Chapter 27: Beating around the bush.
"You want to know how I'm aware of so much about you," I continued, leaning back in the booth, affecting an air of weary mystery.
"My... origins, let's say, are far too complicated to explain over a mediocre cup of tea. The 'how' is irrelevant. What matters is the 'why.'" I leaned forward again, my expression shifting from arrogant to intently serious.
"Let me assure you, Victoria, my intentions to help you are pure. They are genuine. So, with that tedious preamble out of the way..." I spread my hands. "Could you please tell me why it is you're hurt? Who put that shadow in your eyes and that armor around your heart? I only seek to help you, even if you can't see it yet."
I was laying it on thick, a mixture of faux-mystic bullshit and performative concern.
I was gambling that beneath the terrifying strength and icy exterior was the 'Hurt, worried' girl the panel had identified her as, a girl who might, just might, be desperate enough to talk to anyone who seemed to see her pain, even a suspicious stranger.
"This..." she said, her voice utterly calm. Or should I say... Too calm. "You're just playing with me, aren't you?"
The temperature at our table seemed to drop ten degrees. I felt it then, not a physical pressure, but an atmospheric one.
A sudden, ominous weight settled over me, a sensation of being pinned not by hands, but by intent.
It was subtle, as if some vicious predator had set it's cold eyes on me.
My spine tingled with sudden fear. The air around me grew thick and felt hard to breathe.
"Victoria..." I managed, my voice tight. I kept my gaze locked on hers, refusing to look away even as every cell in my body screamed to flee.
"Please. Control yourself." I forced the words out evenly. "Causing a scene here won't do either of us any good. People are starting to stare."
Her eyes flickered for a moment after hearing my words. a hint of frustration and reluctance seen within. The oppressive sensation wavered, then receded, though it didn't vanish completely. I let out a slow, controlled sigh, as if I were merely dealing with a temperamental child.
I pushed my teacup away and stood up. The movement felt monumental.
"Wait, what's going on?" she asked, the coldness in her voice momentarily replaced by pure confusion. "Where are you going?"
I looked down at her, arranging my features into an expression of weary resignation. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" I said, my tone gentle, almost pitying.
"You have no intention of accepting help. Not from me and clearly not from anyone regarding this matter."
"You're so wrapped up in your own defense's that you can't even recognize a genuine offer when it's literally being handed to you with little to no strings attached." I shook my head slowly.
"So, I'll do us both a favor. I'll leave you to it. You can continue with your life exactly as you see fit. If he, whoever he is, continues to treat you badly, to make you feel 'hurt and worried,' well... that's your choice to allow it. I can't force insight on someone who prefers to remain thick headed."
My internal monologue was racing. 'The fact that she obviously seems to despise men on sight, that she reacted with such visceral fury to my presence... it's a classic tell.'
' The one who hurt her is almost certainly a man. And I'd bet my last dollar it's not her father. This has the bitter, intimate taste of romantic betrayal.' A wave of tired cynicism washed over me.
' Seriously... Women in relationships are all about drama these days.' I sighed.
I gave her one last, small, sad smile. "Well, it was a... unique pleasure to speak with you, at the very least, Victoria. Now, if you'll please excuse me."
' Fortunately for me, I haven't officially decided to partake in this mission yet.' my cautiousness had indirectly allowed me to dodge a bullet.
I turned my back on her. It was the single most terrifying thing I had ever done. Every nerve ending was exposed, waiting for the touch of a hand, the crack of a bone. I forced myself to walk at a normal pace towards the restaurant's exit, past other diners chatting and laughing, a world away from the silent war at our booth. The distance to the door seemed miles long.
My hand was reaching for the polished brass handle when her voice cut through the restaurant murmur.
"Wait a minute."
I froze. Didn't turn.
"You said you wanted to help me." Her voice was different. Softer. The ice was still there, but it was cracked, revealing the uncertain water beneath. "I... I'd like to accept that offer."
A slow, profound relief, so intense it was almost dizzying, washed through me. The gamble, the insult, the terrifying pressure—it had worked. She had taken the bait.
'Oh? Has the tigress finally agreed to bend her back?' The urge to smirk in triumph was overwhelming, but I ruthlessly squashed it. Showing any sign of victory would destroy the fragile rapport I'd just barely established. My face remained a careful mask of neutral patience as I turned around.
"Smart choice, my dear," I said, my voice quiet and devoid of the earlier arrogance. I offered a small, genuine-looking smile—the kind you give someone taking a brave first step. I walked back to the booth, my steps measured, and slid back into my seat across from her.
The atmosphere had shifted again. The predatory tension was gone. In its place was a fragile, wary truce. She was looking at me not with murderous intent, but with a guarded curiosity, her arms now uncrossed, her hands resting in her lap.
I picked up my lukewarm tea, took a sip to give us both a moment, and set it down. My posture was open, attentive.
"Now," I said, my ton
e soft, inviting confession. "Would you care to explain to me what's truly going on?"