All I am is a man; I want the world in my hands ~ [Ira]

Libraries were magical.

There was a rather obvious lack of dust over the well-kept shelves, but something in the air still made the place smell like it was very old. Old parchment, perhaps? Old wood? The air was clean and dry, but something gave Zephir the impression that he was somewhere very sacred. The sky was heavily overcast outside, so the beams of light that filtered through the high, arched windows were dull and didn’t cast heavy shadows. It gave the place an otherworldly sort of feeling. The healer felt like he was in a church, and the idea appealed to him greatly. If he ever had to describe something as sacrosanct, books might as well be it. The man had always placed a high value on the pursuit of knowledge, and where else to satisfy this need than a library?

Arranging a meeting here had been an interesting experience for Zephir. He’d suggested it in an offhand manner, not really thinking that she’d take him up on it. Compartmentalising different sections of his life had always come easily to the man and Ira Ilyina definitely did not fit into the category of people who he arranged social visits with. Not many people did. The healer might have had several large circles of acquaintances, but not very many people were his friends. Ira certainly wasn’t. It was interesting for him because he hadn’t really imagined arranging a meeting with someone of such a high social status. He hadn’t really thought she’d be… allowed to. Of course, their meeting was supposed to be chaperoned. A library was an unusual place for a young heiress to be meeting a strange man, even if it was a very old, famous library.

This meeting, he mused, would be their fourth. Last time they’d met, at yet another charity ball, the two of them had ended up taking an unchaperoned stroll in the gardens. The idea of it had been somewhat bizarre to Zephir. It seemed improper, but nothing they talked about was remotely inappropriate. Their conversations had, once again, revolved around politics and history and literature. There was something he appreciated about the attention she gave him. Something that wasn’t romantic or sexual at all. Zephir was ambitious and always on the lookout for some kind of advantage… perhaps gaining her interest was something that could fall into that category? He didn’t know yet, but he was more than happy to reciprocate and spend time with this intelligent young woman.

Zephir ran his finger down the old spine of a rather thick book. He’d dressed in elegant, but casual robes today. The library had a rather traditional air about it and Zephir hadn’t wanted to impose with muggle clothing. He’d made the right choice. It was probably the oldest wizarding library in France that was open to the magical public, and while there was no formal dress code, most of the library’s patrons seemed to be dressed similarly to him. He pressed the book he’d been looking at (regarding goblin rebellions in the 1700s) back into its place in the shelf. The man drew his silver pocket watch out of his robes and checked the time. He’d arrived here via portkey much earlier than he’d needed to, but a part of him still suspected that she might not come at all. They’d sent a couple of letters back and forth and it was all very innocent, but he still felt that there was something strange about meeting like this. Maybe he was just being paranoid.

The nervous fluttering in her stomach was a feeling Ira was unaccustomed to.  It was rare that anything inspired such a feeling of light-hearted internal conflict.  Every aspect of her life was carefully controlled, scheduled and organized in a way that rarely allowed for spontaneity.  And she despised such a thing, under normal circumstances.  But today was the exception.  She had never done anything like this before.  Ever.  But there was something that compelled her to throw caution to the wind, a feeling she had chosen not to spend too much time trying to define.  As she swung the lightweight cloak over her shoulders, Ira contemplated her reflection, ensuring that everything about her appearance was perfect.  She had told her mother she would be spending the afternoon visiting a friend from school – a viable enough story, and one that would allow her to spend the afternoon away from home, and escape the necessity of being chaperoned.  An extremely obedient daughter, she had never once given her mother any cause to believe she would do anything but exactly what she said she would.  And, for the first time, Ira had the desire to take advantage of this.

She had a secret, and his name was Zephir King.  There was something incredibly intriguing about the young man – something that drew her to him like a moth to a flame.  Their last conversation was still fresh on her mind, for she had gone over it in her mind again and again.  They hadn’t discussed anything more consequential than politics and literature, but somehow, inexplicably, it made her feel profoundly... alive.  She had never expected that.  It was an odd thing, to be sure, but impossible to deny.  She was completely charmed by Zephir, and yet there was much about him that remained a mystery to her.  In fact, she knew almost nothing about him.  There had been a point, perhaps, where she might have prodded into the details of his personal and family affairs, but it seemed to have passed her by.  The more time she spent with him, the less she wanted to know.  What if he told her something she didn’t want to hear?  That he wasn’t anybody at all?  She wanted to ignore the possibility; he was intelligent, charming, well-dressed and seemed to know his way around proper social etiquette – all signs that pointed to a good upbringing in a decent family.  But the fact remained that nearly everybody who was anybody knew everybody else, but Zephir King was a stranger to her.  He had materialized seemingly from nowhere at a party a few weeks back, and she had run into him twice since then.  It could be that she had never noticed him before, that they ran in similar circles but had somehow never crossed paths.  Ira chose to reassure herself that that was all it was.

She had almost, almost mentioned the King family one evening at dinner, just to see if any spark of recognition flickered across the face of her father.  But she had decided against it at the last second, fearful that he would tell her that he knew of no such family.  Nobody – not her parents, not Ivan, not even dear Inna – knew about her budding friendship with Zephir King.  And she wanted to keep it that way, having the sneaking suspicion that if she did not protect it, it would be brought abruptly to an end. 

At the closing of their last conversation, he had asked her to meet him.  It had surprised her.  Normally, when a gentleman wanted to spend time with her, they went over her head to get permission.  Rather than being offended by his disregard for her father, she found it exciting.  The idea of meeting him in secret was so enticing, that she had been unable to turn him down, despite knowing that it was something that would be severely frowned upon.  And so, alone and unchaperoned, Ira traveled to France to meet a man.  Like an adventurous heroine from a work of fiction, wholly unrealistic and completely reckless.

Fortunately, she managed to find the library easily enough.  She spared no admiration for the high, arched windows nor the endless, towering shelves of books.  She searched instead for Zephir, her stomach knotted with nervous anticipation.  Momentarily, she spotted him.  A faint smile of recognition passed over her features and she made her way toward him, and when she was near enough that she could speak quietly and still be heard, she greeted him.  “Good afternoon, Zephir.”

Ira’s voice startled him out of his thoughtful reverie. She spoke softly, but her voice broke the humble silence that hung around the library and Zephir instinctively raised his eyebrows as he looked in her direction. For a moment, his fingers lingered on the spine of the book he’d just put away. “Ira,” he said softly, turning to face her. “It’s lovely to see you…” He nodded once politely and noted her clothing choice quickly, gaining as much as he could from her body language and her tone. He was always so aware, he thought detachedly, of his environment. It was as if his mind was running two active channels at all times. One that was engaged with the current conversation, and one that took in everything else. The young man gestured vaguely to the shelf beside him. “…In the Goblin History section of France’s most renowned library.” He gave her a small, wry smile.

After a moment, the man realised that he was waiting for something. Something was missing. He was surprised that it hadn’t been the first thing that he’d noticed. The man’s dark gaze searched hers. “You came alone,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but there was a distinct note of curiosity in his tone. The man paused, as if mulling this over for a moment, before letting his expression relax into a small smile. He was surprised, but it was a pleasant kind of surprise. Zephir was never completely at ease with Ira, but that wasn’t unusual. He wasn’t completely at ease with anyone, but no one seemed to notice. Even those he considered himself close to, like his mother or his sisters, only got a very specific version of himself. He watched the way he acted and delivered to most appropriate or pragmatic set of “truths” depending on the company he was in. He wasn’t self conscious, so to speak, but Zephir had always been a very self aware man. Knowing that she had decided to come here unchaperoned only made him even more mindful of the way that he was acting.

She wouldn’t have come at all if she didn’t want something from him. She wouldn’t have come alone if she didn’t want something that she shouldn’t. Perhaps she didn’t consider that he’d read so far into it, but Zephir King was not one to let things sneak up on him. If he did anything perfectly, it was overthinking. He worked well under pressure, but he preferred to be prepared for all possible outcomes. He was more critical and observant than most. There was a possibility that Zephir could have everything completely wrong in this situation, but the young man was certain that he held some kind of power here. Already, Zephir was under the impression that she wasn’t used to being so far from home alone. It might have been the unfamiliar environment that made her feel uncomfortable. Whatever it was, Ira Ilyina was not the kind of girl who met with men they barely knew in foreign countries in secret. And Zephir would know. He’d done his research.

Sensing that she might be waiting for him to speak, Zephir started walking slowly, gesturing for her to follow him. Last time they’d seen each other they hadn’t been talking about goblin history, they’d been talking about politics. He might have only been suggesting that the two of them come here as a kind of offhand wish, rather than an actual proposal, but they were here now. They might as well enjoy it. The young man didn’t speak for a moment as he walked down the aisle. Would she speak first? Zephir wondered how long he’d have to be silent for before he’d force her into speaking, and what she’d talk about. The setting was so different to the one he was used to seeing her in. “Do you speak any French, Ira?” he asked.

Was she uncomfortable? For the same reasons that he thought she might be, he felt more powerful. They were in a place that he’d been before that she was unfamiliar with. She was alone. He knew more about her than she knew about him. He was definitely in a position of power, and he didn’t mind it. “What do you think?” he asked softly, glancing over to her as he walked. “Are you a fan of French architecture? Do you like libraries?” Did she share his love of books? She was obviously a very intelligent and well-read girl. The man’s gaze was drawn, once again, to the windows of the place. They were ornately carved and very beautiful. After ascending a flight of stairs, Zephir found the section he was looking for. The man pulled a couple of tomes out from their resting places and led his companion to a dark wooden table tucked away between high shelves of books, beside a bay window. He waited for her to sit before he took his place opposite her.

Zephir didn’t open either of the books immediately, but rather caught Ira’s gaze as he considered his next question. “So we’re here alone,” he commented finally. The healer didn’t want to be too blunt, but he was curious. Perhaps he shouldn’t have said anything at all. He rested a large hand gently on one of the old volumes he’d brought to their table. Outside, it had started sprinkling. “Doesn’t this seem like the type of meeting that would require a chaperone?” Zephir made sure that his question was asked with a kind of innocent curiosity. There was no accusation in his voice.

More out of politeness than anything, Ira laughed quietly at his joke, her eyes following his hand as he gestured to the books behind him.  “It’s nice to see you, as well,” she confessed.  She bowed her head when he acknowledged that she’d come alone.  Was he really surprised?  But, freely reading too much into his reaction, she decided that he seemed pleased.

Admittedly, she was nervous.  She wondered if he had any other motives than what he had stated for inviting her here.  She was no stranger to pretense.  Neither of them could possibly deny that there was a certain, undeniable singularity to their situation.  She had never done anything like this before.  It was natural for her to assume that their meeting was unprecedented for him as well.  That it meant something.  But what if it wasn’t?  What if he often met with women in this fashion?  She didn’t like the thought.  Regardless of the possibilities, meeting him here was an innocent curiosity for her.  She liked being in his company.  She wanted to spend time with him.  She didn’t have any plans for it leading to something unsavory.

Zephir began to lead her further into the library, and they made quiet, easy conversation.  He asked her if she spoke any French.  “Oui,” she answered coolly, “et vous?”  She then glanced up at the windows as he asked her what she thought of the library.  “It’s a beautiful building,” she conceded, her tone as sincere as it was for any compliment she ever gave.  Admittedly, she cared very little for libraries, and while aesthetics were important to her, her focus had always been more on the décor of a place.  But she couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful building. 

Ira took the seat across from him, glad that she could easily look upon him this way.  His question surprised her.  She did not like the directness of it.  Or did she?  At the very least, it alarmed her.  “Do you think so?” she asked, turning the question back on him, her tone sounding more confident than she felt.  “Are you dangerous, Zephir King?  Untrustworthy?”  Ira raised a brow at him challengingly.

“Of course,” he answered gently, smiling at the ease with which his companion switched languages. The healer still found it strange to hear French spoken sometimes. Even though he was fluent in the language now, Zephir was most comfortable with it in its written form. One of the books he'd plucked from the shelves was in French and one was in English.

After they were seated, Ira responded to Zephir’s question without blinking, but she didn’t really answer him. Zephir was in two minds about this sort of interaction. On one hand, he really did wish that they could do away with all of the crap that came with communicating in riddles and just speak their minds. On the other… well, he wasn’t used to being challenged so obviously. It might not be obvious in a usual conversation, but this kind of directness was unusual with people like Ira. He let a small smile play across his lips again. There was something very similar to approval in his expression.

This was a power play, and Zephir assumed that that much was obvious to all present. Zephir waited for a moment to answer her. Not long enough to offend her, only long enough to make sure that she knew that she had made her point. Perhaps long enough to make her mildly uncomfortable. The young man was interested in a bigger game than the one that they seemed to be playing currently. There were more layers for him to navigate through than this conversation might imply, and he was sure that Ira had no idea. Realistically, it was highly unlikely that the Russian woman knew anything about him at all… she hadn’t asked him a single question about his family or profession once.

He didn’t even have to gently steer conversation away from those topics any more, it was as if she was just used to not knowing. The idea that she might even be aware of this gap in her knowledge had crossed his mind, of course. Zephir liked to think that she was even more intelligent than she let on, but perhaps that was just another case of wishful thinking. To imagine that the woman sitting across from him currently was intentionally avoiding asking about his background because she was reluctant to find out was… well, far too presumptuous for Zephir. He tried to keep an eye on everything, but that didn’t mean that any of the outcomes he imagined would come true. They were all just possibilities.

“Of course not,” he answered sincerely, ducking his head a fraction in a humble response to the challenging look she was giving him. The small smile didn’t leave his lips, however. “…Is that the impression I give?” After a moment, Zephir leant forward slightly in his seat, like he was very intrigued with the potential response she might offer him. Their environment had darkened a little over the past few minutes and Zephir felt like the lighting for their interaction was matching the tension created in the past few sentences they’d exchanged. The rain outside was getting heavier, and dark clouds had begun to make take form out of the previously blank, grey sky.

A library wasn’t the kind of place Ira normally spent her time; in fact, she really only had the Durmstrang library and her father’s to compare it to, and, in a way she could appreciate, this was more elegant than either.  But she had no great love of books.  It could not be said that Ira had ever been especially studious; intellect was hardly her most important asset.  But she was educated.  She could carry on a conversation about economics, politics or culture in the same way that she could sing and dance and play the piano.  Not out of any real desire or passion; it was all for acting the part.  What truly motivated her was a desire to be successful.  She knew what the expectation was, and strove always for an ideal of perfection, the likes of which was achievable only through the most diligent effort.

But Zephir didn’t exactly have a place in her carefully-constructed life.  She didn’t know what to do with him; where he fit.  Sitting across the table from him, however, she wasn't thinking about any of that.  Zephir was silent for a moment, but the smile he fixed her with was one that caused her stomach to flutter nervously.  Reluctant to break eye contact, she waited for him to say something, his previous words still resonating in her head.  Clearly he hadn’t expected her to be alone.  But it left her with the question, what was the real reason he had invited her here?

This was the closest to alone they had ever been.  With two tall shelves on either side, their table felt almost secluded; even the way the clouds blanketed the sky, the storm pressing in on them, seemed to wish to veil them from the rest of the world.  The hushed presence of the other patrons was palpable, however, and served simultaneously as an obstacle and a safeguard.  Something to keep her behavior in check.

At his words, Ira’s eyes passed over his face, absorbing his expression.  It was a kind of hesitant earnestness, she decided, and she detected no insincerity there.  Rather, she was quite struck by the intensity of his gaze.  There was something else there, too, some illusion of depth that intrigued her.  The seemingly bottomless darkness of his eyes evoked a feeling of mystery, and gave her the impression that she could never know exactly what he was thinking.  Did he look at everyone that way?  It wasn’t difficult to pretend there was a certain familiarity he reserved especially for her.

Ira was tempted to answer his question with yet another question, but at the risk of seeming graceless, she decided against it.  “If it was, I wouldn’t be here,” she said in a polite, off-hand manner.  She pointedly dropped her gaze to one of the books he had brought over, delicately flopping open the front cover.  He had given her something to think about.  Her jaw tightened, and under the pretense of scanning the page in front of her, she didn’t look at him for a moment.  It felt necessary to punish him, almost, for presenting her with such an indelicate question.

That Zephir might think she had behaved inappropriately somehow made her apprehensive, but she was determined not to be made into a fool.  Ira shoved the upsurge of emotion aside, quick to attempt to regain her control over their exchange, and looked back up at him, her expression amiable.  “I daresay I am capable of looking after myself, if that’s what you were suggesting.”  She offered him a sly smirk to show that she didn’t mean it defensively, even though she did.  Surely independence was a respectable quality in his eyes?  The truth remained, however, that Ira rarely went anywhere alone.  The world was a dangerous place, after all, full of equally dangerous and unworthy people, and she needed protecting – or so she’d been lead to believe.
 
 

The weather had really picked up outside. It was dark enough that the library’s keepers had started lighting lanterns, but Zephir preferred it like this. Following regular customs, the library’s patrons were barely speaking. The sound of the outside rain and rumbling, distant thunder were louder than anything happening inside. The atmospheric effect was dramatic and interesting.

Her voice suggested that that was the end of that, but Zephir wasn’t letting it go yet. The man watched her unashamedly. She was a perfect product of her environment; demure enough to be polite, well versed enough in these kinds of interactions to be formidable. Somewhere underneath all of that was the rest of her; a hidden person. Something about all of that was attractive to him, he had to admit it. Zephir shook his head with one slight, dismissive movement. “I wasn’t implying the contrary,” he told her seriously. All of his focus remained on the woman in front of him.

“I was simply wondering if this…” he paused for emphasis, indicating their situation and environment, “…was a regular occurrence for you, or…” His silence implied the rest of the sentence for him; if I’m the only one. Feigned sincerity. False dismissiveness covering false diffidence. The man pressed his lips together and gave a humble shrug, dropping his gaze after he’d made his point. Letting her mull that over for a minute, Zephir remained silent, playing his part too. He ran the tips of his fingers down the open page in front of him, enjoying the texture. This part wasn’t a performance at all; he simply loved books. Libraries were his churches. The healer flipped through the next pages, coming to a part that interested him. He skimmed through it and then paraphrased. It wasn’t anything new for the man.

“There’s some debate over whether or not we used words to guide our magic before we had wands. The general consensus is that we used magic for a long time before discovering a way to channel it for more precise means, but many witches and wizards have dedicated their lives to searching our oldest historical ruins and sites to find the first documented use of a spell.” Zephir paused, flicking his dark gaze back up to meet hers before continuing. “I suppose they wanted to find the first spell ever cast. Do you know what the first documented spell was?” Zephir smiled, “Am I boring you yet?”

Several seconds passed, yet even after Zephir had turned his attention back to the book before him, the words he’d spoken seemed to linger in the space between them.  Ira’s gaze stayed on him, surprise faintly visible in her eyes.  She was startled by his directness.  Why wouldn’t he let her make the conversation light, easy?  He insisted on speaking openly, directly, in a way she was unused to.  It was a long moment before she, too, lowered her eyes again, and then it was only because his voice startled her.

Her heart was fluttering and she wasn’t sure why.  Nor did she understand why perfectly dull topics of conversation could become suddenly interesting when he spoke on them.  History had never been a strong subject for her, and the further back it went the more it all seemed to blur together in her mind.  Ira looked up in time to catch his smile, and returned it almost hesitantly.  “No, not at all,” she assured him.  “And I’m not sure, actually,” she admitted thoughtfully, as if this was clearly a gap in her knowledge.  Runes, rituals, etchings on walls… to her it all just sounded terribly inconvenient.  “Do you know?”  She was more interested to hear him talk about it than she was in the subject itself.  Or perhaps she was just interested in hearing him talk.

The previous topic of conversation was still on her mind, and Ira had the urge to bring it up again.  She wasn’t sure why, for this urge seemed both unreasonable and wholly inconvenient.  It would have been so much easier just to let it drop.  Wiser, too, if she intended to maintain any kind of dignity.  She sat in silence for a moment, her eyes moving over the page in front of her without absorbing the words.  No, it’s not a regular occurrence.  No, I’ve never done anything like this before.  The words were at the tip of her tongue, but her lips wouldn’t let them pass.
 
 

Zephir’s attention remained split between the words he was pretending to read and the woman in front of him. He analysed and dissected her movements and words, keeping in mind that she’d practically been trained to socialise from a very young age. The concept was intriguing. Zephir had learned how to read people and act in ways that would subtly inspire most others to do what he wanted, but he’d had to learn how to behave by himself. By now it was instinctive; just as routine, just as deeply buried into his behaviour as Ira’s was into her. He wasn’t under any illusion that he could outwit, out-charm or out-maneuver anyone, but he did get the feeling that Ira was somehow unsettled by him. She was unsettled somehow, but hadn’t left yet, so he studied her.

He chased whatever elusive quality there was in the way that she treated him. For him it was logical and natural to do so.

“There’s quite a lot of debate between academics on the topic,” he replied carefully, avoiding answering her direct Do you know? question, and instead giving her a little more information. “One theory commonly considered plausible is that lumos was our first use of modern magic. The term ‘modern’ is a variable with a definition that not all parties seem to agree on though…” Zephir trailed off thoughtfully, taking his eyes off of her for a moment to glance outside. The weather had taken a very dramatic turn, and the juxtaposition between the stormy chaos outside and the quiet calm in the library was becoming more and more pronounced to him. He briefly considered the kinds of spells cast on the library to keep its hushed, secluded atmosphere.

“It would make sense,” he continued quietly, “that light was something that we sought.”The man turned back to Ira slowly, shifting back in his seat and reaching up to run a hand through his styled hair. He cupped the back of his neck, pressing his fingertips into the skin there. A slight frown furrowed his brow as he skimmed the next few paragraphs of the book in front of him. Inside, he was calculating. Trying to gage her interest level. What exactly was her motivation for coming here alone? He felt that it was something that would be advantageous for him. How could he best maximise that advantage? He guessed at her intentions and motivations. The man combed silently over all of the information that he’d gathered about the young heiress in front of him.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, flicking his eyes up to meet hers, his face relaxing into a more open expression. A deep rumble of thunder rolled across the sky overhead, and it was loud enough that they could hear it inside. The sound coaxed a slight smile from Zephir. He was pushing, a little. Testing her dedication to what he guessed was an out-of-character dip into spontaneity. He guessed that she might suspect as much, but this part wasn't entirely an act. She was already at a disadvantage, agreeing to meet with him - an almost-stranger - in a location that he'd decided upon. Alone. He wasn't dangerous, but there was an element of danger here. His curiosity was sincere, and he let that show.

It was a bit challenging to her nerves to watch him so unreservedly, even though sitting across from him and having a conversation made it perfectly appropriate to do so.  Her eyes were drawn by his movements, by the way he touched his hair and let his hand rest on the back of his neck.  Setting her book aside, Ira reached for another, stifling the urge to sigh.  Would she ever willingly read a book without a story and whose only pictures were diagrams and charts?  She had been relieved to be done with school and had no intention of continuing her studies.  Perhaps she had led Zephir to believe she was more intelligent, more studious, than she was.

As she flipped through its pages, Ira was paying more attention to the young man in her peripheral vision than to the book before her, but paused when an intricate symbol caught her eye.  A bit of reading revealed that it was a defensive curse etched onto an ancient stone doorway.  Strange to think magic was ever so crude, she thought.  Stranger, perhaps, was that anybody should care so much what people were doing thousands of years ago.  Her own brother had always had an affinity for history that she’d never been able to understand.  She found herself wondering if Ivan and Zephir would get along, but the thought of the two interacting caused a stab of anxiety in her stomach, so she pushed it away.

Ira glanced up again as he finished speaking.  “Well, that must be it,” she guessed.  In fact, it even sounded vaguely familiar; perhaps something she had studied at Durmstrang.  “With nothing but darkness after the sun set?  Certainly that would inspire a need to create light.”  It was a rather romantic notion, she thought.  “But magic was used for thousands of years before what one might call modern spellwork was invented… and my understanding is that incantations have always been used in some form or another, have they not?  Where does one draw the line?  With wandwork?”

Ira flipped ahead in the book until she ran across a section dedicated to ancient blood magic.  Intrigued, she began skimming the introduction, but was soon distracted as Zephir presented her with a question.  The easy way he asked it soothed her even as a jolt of surprise ran through her, and she surveyed him with curiosity.  She wasn’t hungry – if anything, she was a bit nauseous – but her appetite wasn’t what was really important in this moment.  Could she allow him to make such a lofty request seem so light?  Did she demand that he make his intentions clear?  She would never tolerate such informality under normal circumstances.

A smile passed over his features, unsettling her further.  It gave her the impression that he knew what she was going to say even though she yet did not, and in spite of her desire to remain calm, she could feel colour rising in her cheeks.  She knew the correct thing to do would be to decline, if for no other reason than that to prolong this venture was to expose it to greater risk, and that it might get back to her parents somehow.  She did not want to be caught in her lie.  Furthermore, she didn’t want Zephir to get the wrong impression of her.  Would he try to persuade her if she refused him?  Did she want him to?  She wasn’t sure.  “Were you planning to stop somewhere nearby for lunch?” she asked innocently, skirting his question with as much grace as she could manage.
 
 

“This precinct has amazing dining,” he told her, his manner gentle. This wasn’t her natural habitat at all, and Zephir almost wanted to point out the fact, but he held his tongue. The healer figured that he’d done enough pushing for one day. Drawing his silver pocketwatch from his pocket, Zephir checked the time. They’d already been here for long enough that he wondered what exactly she’d told her chaperones or parents or underlings when she’d left. Long enough that he could excuse himself and not feel as if they’d only just arrived.

It was probably a good thing she’d declined. He had enough money in his savings for things like this, but it wasn’t just for fun. It was never just for fun, really. Taking her out for lunch in an expensive area of Paris such as this one would almost be a political move for the man. Everything he did was calculated in terms of what he might gain, what he needed and what he needed to spend or invest to get what he wanted. By now it was second nature. “I should probably go,” he told her. Zephir, playing the perfect gentleman, checked that she was fine to leave, had organized transport home etc. before gathering his things.

Zephir’s dark eyes lingered a moment more on the displayed time, giving the impression he was debating with himself internally. “I want to see you again,” he told her seriously, his polite tone undermined somewhat as he flicked his eyes up to catch her gaze once more. It was probably the most honest thing he’d said all afternoon – not that he’d been lying at any other moment, exactly. The man thanked her for meeting him and left.


this is the worst post of all time, but we really needed to finish this thread xD