going his way since he got off work and shot him a quick message. * And sure enough, as good as his word he saw Todd's car turn the corner. Before he could even respond with a 'TY.' There was no mistaking that it was his car, the Smart paintjob that he had on it was set to be a bright red with an animated golden oriental-styled dragon that coiled and and flowed over the hood, doors and roof in a preset pattern. When it got closer, he saw Todd behind the wheel, with his girlfriend angel in the passenger seat. Todd was a tanned young man in his late twenties like Jean. He had brown hair cut short, but not nearly short as Jeans. From what he could see, he wore a red jacket. Angel's light caramel skin was mostly left bare, other than her blue halter. Her frizzy dirty blond hair was cut about jaw length. As usual, both of them seemed to have no troubles in the whole world. Must be nice, Jean thought. "Hey! Hop on in! We'll lose this creep in no time at all!" Jean had to admit, sometimes their general mood of blissful easy-going nature was infectious. As he opened the driver's side rear door, hopped in and closed it behind him? This was definitely one of those times. He breathed a big sigh of relief as they drove off. "Thanks Todd, I really owe you one." "Hey, no prob, what're friends for? Eh? But what's all this about?" "Well, this guy? I see him first when I'm on stage. He really gave me the creeps, but at the time? I thought that was the end of it. I didn't see him until I was on my way to the tram, right? He was waiting for me at the station and he chased me. Thought I'd lost him for a while, and then? I swear he just leaps down from this building like it was nothing!" "Well, don't worry, sugar! You're okay now!" Angel offered a bit optimism as she sat in her seat a bit awkwardly, as she did so with every seat with a backing. The way home was long, and scenic, with a lot of twists and turns, involving every trick that Todd could think of to lose a tail and many times his paint job changing colors and styles in an attempt to confuse the man with the mirrored shades if he was trying to keep track of it from above. The final trick involved a U-turn in a traffic tunnel, switching to the car's factory default (And therefore, most common and least remarkable) solid color and hoping to blend in with the late night commuters. "Let's see that bastard keep up with that, huh?!" Todd raised a fist in defiance of Jean's enemy. naturally, he was now Todd's enemy too. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "By the way, you hungry? We got some leftovers at home. It's a lot better for you than the stuff you consider food most of the time!" "Hey!" Jean said defensively. "What's wrong with vat-grown meat?" That one was usually a point of contention between Todd and he regarding his eating habits. "Nothing, just, as a general rule? Food with a clever name is not good for you at all. S'all I'm saying" Angel helpfully provided some examples of things sitting in Jean's freezer right that moment."Let's see, theres... Veal -Guilt, Forever Thanksgiving, Pork 2.0, Here's the Beef!, Pullus ex Machina..." "Well, I would go to the Farmer's Market if I could afford it, but cash is something I never have much of." "Well, there's ways you can cut corner, all the veggies we eat we grow ourselves on the greenhouse we built on the roof." "Oh, and an orange tree! It's a little one, but it's growing just fine!" Angel added. "It's not that I plan to eat instant ramen, canned corn and TV dinners for the rest of my life. But that's going to wait until I get some work that pays me a bit better than Galatea's can. But yeah, I could eat."Jean shrugged from the back seat, for the moment the fears of his stalker forgotten. "Well, in the mean time? You're welcome to come over to our place for dinner any time,y'know? And here we are!" His car parked on the curb in front of their building. The building was at least sixty years old, having been built pretty early in the 21st century. It was starting to show it's age a bit, even if it was hardly run-down. It was exactly as Jean liked it: Affordable. As the three stepped out of the car, Angel looked a lot more like her namesake, sticking out of her back at the shoulder were a pair of small, feathery white wings. It was just a cosmetic implant, even if she could (and often did) move them according to her mood and whims. Her other implant was internalized, but it was equally obvious: she had a set of endothermic regulators that ensured that she could wear what she thought looked good on her-no matter how hot or cold it was that day. That's why she was wearing a halter,short skirt, and knee high dark boots with a 2 inch heel while Jean and her boyfriend were dressed more in winter gear like most people that time of year. "So," Jean asked, "What did you have tonight anyways?" "Grilled chicken breast-like, from an actual chicken- salad and garlic potato wedges. A piece of chocolate cake too, got the recipe from Angel's mom." "That actually sounds amazing actually." Jean had to swallow when he went inside with both of them just to keep from salivating. In all the excitement, he'd neglected to realize that he didn't have much to eat today. Todd and Angel's place was bigger than his own place, and on the ground floor and just over twice the area of Jean's humble abode.. They could afford this between three incomes (The third provided by Todd and Angel's seldom-seen roommate, Lewis), and with them getting a discount on the place thanks to Todd working as the building's handyman. Some of the place was dominated by a long green and rust-bitten metal cylinder along one the walls. There was a hatch, at the end facing them, currently closed with a Warning label on it, and several wires and pipes snaking from various corners of the room to it's pneumatics. Even with one room dedicated to a workshop and housing the large device that Todd used to compact compost into growing things in their greenhouse, there was more than enough room for three people. Other than that? It wasn't too remarkable of a place, the kitchen was partially seperated by a counter. The den had a couch, a pair of chairs and a TV, a bookshelf nothing too special. "So, other than the encounter with this guy, how was work, Jean?" Angel asked as she went to retrieve some leftover chicken and potatoes to reheat for him. "Hmmm? Other than that? Nothing special really, pretty routine even. " He took a seat opposite Todd on their kitchen table and soon the place was flooded with rich, savory smells. "But, Todd? I'm kind of wondering now. I know what I told you before was kind of hard to take at face value, so why'd you believe me so readily?" "Well, that's simple." He said, folding his arms over his chest and smiling. "Weather or not it really happened or not is only secondary. I've known you for years now, and you're not the type of person to say those sorts of things if you didn't really believe it yourself, so that's what was important, right?" Not quite the answer Jean was looking for. It left it a bit ambiguous weather he actually took the story at face value or not. Still appreciated that he'd come and help him if he asked. "I don't doubt your story for a second," Angel said as she set the plate in front of him, "There's all sorts of weirdos in the world these days." Jean thoroughly enjoyed the meal, and the company. After he'd eaten, he lingered a bit for a cup of tea and more conversation with the two before deciding it was time to retire to bed. His apartment was small, with a set of neat, matching clean but obviously used pair of upholstered chairs combination in front of a TV, it's idle picture shifted from classic works of art and personal photos. There was a kitchen nook in one corner, a small bathroom and the bed, which folded out of one of the far walls. After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, Jean collapsed into bed. He was stirred, a few hours later by a knock at the door. He checked his computers Chronometer, and '7:05 AM' merrily floated before his bleary eyes. Who would be coming to see him at this wretched hour? He murmured something akin to a weak call of "Just a minute! Before stumbling to the bathroom to wash his face. He didn't even give a second thought to going to the peephole in just the white sleeveless t and gray boxers that he wore to sleep. "Yes? Can I help you?" He peeks though the whole, and gets a partially fish-eyed view of a smiling man in an expensive looking navy business suit with a green tie, his dark hair was slicked back, he had a slight tan and his teeth were sparkling white and so perfect Jean thought there was a toothpaste commercial at his door. "Yes! Mister Morova? It's good to finally meet you! We've been trying to get into contact with you, but I'm afraid my subordinate scared you off last night! Oswald? Well, he can be a bit forceful when he doesn't mean to be." Out of the distorted fringes of the peephole the tall bald man comes into view. Suddenly, the toothpaste commercial had just become a nightmare. "Shit!" He scrambled away from the door, his first reaction was to make sure that all of the locks were secured on his door. When he thought of how that probably wouldn't stop the highly augmented guy apparently called Oswald, he shoved a chair in front to act as a makeshift barricade and tried to call for help again. He got the same error message as the last time he called for help. Were they jamming his signal out? He started to panic and contemplated going out via the fire escape and slipping away and the door was knocked once more, as the man who was doing all the talking spoke again. "Mister Morova? Mister Morova? There's nothing to be upset about. We've just come here for a bit of business." So, what, were they bill collectors then? He couldn't possibly think of anyone else who would send people like that after him. "Um, sorry! But I'm actually ahead on my student loan payments! There must be some sort of mistake!" Pants, pants, pants! He'd at least need a pair of pants if he was going to run for his life in this weather! "Debt collectors...?" There was a good natured laugh from the man with the million-dollar smile and he explained. "No, we're not from any collection agency. Perhaps this will make it more clear what sort of business we're here for?" In the middle of hopping onto a pair of pants out his closet, Jean got an Alert from his bank. Someone had apparently credited his account with money, quite a bit of money, actually. "Oh? Yes, please, come in! One moment!" He calmly put his pants on and tried to pick a nice shirt to wear. It was truly amazing how panic just melts away when enough zeros are thrown around. "I don't know exactly what you would want with me," Jean said as he moved the chair back to it's proper place and started unlocking the door. "Please, do come in though! Can I get you anything?" "Oh, why thank you very much! I'd love a cup of coffee if you have it! I like it with two sugars and a bit of cream?" He holds out his hand. "MY name is Robert Lowell, and I believe you've met Oswald? We work for Apogee Ventures?" "Well, What would the biggest conglomerate in the world want with a struggling actor like me?" He shakes his hand. "Please, have a seat." "Oh, why thank you very much!" Mr. Lowell gladly sat down, Oswald opted to stand. "Hey, Oswald? Do you want some coffee? Mr. Morova is good enough to offer." The bald man responded with a grunt and slowly shaking his head. None for him then. He came back soon with two mismatched steaming cups, one made just to Mr. Lowell's likings and one of his own. "Well, about the business?" "Well, it's interesting. We're actually here to recruit you- We're not with Globes, though." He quickly made clear., which only deepened the mystery to Jean. "Wait, so, if you're not with Apogee's production and promotion arm, why would you be interested in me? I'm just an actor, and performer in a drag show." "Well, we would like you to work for us because we can use your talents to good effect. But that's only partially why." "Well, what's the whole reason, then?" "Your birth records. They say Jeane, as in 'Jeane-with-an-'e' Lyons Morova, right?" He nods. "Yeah, when I was born, the nurse who was entering my name had a bit of a slip up, I'm told, what's that got to do with anything?" "Well, quite a bit you see." Mr. Lowell started, and took a sip of coffee before continuing, "How shall I put this? Well, there is another Jeane Lyons Morova who was working with us, you see? She's gone missing since a hiking a trip to the mountains this previous week." "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! I hope she's found safely." "Yes, we do as well." He adds. "There's a search party looking for her now, and we've not given up hope, however, there is a matter that requires Jeane, an extremely sensitive matter we can't just abort. We were investigating an executive of ours accused of a few practices detrimental to the company. Normally we wouldn't ask someone outside for a strictly internal investigation, but we don't have any choice this time. We've had it set up so that Jeane would get close to him to investigate under the form of a relationship. If we were to abort now, we might not get a chance like this again." He nods. "Okay, I kind of follow, but, there's a couple of problems with that." "Hmm? Shoot." "Well, for one? I think he's going to find out somethings wrong pretty quickly that I'm not Jeane, especially if things go as planned?" "Oh, don't worry, we've thought up that when we had you as a contingency." "Well, that may be, but there's still a few other reasons I might not be suitable. Namely, if you can do that? Why not get one of your own people? I'm sure there's a ton of much more qualified people to pose as Jeane than me." "Ah, but Mr. Morova, they lack a very unique qualification that only you have." "And that is?" "Your names are identical. This is very important for a number of reasons to us, namely that we can legally- well, legally enough, at least- do things with your set of records that we couldn't before. Like changing Ms. Morova's biometric records for yours, or making a 'corrected' record that's essentially Carte Blanche to make up a background as our purposes require." "I think I get it." He slowly nods. "Essentially, because we have the same name, you would file that one of them is in error, and change around the data to make up a false ID? Since you can't just add in new biometric data for some reason, you're going to use my own?" "Correct!" He 's starting to get it. "Just one problem, Mr. Lowell." "And what would that be?" "Well, this job would start with me on a date with this executive. Unless it's a female executive? That's gonna be kind of tough for me. I don't know what you've heard about cross dressers, but I'm not into men, sorry." "Well, I'm sure we can work something out! We're not asking for you to jump into bed with him. Just one little date? Consider it a stopgap until we can set up another plan, then?" He paused before answering, He was curious as to how they'll do this, for sure, but still the date didn't sound all that appealing to him. "Well...you've already paid me, I suppose that's enough to get my cooperation for one date? It's the least I could do." "Great! We will work out the details on our end, will you be able to meet us tomorrow at 7AM at this location?" The details were all sent to his computer, along with some contact info. Mr. Robert Lowell and Oswald left his apartment, and left Jean alone to contemplate just what happened. He didn't contemplate for very long before his thoughts turned instead to his newfound money and how he was going to spend it. The next day, he'd arrived at the meeting place. It was not what he expected. He dreamed up a tower of glass, steel and carbon nanotubes that was like a finger pointing into the sky that gleamed in the morning sun. Instead, this place seemed more like a residence. Not unlike his own home, except in better condition, and in a nicer neighborhood. There was a security guard on the ground floor, but he didn't give Jean much trouble when he let him know that he was there to see Mr. Lowell. He was directed to the fifth floor, room 508. Moments later, he was riding the elevator as it slowly ascended. He still had no idea exactly what they had in mind for him. No sense wondering over what he was going to find out about one way or another. So with that attitude and doing his best to relax, he stepped up to 50 and prepared to knock. "Oh, good! Glad you could make it, Mister Monrova! Please come right in!" He heard Lowell's cheerful voice and he couldn't help but imagine the man's gleaming, million-dollar smile on the other end of the door. It was a bit unnerving, but Jean got over it quickly and tried the doorknob. The door opened, and there was Lowell, still sharply dressed, and smiling from ear to ear, just like he guessed. The apartment was not at all what he expected, on the other hand. It was a rather spartan affair, no seats, no couch, no carpet. Nothing that would suggest that it was actually lived in. Instead there was a a network of tubes and wires on the hardwood, Curiously, every last one of them seemed to be leading into a room with an open door. When Jean stepped inside, there was an odd, kind of acrid smell on the air that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Of course, you paid well, so the punctuality was part of the service." He smiled and shook the man's hand. Jean kept eye contact for as long as all of his etiquette schooling told him was appropriate before he leaned over and tried to crane his neck to see what was going on in the other room. All he got for his troubles was the outline of a woman from behind working on some piece of machinery. A very nice outline, but not much more to go on than that. "What's going on in there? Is it a surprise?" "Ah, I'm glad you said that! Miss Hoyt, can you come out here, please?" And Jean got a chance to see the rest of the woman who was working before. The view from the front was just as pleasant as the one behind. She was a tall, lithe girl with short dark hair in a boyish look that suited her sweet face with high cheekbones and button nose. Her eyes were blue and she regarded him at once with a warm smile on her pink glossed lips. She wore a tight peach-colored t-shirt with a dark vest and dark slacks tailored with a woman's legs in mind. She had boots with a bit of a heel and just enough makeup touched her face to accentuate her beauty. "So, you're Jean, right? Nice to be working with you!" Her voice was a bit slightly lower than he'd expect of a woman of her stature, and with a hint of an accent. Slavic? German? Scandinavian? Jean couldn't tell. She extended a hand with dark-painted nails for him to shake, which he happily did. "Yeah, that's me Jean, not with an e." "Well, I'm Skye, that's Skye with an e." They had a chuckle about that, Jean didn't find it especially funny, but he also suspected that Skye was making him slightly giddy. "Well, right this way then, I'll show you my pride and joy!" Skye lead Jean into the next room, most of it was dominated by machinery and monitors. Most of the machinery was bulky, complicated and alien to Jean's experiences. In the center, on a metal slab, covered by a transparent half-cylinder plastic coating there was a nude woman. An apparently hollow, deflated woman. At least that's what it looked like at first blush. The skin was an unblemished olive in complexion, and even relatively flat as it was, it looked like it's owner would have a pretty nice figure. Shoulder length straight black hair pooled around the head of the skin in the enclosed cylinder. Jean gasped. It seemed macabre , but more than that, what he was looking at seemed absolutely unreal. "So, what do you think? I'm a little biased when I say I'm pretty proud of my work, but I think that even when it's not worn that it's a damned good facsimile of the other Jeane Monrovo." "This is...mean I'm supposed to wear this? It's like a suit?" Skye nodded, a very cute grin on her face. "Correct! It took me more hours than I can count to get the process right, but now that I have, getting this one made just to fit you was pretty easy, but I can't wait to give it a shakedown!" "Well, I'll leave you two to it then! I'm hoping to hear good news when I come back around, then!" Mr. Lowell made his exit, and that left Jean alone with his new alter- ego and it's creator, who was still beaming brightly in a way that did much to enhance her cuteness. Jean's heart hadn't beat that fast since...Oswald had chased him down using the worth method of approaching someone for a job ever, just two days ago. "So, you're the expert Skye. What's the first step?" He swallowed quickly and smiled nervously at her. She eyed him over and gave him a positively devilish smirk with an index finger lightly tapping her chin. "Well, first, you strip." "I'm sorry?" And his heart just revved up into turbo charge. She burst out into a light giggle. "Sorry! But all teasing aside, It would be difficult to put on the suit with your current clothes, right?" "Of course! Yes, right, right. Now I get it." She tilted her head curiously to one side. "Jean, did you think that I was flirting with you?" "Well, um...' His quickly became read in the face and glanced down. "Sorry?" "Don't be." She closed the distance between them with a footstep, and whispered in Jean's ear. "Maybe I was after all?" Jean didn't have a good answer to that, but judging by her reaction to looking him in the face, his expression spoke volumes for him, and Skye apparently liked what it had to say. "So, anyways. We should get right down to business." She took his hand even though it really wasn't necessary to lead him four steps to what was once a bedroom, now stripped down to the most spartan necessities: A few chairs, a table, a dresser with mirror and the closet. "I'll just be working on a few last second adjustments. You can change in here, I guess you could grab a towel out of the bathroom if you're worried about modesty?" "Thanks." He'd managed to say something! He was beginning to worry that he'd just be able to make little squeaks. (Well, he also worried that this was all just some dream and he'd wake up at any moment with the worst case of morning wood ever. But that was neither here nor there.) He closed the door behind him and did just as he was asked. Stripping down to his birthday suit, and quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. When he came out, Skye had the hard plastic casing off of the artificial skin and had turned it over on the slab. Her gaze turned directly down, towards the tent that he was involuntarily making with the terrycloth. She had that same flirtatious smirk as she had before when she spoke. "Well, now that could be a problem, there's a place for your little friend, but I'm afraid he's going to have to behave himself." "Sorry, he's kind of got a mind of his own. I can't take him anywhere, especially when ladies are present." She sultry little chortle at his comment and her blue eyes drifted down again. "Well, we'll just have to do something about that, won't we?" When she sauntered up to him and kissed him on the lips and he felt the nail of her index finger against the bare skin of his stomach as she removed his towel to fall to the floor, he was sure this was no dream. It was all too vivid for that, but more importantly, this was the point he'd always wake up. Her lips were soft, slightly moist, and tasted sweet, with a hint of strawberries,, the hand she placed on his bare and narrow chest was no less soft or pleasant and the other felt even better as it gave his erect cock a gentle stroke. "What you need is something to get you good and relaxed, and I know just the thing that should do the trick." He watched as she fell to his knees before him, now both of her black-nailed hands were on his cock and the tip of her tongue hovered just inches above his glans. When Jean gasped sharply, she took that as a cue, and half his cock vanished past her lips, and one of her cheeks bulged a bit. One of her hands remained firmly about the base of his shaft, whilst the other fondled and toyed with his balls. Before long,she'd taken all 8 inches of him inside, her cheeks were concave and her head bobbing up and down. All the while, she'd never broke gaze with him, her blue eyes having an expression full of lust and mischief. With that sort of treatment, it came as no surprise that it didn't take Jean very long to come. And come he did, He couldn't remember how long it was since he'd had an orgasm that powerful. He was out of breath, shuddering violently and weak in the knees. Meanwhile, with a mouth full of his spunk, Skye reached for the baby blue towel that was around his ankles now and held up a section of it to her face and spat his seed into it, and proceeded to use a clean corner to wipe her chin and mouth with. "So, I think you're good and relaxed now, yes?" He nods in response to her question. "Just need to catch my breath." When he had, and the feeling had fully returned to his legs. Skye had held up the suit, it's empty limbs dangling in the air as she held wide the large slit from the back of it's neck to the small of her back. "Alright, now that you've had your fun? Come over here and I'll help you get into this." He started with one leg into the back of the slit, and with Skye's guidance and aid, moved his foot down the leg. Itw as very, very tight but slightly slick on the inside, and elastic. It reminded him of putting on pantyhose, only there were toses at the end. He repeated the process with his other leg, and smoothed out an wrinkles. It felt nice, but he wasn't sure if the results thus far were that drastic a change from before. For the next section she'd subject him to the odd but not entirely unfamiliar sensation of shoving his balls back up inside of himself. And he saw exactly what she meant before. There was a cramped little cavity waiting for his now very flaccid penis and that was a snug fit indeed. Now that it was pulled over his hips, it gave him the requisite hips that he'd need if he'd have any chance of pulling this off. As soon as they were done with that section and the chest was pressed flush to his own, he felt the bottom quarter of the slit seal up. The arms and chest he could likewise manage, like slipping on a pair of full-length gloves. All that left was the hollow, empty face with the long dark hair before him. The suit had sealed itself up halfway up his back now when he took the edges of it and slipped it over his head like a hood. He adjusted it all in place with hands that weren't familiar to him. Skye helped move everything into place. The second skin tightened a bit more as it sealed up completely. "Well, you might feel kind of funny at first, but that's okay, the suit's calibrating itself to your nervous system. It shouldn't hurt, so tell me right away if it does." Just as she'd said said, Jean suddenly felt a tingling sensation all over, like pins and needles, and he suddenly felt very warm. Beyond that, he felt the already tight waist clench a bit more around his midsection. "So far, so good? It's getting kind tight around the waist, that normal?" "Yup, that's perfectly normal!' Soon, it all relented. And he didn't feel...anything. No, that wasn't accurate, he nearly felt just as he did before he put it on. He didn't feel it at all. It literally was like a second skin now. He touched the back of his left hand with the finger from his right. He felt the sensation of the digit touching the back of his hand, and the sensation of the smooth skin on his finger.. Both tactile sensations were right, but not quite how he recalled them. And definitely not because there was a thin layer of anything between them. He reached to the chest. The C sized cups stood a lot more naturally than he'd expect at close inspection.. Much to his surprise, he felt his hands on his breasts. His hands moved down between his thighs, and he, no she found it the same sort of reaction down there. She turned to Skye, Jaw agape and eyes like saucers. Skye was beaming proudly. "Looks like everything's working just as we'd hoped, right? Look at this!" She held up a hand mirror and Jean's astonished expression of his namesake. The one who spelled her name with the 'e' Big blue almond-shaped eyes that were framed by long lashes, full lips and a dusky-skinned angular yet soft, wonderfully symmetrical face framed by long dark hair. It didn't look like any mask he'd ever seen, it was literally as if he'd become a completely different person. "This is really going to work, isn't it?" It felt strange, seeing his voice come out of a completely different person's body." "Oh, yes. Totally! Just a few finishing touches and Jean will be Jeane!" She leads the new woman back into the mostly bare bedroom, where the clothing that Jean had came in were still in a pile on one chair with his shoes in front of it. It was even more remarkable in a full length mirror, she found herself turning this way and that to get a view of her shapely legs or nice curves from a different angel. Out of habit she found her motions to be gracefully feminine with a practiced ease. It was going to work, no problems! On the dresser that was previously ignored,, amongst the usual things one would find on a woman's makeup counter top, there was a little clear case holding a pair of contacts. A similar case beside it held what looked to be a set of false teeth, and two very compact spray bottles were beside it. One of the bottles was a very light blue, the other a soft pink. "The contacts are tinted, to make you appear more like the real Jeane. She's got green eyes. The caps are to make your smile appear more like hers. Now the bottles? That's something special! Open up?" She did as she was asked, and Skye gave a spritz of the pink bottle down his throat. It momentarily stung a bit, and left her in a small coughing fit. "What was in that?!" When she spoke, her voice was at least two octaves higher. "Wow!" "I know, right? It was pretty hard getting this just right, especially since they insisted I work on it before we even got into contact with you." "How long does this last?" "We're not sure yet. It's still experimental, but you should easily be good for...ever. Or at least for a few months and your vocal chords and throat muscles shift back to their normal state. The blue one reverses the process, if you ever need to. A thought occurred to Jeane.(Like this, even she had trouble not thinking of herself as the Jeane-with-an-e.) "Wait, while we're on that subject, how do I get out of this?" She reached to the back of her neck, where the slit had seamlessly vanished into her warm skin. "Well, it's got a direct neural interface, so, you think about it, and the slit will open on the back and you can get out, Try it now, in fact." Jeane did as Skye suggested, turning her back to the mirror and watching over her shoulder as the slit opened with a soft hiss. Everything got slightly looser, he could see his paler skin beneath and he'd lost all sensation from the disguise. It was equally as quick and easy to put it back on. She finished with the colored contacts that tinted her blue eyes an emerald green, and the caps that made her smile all the lovelier. "Jeane Morova, pleased to meet you." She offered her hand for Skye to shake. She got pulled close to the woman, who kissed her deep on the lips again. This time her soft, strawberry flavored lips bore the hint of a salty and slightly bitter flavor. "Skye Hoyt, very nice to meet you." She purred. "If you keep that up, Skye, we're gonna be here all day." Jeane teased. "Would you object to that?" "Not at all, but what do we tell Lowell if he comes back?" "Well, we could always say you're helping me run a few tests on calibrating the sensitivity of the suit, right?"Skye's finger sliding against her clit told her that it already seemed perfect to her "But no, you're right. You still haven't even seen Jeane's new home. Not your place, I mean the one you'll stay in as her." She relents. "You should get dressed. We've got your size and a clothing fabricator programed with patterns for every kind of clothing that you could ever dream of." "I suppose I should be astonished you have access to that, but, that's a given really, company makes those, after all." There was a bit about a place where Jean resided along with the contact information that Lowell had gave him before. The fabricators were the descendant of 3D printers. Specialized in the types of things they could make, but otherwise the expensive, cutting edge tech was limited only by the imagination and bank accounts of their owners. For being so close as modern technology can get to the fantastic idea of a wish-granting genie, it certainly didn't look all that impressive. Just a white plastic rectangular near-cube with rounded edges that somewhat resembled a Xerox machine. A few drab blocks of raw materials went in one end, and what Jean selected to wear was soon pushed out the other. To start with, she selected a white set of lingerie. A bra and panties just her size. it took about five minutes, from start to finish. She picked a preselected outfit in tan, a matching set of leather gloves, and a dark wool coat for the weather. While the machine was working on making her outfit, Jeane had applied a bit of makeup. Not too much. Some dark red lipstick and a few other light touches. She combed back her hair and put it in a simple ponytail. She put on individual pieces of the outfit as they were finished in turn: She started with a set of solid smoky pantyhose, followed by a white button up blouse a tan knee length tan pencil skirt and light long sleeved jacket that left the blouse's midriff exposed. She slipped on the gloves and took the strapped handbag that matched her outfit. While she waited for the boots and coat to finish, she put in a pair of silver ear stud's that was also provided. The shoes were also tan, knee length and either one had a strap with a silver buckle on the sides. They had a bit of a modest heel and like Cinderella's glass slippers, they fit Jeane perfectly. The coat finished soon after she took the two spray bottles, the cases, a provided makeup compact and slipped it over her shoulder. "So, where to for my new place? Can you make it?" "Sorry, Jeane, I have to leave a report on how the first fitting went. Oswald will be taking you there." She felt her heart speed up as her body clenched up. "Oh, Os- Oswald?" "Yeah, he's pretty spooky." Skye nods. "But he's harmless, and it's only for a little car ride, right? I'll see you tomorrow, and the day after to check in, alright?" "Right!" She cheered up, the prospect of seeing more of Skye had that effect on her. She gave the woman a hug and took up her old clothes and shoes in a tight bundle under one arm and rode the elevator down to the ground floor again. Waiting for her there, leaning against the hood of the luxury sedan on its passenger side? It was her old friend in the mirror shades! The tall bald refrigerator-shaped man didn't seem so imposing in the light of day as he did that first night they met. In no small part, her opinion was shaped when she caught him trying to subtly watch her rear as she turned away from him to go to the back seat. She couldn't help but smile as she sat in the rear seat and crossed her legs. He closed the door for her, and walked around the rear of the car before getting into the driver's seat. She spoke a few words before they'd go. "Sorry about the other night? I guess I assumed the worst and overreacted?" In response, he just nodded and she thought she caught the hint of a smile in the rear view mirror as he drove off. It wasn't that far from where Jean was remade as Jeane. Just eight blocks by her reckoning. The building was 16 stories high and had just by a glance, Jeane could tell that it was well out of her price range as her male alter ego. When she stepped out of the car, Oswald gave her a keycard. 1204. "So, this is it? Everything I will need will be there?" Oswald paused for a moment, and just when it seemed that he'd finally talk, she got an alert from her account. Another handsome payment was delivered, and she'd only just began spending off the last one. He gave her a polite little nod, got into the car and drove off, leaving Jeane to her own devices. The inside of the building was no less impressive than the outside, the carpets were red and trimmed with gold, and the doorman that she never met before greeted her by name. "Good morning Miss Morova! Just coming in?" He tipped his cap to her, and left her wondering just how much preparation did Mister Lowell put into this. She was so busy enjoying herself that she'd neglected to realize that a lot of pressure was on her to justify this big investment. "Yes, I am, crazy night." She lied. Jean slept like a baby the previous night. She discovered two can play at that game, as the doorman's name was superimposed over his face in AR with just a query. "You have a nice day now Mr. Wendsdale!" As she rode up the elevator, she felt not unlike a child on Christmas morning: Excited, expectant, and even a bit giddy. And then she was face to face with the door to Room 1204. She was expecting, nothing too extravagant: Perhaps like the apartment, only fully furnished instead of mostly serving as the covert housing for the manufacture and maintenance of the disguise that she so readily wore. Instead, Jeane found the living room of a condo that could fit Jean's tiny studio apartment in its fully furnished living room with a bit of room to spare. A brief tour of it proved equally jaw-dropping: From the master bedroom with walk-in closet, fully stocked kitchen, guest room and even a home gym. It was quite clear that Jeane could quickly become accustomed to her new life Jeane spent the next few days in a crash course of her new life. Catching up to speed on how to simply pick up on Jean's life as though it had never been interrupted. Soon, she was talking like her, she could recall events that Jean should know but that she was never there for, she even could react and mannerism like she'd seen of footage of the real Jeane Morovoa. She familiarized herself with all of Jean's friends, though not personally, for fear of being discovered as an impostor. She went clothes shopping, mostly for the sheer fun of doing so as an attractive young woman, his employer from Apogee had seen fit to provide the apartment with a clothing fabricator of it's own. She also devoted as much time as she could to getting just as acquainted with her own body. She'd discretely purchased a vibrator on the first day, and used it to good effect. She had no idea if this was how true women felt when they orgasmed, but what Jean did know was that in little time at all, she'd worked herself into a euphoric fit of moaning, screaming, exhausting ecstasy. This did much to warm Jeane up to the idea of being with a man, provided he can do the same for her. Skye was more than happy to explain any and all technical details on the days that she visited her. To their mutual delight, everything seemed to be working exactly as they planned. Between their two visits, Jeane had come to know and give pleasure to her in every way that a woman or a man possibly could. Three days simply vanished for her. It was true 'Time flies when you're having fun.' and Jeane had the time of her short, brief new life. But it wasn't all play with no work; Jeane was also tasked with researching her date for the evening. It was imperative that things went swimmingly, for reasons that she left to those paying for all of this. His name was Miles Bell. He and Jeane met though a matchmaking site. He was thirty-eight, he worked as a marketing exec for one of of Apogee's more successful North American subsidiaries. He liked bubbly, cheerful women and regarded intelligence and good looks about equally. He was an avid swimmer, played the violin and piano and liked old movies. No religious affiliation, but no personal bias towards potential partner's views. Going by the pictures that he'd submitted to the site, he had hazel eyes and brown hair. He had a light tan, and a strong, square jaw, slightly bushy eyebrows and a smile that seemed to come easy. A picture of him at the beach in swim trunks showed he was barrel chested, had a bit of body hair and the tan was all over. Jeane could definitely work with that. Bright, perky, cheerful; No problems. As the only info that she knew that he knew about her was the other Jeane's profile, she checked that as well. As he had been told, Jeane worked as a columnist at a blog (plenty for Jeane to read and letting her get into her namesake's head.) Mostly she wrote about cooking. This was her primary 'like' on her matchmaking profile, but it also came as no surprise to Jeane that the other things that she sometimes wrote about were also listed there: Environmental Conservation, poetry, and dance. She didn't like people who were mean to animals and children or carrots. She was interested in just a few dates, but also expressed interest in a long-term relationship with the right person. The latter was all but guaranteed. The first date was going to be fine-dining, at a place called Undine which specialized in seafood. It was normally so exclusive that one would have to make reservations months in advance. With this in mind, Jeane decided that she would dress to impress. First, she would have her nails did in French tips, and her hair cut and styled into an elaborate up-do held in place with a long golden pin and decorative comb. (Both of these grew at about the rate of their natural counterparts. Skye explained it but all she got out of it was that it was essentially a set of miniaturized, optimized fabricators that would work as long as they had enough of a powdered feed material to make psudo-keratin.) Miles apparently liked the color green, so she would be a vision in emerald for him. She opted to go for the latest and greatest fashion, and acquired a green dress that was essentially two layered parts. The first layer was essentially a sling dress that hugged her every curve, showed off a bit of cleavage and a hemline that stopped mid thighs. It was hunter green, and totally opaque. Th outer layer however, was everything it was not: Long and flowing, airy and see though like gossamer spun from a dream. It was more robe than dress, with wide sleeves that just reached beyond her elbows and a lower hem that would be mere feet from touching the ground. It fastened to itself in a way that have it clench about her waist. The entire thing was designed to catch and reflect the light in different ways, as she moved, parts of it seemed to change to various hues of green: Emerald from emerald to aquamarine and all manner of verdant between them. To this, she would wear a set of white stockings and a set of open-toed green sandals with six-inch heels. An assortment of gold bangles on her wrists, a gold necklace studded with emeralds, matching teardrop-shaped earrings and a hunter green handbag completed the ensemble. Makeup and perfume appropriate for the outfit followed, and she'd left by cab soon after. They were to meet at Undine at 8. She stepped out of the cab at 7:55 and found that Miles had shown up early> All eyes were on Jeane as she stepped inside. Not least of which Miles. When he saw her approach, he stood up from his seat. It was a jacket- and-tie sort of restaurant and his white suit combo certainly fit the bill. She thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Perfect. Just the effect that she was going for. "Miles? You look even cuter than your profile suggested. Glad to finally see you in person." At first, she thought he was just going to stammer out some awkward syllables like some awkward teenager, but he recovered enough in time to have a coherent response. "It's very good to see you too, Jeane. Very good. I'm having trouble finding the right words for how you look in that." "Oh? This old thing?" She puts one hand on her hip and turns around for him. "...that'd what I'd like to say, anyways. In truth? This dress cost me a ton of money." She giggled, as miles stepped around to pull out her seat for her, she sat down with a napkin in her lap, and waited for him to sit down before adding. "Still? Just for that look on your face when I walked in? Worth every penny." "Did I mention green is my favorite color?" "Really?" She smiled, with mock astonishment that left her wide eyed and soon covering her mouth with her hand. "I never realized! I guess that it's just your good luck, huh?" "Yeah, I