forever and never [reed]

His quick reassurance salved the raw edges of her apprehension, but he was still too close and she couldn't quite look away from his gaze. Pinned to the door with her fear but also ensnared by his piercing blue gaze, she felt like he was seeing much more than she wanted him to, but she didn't know what to do or how to pull herself together. Everything was scattered and it was hard identifying where all the pieces were or how to put it back together. She could only deal with the most immediate concerns: Reed being too close and fearing contact even accidental, shards in her hands she couldn't pick out, the headache pounding behind her temples leftover from the vision, the blood that felt like it was running down the backs of her arms.

Marisa swallowed, standing up a little straighter as he pulled back, looking at his as he rubbed his face, her eyes drifting down, noticing the tattooed tentacles undulating across his pecs and forcing her gaze back up to his face before that train of thought could even leave the station. She watched him as he watched her and tried to decide on what to do next. Her hands radiated with pain, but asking for more help on top of what he had already done for her tonight? She couldn't even entertain it. His words weren't helpful either.

Her frown grew as he told her he didn't have any other choices and he wasn't wrong, but he hated that he was telling her like this, making her face the black and white reality. She didn't like not having options. She racked her brain, trying to find alternative solutions just to prove him wrong, just to prove she wasn't completely helpless, but it was an exercise in futility. Shit. His request that sounded more like a demand for her not to leave made her automatically glance over her shoulder at the door, but he said the one word that had her turning around and drifting back toward him.

Whiskey.

"Macallan?" she asked with a hopeful note in her voice as she came closer, watching his movements and realizing belatedly that something was different, off. She had seen the blood on his hands, his face, but she took another look at him, her eyes tracing over his torso, beneath the inky black lines across his abs, her brows knitting together as she realized she saw a bloom of a purpling bruise just starting. "Are you alright?" she asked softly with a pointed glance before she met his gaze.

She immediately wanted to help, fix it, rewind it all so they were back on as even footing as possible, but she remembered she could barely hold her wand with her hands like this. She glanced down at them again, hesitating, trying to decide the right words to ask for help. She didn't do it that often and even the idea seemed completely against her nature. But she really wanted that whiskey and she really wanted to help heal whatever was going on because it was ultimately her fault and she hated that.

"Can you.." she started before glancing down at her hands with a grimace, the words getting stuck in her throat.

Reed noticed how she looked at the door and found himself silently relieved when she moved away from it instead. Nodding when she asked, he almost smiled. "Of course," Macallan was one of the finest brands in the world, so naturally, it was one of the only ones that Reed ever kept stocked. He refused to have the second-best; it just wasn't in his nature. It was probably why he was more interested in Marisa than he had any right to be. In his mind, she was second to none when it came to her trade. Marisa was the best tailoress Marchesi had ever had, and he was smart enough to know it.

Marisa had asked if he was alright, and Reed had nodded silently as he poured their drinks. It wasn't until he turned back to her that he spoke. "Yeah, a little fucked up, but I'll heal it; I just need a minute." Reed didn't like her, knowing that he was exhausted. Or that he'd used a lot of energy on spells and punches and emergency side-along apparition and felt entirely spent. And he hated the aching feeling that crawled up his sides, as though his ribs might have been more than just bruised. He'd be able to heal it with magic, but the wizard knew better than to try fixing bones when he was this tired. He'd make it worse, but whiskey would make it better. And Macallan Triple Cask 18 made everything better.

Like the calm after the storm, Reed felt like the energy in the room was shifting. He relaxed into the idea a little and then noticed Marisa looking down at her hands and was surprised by what she said next. "I can," He said softly, no need for gloating or I told you so's, and Reed motioned toward the kitchen again. He brought the full glasses with him, holding his breath as he stepped up to the kitchen floor and set them down on the counter. He rewashed his hands quickly, "Take a seat," he said and dried them before turning back around to reach for the tweezers.

"You might want to drink some of that first," Reed motioned toward the glass and held the tweezers up for when she was ready.

At least he had Macallan. One bright point in a night that had been so abysmal.

And he had Triple Cask 18? Marisa's eyes widened slightly. She should have known Reed would have the very best and for once, she couldn't deny herself the temptation. She licked her lips as he poured, distracted by the expanse of his back and the continuation of his beautiful tattoos stretched across his shoulders, before her gaze faltered at his admission. It made her immediately want to retract her ask while a simultaneous pang of guilt threaded through her. He was hurt and it was her fault. He was hurt, he could heal himself and he didn't need help, and it was her fault. She chewed on the inside of her lip, but she knew herself well enough that she wasn't ready yet to know more. She desperately needed answers, the whys and hows of what had happened, but she could be patient and she knew she was better at dealing with one problem at a time.

His soft agreement about her hands was simple, unfettered by the ego she had seen in him tonight, and she quietly appreciated it as she followed him back to the kitchen, sliding onto one of the stools as she set her wand down on the counter, useless as it was with her hands like this.

The sound of the water in the sink met her ears as she gazed at her palms faced upward on her knees, steeling herself for the pain of the charm. When she saw the tweezers in his hand, she froze. She knew the tweezers were the less painful route, something she desperately wanted to give in to in the current moment, but it also meant being closer and sent her spiraling back toward fear. She was still shaking from the last vision, so unexpected, from someone unknown with ill-intentions that it felt like the vision had punched its way into her mind, leaving her more exhausted than usual. She knew she shouldn't risk it, she couldn't, but she also was not keen on the glass shards ripping their way out of her palms with magic. She had already made that mistake once.

"I--" she exhaled a short breath as she stared at her hands and then brought her gaze up to his, dark caramel eyes to piercing blues. "You can't touch me," she said agreeing conditionally, glancing at his tweezers with a nod. Not that she didn't want him to or that he shouldn't. Can't was more accurate, black and white, even though it made her nervous to be so direct about it because she knew Reed and knew he might see more in this than she wanted to divulge. She couldn't think about that now, just another thing to deal with later.

She swallowed and looked at the glass, reaching out for it instinctively, her nightly habit of indulging in a glass of top shelf whiskey coming to greet her again, but she winced when she tried to hold the glass and it clattered back to the countertop as she lost her grip on it. Luckily, only a few drops spilled but she still apologized quietly for it.

Reed sighed when Marisa told him not to touch her again. He was learning always to expect some push back from the stubborn witch in front of him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little bit irritated by her words. He understood them before when they were at the door, and he’d cornered her, but now? He shook his head and blew out more air, “That’s going to be a little tough….” Reed said, but he was already working out how he could manage to pull shards of glass from her hands without touching them. Even though the request made things more complicated, Reed respected her right to make it. And if she didn’t want to be touched, he appreciated that too.

Of course, the more she told him not to, the more he wanted to touch her.

Sliding into the seat beside her, Reed was reminded again that he needed to hurry up and heal his side before the swelling became unmanageable, but he intended on taking care of her first. She was more important, and Reed felt like if he didn’t take this opportunity, she might change her mind and go back to trying to rip out the shards with her magic. The wizard had told her to take a drink, but Reed saw the pain as she tried to hold the glass. As if she were an asset, Reed was careful to walk the line between being too helpful and too demanding. He’d ripped her away from her shop, yelled at her when she refused to let him heal her hands, and then kept her from leaving. And to balance all of that out, he’d offered whiskey. It was damn good whiskey, though, so he thought the balance was in order.

Reed moved to pick up her glass with his opposite hand and held it up toward her. “Here,” His icy blue eyes locked on to her warm caramel ones as he waited for her to take a sip. He wanted Marisa to feel safe and protected here because it would make everything so much easier, but also, he just wanted her to feel safe around him. He remembered the way she had looked at him not more than five minutes ago. And if she were anyone else, he probably would have felt a thrill from being feared, but he didn’t want that from her.

She bristled at his sigh, feeling his exasperation, and feeling a fierce need rise up in her to explain the reason why so that he understood the truth of her intentions instead of whatever narrative he was telling himself. Except she didn't want to tell him about her Sight and she didn't want to know what weakness he was attributing her with as if to explain her fear of touch itself and not the actuality of what resulted from it. Marisa brought the back of her hand up to her forehead to rub at the center before returning her hand to her knee and leveling a look at it.

This wasn't a negotiation. She would not be swayed.

Marisa didn't blink or avert her gaze as he came closer, her mouth a flat, thin line, tracking his movements as he offered her glass. She paused for only a beat, noting his position, the distance between them in the chairs, how he held the glass, how his eyes looked like midnight ice this close. She licked her lips. And then leaned in, giving it to temptation for just a breath of a moment, parting her lips so her bottom one rested on the rim, and let him tilt the glass so the whiskey could run into her mouth. Her eyes stayed on his the whole time and she almost forgot to give him the smallest of nods to stop.

She leaned back finally able to look away form his gaze as she acutely felt each inhale and exhale, hearing her heart in her ears. Marisa laid her hand on the counter and slid it closer to him to heal. Her mind felt scattered but she at least knew that she couldn't do that again. She had to be able to hold her own damn glass because otherwise, she would be getting herself into a heap of trouble that she wasn't even sure she would know how to get out of even if she wanted to. And she didn't want to admit how big the part of herself was that didn't want to.

Reed's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Marisa looking up at him like that. And his mind wandered further than it ought to as she parted her lips for him, and he rested the glass of whiskey on them. He wondered if she knew how that sort of look, especially coming from her, made him feel. He held her stare as he tilted the glass steadily. The heady amber liquid ran toward her, and the wizard licked his lips unintentionally. Reed saw more than fear or disdain for him behind her caramel brown eyes—or maybe he saw what he wanted to see. It didn't matter, he decided and pulled the glass back when she nodded.

Before turning to the task at hand, Reed downed the remainder of his glass. Silently, he filled them both up again. The silence surrounding them was more comfortable than when they had been arguing, and Reed sank into it a little as she put her hands on the countertop. For a wizard who could speak eight languages and was well-versed in manipulation tactics, he'd found convincing Marisa of anything was like getting the world to spin in the other direction. He wasn't sure he'd ever met someone whose stubbornness rivaled his own, and Marisa may have even been more so.

Her hand moved toward him, and Reed nodded solemnly. He leaned out of his chair, his muscles rippling and his ribs aching, as he reached for a clean towel hanging off of the cabinet by the sink. She didn't want him to touch her, and he planned to respect that, but the wizard wasn't about to try and pull shards of glass from her palm without being able to hold her hand steady. "Take a breath," he instructed as he held his hand out, the towel on top of it, for her. "I'll be quick,"

Reed pulled the first shard out without complication, though he doubted it was painless for Marisa. The next snagged on the skin like a claw on fabric, and he slowed. Reed's eyes drew up to Marisa's face, and he studied her closely, waiting for a sign that he should continue. He was silent as he worked, pulling bits out one by one and discarding them on the counter like bits of shrapnel.

The amber liquid, smooth and sultry, against her tongue, her eyes on his held her in thrall, untill she was able to look away. There was a such a delicate balance between them, a push and pull she couldn't help feel, couldn't escape, perhaps didn't even want to. But when he was this close and she could see something flicker and darken in his eyes and feel something yearning deep within her, she knew she couldn't give in to the temptation. It would hurt all the more later when she realized she actually couldn't have it.

So Marisa was glad for the distraction of the pain as he worked over her hands, watching him work, feeling the breadth of his palm beneath hers even with the towel between them. She always thought she had a high pain tolerance, but maybe not. Each piece felt like a stabbing needle so much so that she had to look away, turning her head so her chin rested on her shoulder and she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Her gasp wasn't because of the tearing shard he picked from her hand, or maybe it was, but more so, it was what she saw there in the against the windows. A large glass case where three sets of glowing eyes stared in her direction and yet again she seemed unable to look away. She struggled with the feeling of unfocus even as she looked from one pair of glowing eyes to the next, a three-headed runespoor, each head bobbing and weaving gently and she felt like all three were staring right at her. Had he ever mentioned he had a runespoor? She didn't think so but her mind felt foggy at the moment. "Is that a..."

At least all the snake iconography that he seemed to like was making more sense.

It didn’t take a mind reader to understand how each piece of glass felt coming out of her skin, and Reed to no pleasure in causing her pain, but it had to be done. They had to get the shards out so he could heal her hands. Unlike so many things in life, it was simple, and Reed wanted to do at least this one thing for her before she started fighting him on every little thing again. He figured he had about five more minutes of the grace she’d given him, and the wizard intended to work as quickly as possible. He pulled another out as she looked away and stole a glance at her. He watched as her eyes slid over the impossibly large terrarium that had become the most prominent feature of his flat. The black metal and glass case took up most of the wall opposite the kitchen counters, and his balcony and the London skyline were visible through the glass of the cage.

Sitting prettily on the giant branch, and basking underneath magically floating heat lamps, was the closest thing to a commitment Reed had ever made. “It is,” he said softly, pulling another piece of debris from her palm and dropping it softly on the counter. “And they have names,” Reed smirked as the heads began to sway in time as if they knew Marisa was talking about them. “Marisa, meet Mehdi, Mansur, and my girl, Medina,” As Reed spoke their name, each head bowed a little; the magical creature was far more intelligent than one might assume. The wizard loved names that started with M, he realized, as his eyes slid back up to look at Marisa again.

The Runespoor hissed as Reed’s attention turned away from them and back to the witch in his kitchen. Casual as ever, Reed whispered back to them in parseltongue, “Be quiet,” and chuckled. They were viciously jealous and territorial creatures, Reed could relate. “Have you ever seen a Runespoor before?” Another bit of glass removed from her hand, Reed spoke as he surveyed what was left in her palms. The easy ones were done, and even some of those had been a challenge. There were a few more, but they were deep in the skin, and Reed was not looking forward to digging for them.

She could feel Reed's gaze on her as keenly as she felt the runespoors' even thought she wasn't looking at him. There was something about different about the air seemed to fall around her tonight, in waves of energy as if reacting to the natural rhythm and power he exuded. Marisa felt like the runespoor might sense it too and she almost couldn't look away from it, watching it sway, blinking its eyes as if understanding. Marisa didn't know how intelligent these creatures were, but if Reed had one, she could only assume he would want the very best in a pet.

Wincing as he pulled another piece from her hand, her fingers straightening with the pain before she was able to take a breath and relax into his hand again, swallowing, as she focused on the runespoor, each head nodding to her in turn as he introduced them. That answered the question of how intelligent they were then. The M names fell from his lips and hers seemed to fit right along with them. She glanced back at him, meeting his gaze, a soft, amused smile on her lips. "They're a bit terrifying," she admitted, her soft tone matching his. Not the screaming-terrified that sent someone running from the room, but more like your run of the mill casual-terrifying where she wouldn't want to be alone in the room with them and as long as they were behind glass she could feel mostly okay about it. She wasn't particularly afraid of snakes, but she thought it was smart to show some level of fear for a creature as powerful as it seemed.

Marisa realized she was staring at the three heads of the runespoor again, trying to pick out the differences in each one, trying to remember which one he had called 'his girl,' tilting her head as the three heads looked at Reed and hissed as if expressing something, but a replying sound from him caught her attention. A hissing whisper and a chuckle. She studied him for a moment as she shook her head no in response to his question, one of her own questions on her tongue. Normally she wouldn't pry for personal details because she knew the reciprocity that most people expected wasn't something she was willing or capable of giving, but she couldn't help the curiosity. "Are you a Parseltongue?"

His glance at her hands had her looking too and she licked her lips, knowing the last few pieces would be some of the worst. "Can I have some more whiskey?" she asked, admitting to her weakness feeling shameful. "Please?"

Reed's smile swelled at Marisa's words, and he nodded. The wizards supposed they were terrifying, and he concluded that was exactly what he liked best about the Runespoors. He moved on to introduce them and wondered if she'd know the origin of their names. He was pretty sure he'd told her of his trips to Saudi Arabia before, but he wasn't sure if she understood just how much he loved the oasis in the middle of a desert. Places like the wizarding town outside of Riyadh shouldn't have existed. And something about the juxtaposition of wild, dangerous deserts and towering artificial skyscrapers had always spoken to Reed.

While he hadn't been hiding his ability, Reed was surprised when Marisa asked him directly. She rarely asked anything about him, and he often wondered if it was because she didn't want to know or because she was frightened of knowing the answers. He pried all the time; Reed was nosey by nature and always asked for more than was freely given. Not that she gave anything away easily, but it had never stopped him from asking.

"I am," he answered comfortably as if it were the most common thing in the world, but Reed knew it wasn't. He was fully aware that his ability, among many other qualities, set him apart from other wizards, and he used that to his advantage. Not only did being a parseltongue make him different from his peers, but it had also cast quite the shadow over how others judged him. As if being able to talk to snakes had made him inherently evil and not to be trusted. Reed was neither, but he understood how some might equate serpent qualities and bad men. "Does that frighten you?" He asked, even though he shouldn't have.

Reed nodded when she asked for more whiskey, but he didn't mention that she'd probably need more than a sip for the piece of glass he needed to remove next. It was dug deep into her skin and twisted, and he was pretty sure it was going to hurt more than any of the others when he pulled on it. The skin had already begun to warp around it, blood pooling as the body attacked the foreign object, and her magic earlier had only made it worse, pulling it further under the skin and irritating the area. He didn't let go of her hand; though the towel separated their skin, he was still holding it steady as he set down the tweezers and reached for her whiskey.

"I had another Runespoor, when I was younger..." he began, not entirely sure why he was so quick to offer her a story of his life. For someone exceptional at communication, Reed rarely spoke of his past. He was always moving forward, always looking to the future. "But Runespoors are spiteful creatures." The wizard held the glass of whiskey toward her, speaking as he tilted it back. He watched the way her lips met the glass with more than a casual interest. "Each of the heads has its own needs and desires." As his eyes locked on hers again, Reed realized he was talking about more than just the snakes, and he continued. "It didn't matter that they shared a body; eventually, the warring minds ripped each other apart."

"It wasn't until I was much older that I began to understand why a creature would act against its own self-interest. Why it would fight with itself to the point of self-destruction." Reed finished with a sigh and set the glass back on the counter. "But now I know that it's not a trait reserved only for Runespoors. " He motioned to her hands, the ones Marisa had been hellbent on healing herself even if it caused her more pain, but Reed was talking about a lot more than just her palms.

His smile at her admission of his pet being terrified should've been disconcerting, but she supposed that he would like a terrifying animal living with him. It fit him well. She returned his smile even as she heard another hiss from the cage, wondering if it was just a sound that it (they?) were making or if they were communicating with him somehow. And if they were, what they were saying.

Reed's easy answer threw her off guard though and she looked back at him, her gaze meeting his as the warmth of his hand bled through the towel. The casual, comfortable way he had answered her confused her. "Is it not a secret, then?" she asked. She knew the talent was rare and had historically been seen in a certain light, but, as with all other things, perhaps Reed was above it all. Perhaps he didn't care. She wondered what that was like to be so open about his ability. She didn't dare imagine it for herself. His question made her sigh. "No, it doesn't," she answered easily, quickly, as if she would have any hope of staving off his opinion that she was a frightened women who would scare over the smallest of things. Marisa understood why he assumed that and it's not like she could explain it, but it still grated at her. She liked to think she was made of tougher stuff even if tonight was proving the exact opposite. "Not sure I want to know what they're saying about me though.." she added, her tone ironic, amused.

Marisa watched as he brought the glass close again and tried to guard herself against whatever foolishness had taken over her mind the last time he had come closer, but the way he spoke, the rhythm of his voice, and the story he weaved for her were distracting. In the best possible way. She sipped again at the whiskey, feeling the welcome burn down her throat as she looked at him over rim, licking her lips as he moved back, listening as he told her about his past, something that hadn't delved into before, mostly because Marisa was always pushing him away. Or more like keeping herself away out of necessity, but this window into him was intriguing she couldn't deny it.

Hearing more about runespoors brought up more questions about the creature and about halfway through she found herself wondering at his meaning. It was only confirmed when he gestured to her hands and Marisa frowned at the implication. She warred with herself, trying to understand if that was what he really meant or if she was just being overly sensitive with everything that had happened tonight. She went with her intuition. "Perhaps," she started, so many thoughts on the tip of her tongue all fighting for purchase, so she inhaled and started again. "Maybe you don't know the full story then," she said as she looked down at her hands and then slowly raised her eyes to meet his, unwavering. "Maybe what you see as self-destruction is just self-protection."

The way that Marisa had answered his question amused Reed, her adamant attitude was entertaining, but he wasn't sure he believed it. He'd seen her be all manner of scared tonight, but he didn't think that made her weak. It made her reasonable. Fearless people ended up dead. Reed survived in this complicated, dark world not because he wasn't afraid of things but because he knew who to fear.

"They don't like anyone," Except for Samael, Reed thought distantly about his childhood best friend and made a note to ask him about the wizards who had attacked Marisa in the morning. Sam might not have anything to do with it, but Reed had a feeling he might be able to get some information from his less-than-approachable contacts. As he moved to hold the glass to her lips, Reed observed her. There had always been something undefinably alluring about Marisa, and the more he learned about her, the more that interest grew.

Without thinking or a second of hesitation, Reed had told her a story about his past. Something he hadn't thought about in years. Something he'd probably never told anyone before. And the relatively private wizard wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. She was disarming him, and he didn't think she even realized it. "Yeah, maybe that's true," he agreed as he set the glass back on the counter with a soft clink. The Runespoors hissed more, but Reed paid them no attention because what Marisa said next consumed every ounce of focus he had.

"Self-protection, huh?" Reed was pretty intelligent, he was skilled at defusing conversations and understanding nuances, but Marisa was a mystery to him. And so, he assumed her words were directed at him. That she felt the need to protect herself from him. And Reed felt that anger rising again. "Protection from me?" He asked, setting his jaw as he sat back in the chair a little. His free hands gripped the tweezers, but he made no movement to pull the next piece of glass from her hands. Even though his hands might not have seemed so, there was something vaguely menacing about the way he'd asked the question. Reed didn't want her to fear him, but he wasn't relaying that very well right now.

It went without saying, but Reed said it through gritted teeth anyway. "You know I saved you tonight, right? From those that would cause you harm. I protected you."

They don't like anyone. Marisa could understand what he wasn't saying there. They didn't like her either. And now she was doubly glad that he didn't share what they were saying and she wasn't going to ask. She felt their stares though and hoped it was mild curiosity and not something more sinister in their gazes. She couldn't be sure.

The clink of the glass against the countertop felt loud in the quiet of his apartment and she returned her gaze to him even as she heard an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. Protection from me? Marisa stilled, evaluating the tension she saw in his jaw, the sharpness of his tone. She didn't like it, but she didn't necessarily disagree either. "Yes from you," she told him warily. "From everyone," she added more quietly. How could she tell him that everyone with their handshakes and hugs hellos and affectionate touches on a shoulder were a threat. How could he possibly understand that when she couldn't - no, wouldn't - tell him the truth that would help this make sense. She swallowed as she felt a change in his demeanor, her senses keen enough to pick up the difference, but it only made her frown at him in frustration as she squirmed in her chair.

"I know that. I- I'm not saying that you didn't. I just--" Marisa stopped herself and looked back toward the window as the emotion rose up in her, frustration and hopelessness dogging her that she couldn't quell. She worried her lip as she tried to find her way through it, tried to find some words that would make the situation better. She didn't have any.

Her gaze trailed back to her hands, open, her fingers curled slightly up, her elbow digging into the countertop, her voice soft as she said, "Thank you for what you did tonight. I should have said it earlier. I still don't understand.. but I know what you did saved my life and I'm not--" Scared of you is what she was going to say, but she bit her lip and stopped herself because it was true and it wasn't. She had to protect herself from everyone, that was a universal truth at the heart of this. But underneath that, she couldn't exactly say she wasn't scared of him because she knew in the way she caught glimpses of him looking at her at Marchesi and in the way he always brought her little gifts of places she wanted to visit and in the way he had stayed with her at the gala after everything and in the way he had come to the shop tonight. She knew of the possibility there and that terrified her. But not him.

Reed couldn't help but grow aggravated as Marisa spoke, yes, from him, from everyone, her words grated at him. He sniffed, looking away and avoiding the judgemental looks from the Runespoor across the room. He'd protected her tonight, quite possibly saved her life, and he'd gotten nothing but trouble since. It wasn't that he was looking for an apology or that he thought she might turn into a different person and suddenly be warm and welcoming, but he hadn't expected all of the grief this good deed had afforded him. It was a stark reminder of why Reed rarely did things he wasn't being paid for. Morality and emotions were nothing but lenses that blurred everything that should have been in focus.

"Just what?" He asked, turning back to her with an icy look on his face. Reed wanted her to finish the thought, but he knew it wasn't in his best interest. He wasn't always great at self-preservation, either. His eyes rose again as she looked away, but this time Reed noticed the vulnerability quivering on her lip, and it made him pause. He let it go, and she backtracked and began to thank him, but Reed didn't appreciate it one bit. "Not what, Marisa?" This time Reed wouldn't let it go; he wouldn't let her not answer his questions. He'd done a lot for her tonight, and though she hadn't asked for any of it, Reed had thought it earned him at least one answer.

"What is so damned important that you can't even finish a thought?" Reed was typically so good at reading people and understanding their motivations, but he felt foolish and clueless when it came to Marisa. He didn't understand her, he couldn't decipher what might have been holding her back, and Reed hated being in the dark.

His questions after each time she stopped herself and the coldness she heard in her tone made her prickle with anger. She wouldn't say it matched his, but she was just as frustrated by it. Frustrated by the fact that she had put herself in this locked box and now couldn't explain why. She had made the rules for herself and couldn't break them to give him more details.

Marisa clenched her jaw as she stared at him, fighting more with herself than anything else over what to tell him. "I'm not scared of you," she told him, her tone clipped, frowning even as she admitted to it. True and not true, but she supposed it wouldn't matter to Reed, especially as his next remark made her brows fly up and she sat back in her chair, her foot tapping on the rung of the bar stool as she looked at him, a little surprised, a little hurt, her expression tight.

"You think you know everything, don't you, Reed?" she said, quiet rage making her speak a little quicker than usual. Her nerves were frazzled, her patience worn down to nothing. "Whatever sources you have, whatever little spies you employ, you think you have all the answers at your fingertips. Or perhaps that you deserve all of them?" She wasn't sure, but she couldn't help the torrent of words that spilled from her in anger. "Well, you don't. You think you know everything about me, but you don't. And I can't tell you, no, won't tell you," she corrected herself, always reminding her that it was a choice, never shirking away from the responsibility of it.

She was stubborn in her silence for a beat before she looked away from him and back at her hands. "Will you just finish and then I'll get out of your hair. I'll go to the mansion, it'll be safe there," she said, her tone dropping, tacking on the bit at the end, knowing he had worried about her safety earlier, but guessing that concern might have faded off by now.