Author's Note: A "pas de deux" is a type of dance in ballet meant to showcase both the male and female dancer equally. The audience's focus moves from one to the other, before eventually, it seems the two become one. It is not an accident that the next two chapters mimic that form. "Et Trois" means "and three", a humorous reference to a third character it's impossible to ignore.

25 novembre 1794
Versailles, France

Dearest Journal-Friend,

I have heard that one may not die of a broken heart, but I do occasionally wonder if this is possible. A good amount of time has passed, and I am living in the villages not far from Versailles. Just as I was for most of the past year, I am still being held in disguise as a humble peasant woman and allowed to see as few as possible. My face is not typical, and I know that well. The only people who resemble me are related to me, and that puts them in danger. I never thought my face would be one that draws suspicion without meaning. 

I have done my part and been a cooperative and helpful guest, though I am dreadfully lonely. Yvonne can visit me from time to time, though I do not encourage this, and neither does my brother. She endangers her life by making the trip, though he insists he is concerned such visits threaten mine. I know this to be not so.

On many occasions, Michel has taken Yvonne as if she were his lover, though there is no love involved. It is a duty she performs for the good of the household as if it were as meaningless as cleaning floors. This behaviour shocks and angers me still when I think of it. Yvonne said upon the last occasion, "My child, you will learn that for a woman, such duties are no more important nor distasteful than cleaning floors. It is easy to feel nothing for what passes between a man and a woman. It is mostly nothing."

I do not believe this. I think that what happens between men and women can be beautiful and the thing that is a kind of consolation within such a dreadful world. I see it in the way the village peasants behave with one another. Why is it those who have the least can feel love the most and have no shame in expressing it? 

Those who have lived like my family, the type of love that goes on between men and women can be used as a weapon to destroy. They are careful to keep me isolated, and in good spirits, with needlework and reading and all the ink, I should want to write to my dear Journal-Friend. The news of the world, though, and politics, these are things never discussed if I enter the room and I do not understand. 

Once upon a time, it was said I not only had Maman's beauty but her wit. I am perhaps not learned but bright, and I can make sense of things such as politics. I understood it at first, yes, because when Arnauld and Marguerite went away, I was so desperately sad. I am better now, though, and merely lonely and eager for news of my future. Indeed I cannot live in this isolation for long, but there is a young man named Jacques who finds a long list of reasons to visit me. I flatter him more if he tells me of the world, though the hard part is showing little reaction. 

 I hear that those who are not dead or exiled live in all sorts of prisons. A whole world of people watches the days go by from comfortable and safe surrounding that hide the fact it is still imprisonment. The Dauphin, the second son of Roi Louis, suffers. I cannot forget that Maman secretly hoped I should wed though he is only a child nearly seven years younger than myself. His emotional state has been so affected by everything that the Dauphin is mute and behaves as a dying child might. There are whispers he endures torture, but no one knows what is right in the world these days.

He was not meant to be a Dauphin, and it is no fault of a second son when the eldest dies. But it is much responsibility, and people know he was forced to speak horrendous things about la Reine Marie-Antoinette and the Madame Elisabeth. Though all knew they were lies, they hurt him so profoundly he does not talk, and there are whispers he shall not live another year. There is no illness to explain this and no mistreatment, though Jacques tells me many hints about how the Dauphin and Madame Royale show scars from beatings and even worse things besides. 

It is simply possible to die because it is too hard to live with the weight of one's conscience and the loss of everything. 

I sometimes fear I have no conscience, for I do not spend my days in regret and loss. I cannot. I did not come this far not to survive the next part of my journey. I have anger, though, so much violence. I know I am better than most. I am kept safe and treated well and offered a glimpse into a life I might have had if only I were born differently. 

Life would be so simple if I were a peasant. Even Maman admired the women for their strength, something many of us lack. I think sometimes, and it appeals to me. It especially appeals to me when Jacques brings flowers to brighten my room. It is nice to see someone appreciate the beauty in something as humble as a flower, and for a moment, I forget I live within a time of war and danger. 

Your anxiously unknowing, but patient, 

Eleni

31 Octobre 2015
Aubrey Parish, Louisiana

Having spent the day exploring the town, Eleni noted the pleasant drizzle was becoming more and more aggressive. She let the wind rage at her, clad only in her black silk and lace summer dress and matching heels, somehow propelling her all the way back to the hotel. She felt like Mary Poppins without an umbrella.

She'd learned a thing or two about Aubrey Parish. She learned waking up to the sound of the perky Alisaundra and Ali's infamously talented alcoholic lover in the room next door was not pleasant at 7 AM. It was not amusing at 9 AM. By 10 AM, someone had to go, and Eleni was happy to dash out of the hotel. At night, it had the old-world charm of a time that had passed by without aging anything about it. It was even romantic. Like Blanche du Bois standing near her paper lanterns, the daylight tore away the illusion and the building was just a building. It was old, run-down, forgotten like the rest of the town.

The sun had not come out since Eleni had arrived, and she asked a random stranger about the weather. Although it wasn't so far from New Orleans, the placement of the Parish left it cloudy about 335 days of the year. It was also almost tropical, with temperatures and humidity off the charts nine months of every year. The idea that Eleni had moved into a tropical rainforest wasn't so unappealing. She, and others like her, could walk about in the middle of the day without having to make an excuse to retreat to a dark room until evening.

The Parish itself was an interesting enough location for anyone to choose to build a home, much less a town.  While exploring, Eleni noticed that if she travelled far enough in any direction, she hit a body of water. The exception was the area to the North. That was where the barely-paved dirt road, the "Welcome To Aubrey Parish" sign, and the strange gate that announced "No Vehicles Beyond This Point" was located. Just outside the gate, an area had been made to illustrate the point. An odd assortment of old trucks, shiny sedans, and motorcycles was parked, waiting for adventure. There was even a Vespa or two.

The only vehicles that travelled the road were emergency vehicles, and one strangely conspicuous black car parked in the back of a large red building. The lack of traffic was good news for Eleni, who could run extraordinarily fast if nothing was in her way. It must have been a prevailing sentiment since foot-traffic and bicycles were what took people around the Parish.

Coming into the Parish, the northern part of the main road shone brightly with small shops selling goods and services newcomers might want. Eleni passed a tailor, a hair salon, a grocery, and other things she would make a note of for later. There was even a second-hand shop, the finding of which delighted her. Eleni loved hunting for treasure.

On the corner stood a large building outlined with outdoor lights and a patio. It quickly caught Eleni's attention, as it did for most new arrivals. Mudbugs was the first place that looked like a welcoming spot to have a drink, a meal, or ask for directions. Next to Mudbugs, a large tattoo and piercing parlour that always drew a smaller crowd flashed a neon sign. Eleni noticed many of the residents of the Parish had tattoos, but from the looks of things, she surmised the popularity came from something more colourful than ink.

To Eleni's right, she saw the street with the hotel, a jeweler, a music store, and many other things to explore. To the left, it looked mostly residential, homes and condominium designed in a modern upscale way that slightly differed from the rest of the Parish. There was also a large red building, ostentatious and garish for some reason.

Next to it, a row of neon blinked. There was the palm of a fortune teller, the typical cheap beer of the pool hall, and quite a few places that almost reminded her of New Orleans. Aubrey Parish wasn't as conservative as she thought, but Eleni wasn't here for those kind of distractions. One little shop even touted "homemade beignets".

Running to the South, she'd found a poor but clean neighbourhood that was home to a library, a police station, a small hospital, a church, and a veterinarian. Almost hidden from view, an unattractive building that warned "Aubrey Parish Jail" had startled her. Eleni chose not to dawdle there and ran back to the middle of the city.

The pride and joy of Aubrey Parish was the large area in the centre of things. It was a town square, but also had spaces for a park with a human-made pond, a gazebo, a cemetery, and a small playground for children. Everything people genuinely needed to build a bubble in which they'd never really have to leave was located in the Parish. Although people did go, it wasn't too frequent for residents to take trips to a nearby town for anything. There was no need, and the nearest large city was a good two hours away.  It fascinated Eleni to note that people lived so differently in the four quadrants of the Parish. A blue and red manor house dotted each quadrant, looking at least a century old, perhaps two. Each manor was exactly alike, though a few peeks told her they were different in decor.

She made a mental note to ask about the four old and unoccupied houses as she ran back to the hotel, energy finally running low. Eleni looked forward to a quiet night in the strange old boarding house, a place reminiscent of another era. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it felt comfortable. Eleni knew many others found it spooky. For Eleni, it was reassuring to be there at night.

She'd enjoyed the freedom of running around in the daytime as she never had before, wearing light fabrics and taking her shoes off when her feet found the sand. As soon as her large oceanic eyes settled upon the hotel, she made a beeline for the parlour.  Her heart and mind both set upon reflection, she sat at the small antique desk in a pristine way that suggested she was always impeccably put-together. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course.

Eleni had been out of her element and not quite herself from the moment the limousine pulled up to the gates of the strange city, although no one would ever know of her discomfort. As always, Eleni adapted to change without so much as blinking at the sudden way in which the course of her life now altered.  At the very least, this was the impression she wished to create. Eleni was beautiful, yes, but also energetic and full of confidence. She carried herself in a way that was nothing short of regal, even in the quietest of movements. In Eleni's world, impressions were not everything, but they were worth a great deal.

Eleni had arrived at the gates of the Parish only a week earlier, her presence anything but low-key. It was a day she'd never forget, the day Eleni chose to abandon a comfortable and fast-paced life in New Orleans for the peace she hoped she would find in the anonymity of the Parish so small it had one city. Pierre had sent himself in a limousine with all the amenities, only to have much of his spacious area for stretching out and drinking while glued to his mobile phone filled with Eleni's belongings. It was a tense ride. Eleni didn't know if she'd be in the small town for three weeks or three months, but she knew he would not be there when she returned. Eleni should have cared, but she didn't. She found even looking at her former lover distasteful.

Approaching Aubrey Parish, they learned it wasn't even on a map. It seemed nothing like the sort of place a socialite used to the finer comforts and the delightful company of the city would call home. No one would dream Eleni would spend more than a day in the small place. The closer they got, the more impossible cell service became. The driver stopped to ask directions and buy Eleni something called a Cheerwine. To her disappointment, it was not wine, and it was not that cheerful.

They finally saw the "Welcome To Aubrey Parish!" sign and drove toward the indicated small roads. Finally, a man with dark skin and an indistinguishable drawl of a Creole accent told Pierre he could go no farther in the car, and those in uniform came to gather most of Eleni's things. It was like Ritz-Carlton style bellhop service on an unpaved dirt road. Everything about it set off alarm bells in Eleni's mind and yet, she had no desire to back away. Eleni wanted a new life, one she'd never before chosen for herself. She'd gotten her wish, and this was it.

Shivers ran through Eleni as she recalled the large man speaking to Pierre, one sizeable muscled arm put up like a gate to stop the small Frenchman from proceeding. "Ain't no one comes in the Parish who leaves." White teeth showed from the man's flawless dark skin. "We got that charm on the city folk".

There was something ominous in the way the man spoke to Pierre, and they said their goodbyes at the limousine parked at the entrance to the small town. As Eleni leaned forward to hug him, he whispered, "Are you sure you want to do this, Eleonore? You've always been adventurous, but New Orleans loves you. It needs you."

Eleni noticed he did not say he loved her or needed her, and her dark blue eyes smiled sadly. Leaning in equally close, she murmured, "New Orleans shall wait. Half the town believes I killed my husband. The others call me a witch or try to find a way into my bed. To add insult to injury, the man I chose to be my companion loves my daughter. "

She looked at him pointedly. If looks could kill, the poor man wouldn't have stood a chance.

"Marguerite is in Paris now. She is a married woman with children. If you destroy her family, you will disappear so completely the world will forget you ever took a breath." Eleni's crimson smile did not fade, and they looked like lovers, parting sadly but necessarily. It was a beautiful scene from a 1940's film. Eleni was an exquisite woman, a classic figure perfectly crafted for an era of tragic heroines.

"Marguerite is an immortal, Eleni. They live by different rules. Understandings are commonplace. You know that better than anyone." Pierre's voice was calm, though his face had turned a few shades whiter at their goodbye. "I am sorry if I hurt you."

Her smile turned up in an amused half-laugh, and her lips moved even closer, the crimson-stained lips perilously close to his ear. There was something in her eyes simultaneously unfeeling and murderous. "One must care to be hurt, cheri. You, I shall forget quickly. My daughter's reputation and family that is something about which I care. She is immortal, yes, but noble and respectable. Do not forget my words. I have eyes everywhere."

With that, she kissed his cheek and moved off in the graceful manner of two lovers parting with great reluctance. It was the perfect scene, and it attracted attention, part of Eleni's plan. She even stopped to wave, miming the action of wiping a tear away. Eleni had always been a talented actress. Others would call her a manipulative seductress, or even a con artist---and a compelling one at that.

As the car pulled away toward the airport, she approached and spoke in a sweet tone to the man guarding the entrance. "Please, Monsieur. I am here alone. It is somewhat overwhelming." She gestured to the remaining contents of the car. When added to the others carried off, they were the contents of an entire home. Frustration welled up inside Eleni when she learned she couldn't just buy or rent a house. There weren't any available. She didn't know what to do with her life scattered on a dirt road, uncertain where she would sleep.

A small and overwhelmed face looked up from what appear to be tears. The tears were not real, but Eleni's sense of desperation was. She wonders silently if she'd made a mistake in leaving her life for this. Reckless choice or not, she was here now with a kind man beside her. There was clearly no world in which the man would have refused Eleni the help she needed, and he was rewarded with a grateful smile. Like many men, he was a sucker for the damsel in distress.

Seeing the unusual scene, a man clad in a military uniform came over to help with the relocation, not introducing himself but making chatty banter as if to cheer Eleni up. He stuttered a few times as he did and his eyes couldn't move away from her. He felt her presence more acutely than most, and Eleni noticed with a genuine smile. She needed a friend, and he looked like the sort who would make the transition easier on her.

Eleni's numerous trunks and furnishings, even a piano, were moved into a spare room in the hotel. Who else besides Eleni travelled with a piano? It was, though, an antique and she'd merely emptied a small guestroom from the New Orleans manor to serve as furnishings for her new adventure. Arriving at the hotel, she learned it was over-booked, and construction on new housing by the waterfront wouldn't finish for a little while. "Less ya like the swamps n' gaters. We got a few of those."

Eleni decided to wait. At least she had her things in storage, and they were relatively safe. That was when she had a proper introduction to the old hotel, and the cheerful, doll-like Alisaundra. In addition to Scott and Alisaundra, the third room belonged to a man no one ever saw. When Eleni told Kayla at the front desk that the other occupant never showed his fact and kept odd hours, the answer was a polite smile with a shrug. "We let people keep to their own business here. One of the reasons people keep on coming, miss. It can be a relief to be anonymous."

It was all tolerable until last night. That was when she met the man in the middle room, the one the love-struck Ali had been mooning and sighing over daily. It seemed Ali had finally gotten her over the past month or so and charmed her way into his bed, if not his heart. Ali was happy enough.

Eleni knew the man, Scott, as he had claimed. She'd yet to acknowledge the acquaintance, but she knew him at least well enough that neither of them was guaranteed the anonymity if the other spoke. Knowing one another would defeat the purpose of coming here, for both of them.

Eleni also knew the things of which he was capable, and to keep a wise distance. Part of her wanted to warn Alisaundra. Another part wanted to move Scott into the new beach cottage with her for the company. He wasn't the kind of company she'd openly keep, but Eleni hated to be alone for too long. A third, colder part of her didn't care and wanted to remove herself from the inevitable dramatics that would consume both of them.

Fortunately, today was the last day in the room with Alisaundra. She was ready to move, though it was a brilliant full moon, Halloween, and a thunderstorm raged outside. The winds started to pick up as the rain went from a pleasant drizzle to drenching torrent.

Eleni was going nowhere tonight.

Pulling out her journal, Eleni dated the page, beginning to write about the day's adventures. If she'd been the average person, she wouldn't have heard and felt the presence in the room and heat it radiated as quickly as she did. If Eleni had been anyone but Eleni, her reaction to the presence in the room wouldn't have pushed through her like waves at high tide unknowingly sweeping away sand castles.

Upstairs, Scott Feila stares out the window, watching the rhythmic patter of the rain. It is beautiful but unrelenting, much like the dark-haired woman who was the last person on Earth he expected to see. Of all the places in the world she could have gone, she chose a small place in the middle of nowhere.

She pretends she doesn't care, but she came here to see me, he tells himself with a vague smile. He takes a swig from one of many bottles of Jack Daniels littering the room. No one in Aubrey Parish knows what Scott does for a living but anyone with eyes can tell he chooses to spend his money on booze rather than the more respectable amenities of life.

"It looks like were going to be stuck in here together all night." A feminine voice giggles, the bubbly sound turning into a pair of soft lips pressed against his ear as her arms wrap around his waist. It is a seductive gesture, but his ears only hear the innocence and the inexperience of the girl attached to him.

In a swift movement, he grabs her arm roughly and wheels her around. Her eyes show a mixture of fear and desire. "You know, Alisaundra, you'll very quickly get tired of me at this rate. You're too good for me and I'm not that special."  Scott takes a swig from the bottle, putting it down so that his other hand can rest on her hp.

"You've been saying that for the past six weeks, but it hasn't happened. Do you want to get rid of me or something?" Alisaundra's pink-glossed lips fall into a pout. She saw the way he looked at the new woman who checked into the hotel. She definitely wasn't the first she saw Scott look at that way, but Ali didn't like it a bit.

"Don't be ridiculous. What man in his right mind would want to get rid of you?" His hand loosens his grip on her, eliciting a look of disappointment. "You're like a sweet little songbird, always cheerful and happy to do what I ask. I just don't want to hurt you. You're so young, too young to know I'm no prize."

Scott walks over to a chair in the corner of the room, taking the bottle in one hand and Alisaundra in the other. Sitting down and sinking into the worn leather,  he leans back contentedly, guiding the young woman on to his lap.

When she tries to sit, he pushes her gently so her head rests on his thigh. "On your stomach. I'm too old to follow through on every thought you put into my mind, but I enjoy the view while I recover." As she moves, his hand strokes her hair in an almost loving way.

Ali is acquiescent and sweet, but purposely teases him by wriggling provocatively as his hands caress her. He knows she needs to be shown love and affection. She needs it too much, something that will lead her into a world full of heartache. She is both a little sex kitten and a clingy lap cat, and not yet wise enough to know those things do not always mix. He worries the world will take advantage of her.

She is quiet for once, a sign she is content. "I think maybe nobody's ever loved you before. That's why you think you're always alone. You think you're not good enough and I'm going to, like, leave you for someone my own age. You make me happy. Boys my age are boys, not grown men. They don't know anything."

Scott's hands tremble slightly, but they softly gather Ali's cornsilk blonde hair and begin to braid it. He has turned into the most gentle and attentive man, content with whiskey and a beautiful woman in his lap. The detailed tattoos that cover the length of his arms are perhaps misleading. He's nowhere as strong or hardened as he'd like to be.

"I'll tell you a secret, Ali. I don't know shit, either. They say that with age comes wisdom, but fuck---that skipped me entirely. You've got it more together than I do. I'm alone because I want to be and I think I'm not good enough because I know who and what I am."

The bubbly laugh fills his ears, and she asks, "Are you doing my hair for me? It feels nice, though I don't usually wear it pulled back. I would not have, like, ever guessed you knew how to do that." Her hand reaches up to his. "I think you're sweet and you take care of me. I always feel good with you. Maybe you're alone because you never met the right company."

Scott sighs slightly, quietly enough that Ali can't hear. That kind of comment is why he will have to eventually break things off with Ali, no matter how much she pleases him. It's a hard thing to do. He doesn't look forward to that day, but he only has two choices. Letting her go is the one that is closest to love, an emotion Scott doesn't feel towards Ali, but wishes he did.

There aren't a lot of girls like Alisaundra, selfless and cooperative without saying a word. Scott knows it isn't pure selflessness that drives her to please him, even when he scares her. He also knows she's a little too young and a little to naive to understand him, much less herself.

He can see it in her eyes, the way that fear and adrenaline excites her. She doesn't know what masochism is yet, but she'll learn one day. Hopefully, she'll learn without needing to tattoo her entire body, he thinks with a wry smile. "There's a lot you don't know about me. I used to know a girl who taught me this. Some women are nothing like you. They are just---demanding souls."

Gently sitting Ali up on his lap, he wraps her legs around him, feeling his excitement grow as she winds her limbs around her body. "Every girl should wear their hair this way sometimes. It's very elegant and also practical. I've never met a man who doesn't like something to pull."

Scott's playful wink makes Ali burst out laughing. His body begins to move and her hands caress her into silent acquiescence, his finger moving to her lips each time she tries to utter anything that isn't a sound of pleasure.

She never notices he has done her hair so she looks like the light, innocent version of Eleni. The tall, dark-featured woman with the red lips is neither, but she still haunts him, even if he isn't so much as a passing memory for her.

Eleni sits in the hotel's living room, which doubles as a study. She knows she is not alone, but she refuses to give the man the satisfaction of her attention. Eleni remembers him, and that he had slighted her. Her indifference isn't real, but she tries rather hard to make it so. He clears his throat a few times, sounds that go unnoticed, When the sound of a book falling does genuinely startle her, she waves a hand to say hello. He would have to acknowledge her first.

"I've got to say, it's a good bit harder to get a beautiful woman's attention than it used to be." Eleni can feel a sense of confidence in the words, and she hates how the back of her throat immediately turns dry. She does smile at the man who says them before she turns.

As expected, she spies the good-looking man in military garb responsible for helping her move the other day. He isn't graceful in the way he throws himself on the couch. In fact, he is big, slightly oafish, handsome, and apparently in need of some dry clothes.

"Rough day, is it?" She smiles at him, her eyes amused but curious. Today was the third time she randomly encountered him. Each time, he'd left her with the pangs of unrequited attraction and a reminder that even in Aubrey Parish, even with the Masquerade, she'd still have to hunt. The way Eleni hunts is almost always pleasurable, at least for her, and it clicked almost immediately that she desired time with Marius.

For reasons Eleni doesn't know but keep her guessing, Marius flirts, but never crosses an invisible line or makes a move to which she can respond. His attraction is palpable, but he does nothing about it. It's not a timidity or submissiveness about his nature, he's just able to say no to the question between them that's never been asked, Eleni's mind and ego are both constantly whirling. It is not the way he is meant to respond to her.

She'd seen him once again today when she found the local pub called Mudbugs and decided to have a drink. Either he did not remember her or she wasn't the most exciting thing around, at least not to his eyes. He'd been engrossed in his phone most of the time, though he'd lazily bought her a drink.

There is a difference between chivalrous and interested, and the man is the former. It is indeed a pity he didn't find me charming, Eleni thinks with a little pang of injured pride. The slight today had allowed her to forget about him. She would still be intrigued if his response to her had been one of unabashed interest instead of formality. As it is, her curiosity about him is now mostly superficial. The initial charm of the man she'd encountered on moving day fades in the same way as most passing emotions in Eleni's world tend to drift away. Eleni likes people who like to admire Eleni.

The broad-shouldered man was relaxing in the parlour, flipping through his phone. He didn't seem to be doing anything in particular on it, just fiddling. Perhaps it is a tick, much like people fiddle with a pen or a lighter when they're thinking. He did those things too, and neither was handy at the moment. He didn't hear the sound of footsteps walking across the room to him, but he is drawn out of his reverie when Eleni speaks from right behind him. A look of confusion crosses his features briefly, and then recognition set in. "Oh, hi. Eleni, right? We met across town."

Her smile is returned by a faux-nonchalant and confused one. Did I really make so little of an impression, and how? I touched him. She reminds herself she'd done everything right. The man is a good-looking sort, though, at first glance, he doesn't give others the idea that he is the brightest guy in the Parish. Instead, there is a charming sense that he is frequently perplexed and unsure of what he should be doing in most social situations.

"Rough day? What do you mean?" This time, he gives Eleni a smile bright enough to light up a room and a wink of a light green eye. Eleni notices how the centres of his green eyes are brown. She thinks he is adorable, though uncertain why this attracts her. Men aren't meant to be called adorable.

Eleni inclines her head in greeting, a gesture she gives those she has no reason to dislike or disrespect. It is a tiny bow of the head, enough to be polite but not to show subservience to anyone. "Eleni, yes. And you are Marius, the carrier of luggage with the old-fashioned name". Her lips curl up teasingly. "Ah, I meant you were sitting here so peacefully. It was like unwinding at the end of the day. I debated whether or not to disturb when I recognised your face".

For some unknown reason, Eleni's mind stutters as if she didn't know what to say. She could feel his awkwardness more acutely than he appeared to feel her charm.  Her lips part slightly and she can hear his heartbeat in the silent room.

"I am sorry that I mistook you for a servant earlier in the week. I mean, an employee. You were wearing that uniform and are very tall and strong. You should have corrected me, so I didn't make such a fool of myself." A lovely peal of laughter escapes Eleni's lips, but it is the nervous sort. "It's been hard here. Life is nothing like it is back home and I haven't a friend or anyone to rely upon. I hear that's how it is with most, though."

The Navy reaches up to peel off his glasses, folding them gently in his lap as he looks Eleni over, and then once again. It was hard for him not to look, and this does not escape Eleni's attention. It makes Eleni laugh a little in relief as she catches his eyes darting around her figure before settling on her lovely face.  Unlike most women, Eleni does not respond with a self-conscious blush. She is more than happy to see he is interested.

"You're not interrupting much. To tell you the truth, I'm finding myself a bit bored. Used to having something to do, somewhere to be. In the Navy, there was always something that needed doing. It's a little disorienting to go from that to this..." He makes a small gesture when he says 'this' as if speaking of Aubrey Parish as a whole.

His features soften suddenly as he looks at Eleni. In their strange chess match, she'd gained an advantage. She wishes she knew how.

"Dear lady, you could not make a fool of yourself if you tried. It was a pleasure to help a damsel in distress for once," he teases. "It also gave me an excuse to find you again today, Miss Eleni. I have been hoping I would do that. I didn't know you'd return the favour."

The statement elicits a tilt of the head from Eleni. "Finding me today wasn't some mistake? Are you certain that is so? You didn't seem very interested in a conversation or anything else about me, for that matter." She chuckles, and murmurs, "That loud Italian man just about talked my ear off trying to impress me. Sadly for him, shouting doesn't impress me. I have sensitive hearing, and it just hurts my ears."

Eleni had not had the pleasure of a conversation with Marius. Instead, she'd met Dino, a thin and wiry man from Brooklyn. He was a stereotype of every Mafia movie and television show ever created, from the accent to the fact that every fifth word was some conjugation of a curse word. There was a kind of rough charm about him, though not in the way he wanted Eleni to find him entertaining. He kept buying her drinks, but his hand also kept moving to rest on her thigh until Chance glared at him.

Chance wasn't just the bartender. He owned the place, a simple dive bar that had been made classier with a few alterations and a gourmet chef. Chance called it Mudbugs, though Eleni thought that was a terrible name. Chance's whole world was Mudbugs, his pride and joy. Although he kept getting offers to buy him out, so far, there had not been enough power or money in the world.

At nearly seven feet tall and 260 pounds of pure muscle, Chance didn't tell anyone anything twice. He took an instant liking to Eleni and the gentle, refined manner she had up until the moment someone insulted her. Then, she turned into a feisty little thing that was terrifying to behold. Chance didn't have to stand up for Eleni or keep watch over her, but protecting her seemed to bring a smile to his face.

Sometimes a look was enough, and one look from Chance kept Dino's hands off of Eleni while they chatted. Still, it was no thanks to the Marine or Army soldier or--Navy. Marius had said he was with the Navy. "You were too busy with your phone to help rescue the damsel today." She raises an eyebrow almost pointedly.

His face looks stunned. It was as if she'd slapped him. "Miss Eleni, I take you for the kind who can handle her own rescuin'." Marius offers this indignantly. She'd hit a nerve, and he lapses into a country accent before recovering. "I also take you for the kind who needs rescuin' more days than not. Still, I apologise if I seemed disinterested. It wasn't an accident, finding you again. Sometimes, life makes other plans." He taps the screen of his phone. The smile that would win over the coldest person in the Parish had returned, and little dimples were like bullets focusing on Eleni.

"Disorienting, yes. This place is that. It's the only reason I haven't taken this uniform off. It's the one thing that still feels..." He trails off and shrugs. Marius didn't have the right words to describe what he was thinking, and it didn't matter much in the end. "Well, no sense sitting around whining, I suppose. So what about you? I gathered from the conversation there at Chance's you're fairly new in town too? You staying here or just passing through?"

Eleni's charming expression lightens a bit and focuses curiously on Marius, lamenting that she can't help the way she responds like a fascinated schoolgirl. She is still sceptical but drawn to him. She wanders over to the other couch and takes a seat, her head tilted towards the man in a show of empathy. "It is funny, I spent my first night in this town sitting in this room, as well". The circumstances were different, but she didn't mention that. It was rather rude to admit she slept in the parlour because it was Alisaundra-free.

"There is a lot of idle time. I will say that. I suppose it is a place to find peace within yourself. Of course, you shall find a job, and meet friends. Then time will be less idle. I'd offer to help with that, if I thought my friendship should not be rejected." Eleni lowers her eyes to conceal a playful sparkle. After a second passes, she glances up at the man from darkened lashes. Her flawless eyes are highlighted with a sparkly grey eye shadow and outlined into the perfect smoky look.

Eleni is the kind of woman who values an impeccable appearance. She is rarely seen without full makeup, eye-catching jewellery, a tight but respectable dress, and pointed heels the already-tall woman does not need. The target of her attention is very apparently not immune to any of this. Colour creeps into his cheeks as she leans closer to him. "In fact, I would say you've already made a new friend, yes? At least, I should hope you will be good enough to consider me a new friend."

Marius grins, a smile locking his face into her mind, though he doesn't reply. His mouth opens as if to speak, but then closes again. He doesn't need to say a word for Eleni to understand he is not magically immune to her. Eleni knows the expression that passes over his face is not a thing to do with honour. The warmth she notices cascading from his body is a magnet that pulls her closer, and the cycle repeats.

He is the one, Eleni resolves with a smile. She knows already that she likes Marius a good deal and the unusual attraction is a bonus. Eleni would never hurt him, and she'd be certain he only remembered the enjoyable parts.

She files away the comment about the uniform. "The first few days are the hardest, or they have been for me. They feel empty, and lonely, even for those who love adventure." She swings her foot rhythmically as if a song is in her head.

"I had been, yes. They, fortunately, found a house for me to call my own. It is small but shall do. The hotel is quite overcrowded. I was sharing the purple room upstairs with another girl. She shall be happy to have her space!" Eleni's melodic laugh rings out, but she jolts unexpectedly, hearing the slam of the front door and the resulting creak.

In this town, everything reverberates in something of a creepy way, Eleni observes. The howling whispers of storms brewing are the least of her concerns.