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Gwyn didn't show up to her normal spot. Grace checked, but Gwyn didn't show. Every day, she took the same route, and every day, she'd hear the same old voice asking for change. To have the routine shattered... Well, she hardly expected it, to say the least.

And most of all, it worried her. Had she really been that offensive? She'd prodded for answers, sure, but it wasn't as if she tried to force the girl to be forthcoming! She hadn't pushed, she'd simply asked! Not only that, but she'd been absolutely as nice as she could have been. She fed her, let her shower, and now she'd just been abandoned? It felt wrong. Something had to be up.

Honestly, why did a homeless girl of all things have to be such a mystery? Grace just wanted to do something good for somebody for once, and it backfired on her. What a surprise! Who knew that getting ghosted by a beggar would upset her so much?

It would be fair to say that Miss Gwyn dominated her mind over the next few days. It wouldn't be a stretch to accuse Grace of having a mild obsession. She'd always been one for mystery novels, and this felt like a real life mystery she could actually solve. It didn't help that she genuinely liked the girl. Or perhaps pity would be a better word. So young, so broken, so... fragile?

No. That didn't feel right. Gwyn wasn't fragile. She'd lived on the streets for so long she had to be at least a little self-sufficient. Vulnerable might be the better word for it. Poke at the wrong spots and watch it crumble down. Perhaps that'd been what Grace had done. Asked the wrong questions, looked into the wrong places. Gwyn was scared, paranoid possibly, she'd understand a bad reaction.

Admittedly, it had impacted her playing. One could scarcely focus so much on Chopin's Fifth when one's mind eye locked on a pair of amethyst blue eyes instead. Practice became difficult, and only Friday served as her bastion. The last day of practice before her real weekend, a chance to detox and destress, a chance to get a certain sheep out of her head. Stupid as it was, she needed it.

Not that her coworkers really wanted to let her forget it. Grace found herself backstage, working at packing her things away, hurrying to get it done so she could get home and forget. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught one of her fellow symphony members approaching. Elise Wilson. Or as Grace liked to call her, Royal Bitch.

Regardless, she put on that same, practiced smile she'd worked on so many times. "Good evening, Miss Wilson. You played wonderfully today," she offered. Truthfully, Grace thought Elise played the cello like a monkey played a bucket, but she couldn't simply say that.

And just the same, Elise couldn't call out her distraction in such plain words. "Oh, thank you dear. At this rate, it's looking like I may just take your lead cello seat," she teased.

Grace could translate that pretty easily. What Elise had actually said was 'take your lead cello seat'. However, what'd she'd meant was 'I'd rip your throat out to take your spot, you stubborn bitch'. Oh, the intricacies of conversation, minefields and traps abounded.

And so, Grace responded with a ladylike giggle, just long enough to be acceptable. "I'd worry about getting a bit too far of yourself," she shot back, her tone still light, teasing like they were the best of friends. "I'm sure that you could perhaps get a lead cello spot elsewhere. Maybe... the Philadelphia Harmonic?"

That one stung, Grace could tell. Elise's face reddened nearly enough to match the garish shade of her dress. Perhaps someday, someone would tell her that that many diamonds did not go with such a low cut. But that would not be Grace, and that day would not be today.

"Oh you two timing bi-" Elise seethed, face screwing up in an ugly grimace. To her eternal credit, she did manage to stop herself from losing control completely. All the while, Grace wore the same old plastered smile. She was good at this, she had to admit. Elise took a visible moment to calm herself before continuing, though anyone who had at least a modicum of experience with culture would know better. She showed too many teeth with her smile, and by God, did her eyelid twitch?

"You know I wouldn't resign myself to such a second rate symphony, Grace!" she finally answered, letting out a laugh that rang out just a bit too loud. "Oh no, this one's perfect for me, though... Lately, it seems like it hasn't been perfect for you. Has something been bothering you, dear?" Elise asked, leaning in close like a shark that'd smelled blood.

Grace's hands rested in her lap, her smile waning into pursed lips instead. Others had noticed, only a fool wouldn't suspect that. Naturally, this one would too. "I have had something on my mind lately, though I don't particularly believe it's a matter of the workplace. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about. I'm quite sure that my chair is quite safe and that these problems are temporary at the worst," she rebutted, though she wasn't sure if she believed them.

Maybe the weekend would be spent finding a certain sheep rather than forgetting about her. That would help her mind better than anything.

Fortunately, Grace would be rescued by the mind-numbing conversation by a person she much preferred. Clarice Musoke could silence a room simply by walking in, and with the conductor of their symphony walking between the two of them, both ladies of the orchestra fell silent instantly, deferring their attention to their veritable boss instead. Each and every bit of Clarice spoke to her dedication - her simple dress, quick brushed hair, serious, intense expression, all of it. To see her coming in a person's direction had been known to cause incidents. Grace remembered vividly of their old pianist trying to hide quite literally inside of the piano. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work out.

"Ladies!" she called, a scrunched up expression belying her frustration. "Quit your whining this instant. Elise, out. I must speak with Miss Everclear alone," she demanded. Clarice looked between the two of them with a look that could curdle milk, earning a triumphant smile from Elise and a falling heart from Grace. Things didn't bode well.

"Of course. Have a nice day, Miss Everclear, Miss Musoke," Elise excused herself. She practically ran, though Grace could easily imagine her stopping outside the door to listen in.

But that would be a worry for later. Grace turned her attention to her boss, smiling neutrally and pleasantly. "Did you need to talk to me, Miss Musoke?" she asked. Her words came clipped - no longer so easily kept calm, forced to it instead.

"You've been off. You've been wrong. You missed a note seven times today, Grace." The words came out matter of factly. They weren't accusatory, they were factual. If Clarice said it, it was true and there would be no argument. "You are my lead cello. You are the star of our next show. I cannot have you faltering, do you understand me?" she asked.

Ah, there was that look again. The one that made Grace swallow, sweat suddenly breaking out across her coat. She nodded her head demurely, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see it. "I understand perfectly, Miss Musoke," she promised. And she did, truly. "After this weekend, there won't be any issues with my play, I assure you. I'm aware that I made mistakes today-" owning it always helped, "-and it will not happen again. I promise you that," she swore. Grace looked back up again, letting Clarice see her eyes, see the determination. She could be professional. Even if she still wanted to think about Gwyn. Poor girl.

"Good. See to it."

Grace wasn't even allowed a moment to respond before off Miss Musoke went. No surprise. She'd said what was needed and that was that. Grace let out a small sigh and shook her head. No, she couldn't keep doing this. Practiced hands packed away the rest of her kit, working without needing to think about it.

Mentally, she packed away the other mare. She put Gwyn into a little box and pushed her away, helped her into a small corner in the back of her head. Gwyn had made the conscious decision to stay away from her, and Grace wouldn't impose her will on the unwilling. A sad sentiment, but a mystery that Grace knew she'd have to leave unsolved. Curiosity still nipped at her in the back of her head, so many questions, so little time.

But no meant no. And so, Grace resolved to move forward, to move on from whatever obsession she'd allowed herself to have. She'd been foolish to think that she could fix herself by fixing another. Back to the loneliness, the comforting silence she'd known for so long. That would be acceptable. A sad ending, one she didn't want, but one she had to accept.

Grace swallowed back tears, keeping her expression pristine, her mask impeccable. She stood, cello next to her and worked on the familiar route home. On a whim, she took a side street, walking past the normal spot Gwyn would sit. She already knew she wouldn't be there, but somehow seeing it only made her think about it more. Perhaps this would become her new route home. She certainly could use a little more exercise at the least.

It took her a scant fifteen minutes to arrive once more at her manor. It took even less time for her to pack away her things, to settle in for the night. The dress came off, replaced with, admittedly a bit embarrassing, pajamas. The door closed and locked, dinner prepared. The food that should have tasted so good felt hollow instead. A meal shared with another fulfilled her so much more.

With a quiet scoff, Grace realized how much she overreacted. She'd known her for what, a few hours at most? She hadn't even known anything of note, just that Gwyn needed her assistance and she could render it. Hardly the basis for a relationship.

"Get it together, Grace," she mumbled to herself. It shouldn't have affected her like this, it was foolishness incarnate. She groaned and pushed her plate away, but thought better of it instantly. Time to clean up. A good night's sleep would make her feel better. Tomorrow would be a new day, one where she wouldn't think of another soul. Perhaps she'd stay in and read a good book. That sounded perfect.

She allowed herself to smile. Loneliness could be liberating too, she reminded herself. The plate went into the washer, the scraps into the disposal, and the doe towards her bed. She could do whatever she wished, whenever she wished. She could help some other woman and not develop some idealistic obsession with them. A healthier way to do it.

Grace sprawled out on her bed, closing her eyes and relaxing. Better, so much better. Her lights dimmed automatically, a timer responding to the day's late hour. She had it made, a good life, a good house, and a great job. What woman could ask for more?

A knocking sound rang out through the house, shattering both her illusion and the silence in equal amounts.

"Who could that be?" she mumbled, struggling to her hooves. A quick brush swept her hair back into something more resembling decency before heading to her front door. Before she could arrive, whatever person it was knocked again.

"I'm coming!" she called, irritable, grumpy. She just wanted to be alone. With a huff, she swung the door open, her eyes taking a moment to truly focus on what waited on her front porch.

It was Gwyn. But not Gwyn from before, a beat down, broken Gwyn. Her stance sagged, her nose bled, an ugly blue and black bruise swelled one of her eyes shut. She had no clothes, and thus no cover of the multitude of scratches on her side, the blood staining her white coat.

Grace's mouth hung open.

"Hey G." It came out squeaky, scared, Gwyn trembling. "Can I uh, stay the night?"