Light. We were lying under a tree, and mommy was smiling. My smile. I liked making her smile. It smelled like jasmine and roses and lavender and she scooped me up in her arms. Her smile was my smile and her smell was beautiful, too. "Tell me how much you love me, mommy," I said, and she smiled wider and it was still mine. "More than the moon and the sun." I thought about that. It was a lot. "More than the stars, too?"

"Yes, more than the stars!" She spun me around and I laughed. "More than the stars and the trees and the ocean," she said, her laugh was my laugh. "And the flowers and butterflies and everything else in the whole wide world! Right mommy?" She had set me down and I was spinning but my feet were still. She scooped me up again. "Yes! Everything else in the whole wide world."

Tallulah woke, her eyes opening slowly, her head pounding like a separate heartbeat - one that hurt. The first thing she noticed was the sun; it was just so damn bright. The second was that the blankets didn't smell like they usually did, and the third was more of a rush of things that weren't really things but realizations: that the blankets smelled different because they were not hers, she was not in her bed, and this was not her house. 'What in Alioe's name . . . ?' Oh. Yes. The night before came flooding to her mind like rain fall - drops landing in spots, but the whole thing was never really illuminated. She'd gone to the bar, gotten drunk, walked to - shit. She sat up, decided that was not a good position to be in, and fell back. Shit. She'd . . . she'd kissed him . . . and then . . . ? Had he taken advantage of her? Artemis was not in bed with her, so that could only mean that he was in the kitchen, most likely trying to smooth things over by cooking breakfast. Hah!

Surprisingly, Tallulah wasn't as mad as she'd thought she'd be. It was . . . odd. But then again, most of what she did around Artemis was odd. She sat up - slowly this time - and slid her feet from the bed on to the floo-ooooh, that was cold. Thinking she'd not like to gain frostbite in her toes this early in the morning, she tore the blankets from his bed, and stood, groaning softly. It seemed the taller she got, the brighter everything looked. His room was small. Nice. Not as neat as some, perhaps, but it seemed homey all the same. There were books everywhere and she nearly went to a shelf to see what she could find, but she reminded herself that wicks were not supposed to have books, and, if anything, she should feel appalled.

Shuffling her feet softly, Tallulah made her way to his door, her steps muffled by the portable cocoon she'd made herself. She stuck one hand out to turn the handle on said door, open it, and . . . and was shocked by what she saw. All of the mild malcontent she had been harboring vanished, because she'd found her quarry asleep on his kitchen table, still clothed (as was she, for that matter). Artemis was shivering, his face knit with worry, but still somehow peaceful in his dream-state, dark lashes resting innocently on his cheeks, strong face resting on his arms. Tallulah smiled to herself, removing the blankets from her shoulders, and placed her little covering of warmth over his back, tucking it in around his arms. A lock of hair had fallen over his face and she brushed it away before she could stop herself. He really was rather handsome.

That done, she realized that she was hungry. Ravenous, in fact. Tallulah looked about her - she didn't have much to work with, but she'd do her best anyway. She went to his stove which had a matchbox placed conveniently beside it, and set about the rather lengthy business of lighting the stove. Once she had a pleasant glow and a rather high heat, she found a pan and looked about in his pantry for eggs, bacon, and bread - things she knew he had from her last over-night visit. Part of her was yelling that there shouldn't have even been that first one, let alone a second one, but that part was sacked and tossed by the majority that was trying to avoid a headache, thank you very much.

Once the bacon was down, she cracked a few eggs straight on to the pan - she liked scrambled, but preferred fried - and stood, one leg bent, foot placed on the knee of the other, straighter leg. It was her customary cooking position.

Artemis had felt her field. Unconsciously, perhaps, but he'd felt it. Perhaps that was why he hadn't jumped to the defense when he felt hands on him, but flinched marginally instead, consciousness slowly seeping back into his form. He felt her hand brush his face- her touch was cool, but soothing. He kept his eyes closed, savoring the warmth that enveloped him by the blankets that had been pre-warmed by Tallulah's body. He heard her rummaging around in his kitchen, and began to fully awaken from it. He wondered why she hadn't just left. Why she'd been so kind as to bring him a blanket rather than wake him rudely with questions he couldn't answer. But he was glad she hadn't done either of those, even if it did confuse him a bit. He could smell her cooking eggs and bacon. Then finally decided it was time to get up.

So he shifted, straightening up into a siting position. Gods his neck was cramped. As was his back. Everything was stiff and sore and he'd known it would happen when he'd chosen to sleep slumped over the hard wood of the table. He stood rigidly, stretching every limb until his muscles were taut, then relaxing them. Then realigned his back and neck with a loud popping sound which traveled up along his spine. Gods, that was a bit better. Finally, he glanced up at Tallulah, tilted his head slightly, smiling in spite of himself, and noting the rather strange position in which she cooked. He crossed over to her quietly, stopping just behind her. "Would you care for some tea with that?" He smirked- it was a teasing one, "It's hard to cook by yourself, if I recall correctly." Wasn't that what she'd said, days ago?

It had been hard, cooking alone. In so many ways than one. Lu's smile was soft and kind, nothing hidden in her eyes, nothing lurking in the shadows. Just her. Just her, being content, if not a little hung over. She turned her head so she could look at him - Artemis still had sleep in his eyes and he seemed rather stiff, but not on-edge. Maybe a bit confused, but not . . . mean. He was simply teasing her. Simply saying good morning in his own fashion. "I would love some tea. Thank you." Her voice was sweet, soft - none of the rigid formality held to it and again she was surprised. Maybe it was the exceptionally good dream she'd had. Maybe it was the smell of eggs and bacon, or maybe, just maybe, she was enjoying herself. Enjoying not having to act any way but the way she was, because something in her knew that for this morning, she was safe.

He'd remembered what she'd said all those days ago, which meant he wasn't lying when he'd said he'd cared. Good. Even if he was a wick, they could still be friends - no. She would not think about that. Not this early in the morning. Today they weren't golly and wick. They were simply Artemis and Tallulah. Two people who had shared too much, but didn't seem any wiser for it and for some reason, that was okay. She turned back to the pan, her smile growing and becoming more teasing. "You do realize that if I ever go into your room again, I might not come out willingly? All of those books . . . Besides, your bed is quite comfortable."

Books. He smirked- he might have been afraid were it a different golly- particularly Seventen. But this was Tallulah, and that little fact comforted him in an odd way. "Ah, those. I had been wondering when you would say something about them. Most of those aren't even mine- they were left behind by the man who lived here before me. I think his reasons for not taking them along with him should be obvious." He shrugged, "But that hasn't stopped me from reading them..." He took up the tea pot and the tea that Tallulah had brought him days ago, and set about preparing the tea on a free space on the stove. "I would prefer that none of your race learn of them, but I suppose you don't exactly count. Obviously you don't care either way."

Once the tea began to cook, he turned, leaning back against the counter. "You're free to them, of course..." He looked her in the eye, "It is good to see you're in a better mood this morning." And it was. And he wasn't bothering himself to care one way or another how stupid that was because it was too clocking early to worry over such things.

The bacon and eggs were sizzling nicely, so she set about finding a knife (not really a hard task) and then began cutting slices of bread, her hands moving swiftly. "Thank you." He was trusting her with something. Perhaps he didn't realize it, but she did, and it made her feel . . . honored? Not quite as strong as that, but it was along those lines. "You know, that's rather strange. You think he would have sold them, at least. Why leave such a collection behind, with no profit?" She had to get up on tip-toe to look in his cabinets, but once she'd found plates, she felt she'd accomplished quite a feat. "Maybe he wanted you to find them. Maybe there's some encrypted code in the bindings - have you ever checked the spine for clues?"

She was teasing, of course, but that didn't mean she wasn't curious. Plopping the two pieces of bread onto the two plates, she split the food up, giving him quite a bit more than she had on her plate - two eggs and three pieces of bacon compared to her one egg and two. She'd never fed such a . . . large person before, and didn't really know how much taller people needed to eat. It was odd, to say the least. The tea wasn't ready yet - she supposed they'd have to wait, but she could live with that, if he was fine with it as well. Taking one plate in each hand, she placed them on the little table, hoping he'd grab utensils on his way over.

He rolled his eyes at her teasing. "I think it was more an issue of carting that many books past gollies without them noticing. I imagine such a thing would be difficult to explain, at best." He grabbed up two forks and two spoons before crossing to set them on the table, then returned to the stove, taking two cups in preparation for the tea. "My assumption is that he stole them. Your average human can't afford many books, and as you know it's illegal for the 'lower races' to read." It might have held a bitter edge. Maybe. But it wasn't so much toward Tallulah as it was toward the idiotic laws of her government. She hadn't made the laws, after all, and nor did she enforce them. "Well. Obviously no law will stop determined men." He glanced down at the simmering tea, waiting for it to finish. The eggs smelled good and he was hungry.

Tallulah saw the way he glanced from the tea to the plates she'd prepared. A small smile tugged at the corners of her full lips and she suddenly found herself staring at him - his disheveled hair, nearly grown beard and fierce, soft eyes. And then he was across from her, and bitterness colored his words, but it was not towards her, which was goo . . . or so she thought. And then she realized that she was still staring. At him. At his strong features, and handsome eyes. Tallulah looked away as quickly as possible - the movement made her head spin, and then hang heavy before she placed her forehead in her palm for a second or two. Tallulah looked up, attempting to regain her mental footing and spoke, her voice just a tad shaky. "I've never understood many of the laws in place, myself. Education is something invaluable, true, but that doesn't mean it's meant for only those who can pay their way into - ah, well. Who am I to judge?" She smiled a smile that was a little pained - the throbbing had begun tenfold and as far as she knew, politics were not the remedy.

She'd never been this hung over before. It was strange, looking at it from a third-person prospective. She'd sworn she'd stop doing this to herself - but, obviously, her mind had other ideas. But what the hell. She was hungry, and there was food in front of her. If only the pulsating behind her eyes would go away, she'd be set.

Artemis glanced over at her and noticed her head in her hands- how rough she looked despite her unusually light mood. Of course she was hungover- it was to be expected from a golly woman who had been drunk enough the previous night to kiss a wick. He tilted his head slightly, "You may want to sit down, Tallulah." He said it with a smirk, but his eyes held a playful glint, and his tone almost held an air of concern, "You're not looking well and it seems you've a knack for collapsing at the most inconvenient of moments."

The tea was finished. He took it off the stove and poured a cup for himself and Tallulah, then carried both cups over to the table, setting one of them before Tallulah. "Take care, it's hot." He cautioned thoughtlessly before sitting down.

Tallulah sat, scrunching her eyes closed as she did so. "Do you have something sharp I could carve my eyes out with? It might be helpful, at the moment." And then something hit her - he'd thought about her. He'd cautioned her. He . . . he . . . No. She was in too deep already, in too deep - and some how, only the superficial part of her could care. Deep down, it was okay. Deep down, she appreciated it. Deep down . . . she didn't even know, anymore. And then another thing hit her. Collapsing at the most inconvenient of . . . ? Ah. So, he'd enjoyed the kiss. Did that mean that he was simply a man, or was it somehow connected to that deeper part, too. Suddenly, Tallulah was rubbing her head for a whole different reason. Stupid clocking wick, getting her all confused this early in the morning.

She peeked a the cup and her plate, slowly taking her hands from her face. "Thank you." Pulling up both of her feet, Tallulah sat cross legged in her chair, scooping up her fork with one hand while the other returned to her temple. She cut into the eggs, watching as the yolk spilled out on to her plate. Taking a small bite, she paused, waiting to survey his reaction. She thought it was quite good - but then again, she was a bit biased.

"I have many sharp objects, as I am sure you know by now, but I highly doubt if carving your eyes out would alleviate any sort of pain and, even assuming it did, you would regret it later when you desire to paint something." He smirked, then nodded when she thanked him for the tea. He glanced down at the plate before him- gods it all smelled so good. And he was quite hungry. So he started with the eggs, stabbing the yolk as Tallulah had and watching the yellow goo ooze out onto the plate. "Mmmm..." He took a bite- it was very good. He smiled and finished the eggs off- but of course, since they weren't scrambled, there was still the issue of liquidy yolk spread over the plate. This problem he rectified with the toast, sopping up the flavorful yolk with the hot bread, and next was the bacon. It was all very delicious.

Tallulah had to keep herself from smiling just a little to broadly as she watched Artemis eat. She hadn't fed anyone in such a long time - she'd forgotten how . . . how happy it made her. She cut another bit of the egg, stabbed it with her fork and placed it, almost thoughtfully, in her mouth, chewing slowly as she watched him eat. It was odd, the way the pounding in her head and the domesticity of the moment mixed with the lack of tension. If only - but it was not a time for thoughts or regrets or deeper things. So she smiled softly, watching him and eating her breakfast, trying to keep the slight nausea which plagued her at bay.

She set her own fork down, food only half eaten and placed her hands to her neck, resting against the table. Her head was slightly tilted, the look on her face simply content. She may have been slightly sick, but that, for some reason, didn't really effect her. They'd reached middle-ground. It was comfortable and rather nice, but how long would it last? When would she reach her senses and push him away? When would he hate her again? 'Let it alone, Lu,' she thought. 'Things will happen as they will. Patience.'

Her brow had furrowed, but she willed herself to relax. "So. Do you like it?" A smile spread slowly across her lips and it wasn't forced. She was pretty sure he didn't find her cooking too terribly appalling, she just . . . wanted to hear him say it. Because, well, she didn't know why. She just did.

He raised a brow slowly at her question. What, couldn't she tell he liked it? Did she absolutely have to hear him say it in order to be satisfied with her efforts? Honestly, it was silly. Why couldn't she just be content with the fact that he obviously enjoyed her cooking and leave it at that? It was rather like the day before, when he had agreed to walk home with her and then she'd just had to push things by requesting his arm. Perhaps this wasn't so severe. Perhaps he was over complicating things by over thinking them. But it was the same principle. Perhaps, in that case, it would be best not to reach the same outcome?

He'd maintained a calm demeanor. He allowed a smile to grace his lips, relaxing again, "While I should think my opinions of your cooking obvious, Tallulah, I suppose it would not go unwarranted to voice, if only for your benefit, that this is indeed a most excellent meal." He paused, then added as if in afterthought, "Thank you."

Tallulah's smile became wider, until the white of her teeth showed through her lips. A small laugh escaped her, bright and cheerful and then it hit her - she knew why she'd wanted to hear him say it. People complemented her on things like her looks, her dresses, and it never really meant much. To hear someone say something kind about her cooking . . . somehow it meant . . . more. It was nice. She hadn't been really complemented in a while. Still smiling, but more so to herself, she glanced out of the window Artemis had gazed out of that morning past. It was raining, as usual - god, she missed the sun. Tallulah's feet dangled a bit from the chair, only her toes touching the cold, hardwood floor. Leaning back in her chair, she reached behind her, letting her hair down. It had little curls in it from the braids, and they softened her features, if only a little.

"Have you ever . . . " She trailed off, shaking her head. It was a stupid question, but still she had to ask it. "Have you ever thought of . . . you know - leaving? Just joining a traveling circus or simply packing up your bags and going? "

"The circus?" He snorted, "I would hardly fit in any better with them than I would with your people." He smirked, "As for leaving... I've gone many places. Hid out in the wilderness on occasion. It is all the same, because no matter where I go I have no more than my thoughts and- on occasion- Horas for company. Here or there, on my own or in a crowd, I am always alone and never truly free." Slowly he shook his head. No. That simply would not do... then he offered her an apologetic smile of sorts. This was odd- this moment of easy, light conversation with a woman. A golly. "What about you? Have you ever thought of leaving this all behind?"

(( Sorry for being so late. And short. Midterms ate my brain. ))

Leaning her chin on her hand, Tallulah stared out of the window, her eyes caught in the clouds. The smile which graced her lips was wistful, and she spoke as if she was in a dream.

"Every day." It was the truth - every day she thought about simply taking her things and going. She didn't even need to take anything - except for the money she'd been left. She'd just take that, and go. Not worry about the consequences, the social fall . . . She would be free. Freedom, she'd give anything for it. Anything.

As she stared away from him, at the sky, she imagined it. Imagined her life in motion, her life being lived. She would go north, and spend her days drawing in forests and taverns, traveling lightly but never alone - she'd bring Lily, of course. The smile became wider until she realized what she was doing. Pulling her head away from her hand like one waking from a deep sleep, she turned to look at Artemis. The smile had left her lips, but lingered in her slanted eyes. "But it's just a dream. I have responsibilities. Things I must do." Though she wasn't quite sure what those 'things' were, she knew she had to do them, and so she couldn't go north. Not yet, anyway.

Tallulah stood, smoothly taking her own plate in one hand and his in the other hand. Turning from the table, she walked to his kitchen and set the plates down on the counter next to his stove. Tallulah began cleaning the dishes rather mindlessly, not realizing how odd it might seem. Gollies didn't do dishes, especially not ladies. And especially not for wicks.

(( 20 days late. New record that I am in no way proud of. I am sorry. You can has long-ish post. Sorry if it is suck. ))

There was so much in her expression in that faraway, dreamy state she'd allowed herself- so much emotion. And that easy smile she'd rarely allowed him a glimpse of curling her lips in a manner most attractive- something that triggered the strangest of sensations in him that he quickly stifled because they were stupid. Of course that was becoming routine with her. Easy with anyone else- usually something he'd never even bother with as few others could even entice the mildest of such feelings in him- but it was worn. Getting old. Why resist? Stupid question, really, with too many logical answers (and some illogical ones, when one thought too hard on them) to even bother with.

And then she snapped out of whatever dream-world she'd drifted into. At least her dreams could be possibilities- realities- had she the courage to just go out and chase them. Maybe his could be, too, were he not so comfortable (if a bit miserable) in his current lifestyle. Gods. Maybe this would all be easier if he'd go to some high-up roof, get himself guttered, and 'slip' to his death. Or maybe he could go back to Old Rose and taunt a few powerful gunmen. He was sure of one that wouldn't mind killing him. He almost laughed at the thought, as grim as it was. He was in an oddly cheery mood.

Artemis glanced up at Tallulah as she washed the dishes, tilting his head to one side as if just noticing the act. Huh. That was interesting. It seemed surreal in a way. Maybe not that a golly was actually doing dishes (well, sort of). But more that an attractive one was in his house doing his dishes and neither one of them was at the other's throat. Or dead. Or naked in a sea of warm sheets with hands trailing-- what the hell? Had he seriously just let his mind go there? It wasn't even really that early in the morning, and he was he'd slept... well enough, given the accommodations of the night prior, and... gods, there had to be something wrong with him. It was all he could do to keep the blood rushing to his cheeks.... and perhaps other areas.

Gods, this was stupid. Sure, she'd kissed him, but it hadn't even been all that great. She was... drunk, of course, and it had been rather sloppy and unexpected and she'd passed out right there before he could even react to it. She would likely have never done it if she were sober. But then... there had to have been at least something she felt for him in order to willingly kiss him even when that drunk. Well... maybe not. He'd seen a drunk man tongue-kiss a kenser before, and much worse. He was reading too much into this. And allowing himself to think of things which he ought not even consider with a woman of her status. A woman who he'd hated only a few days ago. And off-and-on between. Gods, he was an idiot. He cleared his throat, and his mind, and finally spoke up.

"Assuming you could leave.. where would you go? What would you do, free of the bonds that keep you?" He assumed she might paint landscapes of little-traveled plains or mountains, and perhaps the sea, then stop by settlements only to sell the art and purchase supplies before moving on again. Perhaps this was too much for a golly- more something expected of a wick. But then, Tallulah was not a typical golly. Perhaps that was exactly what made her so alluring at times.

Tallulah was almost finished cleaning, her small hands scrubbing vigorously, while she worked. There was something odd in the silence which occupied the space between them, something almost tangible, something foreign . . . But it was gone, and her mind was occupied with other things.

She turned slowly as Artemis asked his questions, allowing a small yawn to overcome her has she stretched rather languidly, her slim arms curling daintily above her head as her back arched slightly. Dropping into a normal position quite suddenly, she sighed, and looked at him. And looked at him. And looked at him. And . . . Looked at him. She was remembering the time he had been shirtless quite vividly - the scars which had occupied his hard chest, and the way that chest had been so warm when he had hugged her. No. No, she wasn't going to feel this way. He was the way he was and she was the way she was and neither of them could help it - but that didn't stop a golden warmth from curling itself in her stomach.

Tallulah smiled as amiably as she could without looking foolish, and crossed to the seats which they had occupied, sitting cross-legged in one while she waited for him to join her. "The sea. I've never been to the sea. But it would have to be the northern coast - barren landscapes are so beautiful. And somewhere away from," she paused, seeming to look for words, her hand gesturing toward his window emphatically. "Things." She smiled a second time, her mind appropriately clear of all thoughts even close to the thought of a certain shirtless man, her eyes turning to gaze upon said man with nothing but the kindest sentament. "What of you, Oh Great Assassin? If you could, where would you go?"

She was staring at him again. Where it usually made him feel uneasy, the only major feeling he got from her gaze now was an intense curiosity at what was going on behind those ruby eyes. He shifted, leaning back a little, taking in her response- it had been unexpected, yet seemed rather fitting in its own way. Then she asked him the same thing- where would he go? And he wasn't sure how to respond- mostly, he wasn't entirely sure of that himself. His thoughts of the future often ventured little beyond the doors of death, simply because death was the greatest possibility for a man in his position. He ran a hand through his hair, thoughtlessly pulling it back out of his face, "The mountains, I should think... Somewhere cool, with a great view of the valley below. Somewhere I could think and train without interference or worry of being murdered in my sleep." His lips twitched to form a grim smile.

Tallulah shifted slightly, a wicked glint in her eye. She looked rather like a child who'd just been given a new toy - yet much less innocent, though quite a bit kinder than was her habit. "Is that what all of the locks are for? And the blinds? And the abundance of sharp pointy things?" She cocked an eyebrow, her lips curling sweetly at the corners.

"Are you really so scared for your life? I mean, honestly," she paused, motioning at his home with a lazy wave of her hand. "You hardly have a target painted on your back, and you seem careful enough. Don't worry so much. Who knows what it might lead to? You could start fraternizing with the wrong people, I mean, who knows? Strange women might start showing up at your house late in the night and then where would you be?"

Tallulah looked away from him quite suddenly, her brow furrowing slightly, her smiling lips turning soft but not pursed into the hard line which was normally her custom. "On that note - I'd like to thank you. You've been unreasonably kind to me and I . . . thank you." She was looking at her hands, hoping he didn't see how her cheeks burned at this slight wound to her pride.

Tallulah felt incredibly small, sitting in his chair, in his kitchen, in his home, giving him thanks and secretly asking forgiveness for. . . for what? For being who she was? What she was? Yes, but it was more than that, and she wasn't supposed to care. Not around him. Not around anyone, for that matter, but especially not around him.

Artemis cocked a brow, saying nothing as she spoke. She was mocking him, a habit she had that would usually irritate him greatly, and while he was vaguely irked this time he was more... embarrassed? It was a bit difficult to keep the color from rising to his cheeks as she teased in a manner not entirely unfriendly. Indeed, it seemed there was no ill intent in her words at all. He was going to say something- rise to his defense, but chose instead to remain silent. And it was a good thing he did, for her next words- the ones that would so enthrall him- might not have come if he had.



He blinked- slowly. Met her eyes and stared into their depths with an air of interest beyond what he would hold for any other being, puzzled not so much by the words she spoke, but by the manner in which she spoke them. She was being sincere, and what was more, she wasn't holding them back for the fear of what he might think- indeed, not even for the fear of what she might have thought of them. While he had noticed her falter at the end, he didn't press her. He was silent for a moment, eyes thoughtful. "Please..." He began, "Please, think little of it." He thought too much of it for the both of them, after all, and his eyes and lips betrayed that thought to some degree, as if in the form of an internal joke.

(( Sorry if this isn't enough to work with. If so, just PM me and I shall make edits ))

Tallulah let her head rest on her palm as she turned her head, her hair falling into her red eyes as she gazed at him, trying to unlock the smile which danced so playfully on his lips. Was Artemis laughing at her? At himself? Of course, she couldn't just ask, and so a silence grew between them as she stared at him, her eyes taking in his face.

Artemis was still leaning back in his chair, the hair which he had brushed away from his eyes falling forward again. The pale shirt he wore was old, but well taken care of; the body beneath it scarred and beautiful, his hands hard and calloused. Working hands. Not the soft and childish hands of the men she was accustomed to - milk white fingers and graceful nails grown out and perfectly manicured. No, his hands were hard, strong, rough . . . yet beautiful in their own right. She wondered what it would be like to see those hands grasp a weapon. She wondered what it would be like to have those hands hold her own. She wondered what it would be like to see him train. She wondered what she could learn from it. Anyone who saw her paint would know almost everything about her. She wondered if he already knew too much. She wondered if sparring was the same way.

Tallulah's mind was traveling - something that was rare, yet seemed to become more and more frequent the closer she got the wick who sat across from her. As she simply looked at him, her admiration known only in her own mind, she began to voice one of the ideas which had stumbled into her hungover mind. "Artemis, I was wondering . . . On a number of occasions, you've professed a distaste for my 'uselessness,' and I was hoping . . . Hoping you could teach me. How to be useful, that is. If you understand what I mean."

And so there she was - suddenly nervous as hell and staring down at her own hands, trying to hide the building eagerness to simply be with him, in any way possible, and trying to convince herself that it wasn't wrong. That it was wrong. That she hadn't lost her barriers, that she wasn't letting him in. She couldn't. How could she be so stupid? How could she even think of being near him? How could she not? And why, why, did she so desperately want . . . him? He'd decline, in any case. Surely he'd decline. He tolerated her - nothing more. It didn't even matter that she found his company barely enjoyable, Artemis still disliked her. So she had nothing to worry about, because of course she was just being silly, and he would decline and then they wold go back to sitting at his table and maybe she could look him in the eyes again. Maybe.

Part of Tallulah hated this sudden softness. The moments of weakness he inspired in her were supposed to be something shameful, but the unabashed joy they brought remained unparalleled by any other thing in her life - except, maybe, her painting. But even brushstrokes wore thin after a while, and there was still a secret ache for contact which lay hidden and denied somewhere inside her. She'd denied herself happiness, and maybe asking him to help her was just begging for more disappointment, but what did she have to loose? If he said no - she'd pretend like it never happened, and when this was all done, she'd go home and draw, life unchanged. If he said yes . . . Well, Tallulah was already going to a social hell of sorts, so why not just do it thoroughly?

"More useful..?" Did she mean what he thought she meant? If so... no, certainly it could not be because she wanted to spend more time with him. Perhaps she merely wished to use him while he was there- or, maybe, she genuinely wished to learn how to wield a blade. To learn to defend herself in the event that the mona fled her- that she brailed and could not cast. Certainly it would mean she would have to continue tolerating him for a while. Or maybe... was there even the slightest chance she wished only for an excuse to be with him?

But that was silly.

"You wish me to train you in the use of a blade?"

He peered across the table at her. It was difficult to read her when he could not see into her eyes- which were currently trained on her soft, slender hands. The hands of one who had never had to work for anything in her life. He had to wonder, to that end, why he would- how he could- even care for someone so sheltered. Still, it seemed no matter what he thought of it, no matter how he looked at it, it would remain a simple fact, however difficult it might be to grasp.

Ignoring the fact that agreeing to help her would only lead to more problems (and an excuse to be near the object of his reluctant, slowly growing affections), he saw in this an opportunity. Work was so hard to find here. His money pool was growing thin. He could charge her and that would no longer be an issue. In charging her, not only would he be getting paid for going about his usual activities, but he could also cover up any feelings he might have for her with his excuse for the need of money. And what would happen from there? No doubt having to train her would involve some moments of... close contact, and what then? What could that lead to other than a headache? Well, they would just have to find out, wouldn't they?

He maintained a disinterested visage as he mulled things over, then spoke. "I suppose... What would you be willing to pay me for my services? While I have no problems with training you, there is the issue of my time and effort- nothing comes without a price, you see." There was a glimmer in his eyes- barely noticeable, but still there, dancing playfully in a sea of thoughts.

(( ((Sorry for late postages. I you more than . . . peanut butter. Peanutman>> - LeGASP! )) ))

Tallulah cringed internally as Artemis echoed her. He had to shay no. surely he had to. The red-eyed woman kept said red eyes glued to her maimed and beautiful hands, making sure not to betray her thoughts. Her face was easy . . . controlling her field was getting harder by the second- and she had such an awful headache.

But gods, this was wrong.



The incredulity in his voice and the calmness of his features only served to fan the embers of her mortification into a blaze which threatened to consume her pale cheeks. Wining slightly, sure he was about to laugh, Tallulah nodded shortly- two awkward bobs of her head. Silently, she thanked the gods for the blessing of her bangs; they served as a kind of shield between her and him. One more barrier. One more line of defense. And once she started talking to those powers that be, she couldn't stop.

Tallulah found herself praying, of all things. Praying. Her. A practical woman. Begging. Begging whatever higher power would listen to let that wick, that Artemis Diotrephes, not think her too incredibly stupid. Hoping that, when he was done teasing her, she might still have one scrap of dignity left or maybe something akin to pride. 'Stupid girl,' she thought, her own visage slipping ever so slightly. 'Stupid, silly girl. You realize he will never let you live this down, do you not? Oh clocks, here it comes. He's going to -'



Lu was apologizing before Artemis was through speaking, and she was already started before she could stop. She was still staring at her hands, her words rushed, a little nervous laugh preceding them. "Of course I understand if you decline. I was, I mean, I don't even know why I . . ." As his words finally registered, Tallulah looked up at her knight, eyes showing how excited she suddenly was.

In the midst of her enthusiasm, a little "oh!" escaped her lily white lips.

Artemis was looking at her with the oddest expression- it was the same apathetic mask he usually wore, only . . . not. Something about his eyes, his strange, beautiful eyes.

The shock, the excitement in her field, it all lasted maybe ten seconds before Tallulah had herself in check again. Price? Price. Tallulah wasn't really accustomed to the the dealings of such things. Of course she had to pay, she just didn't know . . . But that meant little.

"How about five shills per lesson? I'm not really sure . . ." She said this with a smile, despite her uncertainty. It was a fair amount. Yes. Fair indeed.

She was so... excited? Was he truly reading that fierce emotion which glimmered behind her eyes correctly? Usually so cold and distant, they now seemed to burn with a certain glee- a genuine, pleasant sort of surprise that he wouldn't exactly expect from someone who had just found that they would be spending more time with him then was necessary. Indeed, he'd expect quite the opposite- most would be quite dissatisfied with such an ill fate. Of course she had been the one to request his time, but still the emotion seemed out of place- too strong a response for such a simple acquiescence to such a mild- if out of place- request.

Perhaps he was simply reading too much into it. Still, he smiled an easy, crooked smile as he carried the game a bit further. "Mmm, five shills seems a little low for the kind of time you're requesting... make it eight and you've got a deal." it wasn't a whole lot more, but money was money and every cent would count. he waited silently for a counter-offer, smirking playfully, eyes glinting as they met hers.

Oh, Tallulah liked this game. Silly man, he would never win.

Scoffing, she lent forward, a competitive gleam in her red eyes, her slender hands reaching up to brush her bangs from her soft face. Completely collected once more, she was cold and distant, her eyes calculating but still kind. It was a game, after all. Just a game. She set her hands and forearms on Artemis's table, careful her elbows never made contact. "Eight shills? Hardly." Leaning back, she placed a hand to her chin, pretending to contemplate an appropriate price.

As Tallulah sat looking at Artemis, at the challenge set on his face, at the way his broad shoulders seemed so proud, and the way his eyes were so distant, she realized why she was doing this. She wanted him. Well, not (maybe) him, per se, but rather the challenge he presented. The anomaly that was Artemis Diotrephes. The fact that he didn't bend to her will, the way he could look her in the eye and tell her "no." She liked it. Liked the way his hands were splayed so carelessly, how his lips curled just so in a smile that wasn't exactly vulgar, but had the potential. She liked him.

"I'll give you six." Tallulah crossed her arms in front of her slim torso, her brow cocked, a sly smile on her pale lips, her distant yet teasing visage wrapped tightly about her.