[/html]She gave her work more focus than it required, but there were still thoughts leftover. No matter how careful she wanted to be, once each pocket had enough stitches to hold it in place, all that was left was to stitch in the gaps, and that did not need so much thinking. Her fingers moved rhythmically, and even the stabs of pain fit in smoothly, coming at a predictable pace at a predictable intensity. There was comfort in the easy pace and steady work, but it left her mind to wander, and the reason she was putting pockets in a new cloak invariably returned with all the reminders of other interwoven events and memories.
So while she would never admit it, Cassandra was grateful for the interruption. The woman was large for a coyote, silver and cream fur shining in the moonlight, and her demeanor was puzzling. The albino supposed she was surprised at the formality and politeness after her other encounters with Infernians thus far, but she remained guarded and somewhat tense all the same. "You're not disturbing me," she said cautiously, as if uncertain of her own words. "My name is Cassandra Asylum." She might have added, 'formerly of Thornloe' just to mimic the introduction, but that was a lie. She'd never been 'of' anything, and she had since decided that it was better that way. "What are you doing out so late?"
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