After sitting and wondering what she could do next, Faith rose to her feet, wiped away the tears streaming down her face and then began to walk down the streets not really caring about the people that shoved past her. But then after a few minutes, it was starting to irritate her. She felt angry, but whenever she would get angry, her powers would often spiral out of control. Eventually, Faith came across a five-star hotel. She glanced down at the money that she had - only three hundred dollars. It was one hundred and fifty dollars per night. When she put started closing up her purse, something slipped out. She bent down and picked up whatever it was that she dropped, but shock hit her when she saw exactly what it was.
It was a credit card with the owner being called Mrs Catherine Crest. Faith's eyes widened and looked around to make sure that no one was watching her. Had this possibly belonged to her mother, who had been killed so many years ago? She could care less HOW it had gotten in there, it was the fact that it WAS there. She walked into the hotel with her bagpack and then walked right up to the reception. "May I help you?" asked the manager in a French accent, who glared coldly at her since she looked like she'd been living rough like a homeless person. "Hi, I'd like to book a room, but I was also wondering if you could see how much money I have on my credit card, please?" said Faith, handing over the credit card. The manager continued to glare coldly at her, but then his expression changed when he saw who the card belonged to. "My, this belonged to Catherine Crest," he said as if he'd just seen a ghost. He kept on looking at Faith and then down to the credit card. "I knew her personally. She was a good friend of mine."
"I know you're freaked out right now, but I'm her daughter," said Faith, sighing. But it seemed that the manager had already acknowledged that. "Ah yes, I could recognise those eyes from anywhere," he said, bowing his head. "I am Boswell Askwell, a dear friend of your late mother. The last time I recall seeing her was shortly after you were born. Alas, my dear, your eyes. I know when I see a child that I have seen before when they stand before me. Please ..." He stepped out of the reception desk and told someone to resume his duties. "... follow me. There is much we need to discuss." Faith felt confused, but then she remembered Patricia mentioning a Boswell Askwell. She followed him eagerly towards the lift. "I guess that we do have much to discuss," muttered Faith to him, as the lift doors closed.
It was a credit card with the owner being called Mrs Catherine Crest. Faith's eyes widened and looked around to make sure that no one was watching her. Had this possibly belonged to her mother, who had been killed so many years ago? She could care less HOW it had gotten in there, it was the fact that it WAS there. She walked into the hotel with her bagpack and then walked right up to the reception. "May I help you?" asked the manager in a French accent, who glared coldly at her since she looked like she'd been living rough like a homeless person. "Hi, I'd like to book a room, but I was also wondering if you could see how much money I have on my credit card, please?" said Faith, handing over the credit card. The manager continued to glare coldly at her, but then his expression changed when he saw who the card belonged to. "My, this belonged to Catherine Crest," he said as if he'd just seen a ghost. He kept on looking at Faith and then down to the credit card. "I knew her personally. She was a good friend of mine."
"I know you're freaked out right now, but I'm her daughter," said Faith, sighing. But it seemed that the manager had already acknowledged that. "Ah yes, I could recognise those eyes from anywhere," he said, bowing his head. "I am Boswell Askwell, a dear friend of your late mother. The last time I recall seeing her was shortly after you were born. Alas, my dear, your eyes. I know when I see a child that I have seen before when they stand before me. Please ..." He stepped out of the reception desk and told someone to resume his duties. "... follow me. There is much we need to discuss." Faith felt confused, but then she remembered Patricia mentioning a Boswell Askwell. She followed him eagerly towards the lift. "I guess that we do have much to discuss," muttered Faith to him, as the lift doors closed.