It was about a two-hour flight up north from the new Oleander Syndicate to the London Branch of Interpol were immediately flown to after her meeting with Olivia. Still, it was a brisk yet sunny morning in London when Miles sprinted to the main entrance of the facility, only to meet a professionally dressed female brown Lamia with short black hair and Auburn red slitted eyes in the lobby.

“Good morning, Senior Inspector Renfield,” the Lamia greeted.

“As always, morning to you, Mrs. Reese,” Miles said.

The lamia’s full name is Senna Reese who is 34 years old and holds the rank of Forensic Specialist. Around the same age as Miles, she joined Interpol but only as a liaison and a medical examiner. When Miles decided to recruit Senna in her new division, she used her expertise for medical investigations. She also has experience in bioweaponry and has become a trusted and valued friend in Miles’s division.

“I guess this goes without asking, Senna,” Miles predicted as Senna nodded.

“The Oleander’s wolves are here. It’s just we need to get their credentials in order,” Senna reported as they both walked down the lobby.

“I see. Let them wait out in the hallway when they are finished. I will set up the room,” Miles ordered.

“Yes, ma’am,” Senna happily agreed as Miles took notice.

“I see there is a little jump in your step. Is your husband back in town?”

Senna blushed. It’s true, Senna has been married to a human male for three years. He doesn’t work for Interpol, but that’s a different story for another time, “Funny you should say that. He made a surprise visit… And… I couldn’t get any work done last night…”

Miles lightly blushed as she made her own assumptions. Being professional, she tried to steer the conversation on the righteous path-- whatever it may be, “I mean, you are working on having a baby. So, it is understandable.”

This depresses the brown lamia, “yes, and everything’s working. It’s just… hard you know. As a female nephalem, it does become quite difficult to get pregnant.”

“Yes, of course,” Miles agreed. “The odds of natural conception for you are at least 10 to 1. However, there are safer enhancements for female nephalems to become pregnant. I think you should consider something like that.”

Taking the conversation as they marched up the steps, Senna contemplated about it, “I mean, I want to use enhancement drugs and aura spells, but I’m afraid of what it might due to my body in the long run…”

Miles nodded, “Even though there has been a lot of experimental growth hormone and drugs formulated for female nephalems for better conception, most of the drugs were created by trial and error… How is your husband holding up?”

“Oh, he’s ready to go all the time. He has no problems at all getting it up,” Senna innocently explained as this made Miles choke on her own spit.

“Senna, that’s too much information…”

“Oh, I forgot. You haven’t stamped out ‘the card’ yet,” Senna teased.

Miles had to regain her composure, knowing she is losing face with her right-hand Lamia, “look, I really don’t care about stuff like that right now. I choose to be a career-oriented woman, and I’m too young to have a family now.”

“Nobody is saying get knocked up before it’s too late,” Senna playfully argued as they arrived at Miles’s office. “I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to go out and have lunch with a nice young man… Or a nice young woman whatever you prefer.”

Miles gave her a blank stare as she clarified her orientation, “A nice young man, Senna. And of course, I do go on a few lunch meetings with other men when offered.”

“But when you obsessively talk about how cool nephalems are and the Nether?” Senna teased.

“That’s all she wrote,” Miles finished as she took off her coat and hung it up on the rack.

“So, I guess Rahkaze Zayne is out of the picture?” Senna questioned as this made Miles laugh.

“Let’s see a stern social justice warrior and a free-spirited goofball being an item. Only a comedy writer would think of that.”

“Not to tease, but he is kind of cute,” Senna lightheartedly bullied as the blushing Miles tried to change the subject.

“Moving on. Eventually, you will become a mother. It’s only a matter of time. I guess what the doctors usually tell you is… I don’t know, keep going at it?”

Senna shrugged at the idea, “I guess that’s all there is to it, Miles. My mom used to brag about motherhood and giving childbirth. I’m trying to get a lot of feedback and pointers from many who have been down that road before. But nobody actually told me the obvious truth about childbirth.”

Miles saw an opportunity to put her psychological spin at work, “Do you really want to know?”

This enraged Senna a little bit, “How in the hell would you know?! You never even had a kid yet either!”

“True, but many psychiatrists in my field usually come up with similar yet useful metaphors,” Miles pulls out a matchbox from her jacket pocket and lights a match. She then snuffs out the lit match with her thumb and forefinger. After the demonstration, she awaits her immediate feedback, “see, do you understand?”

Senna shook her head in disbelief and in confusion, “No, I didn’t understand. You just lit a match, and you burned yourself on purpose.”

“Why don’t you try?” Miles tossed her the matchbook.

“I’m good,” Senna examining the matchbook.

“I guess you’re not ready for motherhood if you don’t know how to do childbirth by only lighting a match,” Miles goaded.

Being fed up with her superior’s psychological mumbo-jumbo, Senna mimicked what Miles did by lighting a match and snuffing it out with her thumb and forefinger. Only to be burned.

The familiar pain of being burned by a lit match was ever-so-common, “ouch, the hell you’re talking about?! That freaking hurt, Miles!”

Her superior shrugged at the obvious, “Of course, it did Senna.”

The Brown Lamia was bewildered by this, “I don’t get it with this me getting burned and you getting burned has to do anything with childbirth.”

“Dealing with birth. What is the trick? It’s going to hurt,” Miles explained.

Senna scoffed at the idea, “what trick?! You didn’t show any pain!”

“Well, the trick Mrs. Reese is that you don’t mind that it hurts,” Miles explained thoroughly as she left the room, waving Senna behind.

“I still don’t get it…” The disappointed Senna said out loud.