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Absinthe and Chocolates

(Day 8)

When Vivien left Madam Gallfrey, her headache was beginning to pound in her temples, and the laudanum bottle in her purse was empty.

She thought for a brief moment about going to a drugstore, but it wasn't really what she wanted. She was in Aquila, after all, and they had to be able to do better than laudanum here... Absinthe perhaps, or morphine, or even... something more exotic? She had heard there was opium in the big cities, but had never tried it herself.

As she walked, Vivien considered. A place like that... it could be the biggest rush of her life, but it could also be extraordinarily dangerous. Better to stick with what she knew. She took a quick left, heading away from the nicer, cleaner streets toward more dilapidated buildings...

Better get a set-up, probably. Gyles was here, and Liev, and numerous others who might eventually recognize her - it would not do to be recognized. She went into a working-class clothing store and bought a brass-colored blouse and a dark green skirt, sensible boots, a pair of unadorned gloves.

Then she found a hotel room and changed - let her hair down, put on her makeup dark and unflattering, put the stiletto knife in her boot.

Hours later, after she had found a place that sold absinthe, and had taken it back to the hotel room to enjoy herself, she realized she wanted some chocolates to go with it.

Vivien slipped out of her hotel room for the second time, walking slowly and carefully, hair in her face, taking more care that she not trip and fall than that she was looking where she was going. Chocolate shop, chocolate shop, wasn't there a chocolate shop around here somewhere?

In the meantime, Harold Decuma Maun was also in the city, rather than in the Nest. He was not quite dressed down, but he didn't quite look like the putative heir to Maun, in threads of clothes that were not his best.

Down streets he travelled. After so much time offworld, Harold wanted to get a better sense of Aquila. The challenge offered in the Salon was yet to be fufilled, Jovanna's dare still echoed in his head as he turned a corner and continued along.

Was he being followed by watchers from his own House? Harold didn't know, his skills were not in that direction. Watchers of a more unsavory sort would have be dealt with if they appeared, along with anything else that might cross his path.

A shop ahead among many caught his eye, and the smell of freshly prepared cocoa.

Suddenly a petite young woman stepped in front of him, nearly bumping into him. She stumbled back quickly, wild brown hair falling into her face. "Oh, I'm terribly..." she trailed off as realization of some kind dawned on her, and finished, "sorry, my lord."

She was attractive, although her makeup was heavy, dark and unflattering and the orangish shade of her lipstick could have made her look like a fallen woman were it not for her shapeless clothing and ungainly, almost masculine footwear. There was also something just a little off about her movements, her words... as if she were confused, or drunk.

Something confused Harold about the encounter. A touch of suspicion was a drop of dark liquid chocolate in a glass of pure white milk of concern. He stepped back a pace, just in case this was prelude to some sort of attack or attempt on his life, but he looked to her.

"Are you all right?" Harold asked. His eyes betrayed his caution, not focusing on her for more than a moment or two at a time, casting about for a possible assailant.

The girl seemed to be alone - and yes, on closer inspection, girl was more fitting than woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty, and she looked younger.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, sir," she said. "Thank you for asking. No, I'm just... going to get some chocolates..." She cocked her head to the side, suddenly, and unable to control the impulse, continued, "Do you ever wear green, my lord? I'll bet it would be your magic color. Even just a hint of green in a dark weave..."

"Green?" Harold regarded her curiously for a moment. What manner of speak was this? "No, no, I generally wear blue and white." He looked reflective. "And more recently, other colors. Green not amongst them."

"The chocolate shop is nearby, however." Harold said slowly.

"Oh, yes, I see it, thank you," she said. "I... well, sorry to run into you, sir."

She did not move in the direction of the shop yet, however.

"It's alright." Harold said. He regarded the stranger for a moment more. Something gnawed at him, and he regarded her. "Perhaps I should see you to the chocolate shop, and then to safety. I insist." he added after a moment.

"Oh, um... thank you," the girl said nervously. She began to walk toward the shop, biting at her lower lip. "I'm... uh... I'm Daisy, milord. Safety?"

"Daisy." Harold seemed to be considering the name for a moment. "Yes, well, Daisy it is clear to my poor vision that you aren't all right. So let us visit the chocolate shop, and then get you safely back to your home."

He gestured to indicate that she should proceed him in the direction of the store.

She took a moment, looking at him, almost as if she were sizing him up. Then she flashed a quick smile that made her prettier for a moment, and moved toward the shop. She walked with a smooth, rolling gait, hips swishing in a vaguely artificial way.

Harold followed her. The rolling gait, rather than being seductive for the moment, merely worried the possible heir to Maun. Harold was relieved as they approached the shop, his instincts were to make sure the woman turned out all right.

"Chocolate." Harold murmured as they got close enough to see the wares clearly in the window.

"Daisy" cocked her head to one side and regarded the candies, then smiled and pushed open the door, sliding inside. She ordered some dark chocolate truffles, had them wrapped and paid for them with a surprising large coin.

Harold followed her into the shop, looking at the confections. After she made her choice, Harold took up the gauntlet, getting some black and white truffle candies. He blinked when he saw the coin that Daisy used, and hustled outside after her.

"You're not an ordinary cit girl, are you?" he said quietly at the entrance to the door.

She paused at that and looked at him for a long time. Whatever haze her mind was in had parted somewhat, and she finally nodded. "No, I... Perhaps we could sit somewhere and talk about it... I'd like to explain."

Harold considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Perhaps a cup of espresso, then, is what you need to clear the cobwebs. We can talk over coffee." Harold offered. "I believe there are a number of them." he stopped speaking and turned to face down the street. "the closest is that way."

"I would adore some espresso," "Daisy" said in a completely different voice than that which she had used before. This one was clipped and precise, with a hint of smoke. "They don't have anything like that where I come from. Should I change my clothes, or will having espresso with a woman like this" she gestured to her costume, "not occasion talk?"

Harold considered this for a moment.

"Perhaps a change of clothes would better suit the person inside." "Better to wear a measure of truth than a passing guise."

He chuckled. "Not that I am a poet, or anything of the sort."

"What a shame," said the girl. "I do like poetry. My hotel room is only a few blocks down the street and I change quickly. You may come up and wait if you'd like."

She had begun to move in the direction indicated without waiting for his response.

"Or at least wait outside the door." Harold said. "There are reputations to be thought of." He looked reflective as he began to follow the girl down the street. "Especially given mine own and my proclivities." he added, thoughtfully.

"Your proclivities?" She raised an eyebrow, lips quirking into a smile. "That sounds intriguing."

"No, I wish I had poetic ability." Harold said. "My talents lie, elsewhere."

"Really? Where?"

By this point they had reached the door of the hotel, which she stopped and waited for him to open for her, watching for his reaction to this questioning.

Harold did so, opening the door and giving a courteous nod for her to pass ahead of him into the building.

"Different people might give you different answers to that." Harold said. He couldn't resist adding, with a smile. "The gender of the person might be a factor in their response, too."

"But, please." he said, waiting for her to enter the Hotel.

Vivien smiled and swept in the door, tossing back over her shoulder the light comment, "It always is, isn't it? I'm just down the hall."

She stopped at the door, opened it with her key and pushed the door open. "It's... well, I don't mind if you come in if you don't mind the mess. I'm incognito, so my reputation's safe as long as you keep it so. But if you're worried about gossip about you, my lord, I'll try to be as quick as I can."

Harry considered this for a moment, looked around with a defensive furtiveness, and then nodded his head, waiting for her to move forward so that he could follow her inside.

Vivien laughed a little at his glancing back, slipped through the door and closed it behind him.

She hadn't been joking about the mess. The small, dark, and very cheap hotel room was scattered with articles of feminine clothing. There was a mess of cosmetics and perfume on the counter of the small dresser, and over in the corner on the round table was an empty glass, a bottle of absinthe, and silk. The smell of smoke was still there, the faintest of echoes, and she had broken a mirror in the sink.

Harold stayed near to the threshold of the room, looking at the room from that vantage point. His nose crinkled at the smoke smell, but his eyes, upon seeing both the bottle of the poisonous drink, and the cracked mirror, showed a slowly developing sense of alarm.

"Don't be afraid," said Vivien, gathering up some of the clothes and moving to the bathroom. "I'm not dangerous."

Harold quirked a smile but decided not to argue directly with her. He was not so foolish as to think the fairer gender was incapable of being dangerous.

However, he did relax slightly.

She closed the door then, to change.

In only a few minutes she was out again, and the transformation was almost unbelievable. Now she wore a dress of stiff, shimmering material, cut in a daring, original style that showed off her lithe, graceful figure without actually revealing anything. Her thick, lustrous hair was pinned up in a loose bun, and her makeup had been mostly removed so that her natural flush was apparent, and the redness of her lips no longer outshone her gray eyes.

"I'm ready now," she said.

Harold nodded and smiled for the first time since entering the room. "Excellent." he said, unforced and a little more at ease. He looked Vivien up and down a typical male moment in length and then walked to the door to open it for her.

She raised her eyebrows at his appraisal, exited in front of him and said, "A coffee shop, then? For a brief chat?"

"Nothing more sinister than that." Harold promised. "I will be the soul of honor, kindness and goodness." He gestured to offer her to continue to lead the two of them out of the building and onto the street.

Vivien laughed. "I'm certain you will." She winked at Harold, and continued to follow. "Oh, as I'm sure you have already guessed, my name isn't Daisy. It's Vivien. Vivien Greywood. And you are?"

Harold paused a moment, processing the revelation of the young woman's identity. "I'd venture to say that you must be from outside the city." he intuited.

Vivien nodded.

"As for myself, my name is Harold. Harold Decuma Maun."

Harold slowed his pace and watched Vivien's reaction, or lack of one, carefully.

Vivien's eyebrows rose again, her lips curved into a smile. "Really," she said.

"Really." Harold replied evenly. "Both my half-brother and I have recently returned to Aquila after sojourns off-world. He was gone longer, however."

He looked and pointed down the street ahead to a coffee shop, curving his mouth into a smile. "Our quarry lies in sight."

Harold then gave a glance to Vivien, and a smile with bright eyes before looking forward again.

"I've never been off-world," Vivien said, her expression growing vague and wistful. "What was it like where you went?"

She continued to follow him as he moved onward.

Harold considered the answer to Vivien's question for a few moments as they moved onward. Finally, he spoke.

"Worlds of wonder, worlds of technology, worlds of beauty. Worlds where things have gone horribly wrong. It's a big universe out there." Harold said and then stopped his pace, just before the coffee shop. He turned, and briefly placed a hand on Vivien's shoulder.

"But there is no place like home. And home to me means Aquila. The planet, the city, the people found within it". Harold's eyes studied Vivien again.

She was smiling faintly and nodding. Suddenly she said, "It's really a wonderful city."

"You've not been here long, have you." Harold asked. "The way you look around, your demeanor. You're one of the outlander Greywoods, aren't you?"

At this point, they reached the coffee shop, giving Vivien a chance to duck the question if she wanted, in the process of entering and finding a booth.

She did not, however, duck the question. As she slid through the door, she glanced back at him, smiling. "Outlander is not a word I've heard before, but yes. I'm a country cousin."

Harold beamed back at Vivien's smile, cherishing it as a bestowed gift from a lady. He inclined his head as he passed through the door behind her.

"Just a different way of saying it." Harold said, gesturing toward an unoccupied booth in a quiet corner of the coffee shop. "You seemed to me to be new to the City, rather than born and raised."

"Shall we talk about our... rather unusual meeting, then, Lord Harold?" Vivien licked her lips. "Not that I wouldn't prefer smaller talk, it's only... You've got me in a very upsetting position."

"Upsetting position?" Harold asked as he gestured for a waiter to come attend to their needs. "I am uncertain what you mean." He tilted his head and regarded her.

"Well, you know my secret," she said, glancing at him through her eyelashes. "That's always a dangerous position for a woman who likes a little mystery."

The waiter approached as Harold shook his head and leaned slightly forward to gaze back at Vivien.

"I have always thought that a woman always has..." he paused and smiled. "secrets in reserve."

"That doesn't make the one you know about any less dangerous to me, my lord," Vivien said. She glanced at the waiter, then back at Harold. "Why don't you order for both of us? I trust you."

Harold nodded thoughtfully at Vivien's statement, and then relaxed slightly as the waiter sidled up.

"Two cups of espresso, please, and a plate of biscotti." He glanced at Vivien and appraised her before looking back at the waiter. "Vanilla flavored biscotti, I should think the lady favors."

Once the waiter disappeared, he returns to look at Vivien.

"So what do you propose, then?" he asked.

"I'm not proposing anything tonight," Vivien said, pursing her lips, a mischievous look in her eye. "I'm feeling you out, trying to decide what you'll do with your advantage."

Harold grinned, and took a sip of the espresso before he answered.

"Advantage should never be wasted." his eyes met her mischevious gaze. He paused and then added. "In chess, anyway. My brother, now, would use such advantage to the personal ruin of anyone who got in his way. As for I..." he took another sip and met her gaze. "I have a different view of advantages. One oft more suited to mutual..." he paused and then smiled. "satisfaction."

Vivien had paused for a moment, her expression smoothing to something like confusion or even fear at the mention of his brother and personal ruin. When he met her gaze and continued his statement however, she smiled back and even laughed a little. "Mutual satisfaction? Oh, my dear, that sounds much better than personal ruin. I think I'll like you much better than I would your brother..." She took a small but rather deliberate bite of biscotti, made an appreciative noise, and continued. "But I'm afraid I'm still in the dark about what you're going to do."

"What I plan." Harold replied with a smile and a sip of the coffee, "depends entirely upon mutual inclinations and opportunity, of course."

"My thoughts on mutual inclinations, however," Harold took another sip of the coffee, "tend toward," he looked thoughtful, "explorations of matters pleasing to the two parties involved." Deliberately, his hand moved onto the table, tactile fingers traced delicate lines, displaying a range of motion and care to that motion.

"If such inclinations are mutual of course," he said, stopping the hand for the nonce. "One does not together explore realms where one party is uncomfortable or unwilling."

Vivien arched backwards over the chair in a full-body yawn that left her mouth closed. "I'm not so formal," she said, then, stroking the palm of his hand. "Let's get away from "one" and down to first names... Harold..." The way she pronounced his name, too, was a caress.

"Names, names are very good." Harold conceded, sipping and holding the coffee cup to his lips. When he set it down, he rolled his shoulders slightly, and focused his intent and his gaze squarely on the person sitting across the table. His view of the world focused, crystallized, and narrowed. Luminous eyes looked solely at her.

"Vivien." he finally spoke in return, his voice as tuned to her alone as his gaze.

"Oh," she said quietly, her gray eyes locked in his. "That's much better." Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing just a little rapid.

"Quite, isn't it?" Harold said softly. His eyes still riveted on Vivien, he deliberately took one of the biscotti, and ran a finger along its edge before immersing it in the coffee before him briefly.

With bright expectation, he offered it toward her.

She leaned forward, lips parting even wider. Her tongue ran briefly over the tips of her upper teeth, and then disappeared back into her open mouth. Her eyelids closed halfway, veiling her pale eyes.

Harold watched her as she responded, giving off an audible hiss of pleasure as he watched her reactions to the offering. Like two charming serpents fascinating each other, his eyes both were rapt with her display, and equally attempting to charm her with his own.

Vivien definitely seemed susceptible to his charm. She leaned all the way forward, taking a bite of the biscotti he had offered. She chewed delicately, swallowed, raised one finger to the corner of her mouth to brush off an errant crumb. Every movement was obviously planned, and yet the only thing she seemed to notice was him. Then she smiled almost shyly, looked down at the table.

"Do you... it doesn't bother you, what you saw of me before?"

Harold considered this only a moment, unwilling, or perhaps unable, to dampen down the rising mutual seduction by breaking the eye contact and movements between the pair.

"Bother me." Harold shakes his head briefly Brightness fills his eyes. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself unduly, just when we now met for the first time."

She raised her eyes to meet his and was startled by their intensity. "I'm not hurt," she said quietly. "I'm a lot stronger than I look."

"Indeed, you are..." Harold replied softly, holding the look. "I would know, for I am not...drawn to weakness. And not all strength is readily evident."

"Nor is beauty." he said in a soft breath.

"That," Vivien said, "had more in it of warning than compliment. You are an intriguing man, Lord Harold Decuma Maun..."

Suddenly she laughed. "Most men I knew at home would have me halfway back to my hotel room by now. But while that would not displease me in this case, I'm glad we're still talking. I think... well, I think you're more than a first glance can tell, and in all honesty, most men are less."

"Thoughts of your hotel room do call from the back of my head." Harold said, taking a sip of the coffee. "But there is no reason to be uncivilized, unthinking animals in estrus." he said, his eyes and focus quickly returning to her.

"Passion will take care of itself, in its good time. And I enjoy being more than a simple caricature delineated by two lines."

"And in would be lovers I would wish the same."

"That we are more than caricatures or that we want to be?" Vivien inquired, finishing her coffee.

"That we want to be. On the other hand." Harold signaled for the server to approach so that he might pay. "There is a time for talk, and then there is in the end, time for something more."

"But a rutting, caricature drawn like Pan, I am not." Harold said. "Or, perhaps, in that way, you will," his eyes looked into hers again, "decide for yourself."

"I already have," Vivien said, rising gracefully to her feet. "As I said before. Besides, that particular caricature is definitely not one that fits you."

Harold blushed briefly and then nodded. He waited for her to rise to her feet before he did as well. The server quickly approached, and Harold paid him, giving a nod of thanks, and then turning to Vivien.

"Weighed and measured already, am I?" Harold said with a smile. "And hopefully, soon, not found wanting..."

He moved toward the door, to open it for his lovely companion to exit the charming little establishment.

She swept gracefully ahead of him, her expression somewhat mysterious. "I doubt it very much," she said, then added with a mischievous smile, "but you never know."

Harold flushed slightly at the smile, but then a smile crept across his lips like the sun creeping over the horizon at dawn.

"You don't ever know, but I suppose I will see if I am...up for it."

He followed her out onto the street.

Vivien led him back to the hotel quickly, as the street was beginning to darken and grow colder. Her key opened the front door of the hotel and then the key to her room.

She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, so she opened the door for herself, holding it open for Harold.

"I'll just throw these things off the bed," was what she said as soon as the door closed.

Harold accepted the opened door and followed Vivien back up to the apartment. He regarded her for a moment and then remarkably found a clean towel. Of his own accord, he began collecting some of the detritus, including the broken mirror in the sink, into it. Harold favored her with a smile when he looked up from his task.

As he moved into the bathroom to clean the sink, he heard a rustle of fabric from the other room.

"Don't bother with that," Vivien said in a smoky voice. As he turned, he saw that her dress, too, was now crumpled on the floor. "We won't need it."

Harold's eyes widened, and then he smiled. "No" he said, his fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt as his eyes intently regarded the disrobed Vivien. "We won't, will we..."

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