"If I stayed here, something inside me would be lost forever—something I couldn't afford to lose. It was like a vague dream, a burning, unfulfilled desire. The kind of dream people have only when they're seventeen." - Haruki Murakami

20 auguste 1803
Roma, Italie

Dearest Journal-Friend,

The thing that has been a long time in deciding has been done. I shall be grateful for it to all be over, only if because there shall no longer the indignity of feeling like a piece of merchandise sold at market. It is hard to sit quietly while men you do not know are permitted to stare at you and someone else speaks of you as if you are not in the room at all.

Of course, there is the somewhat joyful part that follows. I do enjoy the chatter of getting to know someone over meals I pretend to eat and the endless walks where I am meant to talk about myself. It is a good thing many men desire women who shall not eat much and yet enjoy the taste of wine and cordials. I have realised that much of life is spent eating, and yet, I come from a country on the brink of starvation. No one in this city is truly that hungry.

My favourite outings are to the opera and ballet. Not only do I enjoy being shown off in my prettiest gowns and throwing flowers to the stage in appreciation of the performers, the music that means something and tells a story that has nothing to do with austere topics such as religion and politics. One man seemed surprised my face looked as if I were heartbroken when the woman in the opera died singing of love. He told me many present did not truly understand opera, it was a place to see others and to be seen by others, and that was the height of concern. I do not dislike that part, but who could watch something so beautiful as the performers upon that stage and not be transported from our dull and overly serious world?

I am arranged to marry the Duc Antonio Orsini at the end of this month's time, celebrating the arrival of Autumn. The timing is considered to be good luck It is nice that this time, I had a bit of a say in the matter and could meet the man before being sent to a new world for my wedding. Lucretia and the Cardinale introduced me to a number of eligible Catholic men who would make good matches. They all think I shall give them many children, which is of the utmost importance. The fact I am a widow who has already borne a child proves to them I am not barren nor frigid. These also appear to be qualities of the utmost importance. I have been fretting over what to do as a solution to that problem. My look is an unusual one. Maman, Odelie, and a girl in Versailles I never knew but gossip told me is a half-sister to me are the only people I have ever seen who look something like I do.

I told Lucretia of my dilemma, and she smiled and said not to worry. She encouraged me to choose the Duc Antonio, who is slightly my better in status, being the third eldest brother to the Italian King. It is unlikely he shall ever rule and has no aspirations to do so, which is a relief to me. Too much of my world has been taken from me because of fear and contempt over who might rule.

Being the fourth son in a family line also means Antonio is young, or at least of a suitable age for me, at thirty-one. I told Lucretia he was the one I wished to impress because of his handsome smile. It did not have that disgustingly lecherous quality in disguise I know all too well, but was easy and natural. The smile told me he had no more choice in these matters than I did, but he wished we would be friends.

I was still feeling most anxious for the wedding, and for what comes after. It was not for the reason new brides are usually anxious , of course, but worries over the ceremony itself, which must be held within a church. Even if I got through that, how could a man who is meant to know me in the most intimate of ways not see I am strange and different? Lucretia reassured me they never do. The only ones who suspect are the men who do not truly desire women at all but marry for pretense, and although they are often kind, they cannot be so easily deceived. She told me she knew I should be nervous about such things because I am newly made, and that is why Antonio was the right choice for me.

It was over after-dinner cordials that he told me I need not worry about anything at all. It did not occur to me there should be others like me in Rome, but there are, and he is one of them. He is thirty-one to everyone else, but his body has not aged past twenty. He told me it made him nervous too, and was a reason for putting off marriage so many years. Instead, he has the kind of reputation the kings and priests do not favour, and now, he must settle down and live as a responsible man.

He asked what it was that changed me, as most in my country were beheaded. This is the one thing I shall never speak of. I did show him the small, barely-noticeable mark upon my throat that shall never leave me, and he nodded in understanding and asked no more. For him, it was an influenza that left him too weak to survive, as he is neither large nor overly strong in constitution.

I told him I was greatly relieved to know his secret and to unburden my own, and now I have no doubts it is the right marriage for me. I asked if his kind of immortality meant he could not find me attractive, and he laughed and said that was a charming question and he could ask the same of me. It was not an answer, though. I truly do not know the answer. Am I meant to feel any kind of desire for my own kind, or do I simply notice when one is blessed with good-looks? I know so little of desire, anyhow. It is for the best that way, as I apparently am gifted in that way, and can send others into senseless states of being. I already know too well what it is when desire is too much, when it turns to anger and self-loathing and obsession.

I do not know much of what is normal, not in that regard. I sometimes believe I may have been born with a tainted soul, one that brings out only the most unnatural desires in others. Lucretia shakes her head and holds me close and tells me I need to find a lover who shall teach me things about desire and even love, because I must know those things are more than what I have seen n my life.

That idea makes me afraid. I do not wish to be hurt, nor do I wish to be anyone else's devil.

I have many questions, but in this world, we do not speak of such things. I suppose that is why everyone has so many more children than the French do.

I think of my children sometimes, hoping they are safe and well. Little Odelie is old enough now to already be a handful. I wonder if she is, or not. I wonder if she shall grow to look like me, only a better, more peaceful version of myself. It is hard that I shall not know these things.

I have started a new life with a new self, and yet, I know less about anything than ever before.

Your beloved and slightly anxious,

Eleni

There is annoyance in the rhythmic patter of footsteps and rushed breathing as Colton Ormond crosses the city to get to Mudbugs. Fortunately,  the rain has chosen to die down and the brief beam of sunlight that graces the city fades, the darker clouds again concealing the pinkish-purple strains of twilight. Although the sun did not set as early as it did in some parts of the country, it is still the beginning of November, when long days give way to Thanksgiving turkeys and Christmas trees.

Colton had just settled into his office and pulled off his yellow poncho and boots, getting ready to read about Japan. He couldn't imagine a world where everything was so crowded and even personal space was at a premium. Colton didn't think he'd like Japan, but pictures of pagodas and floating blossoms in water pulled him in. The annoyingly shrill sound of the old-fashioned telephone brought him back to Earth.

Within the course of less than an hour, hundreds of people had called to report they'd seen Keegan Draesia shoot Victor Zenkova in front of the Red Question. Both Colton and his secretary, a pretty but slightly empty-headed girl named Aimee, took countless statements from witnesses. It was the sort of thing that would pass for news in Aubrey Parish, if only Victor Zenkova wasn't already dead and Colton had some certainty the man was Victor Zenkova. Mira's words were still a puzzle, consisting of pieces that didn't fit anywhere within the picture. 

Brian, who had been entrusted with the simplest task and then told not do anything at all, suddenly had a man who hated Victor enough to shoot him after he was dead in the same room with a young socialite who was set to inherit the man's business ventures. That's gonna go real well, Colton smirks to himself as he crosses the park. He hopes Brian is still in one piece by the time Colton arrives. 

Mudbugs is starting to pick up the pace, customers flocking in for happy hour who will hopefully stay for an early dinner. The fact the chef and the owner are sitting at the bar with somber faces is no deterrent to cheerful smiles and hellos. Colton tries his best for congeniality, but mostly pushes his way through to where Brian is standing. 

"Seems like we got a little problem today. Then again, when don't we got a little problem 'round here?" Colton shakes his head and looks to Chance, saying, "I'll get a 7-Up if it's no trouble. A whole lot of long walks today means I'll sleep well tonight."  Colton surveys the others, not looking particularly alarmed. "Anyone mind tellin' me why my phone's been ringin' itself off the hook to tell me how a man gets himself shot when he's already dead?"

Chance fills a glass with crushed ice, and answers. "We only got Sprite. Sprite okay?" Chance is better at glaring than conversing in his bar, and doesn't wait for Colton to answer him. The Sheriff is getting a Sprite. 

Brian straightens up, pulling out a notepad and reading from it without saying hello. Colton keeps meaning to talk to Brian about how greetings and small talk are an essential part of the job, but the apple didn't fall too far from the tree on that one. Colton never sees the point in sharing meaningless pleasantries. "Little after 4 PM this afternoon, multiple witnesses saw Keegan Draesia approach the body of Victor Zenkova. According to Mr. Draesia, he made a few statements to the deceased before kicking the body in the head and opening fire. He shot Mr. Zenkova six times before walking here, placin' his weapon on the bar, and confessing to the crime. I separated the young man from this young woman, who was unaware Mr. Zenkova had passed. These two were havin' a small bit of trouble getting along peacefully but everyone's calmed down now." 

Colton takes the Sprite, and nods to Chance. "Sure. Sprite, 7-Up, same difference." It wasn't. Colton wondered what happened to 7-Up. It was a popular drink that just kind of disappeared. Downing a healthy swig of Sprite, the Sheriff turns to Keegan. "Son, we've known you and your family in this Parish for as long as I can remember. You've never been no trouble to anyone. What possesses you to take out a gun and shoot a man that's already dead? It isn't like he was comin' back anytime soon." 

Keegan still sits perfectly still, his face and body pale and his posture somewhat tired. He looks like a man who is resigned to his face. "You know why. It was for Ava. Doesn't she deserve peace and justice too? I saw him there and all I could think was how he took away the most beautiful part of my life and never paid a day for it. He never even said he was sorry."  A spark of anger lights up Keegan's eyes. "It made Ava happy and now she's resting easier tonight. I had to do something. I wasn't man enough to do anything when he was alive, and you all did nothing at all. It's like she didn't even matter. She mattered to me." White hands move to his eyes to wipe away the tears that gather there. 

Colton's eyes close, brow furrowed like he has a headache. It's hard not to feel like he failed the young man, who always wanted some sense of closure. "Son, I understand that. I really do. She did matter to a lot of people, but what justice really means is that people aren't guilty of crimes until we can prove it. I'm real sorry we never could find out what happened to Miss Ava. If Victor had somethin' to do with that, he's gone now and maybe that's a kind of closure." 

Keegan doesn't reply, just sits mutely. Colton can see the resentment in the boy's eyes. Keegan had been so young when he lost Ava, young enough to believe the world was a fair and just kind of place that treated everyone the same. Seven years later, Colton is sitting with a man who hadn't just lost a loved one but had lost that belief and that innocence. It was hard to think anything but the fact he'd failed them both, Ava and Keegan. "What you can't do is go around shootin' people, alive or dead. What you did is a crime in the state of Louisiana, so that means I'm gonna have to take you back with me tonight. I'm hopin' we get everything sorted away and make sure that firearm legally belongs to you and no one else out there got hurt by it. Long as that didn't happen, you'll be back home tomorrow or the next. I'll tell your daddy what happened so he can come visit you." 

 Colton pulls out his handcuffs, and Chance steps forward. He always looks a little like a giant Papa Bear defending his cubs. "That really necessary? I don't want no trouble but can't say the boy really did much in the way of criminal activity. Hell, who don't fire a gun 'round here now and then? I'll take responsibility for him, anyhow. He works for me and rents the upstairs apartment. Plus, I know his daddy, who'd whoop his ass for runnin' anywhere. Harder to get past me than them jail guards anyhow." 

It is the longest statement Chance has ever made in the many years Colton has known him. Chance is a sensible man, the kind who has no time for nonsense and puts people in their place. He doesn't say much but what he says is usually important. Chance obviously hasn't won Brian over, because the Deputy is glaring at Chance's choice of words. 

Colton pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes a swig of Sprite.  "Who's the girl, and what'd she do?" His eyes move towards Eleni cautiously. She stands up and inclines her head softly, offering the well-manicured fingertips in greeting. "People call me Eleni. It's a pleasure to meet you. I arrived here from New Orleans a week or so ago, and have heard the town had a Sheriff. It's lovely to put a face with the name." 

Chance interrupts before there's any more time for Eleni's elaborate introduction and she ends up gluing herself to the Sheriff.  "She didn't do nothin'. She was in here with me most of the day, and had some words with my chef. They're gonna learn to get along, though. She's my responsibility too." 

Colton lets out a sigh. "Sounds like you got an awful lot of responsibility on your hands right now." He sips his Sprite, seemingly considering the situation. "Tell you what's gonna happen. We can use one of them ankle bracelets to make sure the boy doesn't leave this building. He lives here, he works here, he ain't got no call to go anywhere else for the time bein' until this is sorted out. Dischargin' a weapon in a crowd, desecration of a corpse, and tamperin' with evidence are all crimes here. Misdemeanours, though, and nothin' we can't settle. We gotta check out the gun and statements from witnesses. He does anythin' else or can't follow rules, we gotta take him to the jail and you with him. Sound fair?" Colton's eyes look from Chance to Keegan, who is still as pale and still as an alabaster statue. 

Keegan asks, his voice tired and weak and almost indifferent, "So I'm not going to jail?" His eyes move around Mudbugs, the expression on his face completely dazed and confused.  They move across Eleni, and the sight of her earns a glare. Instead, his gaze lands on Chance, who is the safest person to look at right now. 

Chance nods, and says to Colton, "What about the girl?" 

Colton shakes his head. "Not right now, son. I'm not takin' you to the jail but I'm comin' back to put a monitor on you. It calls me anytime you leave this building, so do not go leavin' this building, okay? That's literally the only thing you got to do, stay here. You can have visitors, you can go to work, but you can't leave Mudbugs. It's called "house arrest". Got it?" 

A chuckle escapes his lips as he looks over to Brian, who is looking at Eleni approximately once a minute. He is trying to be subtle and failing in the most obvious of ways. Colton thought the girl was a handful, the kind who was representative of why Colton thought it safer to live his life as a bachelor. No kids, no alimony. He also thinks she's not guilty of much except preying on men twice her age with money and power. She wouldn't have any use for Brian, but he didn't know that. "If she didn't do nothin', probably best to send her home. Brian will walk her to wherever she's stayin'. She work for you too?" 

Chance pours himself a glass of amber liquid that is clearly not Sprite, passing another to Eleni. She behaves as if she's attending a social event and not being questioned by the police, a fact that makes Colton's head shake. Chance's voice is still terse, but friendly enough. "Naw, she don't work here. Not as of yet, anyhow. It would be nice to have a pretty young thing tendin' the bar here with me. Family friend who's new to town." 

Colton's attention turns back to Eleni, and he smiles, though her hand has been long ignored and withdrawn. "New Orleans, hmm? Yeah, we get a lot of visitors from up that way. You don't happen to know the Avati family, do you? Or people by the name of the Cavinas?" 

Eleni bristles a bit as her introduction is ignored, but her trademark friendly smile doesn't move from her lips. "I'm sorry, I can't say I've had the pleasure. It was my husband, may he rest in peace, who knew the entire city. He was a politician, so I suppose that comes with the job." Her dark blue orbs have a softness when they look at Chance, and then towards the Deputy, who keeps glancing to see that she's okay. 

Colton nods, and returns a light smile in Eleni's direction. "It's a small world, so it never hurts to ask. Welcome to the Parish. I'm sorry you arrived to such a difficult situation. Victor's death must be a shock to you. I'm sorry for that." 

Eleni's expression changes little, but the soft incline of her head returns, as if she's thanking Colton for his sympathy. "You know I knew Victor?" There is a world of surprise in Eleni's voice. "Well, it is and it isn't. I'm starting to figure out there was a lot I didn't know about him.." Eleni pauses, before she murmurs softly. "I'm afraid he thought our friendship was something more than I thought it was. I am sorry for him and his family, though." Eleni's hand moves to sip the amber liquid from the glass, long eyelashes fluttering in a kind of pleasure. 

Colton nods, her words confirming what he already thought about the girl. "Stick with Chance and he'll help you get settled, keep you away from the kind of company ain't befittin' a proper lady. It helps to have friends when you come to town. Right now, probably best that you let Brian walk you home so we can deal with this young man."  

Brian's face seems to snap out of a daydream when Colton says his name, and he has the look on his face of someone caught sleeping in class. "Brian, you walk Miss Eleni home, and then yourself. Make sure both of you stay home, have dinner, watch the TV, get some rest. Today's a long day for everyone. This Parish is gonna have an 8 PM curfew so nothin' else goes down tonight. " 

As he walks out of Mudbugs with Eleni, Brian hears the words that drift behind him, his eyes lowered to the ground in case Eleni is able to hear them too. Putting a finger to her lips, she moves behind the side of the building, motioning for Brian to join her. He opens his mouth to say something, which is quickly met by a hand in front of his face. Eleni shakes her head no. Brian hears the familiar voices of Colton and Chance, talking quietly among themselves. As luck would have it, they weren't talking quietly enough.

Colton laughs, a smirk sounding deep in his voice. "I'd be careful if I was you. That girl is the the kind of trouble men see comin' miles down the road and still don't know to get out of the way. Your chef don't like her a bit, it's plain as day on his face." 

"He don't gotta like her. The two of 'em just gotta act like grown-ups. They fight and glare like brother an' sister, so I ain't so worried." Chance's glass made a loud "clink" against the bar. "I like her. Customers like her. They been comin' in just to see her. She classes the place up. Gotta keep an eye on the men, though. The bat seems to keep 'em in line 'round her. I dunno, that boy of yours might need some watchin'" Amusement is in Chance's voice, a rare thing. 

Colton's laugh echoes. "That's kind of what I'm talkin' about, Chance. That one, she's got some daddy issues or somethin'. Likes her men a few decades older and a lot more money than poor Brian's got. He'll talk her ear off and end up preachin' her to sleep, and she'll make him go runnin' the minute she gets close enough to crowd out the Holy Ghost.  I'm not the slightest worried about the pair of them. It's more you I'm lookin' out for."

"You ain't got to worry 'bout me, neither. I ain't got no money. Besides, I dunno how to see her like that. It's like the same way Keegan is to me, a child needin' to grow up. Anythin' else feels real wrong so I wouldn't even start suggestin' that. Just because she's lookin' like a woman to you..." 

"Okay, okay. We're not even goin' that direction, old man. I sent the girl with Brian for a reason.  Maybe she gets a sermon on the evils of pride and lust that gets her meetin' a nice boy her own age.  Question is, what's happenin' with the one at the bar? He's mostly a zombie."

"You know what he says is truth. Ain't never been no justice for that poor girl. Time don't make it easy. He's still cryin' himself to sleep every night. Lot of that boy died with her." 

"Not a single piece of hard evidence says the Russian killed that girl. Coroner and DNA reports, but ain't nothin' that kid ever needs to hear about. I'll be damned if even her body didn't up and walk away." 

"Ain't no doubt in my mind. There never was no justice for that poor girl. Ain't no justice for how many others over the years. Let the kid get on with his grievin' the best he knows how. I ain't got no idea how gettin' over that comes to pass."

"I ain't sure it ever does, old man. We all got someone to mourn. What some of these kids see, though, it's rough. I went to sleep cryin' a time or two myself. Ava, that one hit hard. I'd want to shoot the bastard who did it, too."

 "In his mind, he done right by her. He made her happy. Let him have that much. Teach him a good lesson 'bout the gun, but... " The sound of Chance's voice is replaced by the refill of a glass. "That beam of sunshine made him happier than I seen in years. Let him have that." 

There is a moment of silence as Eleni and Brian run down the path away from Mudbugs, heading toward the park. They both stifle giggles as they go. Darkness has settled over the Parish and the rain stopped its daily assault. Brian's face is the colour of a stop sign, which makes him grateful Eleni can't see him so well in the dark.

Finally, Eleni clears her throat a little. In her lilting, playful tone, she remarks, "That was not at all awkward and embarrassing, not a bit." She laughs merrily, seeming to have shrugged off the comments. If they bother her, she hides it well. He supposes it is for his sake. "Someone should tell them both that age makes people talk far louder than necessary." 

Eleni's giggle makes Brian feel a little more relaxed, and he finally looks over at her. "I didn't mean to keep...you know, I wasn't staring at you. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I'm sorry if I did that." The look on his face in genuinely chagrined. "It's just, well, I know who you are. I was in school in New Orleans for a while, until I had to come back. I never met you but I always thought I wanted to when I'd see your picture in the paper." 

Eleni shoots a curious look at this statement, her eyebrow raising. "You know me from New Orleans? It does not seem like our worlds would have intersected much, but as I told your boss, my husband knew everyone. Where did you go to school, and why on Earth did you come back here?" There is a small silence as the pair find the park, and she stops to face him. "You are incorrect about one thing, though. You were staring at me. It's alright, though. I am not uncomfortable. It rather makes me happy when others admire me." Nothing about Eleni's statement sounds grandiose or pretentious. There is a sort of a sincerity behind the unashamed lack of pride. 

Brian isn't sure what to say, so he ignores the comment. "You have to promise not to laugh, but I went to the seminary. I was studying to become a priest." He chuckles nervously, and looks at the ground. "I am not the sort of person who should admire women, not like that. I hope you'll forgive me my momentary weakness. I came here because I was born here. My mom, she got real sick when I was away. My dreams can wait. Hers can't." 

The sad note in Brian's voice touches Eleni, and she stops again, this time to place her hand on his. He can almost feel the waves of understanding and empathy that radiate from her to him, and his lips still as if they are breathless. "I'm very sorry about your mother. I lost both my parents at sixteen. I wish I could say it gets easier, but I can only say I understand." She lets go of his hand, but he finds himself staring again, noticing the way the moon glints against the deep blue of her eyes. It is like a sky over an endless ocean and for one moment, the force of beauty trumps the sadness of loss. 

"You really do, don't you? You are...I don't know, different. I can feel your emotions like they're jumping out of your body so I know you're sincere. Not many people are like that." He stares at the ground a moment, and exclaims, "Oh! You didn't tell me which way. Where is home?" 

"I am a little different, yes. Isn't that why you wanted to meet me? The world is full of many pretty girls, and a priest wouldn't be very distracted by any of them. So why did you want to meet me?" There is an almost carefree manner in Eleni's step, perhaps the strangest reaction to the events of the day. "Home is the new set of cottages by the water. Well, one of them anyhow. I just thought since we didn't get to have our drink, a walk in the park was an alternative. Come on! We'll sit in the gazebo." 

He watches the way her body moves toward the pretty structure, almost at home among the flowers and the calm night sky. An almost-terror grips his heart as he moves toward the gazebo, and forgets to breathe. Talking to a pretty girl under the night sky on a gazebo was panic attack inducing. At the same time, he doesn't really want to tell her no, so he follows her. "As long as you feel comfortable. I mean, I don't want for it to seem improper that this place is--well, private." 

The night echoes with the little bell of Eleni's laugh. "Improper? There's nothing improper about a gazebo in a very public park. If I wished to be improper, I should ask you back to my home for that drink you promised me." She grins, and watches as he sits on a wooden bench across from her. Shaking her head, she gets up soundlessly, sitting beside him. "They weren't exaggerating, were they? You are truly the safest man to be around in the Parish." 

Brian carefully avoids her gaze, studying his shoes. "I try to be a gentleman. There's that whole poverty, chastity, and obedience thing, so I think that makes me pretty safe. " He feels a little like he is choking the words out, the tightness in his chest making it hard to look at her. It was easy when he thought she didn't know. Now, it was a kind of humiliation. "I'm not really used to sitting this close to women. You smell sweet, like roses, although it's not summer." Brian edges away slightly. "I wanted to talk to you earlier about Victor Zenkova, to let you know what happened. I'm sorry you had to find out in such a harsh way. I wanted it to be gentler. I didn't want you hurting. " 

She shakes her head, and murmurs, "Truly, it is alright. I am not so delicate a woman as all of that. I have heard bad news in different ways, more times than I care to count. I appreciate your kindness, but do not worry over me. I should worry for Victor and his friends and family." 

Brian's eyes finally lift, looking into Eleni's. "It isn't true, then? People said you were planning to marry him." There is almost a light, a sense of relief upon his face. He gives a silent prayer of thanks  that he is not, in fact, baring his soul to a devil. Perhaps he just likes knowing she wouldn't unite her life with someone as evil as Victor Zenkova had been. Either way, he feels a sudden lightness that makes him want to reach out to her.

She shakes her head, pulling the ruby and diamond ring from her hand, examining it thoughfully. "I came here because I am a widow, one still young enough to need to figure out what to do next. I believe when Victor met me, he saw an opportunity, a potential asset to his business. It quickly turned to admiration. He gave me this, and told me one day, when I would allow him to do so, he should make an honest woman of me. It was a charming gesture, a sort of flirtation, perhaps a ploy to seduce me. I do not honestly know." Eleni's smile, even in the darkness, shows him a sense of loss and regret. He finds himself leaning in closer as she speaks, the volume of her voice having lowered significantly. Had it really? He wasn't sure anymore. 

"I do know I cannot take men like that so seriously. They say all sorts of pretty words and toss about gifts of affection to every woman they wish to make a mistress. Perhaps, being so sheltered, you do not know that about men. It is a wonderful thing you do not. Many men are not as honourable, and will spare no expense to acquire what they most desire. Once obtained, the desire is as if it never existed." Eleni slides the ring back on the third finger of her hand, and his head spins trying to decode her words. They mean something more than his mind understands. 

"Desire is a very strange thing, mon petit cheri. The most passionate of people are those who keep their desires unfulfilled until consumed by longing. Victor Zenkova wished to be that sort of man. I believe I showed him a bit of happiness in teaching him how." 

Brian feels as if he's been pulled into some web, one where the rational side of being ceases to exist. "I want to know what it's like, too, sometimes. I have wanted to learn to be that sort of man." The confession is whispered so quietly, he can almost pretend he uttered the words in his head. 

Eleni's eyes fix on him with an almost sympathetic look, her fingers grazing his in a way that makes him conscious of every hair on his body standing up suddenly.  "I know." Her answer is a simple one, not seductive or inviting, but he can't stop wishing it were. 

Brian manages to break out of the web, and stammers, "You--you are a person who underestimates herself. Victor held you in higher esteem than to think of you as a conquest or a mistress. How could anyone think you were only that? He would have married you." 

With an easy motion, Eleni undoes the perfect messy French braid. He stares as onyx-coloured locks cascade past her shoulders, resting against the moonlit flesh that Brian suddenly had an urge to reach out and touch, before he corrected himself. "Why do you think that?" Eleni's face looks curious, and a beguiling smile pushes her lips upward. "We should play a game together, yes? You tell me your secret, and I shall tell you mine."

There is a petrified look on Brian's face, because he has no idea what that means. He does know he is strong enough to resist any sort of temptation put on God's Earth, and that includes Eleni and whatever magnetic pull she holds. "It isn't a secret. I was supposed to tell you and then--well, I was supposed to wait to tell you.." He pauses, almost in expectation, and inhales sharply when Eleni's hand entwines with his own. 

"I--know that he was going to marry you, in the for real way. You weren't just a girl to him. He changed his will, so that you'd get some things from him. He wanted to take care of you, maybe. He left you his business." 

Eleni's head tilts to the side, her eyes giving away nothing, but her fingers caressing the space between his own. Whatever he was feeling, it was not simply lust. It was a new kind of sin, one he didn't know how to atone for committing. The greatest sin was that he didn't want it to stop.  "His business?" Her voice is quiet and curious. 

"The Red Question. He wanted you to have the Red Question". 

For a moment, the expression on Eleni's face changes to one of disbelief, and then confusion. She has many questions, but know they are best suited for later. "It wasn't really-a secret. But I'd like it a lot if you would tell me yours. I would like to know you more."

Eleni laughs gently, drawing closer to him. "It is more something to show you, if you'll allow me to do such a thing. It is nothing sinful or bad, I promise. May I show you?" 

Brian's head simply nods, and she picks up his hand, bringing it to her lips. "Once, this is always how men made the acquaintance of new ladies, with a bow and a kiss on the hand." He can feel himself shaking slightly as she continues, raising each of his fingers to her lips. One by one, she simply touches his fingers lightly: with her own fingers, her lips, and as if to inflame a long-denied desire, the tip of her tongue.

"This is my secret," Eleni murmurs to the trembling young man. Brian is overwhelmed by her, the way she turns everything into the feeling of melting beneath her heat, despite the fact her touch is cool and comforting. As she tends to the other hand, she whispers, "The most passionate of people are those who keep their desires unfulfilled until consumed by longing. You wished to know what it was like to be that sort of man, without sin. Now you know, just a little. It feels like this."

Placing his hand down to his knee, she waits for the trembling to stop subsiding. The poor man looks ecstatic and terrified at the same time. "It makes me feel like..well, like there is more. I want to know more." 

Eleni laughs merrily, and shakes her head. "There is much more, but it is not suitable for men like yourself. I would not dream of defaming your reputation of being the safest person to escort  a lady home in all of the Parish!" He watches her, eyes blinking in a sort of awe as she braids her hair, and slides her shoes back on. 

"Eleni---"

Eleni's head lifts up, the corners of her smile lifting higher. "Yes, Brian?"  He blushes immediately at the eye contact. The sin he'd committed inside himself was one he was ashamed to let her see, even if that was her intention. 

"I just wanted to say thank you. I think--you are a good person. You are too good for men like Victor and places like the Red Question." 

Eleni's smile is warm and sincere, her lilting voice simply murmuring a "Thank you". She holds her hand out to him, and says, "Come along. Now you may escort me home, but you shall have to do it a second time if you wish to share a drink with me." Eleni winks, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. 

The young deputy walks with Eleni in silence, his head reeling. Somehow, one of the worst days had quickly and for almost no reason, become one of the best. He still feels breathless at the touch of her hand in his. It is a casual gesture for her, and he can see that in the ease with which she keeps their bodies connected. For him, it is something he hasn't done since the 8th grade, when holding hands stopped being innocent and started meaning something more.

The pair wind their way through the park, and along the waterfront. They speak little, but silence says everything. Finally, they come across Eleni's home, a place she has yet to see. "I have yet to even see what the movers have done! It's been quite a day, yes? Next time, I shall invite you in and show you about. And thank you very much, for the safe trip home. Your reputation is well-deserved. She winks in Brian's direction playfully, letting go of his hand to move away. 

Brian feels like he should do something or say something. He had no idea what the something is. "Eleni--"

Eleni turns, her toes digging into the sand as if she enjoys the feeling. "Yes?" 

"Is it alright if I kiss you good night?" 

Eleni's face is one of genuine shock, and she moves closer to him. He can feel the shape of her body and smell the roses that mark her presence, unprepared for the cool lips that press against his forehead like molten lava. "You are a very sweet young man, but I have a policy in life. I never wish to become anyone's great regret." Pulling away from him, she smiles, and his body aches with a sense of disappointment.

"Good night, Eleni." Brian watches her move in her elegant, snake-like manner, watching until she disappears behind the door. 

For approximately three hours that day, Brian Thibideaux forgot his life's ambition was to become a priest. Instead, he learned that passion was desire, unfulfilled. 

He walks away, wondering why his unfulfilled desire to be a man of the cloth had none of the passion he experienced in the moment Eleni disappeared behind her front door.