It was on the fifth day of their capture within Venger's prison that Hank first noticed.
It was very early, too early for anyone else to be up. Hank had struggled through a restless night of bad dreams and sweaty skin.
Sheila was sitting at the window, her legs looped between the bars, swinging precariously over the edge. Her long boots and her belt had been tossed to the side leaving her with only her pinkish coloured smock for coverage. It was too hot to bear anything else.
Hank made his way over, careful not to disturb anyone. As he made his way over he noticed Diana had her head nestled in the crook of Eric's neck.
'About time' he thought and allowed a ghost of a smile to pass over his face.
Hank sat down at the window by Sheila who seemed to forget to acknowledge his presence. They sat for a while in silence with the only noise being the churning and bubbling of the fiery chasm beneath them.
"What is this all for?" Hank suddenly blurted out. Sheila turned to look at him. "I mean why us? Why me? Why did he choose us for this?" She looked him with a glassy stare, as if she wasn't quite in focus.
"Maybe because we need this more than we think. This isn't just about stopping Venger or bringing order or peace. Maybe it's to test us." Sheila's voice tore through the somewhat peaceful silence, ragged and sharp and altogether not *Sheila*. Hank was taken aback by how different she sounded.
"What do you mean?" Hank regarded Sheila with a questioning state. He was mesmerised by the way the light from the volcano danced across her face creating striking shadows and arched eyebrows. Her eyes blazed and she looked so regal. So alive and dangerous.
"All my life I've hidden away. Ive never been of much importance to anyone and being invisible is something I was good at. I thought at first when dungeon master gave me that cloak it was a gift. I would never have to be seen again. I could disappear forever and nobody would know. But when you're invisible and you're under that cloak it's so empty. Obviously you can still see and hear people but nothing acknowledges you, not even the ground beneath your feet. So I suppose the way this tests us is it gives us what we want and makes us reconsider whether we really want it."
Hank found it hard to believe that anyone could ignore her. As he had began to notice now, he found he couldn't look away. He began to notice little details- how a lock of her hair was singed, the bloodstain on her dress, her parched cracked lips, how alarmingly thin she was and how the smock hung off her. This was Sheila stripped bare with only her worst fears left behind.
And yet despite this, these flaws made her so perfect.
She shifted and pulled her legs in from the bars. She turned and crossed them and began twisting her foot around, as if attempting to rub life into them again.
"Hey, are you okay?" Hank reached out and rubbed her arm, only to find it was icy cold to the touch. Hank looked up at her alarmed. "You're freezing!" He exclaimed. His hand lingered for a little to long and realising this, he hastily pulled it away.
"Yeah. God I hope Bobby is okay." She rubbed her face with one hand then turned to face the him.
"Don't worry about me Hank." She said in a low voice. "I'm just the thief."