15. The One With The Dialogue
Opening the door to the apartment, I was greeted by a nervous Evgenia. Her uncharacteristic send-off made much more sense with the context that she knew she was being shifted into my House beforehand. As I tried to come inside, she bowed deferentially and then attempted to help me doff my jacket. As this wasn't a routine behavior, I stumbled uncomfortably with the limited space she left me, and she fumbled with the jacket, looking terribly ashamed afterward.
"What's this about, Ev?"
The raven-haired woman bowed her head and answered, "It would be unbecoming for the gracious patriarch of my house to deal with such trivialities."
I nodded to avoid saying anything, mostly to appease Ev and try to get inside the apartment. I was internally reeling, absolutely blindsided by the change in her behavior. She smelled even further afraid of me, which made me concerned about the drastic shift in demeanor. Combined with Bob's words, I had a conclusion I didn't like. Before, with the questionable contract, she could still appeal to someone else if she felt wronged. Now, even without the absolute control the contract provided, I was the one she would appeal to, and Aisling had given her to me in two different ways. There wasn't anyone she could petition. She was terrified of the potential overreach of authority I could enact and was looking to get ahead of it and reestablish herself as... useful?
It made me uncomfortable and was frankly painful to watch. Given what Bob had explained to me during the meeting, a few things became clear. Someone, at some point, had hurt Evgenia permanently. Given her confusing behavior whenever I entered a room and her apparent desire to always be visibly doing something, I assumed they were connected. Even when she didn't have any work to do, and there was no reason to invent work except for appearance's sake, she was shuffling papers or, like now, doing something that was actually prohibitive to my goals.
My blind guess was that someone had viciously reprimanded her in the past inconsistently. Based on Bob's vague hints, I could only imagine it was very shortly after she became a vampire, and was long before she came into his care. Her tendency to always be seen doing something, even if she didn't know what that something was supposed to be because I hadn't clearly requested anything, reminded me of my summertime jobs in high school. When the boss came around, you always wanted to be doing something, even if there wasn't anything that needed to be done, just to give the illusion that you were needed and to avoid any spontaneous reprimands. Being efficient was actually a negative because it looked the same to someone from the outside as being lazy instead.
Ev had regularly said she was going to the office to work on things, but I hadn't actually seen any results -- which was fine, given that the only actual request I had was open-ended and probably more suited for Cynthia or Antonin. She seemed like she was just inventing things for herself to do to please me because someone else had beaten the habit into her a long time ago.
"Ev, we need to sit down and talk about what this means. You don't need to treat me any differently--"
"But we aren't in the same situation anymore. I wouldn't dare treat you the same."
"I'm the same guy I was six hours ago, the same as I was yesterday. I don't need to be waited on hand and foot, especially by someone who has more to offer. Just, relax, for today. I need to talk to Sam and Beth about a lot of things, including you, and then I need to talk to you after I touch base with them. Because I already did need to before this and had been procrastinating it. Just, tomorrow. Will you be here tomorrow?"
"Yes, my liege."
I exhaled in exasperation, "No, none of that, please. Just 'James,' nothing more. Look, I don't mean to blow you off, and I appreciate your efforts, but I can't handle this right now."
"What should I do until we discuss our future?"
I sighed, feeling frustrated at how hard I just wanted to tell her to do whatever she wanted to while knowing that would be an utterly valueless suggestion given the circumstances.
"Do you have a replacement contract draft prepared?"
Her eyes lit up in excitement momentarily, before she scrunched her eyebrows in thought. "Will I still need one now that you're my benefactor?"
"Yes. Yes, absolutely, yes. Even if I'm your representative, for your work with me, you will need a contract for your own sake."
She nodded dutifully, "Alright, I'll work on getting that for you."
With that uncomfortable experience out of the way, I crashed into my bedroom and found Beth and Sam in pajamas, sitting on the edge of the bed, various beauty products spread around them. A video playing on a second laptop was explaining how to properly apply... something. I did a double take when Beth turned her face towards me because the nearer half of her face was completely clean, looking like the girl I had gotten to know after the first night, while the other, previously obscured, side had a mess of conflicting styles of makeup haphazardly applied in small sections.
Clearly, Sam had been spending more time exploring options for Beth, and she had been practicing applying and layering different products. Unfortunately, since each product and practice section was a small segment of Beth's face, she looked like a paint swatch. I giggled reflexively at the thought of Beth covered in tiny stripes of body paint, a human flag representing our new kingdom. She must've gotten some depiction of the idea from my mind because she burst out laughing a moment later, interrupting Sam as the redhead tried to brush a powder into a clean space on Beth's cheek.
Sam looked at the two of us in confusion, but I bypassed her to sit at the head of the bed, moving the pillows against the headboard to act as a backrest. Beth's laughter progressed into a full-on giggle fit, leaving her red-faced and out of breath. When she finally explained why the two of us had broken up, Sam just shrugged, the verbal explanation missing the visual to land the humor.
Sam started collecting her things to put them away, but I interrupted her, "You don't need to stop on my account. I'm not quite ready for bed physically, but I am mentally tired. I have a couple bombs to drop on the two of you tomorrow, after I've had a moment to digest them, but I'm perfectly content to sit here and enjoy listening to the two of you."
So they continued for another 90 minutes, practicing and refining Beth's ability to do her own makeup. They tried dozens of different things, finding exactly what kind of emphasis the petite woman would want for various events, how to reinforce certain emotional portrayals, and different formality levels. When they had used all of the space around Beth's eye while testing eye shadows and lash products, Sam was delighted to use her newfound magical resources to conjure gentle streams of water to wash the other girl's face. Their supply of disposable towelettes was quickly stained with the running makeup, but neither woman seemed to mind the growing pile of consumed toiletries.
It was interesting to see just how much Beth's face had changed even in only the week that I had known her. Her nose was no longer notched with a visible misset break, and the pocking from acne scars had completely evened out. It was also compelling to see that Sam's face had slightly changed, which altered my perception of the magic. I had assumed that Beth's glow-up was due to the years of malnutrition, poor care, and questionable hygiene being repaired and undone, but seeing Sam altered made me wonder. She wasn't changing anywhere near to the same degree, but her cheekbones were a hair higher, her cheeks were slightly leaner, and her lips were a touch fuller.
The most remarkable change for me personally was that the smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks had increased in density and visibility, popping brilliantly when the redhead blushed. I wasn't sure if Sam had noticed, but I didn't feel it was necessary to bring it up unless I saw something more significant or less pleasant develop. The changes were subtle; even in side-by-side photographs, you could miss them. I only noticed because I had spent years watching her, confused by why she alternated pushing me away and pulling me back as teenagers, committing her features to my memory forever. Falling asleep with her finally in my arms was one of the most satisfying conclusions I could've ever imagined.
~*~*~*~
Waking up chilled and uncovered was an abnormal experience. One that I certainly wasn't expecting when I had laid down to sleep with Beth and Sam together. I wasn't sure about who would be waking up first in the future -- I was reasonably consistent once I had a schedule set, Sam seemed to be a naturally early riser, and Beth's deep, nearly catatonic sleep would likely normalize once she caught up on the decades of restless nights -- but even if I was last, I would've expected to be left the sheets.
My thoughts were interrupted when my mind fully stretched out, and I took stock of my incorporeal bonds with my girlfriends. Beth was feeling mildly aroused, but mostly... philanthropic? Sharing, perhaps. Focused, certainly. Sam was feeling determined, attentive, and running as hot as a space shuttle during reentry. I couldn't tell exactly what she was focused on, as her connection was still less precise than Beth's, but she felt compelled to do something while Beth helped her.