Alvin made himself scarce, just on the other side of the door that led to the house's tiny study. He could listen, surely, but he would hopefully bury his nose in a book and only be there if she needed him, though she doubted she would. She took her seat on the sofa, perched daintily on the edge, her hands in her lap, desperately trying to fight off the need to fidget. The strained formality she felt she needed at the moment was out of place. Sloane knew Jeremy, knew him to be kind and patient, romantic and sweet; but the girl he knew did not exist and Sloane couldn't be her either.

She smiled softly as he took her hands in his, preventing the inevitable quiver in her fingers. She wanted to thank him for his patience and understanding, for the flowers, for coming to see her after the whole debacle, but she was so caught up on what she was about to reveal to him that she didn't know how to phrase it all. "It's complicated," surely he must be wondering why he had been given this address, in this part of town. But he had shown up, no questions asked. "It might be easier if I show you." Holding on the transformation was easy for Sloane, it didn't take much conscious thought, but she could feel the twist of her natural state itching to go back to normal. She could feel the familiar pull of things changing as she let it go, hair fading to brown, eyes lighting up more blue, her freckles dotting her cheeks. The height wasn't noticeable as she was sitting, but would be if she stood up. Sloane didn't even reach a full five feet, where Sadie had stood a couple of inches over.

She was going to explain, but wanted to give him a minute to process first. Sloane truly didn't know what to expect, but she added, "My name is Sloane and I grew up here, in this house. Sadie Sinclair doesn't exist— or she does, but she's not me." She wondered if he would simply leave or if he had as many questions as everyone else and so she held her breath waiting to see what came next.