Claire simply looks back in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow raised curiously at Duncan's statement.

"Everything! Dude, I was hit by a car last month, maybe I was killed or in a coma or something.." He studies Tim. "Maybe you're a figment of my imagination, man." He taps his forehead, "In my brain."

"Nah I'm real man. Stow that type of talk. You're alive as me or her. Right?" Tim looks over at Claire smiling

"Exactly. Trust me, this isn't a dream." She looks at them both, eyes almost glowing with a burning rage. "I used to be exactly like you guys; living a normal life, oblivious to this hidden war. But I stumbled into this world, and now I'm fighting to protect both the Innocents and those of us who want to use our skills to better mankind. Power is a very potent drug; you get your first taste of it, the omnipotence of holding someone's life in your hands, and some succumb to its alluring gaze." Her right hand begins shaking, and she clenches it tight around the gear shift. "But I know all too well that like any drug, its nothing but a crutch, something other people can become addicted to and lose focus on what's really important." The car pulls up to the hotel, and she parks the car in the front of the large glass doors. A valet quickly runs up, and she climbs out, motioning for the others to do so. "Come on, lets go inside."

"So this. This is the real shit, eh? Christ." Duncan muses. "Ok. I'll play along." He's quiet for the rest of the trip.

He steps out of the car and whistles at the grand facade, "Nice, but I'm a little under-dressed, don't you think?" He says facetiously.

"At least they won't think you're staff" Tim says indicating his security outfit. His gun is no longer in his hand

(OCC) Tucked it in his waistband. Leaving his shirt untucked to hide it

She hands the valet some bills to park the car, and gives a polite nod to the bellhop at the door. He opens the door for her, a silent hand welcoming her, Tim and Duncan inside. And if the outside looked facitious, the inside looks even glitzier; polished white marble floors reflect the soft yellow crystal chandelier lights all over the lobby, a slight reflection of the people walking around glimmering on the floor and in the crystals above. The room is kept at a comfortable temperature, with soft, sensual classical music playing out from some hidden speakers. It reeks of high-class pomp and flair and not a hint of a soul or emotion anywhere.

"Welcome back Miss Alexandra," a young valet says, bowing politely to her. "Your usual order?"

"Not today, Jenson. I'm entertaining some guests tonight." She gives him a gentle smile, pulling a gold keycard out of her back pocket. She leads them to a trio of elevators, thumbing the 'up' button. With a soft ding the gold-plated doors slide open, a plush red carpet and polished bronze welcoming them inside. She swipes the keycard on a reader inside the elevator, verbally counts to three, then thumbs the 'Penthouse' button. No sooner do the doors close does she breathe a sigh of relief. "God, I fucking hate coming here, so many rich pompous assholes and busboys walking on eggshells and through a mine field at the same time."

Duncan takes in the room and suddenly rounds on Claire, his eyes hard, "Alright, tell me. What am I?"
He ignores the strange static electric sensation running over his skin.

Claire returns the hard stare, fists clenching tight. "Like I said, you and Tim are what us in the supernatural community call Those who Do Not Belong; Fido called you Transposed for short. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but from what I know, the best I can describe what a Transposed is is that they have somehow re-written the Truths of the Universe to continue to exist." The elevator shudders slightly, lights flickering on and off, and she stumbles into Duncan. "Fucking elevators!" she yells out, quickly getting off Duncan. "Why can't they keep these damn things working!" She kicks the side of the wall in frustration, then cursing loudly at stubbing her toe. "God, I'm definitely gonna need a bottle after tonight's over with."

Duncan leans against the wall as the Claire pushes off of him, his expression softening. He breathes deeply and nods, "Alright, this is a lot to take in, but I think I'm starting to understand. There is something I'm still hazy on.. have we always been 'Transposed', I mean, is it genetic? Something my parents had.. like bloody Harry Potter?"