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<div style="text-align: center; font-size: 40px; font-family: eurostile; letter-spacing: -1px; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000; color:666666;">Daisy May Allen</div>
<div style="text-align: center; font-family: eurostile; font-size: 18px;">ma'am</div><br><br>
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She was only seven years old. So when her biggest competition found their shampoo replaced with Nair, the mother was blamed for it. There was no proof for it though. She wore a big smile on her face as she was rewarded with a tiara, a sash, and a bouquet of roses larger than she was. The flash was bright, but she didn't even blink. <P>

On the playground, she crushed ladybugs and giggled. She batted her eyelashes at boys and then yanked their hair as she knocked them to the ground. Her little Mary Janes were always spotless. Her dresses were ribbons and lace. Her bedroom was a composition of her achievements, decorated with trophies and ribbons and certificates. <P>

She was a freshman dating a senior boy. He took her to prom and she won another crown. He had a hotel room reserved for them and he kept the key in the pocket of his jacket, nestled right up next to a condom. She didn't get on her knees for him, he got on his knees for her. <P>

She graduated top of her class. She was valedictorian. She was intelligent and she was forward. She was a pride to her teachers. Especially to her Anatomy professor. He was very proud of her anatomy. <P>

A corporate job was quick to pluck her up after graduating university. In business, she was ruthless and she was conniving. There was nothing she was not willing to do. She was feared among her co-workers and respected by her superiors. She rose swiftly through the ranks, so swiftly that there was no question that underhanded tactics were involved. She was strict and she was precise, but her hands were absolutely filthy. <P>

There was no time for romance amidst it all. She had her flings. She had her toys. She even had a husband or two nestled among the bunch, and she was so kind as to remain relatively faithful throughout each marriage. Nothing was without its purposes and her heart was as frozen as always. <P>

Predictably, she was approached for more important work. She rose further through the ranks, leaving behind the corporation and Oklahoma to bear the title of government official. She was a leading supervisor on Project R.U.T.H and she made sure that doors remained shut tight. Unfortunately, despite all their hard work and all of their security, things went wrong. Murphy's Law struck and as sickness spread, she was one of many to cover it up, her tongue coated in well-scripted lies and poisoned assurances. She was a pretty Southern belle and she was skilled at smiling for the cameras. Many believed her. And behind the scenes, she was looking over the shoulders of people hard at work on a vaccination. <P>

Soon, D17Z was created and dished out to a select few. It wasn't difficult to get the proper vaccination for herself. <P>

She was untouched by the ravagings of the world outside the safehouses that she and other officials hid away in. She was safe, she was above it all, and that's what mattered. She didn't lose any sleep any night. She certainly wasn't stressed. People were dying and most weren't really staying dead. Survivors were struggling to stay alive and many were failing. She did her paperwork and drank her coffee, not scared to send it back if it wasn't fixed right. <P>

Even when it came time to creep back out into the world, to slip into camps and take over, to make sure everything was running right and the world was rebuilt, she remained collect and composed. She remained cold. She remained in strict control. <P>

Assigned to Elko, she's wasted no time in slipping herself among the good graces of those in charge, a snake in the grass and attracted to power.

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What sort of tests had to be run to prove that married people lived longer than most? Narrowing one eye more than the other, he glanced to the side in idle consideration of the curiosity. Still, he felt skeptical. There were too many situations that punched holes in it, too many common circumstances that came with questions. Domestic partners, unhealthy marriages, divorce rates - what about individuals genuinely happy with being on their own, unwed and living it up? Loneliness couldn't kill a person, he didn't want to believe that for anything. He wanted to ask if the idea was a genuine scientific fact or if it had perhaps been something that Gabriel had heard from someone else, someone without the degree to prove anything through science, but the notion of implying the other boy as too gullible paused him. He didn't want to offend; he definitely didn't want to put his foot in his mouth for the first person he'd met since his arrival at the school. <P>

His eyes snapped back at the wistful comment that flowed from the boy, soft and depressed and probably something not meant to be voiced aloud. It was wrenching, pulling a crack straight down the center of his heart by the mere sound of it, and he was left helpless. It was the sort of thing that compelled a person to prove it wrong, to hover closer and shout out that they weren't alone at all. He was right there. He felt that compulsion, felt it deep in his marrow and he even leaned closer, hunched over the table just that little bit more as if the tiny inches of space covered would make up for the rest of the distance that separated them. He bit his tongue, nibbled his lip, kept his mouth shut and choked on the words that felt too intimate to share to someone that he'd just met. Feeling any sort of connection so soon, especially to another boy, felt wrong in a way. It felt wrong because it came so easily, and things like that didn't really happen in real life. <P>

His skin felt too warm underneath the stroke of soft fingertips. He was burning up, the weight on his chest making it hard to breathe and the twist in his guts making him sick. His face was red, blushing fiercely with his anxiety and a need that he refused to recognize, and he wanted nothing more than to simply crawl right out of his skin and slink away with his tail between his legs. It was sweet and gentle, a soothing sensation that only succeeded in making him more nervous and he failed to see how his own thought process was sabotaging him, keeping himself from enjoying what should have been so easy to fall into. His dark gaze lifted up to the boy's face at the reassurance, tender and enough to make his heart flip with what he'd only care to describe as nausea. He held there, tense and yearning, and he heard the suggestion in the words. He heard all the possibilities and the opportunities, things he wanted and needed, but the way something inside of him stretched out for it - it terrified him, and he pulled back on instinct.<P>

Hands safely tucked away in his lap, he ducked his head down and focused on Gabriel's lonely hand, despising the way he felt urged to reach back out to fill it. It would be a tease though, yanking the boy around on an emotional roller coaster and it'd be begging for a panick attack for himself. The sadness in the blonde's voice prompted guilt to spread out through his limbs, to infect his nerves and muscles, and he felt torn down. With a deep crease forming through his brow, filled with uncertainty and stress, he managed to force himself to lift his gaze back up to the boy. "Are you..." he wasn't sure how to put it, wasn't sure there was any polite way to ask what was so blatantly obvious to him. It made him further anxious. It scared him, more than he figured it should. He'd heard the way people talked about his father, about his mother. He felt the punishment of critical people who only suspected it of him. He darted his eyes to the door, wary of anyone walking in, desiring anything but an audience to his humiliation, before he was looking back down to the shine of the polished tabletop. "Are you gay?"

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