The red head looks down at the kid...no not a kid. An adult who’s so broken down and ready to quit that he may as well still be a kid. Hopefully his soul isn’t broken as well. That would be a waste of a cycle. She crouches down and looks over the guy again, why was he curled into a ball in the corner of a library?

“Get up, I know it is weird and it is scary but get up. We can talk somewhere else safely.” Blue eyes flick to what looks like an artists impression of what happens if someone were to make metal clay soft and then pressed a hand into it. “...damn it.” Hoping that this is not a trick the women grabs a hold of the young man and walks him out of the library. No one bats an eye, in fact, no one even notices they are there. Anonymity is what she does.

The young man is almost gently lowered into a soft chair at a cafe as the red headed women grabs them each a coffee. “I got you black...seems..fitting?” A half grunt as the young man takes the coffee and then takes a sip. “Th..thank you.”

“Good you can talk. Now. What’s your name? Only the first.” The red head sits down into her own chair and takes a sip of her coffee. “And please stay calm. I don’t need any more work today.”

A nod and another sip of coffee for the young man. “Patrick” Then it’s the women’s turn to nod her head. “Hera, no it is not my full name. Something else you will learn soon.”

Some time later Hera enters the library again and finds the book Patrick had written his name into. Tucking it under one arm she enters a private study room, closes the door, and waits patiently for several minutes. Once those minutes have passed a soft woosh fills the room as the air adjusts to the women disappearing. Some time later the red head watches the book burn. No need to leave evidence behind.