Ishamael nodded as he rose to his feet. He had no intention of leaving, but he could at least provide the illusion of privacy. Brushing his black robe, stained with oil and make-up, with his hand, Ishamael turned to her.

"Use the panel when you are ready to get out or if you happen to need me."

Walking forward towards the door, he vanished from sight. The door slid open and then closed. Silently, he sat. Watching, waiting.