She hated this place. Hated it with a fury so pure it burned white hot behind her eyes. How dare they keep her here? How dare they say it was for her own good? How dare they? Had she not handled the situation perfectly well before they arrived? Had she not destroyed those mischievous  machines with her own bare hands? She had. And she had enjoyed every minute of the conflict, even if she had gotten oil all over her favourite dress. But now they kept her here in this tiresome prison. Yes, the velvet chaise was lovely, and were she not so angry perhaps the espresso would not taste so bitter, but she was bored, so very bored.