I knew from the second I walked back into the party, after the heated conversation I had with Harry in one of Akira's many rooms, that there was something everyone at this party had that I didn't have. An ability, a gift, possibly paranormal. It was the power to walk amongst everyone else without a sound, to move in silence and glide past people so quietly that they do not notice your passing presence. Only leaving behind the sinister aroma and the eerie sensation as residue in the air, trails of ominous energy and the ashes of the thievery and deception used on their past victims noticeable by smell, by touch. But you could never see it.

When I sought to do something, could I move with such perilous grace? I stood against a wall by the archway that leads to an outdoors section of the party. My mind had the time to wander, and also the space, as people were staying away from my silent, disinteresting presence. I watched the people around me charm each other, socialize with one another, and collectively they produced a chorused sound of conversation that bled through the noise of the live piano. To me, those that inhabited this spacious living area were all the same. A crowd of predatory animals dressed in human flesh, and they could lash out and rip one another apart if the moment presented itself.

My big, brown eyes find Harry in a crowd of people, his back faced the familiar body belonging to Mr. Yung. The two men were busy in separate conversation. Harry seemed to be zeroing in on something his conversation partner was saying. His head lowered and his pale eyes moved side to side as he listened attentively to the man suited in maroon fabric. It wasn't someone I recognized. He then leaned back away, standing up straight, his hands pressing against each other as he clasped them. In was a gesture of gratitude, because right after he took the man's hand in a mutual handshake. The man then walks away, and another takes his place. It seemed the crowd was waiting to speak to him, patiently. Every exchange was like routine, the same habits, gestures, and expressions being used. He didn't falter whether the other person was visibly threatening, sinister, or malicious or very graceful, careful, and kind. It seemed there could only be one kind of person, and to Harry, he saw that. So that's why every interaction was the same. Because that malicious person could be graceful, and certainly careful.

There was a champagne glass in my hand. The cool glass touched the pads of my fingers. I gazed around the room as Akira began to make a toast. As she's doing so, Harry and I locked eyes. He stands somewhere across from me, at the other side of the party. His expression was neutral. Not a single detail of his face contorted or altered at the sight of me. He kept a perfectly still demeanor, his arm raising his own champagne glass in the air as Akira tore through her speech eagerly, executing every point she made perfectly. She didn't strike me as someone who felt like they needed to prepare their speech in front of a mirror every night for a week. It was not consistent with everything else in her character. But what was consistent of Harry was his constant ease, the eeriness of his calmness. He meant everything he said, and he could get away with saying nothing if he didn't want to speak sincerely. Because whatever happened, he knew he couldn't be beaten.

I saw that in his eyes, the ones that usually reveal nothing. His pink, heart-shaped lips appeared to curve at a joined corner, the beauty mark by his lip shifting upwards with the movement of his facial muscles. Steadily, I stared back at him and motionless, expressionless. My head turns and I quickly look away seconds later, raising my own arm to toast with the rest of the room. I looked at him again, and he was still watching me. This time, he was grinning casually, like he enjoyed my wavering response. He shook his head, finding me entertaining. I tilted my head and squinted my eyes, now displaying my irritation with him. As everyone lowered their glasses to their mouths and took sips from their glass, I watched Harry practically swallow his entire glass with one gulp, his eyes never leaving mine. His cheeks hollow as he swallows and he sets his jaw, casually looking at me still.

This was the result of being enchanted and mesmerized by his steadiness, his coolness, and his ease. Back in the room, I left on the grounds that I didn't have to answer to his every question. That he didn't have to understand why I did the things I did, or why I'm determined to remain with the same vagueness for the things that I will do. It was perfectly sane to want to keep some things private from him as I was convinced he could sense everything. He didn't believe me. He didn't want me close to any answers. My work will suffer because his is superior. He had the years of experience, and I have been at a loss for control for the same amount. I was young, and he was young for his profession and his level of success. But we were still a few crucial years apart.

I tried not to feel so robbed of my control and my power when in the presence of so many intimidating people. The third glass of champagne was now empty, and I was searching for a new bottle from a different table. Once coming up with half a bottle, I poured myself another full glass before feeling a wind past my left side. I turned to look briefly as I finished pouring the champagne. Harry's figure approached with little hesitation, and I set the bottle down just as he quietly says next to me, "You've had quite a bit."

I don't respond. I take a sip out of my glass and turn towards the party, while Harry is oriented next to me. He sets his own empty glass onto the table, watching me and staring down at me from the view of his stature. I press my lips together and sigh heavily, muttering against the top of my glass, "Yeah...It's getting rid of the headache you're causing me."

"It's funny, I'd say you're causing me a headache," he contested quietly, eyeing the side of my face.

"Funny," I agreed flatly, taking another large sip of my glass. "You're not supposed to be talking to me, remember?"

"This is the only way I can show Ernest we're on good terms, and that you're not trying to spite me by digging into this case," he replied bluntly. He turns away from me and faces the crowd of people before us.

"I'm not trying to spite you," I claimed calmly. "I'm trying to find out the truth."

"What for?" He asks, but then he adds, "To spite me."

Huffing, I snap, "Because I care about the truth."

"Mhm. You seem to ignore it when it's being said," he retorts firmly.

"Did you think I was going to be your sex thing that kept quiet when you wanted it to? I think you, just like everyone else," I nearly whispered, turning to look up at him with big eyes. His eyes peered over at me from his turned head, and I steadily responded, "...looked at me and saw a bambi...a damsel in distress."

Pursing his lips, he huffs and shakes his head, averting his eyes to the party before fully turning his head to me again. "Nobody looks at you like that. See the thing about the people here?" He nearly snarls, lowering his head, pale eyes narrowing. Like earlier, he was fed up with my defiance, my need to keep pestering him. "They see a bambi, and they know not to be deceived. They don't hesitate. They shoot her still, and they do it just as bloody fast as they would with a lioness."

I don't say anything and stare up at him quietly. Licking his bottom lip and staring at me, he feverishly adds, "The only reason why Ernest was so quick to violence, why they are so suspicious, is that you were quite unexpected. You seem to be at every one of their blindspots. Ernest is threatened by your vagueness, your truly convincing innocent act. They're troubled by it. Threatened."

The conceptualization of his words was interesting. I didn't really see it that way, and my perception was tainted with a negative bias of myself, and how I appeared to the world through my eyes. I didn't believe it. There was no way that Ernest would feel such a way about me, even seeing my petrified reaction every single time I see him. He hasn't shown me any kind of fear or intimidation while I've been the perfect image of a girl who is afraid, a girl too over her own head. I understood this, I knew my place in this situation. But I never saw it that way.

"They're way too careful," I respond slowly, softly.

Harry raised his dark eyebrows and shrugs a shoulder clad in his the black fabric of his suit. He continues to glare at me. "There is no such thing when you're involved with these people, Athena," he confesses blatantly. I turn my body, oriented in his direction, and I lean forward, and get close enough to hear his resting, normal breathing.

My eyes bore into his. "You are involved with these people. You must be talking about yourself. And if what you're saying is true...then there's something really wrong going on with this case. Something other people should know about. Maybe the proper authorities," I vent sharply, my wide eyes examining his face.

Harry lets out a short, caustic, and breathless chuckle. His face broke out into a grin for a short second, sharply switching from false amusement to a stoicness that could've scared me a few weeks ago. He crosses his arms his arms over his chest and very seriously remarked, "I wish you good luck with that. I'll pay the expenses for your funeral so your parents don't have to worry."

"You're sick," I spit haughtily, frowning at him now for his cruelness.

"I'm honest. I told you that from the beginning. I don't need to lie, I don't need to lie to you. Frankly, I've never told you a lie before. It's quite admirable, if you ask me," he dryly jokes, pressing his lips together as he takes in a deep breath, watching me carefully. We both stare at each other, obviously in a confrontational manner. "I'm working with these people. Not really so much as I'm involved."

"You quit at any time, then?" I press.

"No," he answers seriously. "I've got a few investments of my own."

"What does that mean?" I question lowly.

"It means...I've got something to lose that is very important to me. I'm quite literally...stuck. I have to or else. I'm not saying I'm not like them, I got to where I am one way, no? Just...I would prefer not to work with these people for this matter," Harry admits. "Everyone involved with this case has something to lose, very dear to them. It's...dangerous to mess with the success of that, Athena. You're going to make a lot of enemies. And that means...I'm going to have to play peacekeeper. Don't make me do that," he then whispers.

Clicking my tongue, I raise an eyebrow and like a sting, I sharply countered, "You have a lot of guilt in you. I can see it. You're not very happy about being involved with this case. So much that you convince yourself you're slightly different than them. When you're not." My voice is surprisingly steady, harsh, and I speak with an effortless grace. I'm not stammering or wavering, even with his eyes boring into mine, I still didn't falter. "You're just like them, Harry. Unless you decide not to be..."

Widening his eyes in surprise, and parting his lips, he then, astonished, mutters, "What? Are you asking me to give you the details of this case? So I can be in the right? So I can be the hero. So I can feel real bloody good about myself for beating the bad guys....I wished it was that black and white, Athena. And that's what you don't get. Not everything is that simple."

"So...tell me."

He shakes his head. He looks down at me and doesn't bother to reply. Then, with another serious look, he decides to move away from me. He wasn't seeing an end to our disagreements, and once again he has failed to convince me. I knew that maybe I was thinking too simply about things. But I've been thinking a lot lately, and I've been suffering in my head for too long. Maybe I was in the right to follow my gut, the only thing that I actually have I so habitually ignored.

I bite the inside of my cheek and watch him walk off. This was insane. Harry and I were sleeping together weeks ago. We were on good terms as long as my ignorance remained shielding me from the realities of his career. He was so invested into it, that nobody could shake his focus, and I shouldn't have been so naive to think that I could. It was my own innocence and lack of experience that encouraged those dream-like scenarios. Harry was going to be hard for me to overcome, because I have become invested in him. Now I am going to uncover the truth, one way or another if it meant that I could uninvest in him and undo some of my risks.

As Akira walked past me, I stared at her carefully. There was something about that moment, as her light perfume still manage to be detected by my sense of smell. The alertness that flooded my brain and my sensory control. I watched her walk past me and towards a crowd of people that were seated in a lounging area. My eyes lowered and I watched her with suspicion. Squinting, my lips pursing as I looked, my mind wandered and thought about something I had been seconding guessing, or simply ignoring.

Akira moves just as soundlessly as everyone else. Maybe she was the key to the rest of the case. I didn't know if she also had something to lose, or something to gain from it's failure. I didn't know about this case, and I had fallen victim to my fear of letting Harry undermine me, for him to take over me, when he had just been doing that without trying. I had done exactly that, let him consume me that I might've ignored a potential threat. Someone who has been generous, too kind, and too oddly risky for someone as clearly organized as she was.

She sat at the lounging area with a few people I didn't know. But one of them was Logan, my only acquaintance at the office. I could sit by him and converse, seem to blend in with the crowd even if my presence was not expected nor necessarily invited. But I couldn't let myself be scared of someone who has to be in the right? Surely exposing this case was the best move? Overthinking and getting ahead of myself, I breathe out exhaustively and stare at the woman as she joyfully shares with the group. With all that in mind, I lean off the wall and start to head in the direction of Akira.

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