The four continued talking, and Brenden found himself dominating the conversation increasingly. The other three were easy enough to work, when he thought about it: Isabelle was indeed a chatterbox, but he learned he could quiet her quickly if he turned the conversation to the topic of her ailing mother. Olivia did seem a bit hostile, but all it took was pretending to share her interest in croquet to gain her trust.
Eleanor had already more or less been won over, but he still spun a story or two to impress her and the other two. He made up a tale about being on hand when Roderick McLean tried to shoot the queen a few months back. Much to his surprise, the others eat it up, never questioning the story for a moment.
Brenden smiled, enjoying his quickly growing stature within the group. An unnoticed side effect of this growing confidence, it would seem, was that Brenden was aging at an accelerated rate, already past the age puberty should have occurred, and at present appeared to be about fifteen, though in little beyond size and the general maturity of his features. He still retained the softness of skin and face of a prepubescent child, and hair wasn't growing in any new places save in a small patch around his crotch.
Finally the time came for Olivia to leave, followed soon by Isabelle, leaving only Eleanor and Brenden together. Eleanor turned to Brenden with a smile, eager to learn more about her fascinating new friend.
