My fingers drag up my arm as I push up the haphazardly rolled sleeves. Marisol leads me to her room, and I admire the heavy scent of expensive perfume. The woman seems to have learned to thrive in domestic life. How had the woman I met initially turned into this ray of warmth? But I suppose that when survival was on the line, you learned to adapt to what was needed. 

I prepare myself for whatever is to come, be it resentment or actual admissions for her feelings, but she proves to be genuine as she sits me in a chair in front of a large mirror. 

"Do you want a haircut?" 

My eyes meet hers in the glass, examining her face. She looks like someone trying to piece her life back together, just as I am. Her full upper lip is curved down as she concentrates on my overflowing abundance of hair. Running her fingers through it, testing its thickness, getting a measure of its length, she looks distracted.

"He likes it long, but do you like it? "

Cocking my head to the side, I focus on the assortment of products across the vanity table. The variety of colors and bottles, heights, and sizes.

 Was this her job? 

"Cut it." I agree quietly. "Do you like doing hair?"

Almost sheepishly, she nods. "It's a guilty pleasure of mine; Verando hardly ever lets me cut his hair, and I've already gotten Tyler to let me do him, so you're next. Helen, however, desperately needs a style, poor thing." She pulls lightly at the roots, seeming pleased with the quality of the mane I've brought her. 

"Red as velvet..." She sighs, shaking her head like I do when I think of that man. "Tyler is a good kid."

I nod, softening in my fondness for the young man. "He's unreal in how good he is. I didn't think there were still people like that."

She snickers, taking a comb and running it through the dense, unkempt mop of hair. I'm glad that I showered. "There are a few. You are pretty good." Her eyes flick up as she spots my expression in the mirror, offering a casual wink. "You saved a lot of people yesterday."

"It's my job." I remind her, but the praise is nice. I try to sit still as she combs, yet I feel as though I'm being put into a trance by the soothing nature of the task. "I'm not doing so well at it, I'm surviving, but I'm not thriving. I got Reid killed, I almost killed Helen... I don't deserve to sit here like this. As if nothing happened-"

Her comb pauses, and she whacks me on top of the head with the broad side of it. "Reid knew exactly what he was doing. People die, Nic. All the time, every day... all over the world. It sucks when it's people we know, but I think we are all just trying to do our best. Focus on the good that you're doing. You are changing lives."

Grasping a pair of scissors, she starts the process of shortening, and I shut my eyes tightly, unwilling to watch. "If it helps you to know, Verando isn't having an easy time either. I think he'd disappear into that city if he had his way, some days. After his appearances, he comes home so exhausted he can't eat; he plays the piano or sits around in a daze." 

I can't help but scoff because it sounds so normal to me— a brooding warlord feeling out of control and depressed.

"That's easy. You have to trade with him, food for things he wants. Information usually, or some sort of attention. When he can hunt, he eats more frequently." Her hands rest on my shoulders, and she gives them a gentle squeeze. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tell you how to run your house."

After a long moment, she begins trimming again at a slower pace. "It's not my house, Nic. I just- It's lovely to see. I spent a great deal of time trying to extract information from Verando, unpack him, and figure out what makes him tick. When I knew him, we were trying to survive. But you know him more intimately than I ever have. 

I know of him, I know it all, and he hates me for it." 

I've heard this warning before. The warning to stop digging, to accept who I have in front of me, and let his past be his past. 

"It's nice to see him look happy. It's nice to see him look scared. He is so damn angry."

I frown, "He's not angry, he's sad." I corrected her quickly. "Well. He can be angry, but he's just very sad. It consumes him sometimes."

"Are you sad?"

"Yes." The admittance is like a weight being lifted off my shoulders. "But not generally. I feel like I don't know what to do right now."

She shrugs. "Is it because he cheated on you? I think you're talking to the wrong senora."

Right. "Is it so wrong that I don't want to be in that kind of relationship! I don't want to be cheated on, I don't want to be with someone who uses his body as currency, I've done that and I never want to go back there. Nothing in this world belongs to me, and my agreement with that bastard was that we belonged to each other. How am I supposed to trust him, now?"

"Did he tell you that Anuetta was his first dominant relationship?"

"Briefly." I sigh, grimacing at the woman's name.

Marisol glances towards the door and steps over to turn on the radio before returning to my hair, her fingers weaving through the length as she trims. "Anu was the first person who indulged in his masochistic side. She started the lashings. Rhea and I both agreed it wasn't helpful, but he was addicted to it. 

Anuetta has always had a hold over him; she paid him well and treated him like trash. I imagine that 'conditioning' had something to do with how she could convince him to do something like that."

"So he liked it?" I practically spit, sickened at the thought all over again. She smacks my neck sharply with the hairbrush, and I jerk in response.

"No! Dumbass! It was... an easy way out? I don't fucking know, Nic, let it go. Anuetta is the scum of the earth, and he is as disgusted about it as you are. Men make mistakes; it is our job to forgive them. Also, you were off fucking your fake wife, so eye for an eye."

"I'm a man." I remind her. "Also... I ... tend to forget that fact."

"Well, you're making a lot of mistakes lately, aren't you?" She smiles sweetly at me and pats my head before running the comb through it. "And I forgive you. You're young. I'm trying to be nice to you here, and you're killing my vibe with this all-or-nothing bullshit." 

Somehow, the thought doesn't seem possible, and yet, here I am about to go to an extensive dinner with him. Marisol finished my haircut and I'm pretty pleased with the end product, shorter throughout though still some length around my ears and the nape of my neck to play with. 

She runs a hand through it, showing it to me as she turns my head from side to side. "You're a very handsome man, Nicolas! This skin color is gorgeous."

 Yet I can't help but envy her shade of tan. 

"Alright, stand up." Taking me in, she grins at my attire. 

"I didn't have any spare clothes." 

Waving me off, she strips me down and helps me into the suit that is slightly too big, but at least it is the correct length. Tugging in the back and putting in a pin, she spins me around to face the mirror so I can see. The black slacks, paired with a pale lavender shirt and black blazer, are rather attractive. "Pink?"

"Lavender, darling." She teases. From behind, she puts her hands up to press my face between them as she glances around me. "You deserve happiness, and this is not happiness. Your happiness is out there sulking on the couch, do us all a favor and find a way to let it go because it's getting depressing for all of us. Torturing each other isn't helping anyone. We need you both."

Perhaps she's right. 

"I'll consider it." Pursing my lips, I fiddle with the hem of my blazer. "Thank you, Soli. For being so kind to me when you don't have to be." 

No one would have blamed her for getting in between us, for using her knowledge against me, and locking me out of his life while she slid back in. As she slows and her face returns to neutral, I can see how hard this is for her, and I spin around to hug her; the fact that she's so close to my height makes it an easy task. 

"I don't think I'll ever have thanked you enough."

Cautiously, she hugs me back before pulling away and sniffling lightly. "You already have. You help people, Nic. You are a truly good person, and that's the only reason I can tolerate this. Now. Go let him see you." 

Shooing me out of the room, I obediently go, my anxiety rising as I quietly walk down the hall. Spotting him on the couch, only this time he's dressed in a black suit with a pale button-up. The dark tie around his neck is slightly undone as he lounges back with a book, spotting the cover, I see it's a romance novel, and I'm surprised by the selection.

"Really? 'Love and Lost'? A bit somber, don't you think?" The sarcasm begins to build, but as he spots me, it melts away, and I know I've achieved the desired effect. Verando quickly stands, used to his formal training when in the presence of the King. "Well? Have you decided against taking me?"

Coming around to stand before me, he sets the book down on the end table as his eyes scan slowly over my form. "Not in the slightest." The words are airy as he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. The stubble tickles my fingers, and his gray hair stands out starkly against the black, highlighting those icy eyes. 

Modern looks good on him, finding the right color frock was impossible and always washed him out, seeing him now, I know why. He needed dark, rich colors to match the deep, sexy baritone voice and bring out his startling hues.

Retracting my hand, it's all I can do to remember what muscles keep me standing. Marisol ushers us out the door, bidding us goodnight. Nearly drowning the day before had left me dead on my feet, but I wasn't going to miss this for the world.

Following Verando to a sleek, black car, it looks much smaller and slimmer than the large vehicles I'm used to driving. 

Low to the ground, and curvy with only two doors, once we get inside, the smell of leather hits me as I move to sit. Everything is black, slick, and shiny, with bright red letters on the display screen. I note there are only two seats, and in between us is a stick assembly. 

"Wow... this is pretty fancy for someone who's such a minimalist. What's this?"

"It's called a manual. I had to special order it, but I would rather have control; as I'm sure you've noticed, city cars drive themselves."

I snort, "You? Like control?" 

In response to the question, the car roars to life, and the volume makes me shiver in delight. I would have to beg him to let me drive it. 

Fastening my seatbelt quickly, he backs out of the driveway and we are speeding off at a rate that I'm not accustomed to. The car is fast and agile, and while it unnerves me to drive so fast, it's exhilarating as the engine revs.

Inspecting the car, it's just as clean as the house, and I see why they call it a manual as he must shift gears frequently to keep the vehicle in motion. The complexity suits him, and I find I'm fascinated by it. It was a modern marvel that I'd never quite gotten over; a trip like this would have taken an entire day back in our time. But to travel in comfort with cold air and speed, it was almost hard to believe it was possible.

Suddenly, I hesitate. "Did Mr.Malcom buy this for you?" I would need to reorganize our deal; this was ridiculous.

"No. I bought it myself." 

I gape at him, pulling my eyebrows together. 

"This job pays well, I guess. Modern money is difficult, it's not coins, and it's in a bank so you don't get to see it.. but Marisol assures me that it's an actual thing. But, to answer your question, I paid for it with the money this job brings." 

So it's a real job? He isn't just putting on a front? 

I settle back into my seat. I suppose I relinquished those rights when I granted the government credit. 

"I have been a touch impulsive since I got out of the government compound. Do you not like it..? Would you have rather taken a different car? Marisol has a more.. friendly.. option?"

 Watching out the window, the sky begins to darken, and I know we're heading towards dusk. The sun settles into position, preparing for the slow descent of the horizon as it peeks over the expansive city, a black silhouette of shapes and skyscrapers in the distance. Without smog, the sky was quite lovely.

"No, that's not it. I'm just.. happy for you." I finally allowed, after sorting through my feelings. "It suits you."

I keep my feelings in check as we pull into the massive building, and he hands off the keys before coming over to open my door. Taking his hand, I step out and thank the valet as they drive off with the car. "Um-"

"It's alright; they will bring it back when the evening is over." I don't understand how he can trust these people to do such a thing. What did they do with it until then? He chuckles lightly, "Thank you."

"For what?" I try not to act defensively.

"For looking so shocked. This has been a horrid learning curve. It's nice to see some surprise. Kitten asks as if I'm daft for not trusting these people. It makes me feel like perhaps I'm not insane to see you feel much the same."