Day Job [Jakarta/public]

Too perplexed to answer, she tried to search his face for signs of bluffing, but found none. The fact of the matter was, she probably wouldn't believe it until she saw it...and she hoped she never did. The idea of anyone being much taller than that was practically terrifying. 

And what did she do for fun? "This," she answered automatically, as though it were obvious, "I talk with people." It was how she'd picked up English so quickly. "...Although, not so much since my nurse went back to England. Now I cook...sew..." Both painstaking processes, given that her hands periodically decided not to work. Everything on the table was her handiwork, even the fruit--they grew in the planters she'd brought from home. Quietly, she added, "I used to enjoy moving pictures." Not since the fire. 

Truth to be told, it was rather lonely here; she liked the carnival, but the people weren't always so friendly. Even when she was a servant, she was accustomed to being surrounded by a large network of close friends and family--even if it had been someone else's family.

Pleased, her face still flushed, she agreed, "Well, I'm flattered. I'd be delighted to have you, Mr. Van der Haven." The rest of what he was saying, however, was not nearly as lovely. Lips pressed together tightly, her eyebrows drew closer and closer together in alarm with each word. Thinking for a moment after he finished, she informed him, "I'm sorry to say, but it is not in my power to decide who stays and who goes, here. I suggest you take it up with the manager...though I'm inclined to believe he would not be convinced." Shifting so that she could cross one leg over the other, she stretched her fingers, in the hopes of making the pins and needles go away faster, "I can offer him a low salary; perhaps that would dissuade him?"

After a pause, she added, somewhat breathlessly, "I...I must admit, I'm slightly shocked you would..." Looking away, she cleared her throat lightly, "I mean, those are very serious charges, you realize?" Did that mean they must have been true? It was hard to believe someone could reveal such a frightful thing about their own brother.

He didn't really enjoy or need to cook and sew. He did read. Constantly. About everything. He felt like he was just a little ways away from discovering what this enigma that she was really was, and now he had nothing to talk about. Until she mentioned she used to enjoy movies. He was no expert, but at least he knew a little bit about them. "Really? What kinds did you like?" Did she say 'used to' just because now she had no one to go with? "You know, I'd be happy to take you to see one."

At least if she said no it would still provide levity to the heap of troubles he'd just dropped on her. He shook his head at her suggestion-- he didn't care about the money. He'd always made a point to be the one that his brother talked to about these things (it wasn't difficult, considering the quality of the other listeners) so he would have at least an idea of what to do if this happened again. He'd been counting on Diederik to be more of a help... but he just shouldn't have.

"He doesn't know who really has the power here, does he?" Broos doubted it-- not since things changed. "I'll do the work he does here." it had to be easier than contracts. "That way you can call him a drain on resources and get him out." He'd already convinced her to marry him. And who knew what else. "I can't get him out myself... I think I'll need to bring in my brother-- but I'm wondering if we could do this quickly-- without either of them knowing, beforehand?"

His mind was going a mile a minute. They probably didn't have much time left. But she slowed down his thoughts for a bit as he tried to find the best way to word the kind of person his brother was. "He's not bad." That was true. "It's... I don't know." For all of his eloquence he had no words. "I think you'll find out."

There was no way he was walking all the way back to the inn if it didn't have to be an alibi. "....Do you have a car that I could use?"

((here's the clip!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7ov7STa_Ik the first/highest rated comment is the BEST))

If he thought he was no expert, she could list the number she'd actually seen on less than one hand. And none of them were exactly ladylike. "Frankenstein... King Kong, and Dracula. I saw those each several times," she smiled at the memory, but it quickly faded, "And...I saw part of The Mummy." She learned after the fact that the fire had been set intentionally. By who or for what reason, she didn't want to know; it still made her sick to think about. Since then, she hadn't set foot inside another theatre. 

But, when he offered to accompany her, she didn't want to say no. It wasn't that she didn't want to go with him, persay, but that she didn't want to go, period. Smiling faintly, she replied, "Thank you, that sounds lovely." Maybe she could keep it together if she was being escorted by a man.

She didn't know what to think about what was happening, but she couldn't necessarily see anything wrong with the plan that he was hatching. Even if he didn't know how to do the work he was offering to, all she needed was for someone to read the papers out loud for her. And with her doing part of the manager's work, she could threaten to cut his personal funds, and force him to take more responsibility. Both sides won.

The only thing she was hesitant about was meeting these brothers of his. But maybe there was no away around that.

Reaching for her purse, she pulled out a car key gingerly, and held it out for him in the palm of her hand. So that it wouldn't fall if her fingers disappeared. "The tent with the cars are close by...please tell my driver to let you borrow my car." Then, with a smile, "Hurry back." She was secretly slightly afraid his brother would come in to talk about his wages while he was gone. And she'd be alone with the not-so-bad psycho.

She'd seen those three but decided she didn't like The Mummy and walked out? But she'd said yes.... which got him wondering again. She seemed to like fancier things. Was he supposed to treat it like a respectable date, then? Usually he just got dragged to the movies by Vesna (because Diederik didn't want to pay money for seeing fake people talk when he could see tangible people talk for free and still hated it) who had lately been starting to drink herself into oblivion by the end before wailing about not wanting to give up her dream. He hoped his show with Miss D'Arcy would go a bit better. "How am I going to impress a woman who doesn't flinch at the scary ones?" He joked, taking the car key from her.

'Hurry back'...... "....We'll see what happens." He responded after a small moment of internal disgust. He only hoped his brother had taken a smoke break so he wouldn't have to unravel them like a raw pretzel. He shuddered for just a moment before making his exit.

He was forever grateful that his left leg was taken, and not the right one. Not being able to drive on top of not being able to walk properly would have been exponentially worse than just the latter. After some convincing, the driver let him go. He apparently looked like the type to steal keys first and not just the car, and could swear he heard a grumbled, "yuppie." a moment before he turned the ignition. He was completely used to that kind of insult.

It took less than a third of the time walking had to reach the inn, and, as always when not using another form of transportation, he was frustrated at how slow his gait was. His plan and the road to it seemed a bit too complicated for his brother's chosen attention span, and somehow he doubted he would accept 'just trust me' as an excuse. But as long as there were no harbors nearby, he felt safe. ish. Making his way to the room, he knocked twice, loudly. "Diederik! It's important!"

Oh, if worst came to worst, she would be doing plenty of flinching. Just not at the movie.

Watching him go, she stared at the door for a while, suddenly feeling very alone again. Sighing, she groped around again in her purse, relocating her other earplug. It was worth it to take the chance of having to potentially ask someone to speak up. If things got heated, not only would she be stuck in the middle of it, but it would be an onslaught of pain, as well.

As such, she almost didn't hear it at first, when a knock sounded at the door, only moments after Van der Haven left. Jumping slightly, she went to open it nervously.

Niels, for his part, would have been there much earlier. But he'd spent a considerable amount of time skulking around the outside of Citra's car, eyeing the men outside of it wearily. And then some more time carefully transferring the lipstick mark from his face to a handkerchief. For safekeeping.

"Hello? I'm here to discuss my salary," he introduced himself, not at all sure why the young woman he'd barely met looked so unnerved, "Cornelius van den Haag." He extended a hand, politely.

"Ah...yes, I've been expecting you...Mr. Van den Haag," she took his hand lightly, "Darya D'Arcy. Come in, please..."

"It's a pleasure--" He stopped, in the middle of bowing slightly, eyes fixed on her neck. From which an all-too-familiar string of beads hung. Unable to tear his gaze away, he asked almost without breath, "Where...where did you get that...?"

Something seemed to sink in Darya's heart as she bit her lip and found herself desperately hoping that help would come quickly.

--

In fact, Diederik was not unraveled yet when the knock sounded at the door. He was, though, approaching that state of near-dead exhaustion, which was what he'd been shooting for more and more, those days. When he couldn't achieve the escape through sex, he got it out of alcohol and, occasionally, slightly more illicit things. He didn't know why, and he didn't try to know why. He didn't want to try and know anything that he was pushing out of his conscience.

Thus, the interruption left him considerably displeased. Normally, he wouldn't have given enough of a damn to stop, but... Scowling, he rolled off of Vesna, muttering, "Hold on," before getting up and pulling on some clothes. 

After making sure she was adequately covered by the bedsheets, he unlocked the door, growling in Dutch, "What." By the look on his face, one could assume that it had better be really fucking important.

Well it didn't seem that convenient a time. But at least he'd gotten up. He almost wished he could walk away-- as soon as the door opened he was hit with the heavy smell of sweat and alcohol and tobacco.

He decided to just jump into the explanation. "Look, I went there like you said, and they already gave him the job. I just... Can't let that happen. I guess you don't give a shit, but I do. So I'm getting the management to fire him and get him off the premises, and I need you to come with me because I won't be able to hold him."

He glanced at Vesna, and wondered if this was what she really wanted out of a relationship with a man who wasn't a customer. Did she want to be used like that? And furthermore to what end? Just like Citra, she was a nice woman who didn't know what was for her own good until it was probably too late. But she always would say "Im taking care of him". He was beginning to wonder if she'd just lost her self worth entirely.

Gesturing to the haphazardly thrown on clothes like he expected something more ready-- hadn't he said it was important?-- he challenged, "Come on then, you're wasting my time."

He was tired. He was cranky. ...Well, not that that was anything new, but he was feeling particularly cranky at that moment. And Broos rushing along in his explanation of something he didn't give a shit about wasn't helping. He would have told him so, too, except that his little brother chose that moment to get smart with him.

Decidedly pissed, he shoved him viciously, out of the doorway. Though he did not close it on him.

Instead, grabbing his coat from where it hung on the back of a chair, he told Vesna, "Wait here a minute; I gotta go get Niels." He wasn't about to take the time to improve the appearance of his hair or clothes (or wash the smell of booze and sex away, for that matter), but he could at least put on a coat. ...Or maybe he just wanted it for the pipe in the pocket. It was a hard call to make.

Taking out said pipe as he exited the room, closing the door behind him, he glared at Broos out of the corner of his eye. It was a silent message: after you.

As he closed the door, they could hear a frustrated, "What do you mean, 'wait a minute'??"

There were many, many things Broos could say, but, he knew from experience it wasn't a good idea. Especially since he had been knocked into the wall for just telling him to get a move on. So he just settled for looking disgusted and disappointed. The words that he and his oldest brother actually had spoken to one another could probably be easily tabulated into an incredibly low number.

Nevertheless (and probably because of that glare) he started walking out. Once he reached the car, he got in (not easily) and told him as the ignition rumbled to life, "I don't know if they've fired him yet, but it they have, you need to be ready to grab him." Though he almost seemed too tired to do anything. "At some point you have to decide that the money here doesn't matter anymore. We can make more at another place, and he'll still be working."

As he started driving away, he caught the pipe out of the corner of his eye. "This isn't my car-- don't smoke in it." Or, you know, don't smoke at all. But it was either the former or nothing. Having nothing safe to say, the rest of the ride, he was silent. It wasn't a new thing. Reaching the carnival, though, he still had nothing to say-- not because of Diederik, though. He was worried about the 'British' woman. Did he even have a right, putting so much responsibility on her so suddenly?

Silently he trekked to her car, and, hoping nothing had gone wrong in the meantime, he rapped on the door a few times and ventured a quiet, "Miss D'Arcy...?"

The way he was slumped in his seat (well, as much as was possible for the amount of leg room he got) seemed to confirm that he was, indeed, too tired to do anything. But it didn't exactly take a lot of effort to restrain someone as wimpy as Niels.

He didn't respond to anything his brother was saying (nothing new), though for once, he did agree with him. Not because of Niels, no, he didn't care about that. But because of the money. This place was rapidly becoming a lost cause; if this new manager wouldn't work with them, they'd have to cut their losses and go somewhere else. The only problem was, there wasn't exactly a lot of carnivals around that could afford to deal in the human market. But they could always go to a different country to do business.

The only thing he worried about was Vesna. But he'd been planning on asking her to go with him for quite some time--he'd promise to take her to Hollywood, or something. Wherever. There was nothing for her here. With him, she could see the world and cease being a prostitute. It was just a matter of convincing her with what little eloquence and tact he had.

Grumbling incoherently in discontent when he was told not to smoke (he could have done it, anyways, but he was in no mood to be griped at), he settled for tapping his fingers on the glove compartment anxiously. He needed his fix.

As soon as they pulled in and got out, he started packing tobacco into the pipe, adding to the worsening stains on his fingers. Lighting it as they walked, he watched Broos knock on the door of the car he knew used to be that Austrian woman's. Sucked that they had to do it inside; he hated not being able to stand up straight in those things.

A woman that looked like she'd just gotten off the hot seat opened the door, greeting Broos with an obvious tone of relief, "Mr. Van der Ha-aavennn!!" The relief turned into a shriek that she barely covered with a hand as she saw what was possibly the biggest, meanest-looking man she'd ever seen standing behind him. Eyes wide, transfixed, she stepped back a little and stammered, "Please..." She extended a hand to invite them inside.

Shoving past his younger brother, Diederik stomped in, ignoring the startled-looking woman. He got an immediate greeting, from an outraged Niels, who jumped up from his seat, "Diederik!!" He already looked positively outraged. Coughing slightly from the smoke (she didn't dare ask him to put it out), Darya threw an apologetic look at Ambroos. She'd tried not to reveal too much, but the lawyer had put her through quite the interrogation.

She was as afraid of Diederik as he'd expected. Good-- everything was going according to plan.  She would be afraid, they would talk the plan over, and then they would go with her to take Niels away.  

But as soon as he'd heard Niels' voice, he knew it wouldn't go as planned.  Or well.  Regaining his balance, he joined his brother, gently moving Darya closer to the door.  

"I don't know if she's told you yet, Niels, but you're fired." He informed him.  "You'll need to come with us." He shot a glance at Diederik, hoping he'd be awake enough to do something.  

He knew that Niels really did love Citra.  That much was clear.  But love ruined him, like he wasn't wired to process it with his analytical mind.  What came out was his warped version.  He wished he could just let it go, but he knew he couldn't. "You aren't good for the job, they don't need you here."

Glowering at Diederik, who barely seemed awake, Niels pulled Ambroos outside, closing the door behind him. If he could see his older brother's face, he'd be too angry to say what he had to say.

"Broos," he looked him in the eye, very seriously, as though he were being judged in court, "I know you're trying to help, but you're not. I'm not insane, alright? I'm an attorney at law, I'm older than you, I've spent every second of my life working...don't treat me like I've gone insane. I don't appreciate it." He delivered his case well--it was his job, after all. "I know what I'm doing; she and I have it all planned out. So, please, mind your own business, okay? If I leave her now, I'm going to regret it and be miserable for the rest of my life. Is that what you want--"

But at that moment, the door opened again, and Diederik stepped out, followed by a cloud of smog. With a disgruntled yawn, he grumbled, "She passed out. Started coughing." He nodded towards the door, as if it weren't obvious who he was talking about. He didn't know or care why, so he'd left her on the floor, deciding that he'd had enough of this. All he wanted was to go back to bed.

"Let's go," he grabbed Niels and started (literally) dragging him away. "What are you doing!? Let go of me!" The abductee yelled, struggling to get loose--or at least get to his feet, "Diederik, stop it!" The demands fell on deaf ears.

Desperate, knowing that she would have no idea what happened to him, he shouted as loudly as he could, hoping his voice would carry over the grounds and over the music, "CITRA! CITRA!!" She wouldn't be able to help, but at least she could know he hadn't walked off voluntarily. It was only when Diederik reached the car, popped the trunk open, and threw him in, that the cries changed to, "DON'T YOU DARE--" And then he was silenced with a satisfying click. Would he be able to breathe, in there?

...Probably.

He looked back, wondering if Broos had stayed back to help that woman, and how long it would take for him to catch up, with that goddamn limp. Too long. He didn't have the patience to wait. Getting in, he started up a car that wasn't even his and drove off. Whatever, he'd bring it back later. Or Broos could.

Muffled thumps could be heard from the back of the car, and when he pulled into the inn and cut the engine, it only got louder.

The rest of the inn was filled with raucous threats as they entered, "GRAND THEFT AUTO! FIRST- AND SECOND-DEGREE KIDNAPPING! HUMAN TRAFFICKING! DOMESTIC VIOLENCE! ASSAULT! CRIMINAL BATTERY!" A room was opened, and the shouter thrown in, presumably locked in from the outside. His fists could be heard pounding on the door, "HOSTAGE-TAKING!! I'M GOING TO PUT YOU BEHIND BARS, DO YOU HEAR ME--"

Diederik threw the door open to his own room, and slammed it behind him, only slightly muffling the noise. Storming over to the table, he kicked over a chair out of sheer frustration. Why did he agree to go along with Broos, when he hadn't even cared? He didn't know if there was any grain of validity to Niels's threats, but he knew he'd pushed it too far. Groaning, he gripped the table with one hand and ran the other through his hair furiously.

"...He's mad," he said to Vesna, bluntly, "Is there any beer left?" He didn't need it, at that point, but he wanted it. He wanted to just escape.

Of course.  This argument again.  Did he not remember how his last relationship went? It seemed he wasn't ever going to be able to get a word in edgewise, though repeatedly he opened his mouth in protest.  "I'm not saying you're insane, I'm just saying--"

But at that moment, Diederik trudged out, and informed him unceremoniously that Darya had fainted.  Most likely from smoke.  He immediately rushed in to her car, nearly tripping on the steps.  He didn't stick around to see him cart Niels away-- when Diederik set out to do something he did it (although he didn't think about *how* he would get Niels to the inn).  

"Oh, Jesus--" He nurtured to himself, dropping to the floor (he'd figure out how to stand up, later) next to her.  Should he move her? Had she hit her head? He couldn't help it, he started coughing from the smoke residue.  After he stopped the fit (mostly), he picked her up off of the floor (not as far as he wished-- he would need help getting to his feet again), and started checking the back of her head for any visible injury.  Part of her fall seemed to be broken by the insulation made by her tucked-up hair-- he could see a roller half-sliding out of one curl.  No real injury, then.  His hand supporting her back was under her shawl, and he could feel... Something.  Something raised.  But as long as it wasn't a recent injury, he didn't think much of it.  Tapping her cheek with his other hand, he tried to wake her between coughs.  "Miss D'Arcy...?" Maybe he should have opened some windows. Too late, now.  

He should never have involved her in this.  It was all too big for her.  

----------------------

Citra had heard her name called, and some other things she couldn't decipher-- but they didn't sound good.  Getting up from her spot, she became increasingly worried with every noise she heard.  By the time she had pushed past the next customer and tossed her headdress and accoutrements, she was running out to see what was going on.  

She was just in time to see her fiancé, the man who she had given herself to permanently, being thrown into a trunk by his terrifying brother.  Her future, taken away from her.  The dream of living in a large house with beautiful children and a changed-man husband was quickly disappearing.   "No...!" As small as she was, it was hard not to get lost in the crowds, but she had an inkling of where they were going.  Rushing into the tent full of cars, (she would have just ran, but she didn't have the shoes for that), she finally found someone who would get the sobbing woman to the inn.  

She tumbled out of the car when she arrived with as much urgency as she had tumbled out of her own.  Outside of her little show world, everything seemed too big.  The crew smelled like alcohol and the ceiling was ominously high.  She didn't have to ask where he was, thank goodness.  She could hear.  

Practically throwing herself at the door, she sobbed, "Niels...!?" 

--------------------
Vesna was mad, as well. But for a much different reason.  It wasn't often she'd see him this mad... But the same could be said for her.  She was more sad, really.    

"There's no more." She slurred, already in her nightgown.  "I finished it all." He didn't need it.  He shouldn't have had it.  She'd tried her best to love him the way she thought was right... But it seemed it just enabled him to try and destroy himself even faster.  

And besides that, had she just become an object to him? She hadn't gotten even one kiss good-bye, just a "wait a minute, I'll get back to you later".  Usually she was easygoing with his personality, it was part of what she liked.  But what woman wouldn't be upset?

She came to slowly, fading in and out of consciousness and murmuring in her native tongue, "Chi... Man ehsas-eh...nakhoshi...mikonam..." There was a buzzing in the back of her brain, and her head felt too heavy. A black fog obscured her vision. The air smelled unpleasantly familiar...

And suddenly, she jolted forward, "FIRE! There's a fire! Help, somebody--!" Her breathing was shallow and rapid, and she gripped his sleeve in a panic. But the dizzying weight overcame her head again, and she slumped against him, coughing weakly. "I can't...I can't breathe..." The consciousness came and went.

A moment passed, and her eyes fluttered open again, after her breathing had slowed. Clearly disoriented, she stared at him for a few seconds before she could recognize who he was, "Mr. Van der Haven... What happened...?"

--

Just as he'd given up on shouting and gone to the window to debate jumping out (or maybe he could make his bedsheets into a rope--did that actually work, in real life?), the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard called to him. 

Exhaling in relief, he rushed over to the door. "Citra? Is that you?? Oh thank god--" He loved her more in that moment than ever before. Not only had she heard him, but she went straight after him. And she sounded considerably distraught.

"Citra, he locked me in here," he tried to tell her calmly, though it was hard not to sound as shaken up as he was, "Can you go get a spare key from the innkeeper? I don't think I can make it out the window--"

--

Cursing under his breath, he kicked the chair again, splintering something. Plus one to the number of things he'd broken in this place. He supposed Niels would levvy that charge against him, too. It was just starting to really dawn on him that he'd lost a powerful ally. An unwilling ally, but an ally nonetheless. And what was worse, he'd turned that ally into a potentially dangerous enemy. He didn't want to go against his brother in court. Honesty would do him little good there.

And furthermore, what he was escaping was beginning to hit him, too--twofold. Everyone hated him. Really, really hated him. And he couldn't say he cared...but at the same time, he did. Lately, he'd really been paying the price for making enemies left and right. He didn't want to face the idea, because he didn't want to look at himself, anymore. Introspection had never made him happy.

So as it stood, opposed to what she thought, he was leaning on Vesna as his last crutch. She was the only person he cared for. Well--no, he did have some kind of a tiny soft spot for Broos, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep down. It was more correct to say that she was the only person he wanted to show he cared for. Abundantly. Unfortunately, for him, that meant through sex. Which was selfish, since he also used it as an escape.

And now she sounded upset with him. He put a splinter in that crutch just like that chair, it seemed.

Turning to her, desperate, he ran a hand through his hair again, trying to get himself steadied. When he'd cleared his head a little, he reached for her waist at first--but ended up taking her hand, instead, drawing her closer. "Vesna, I need to get out of here," he murmured, "I have to go somewhere else--anywhere else. Come with me." There was a pleading in his voice. Before, he could always run away to the ocean, and leave behind anything he didn't want to think about. But now, he couldn't go without her.

Oh god, her brain had completely twisted around in her skull, from the fall.  That was the only reasonable explanation for what she was babbling.  And then... Something about a fire.  Which he understood... But did she, as well? 

There was no time to wonder about that.  In a few moments she was relatively conscious, and he exhaled with relief (and a few last wheezes).  

"Everything's alright now, Miss D'Arcy." He informed her. He hoped, at least.  "My brother... Filled this place with tobacco smoke.  I suppose you just got overwhelmed." Maybe he would be able to relate to her easier than he thought.  "I know the feeling-- you'll be alright, there's no fire..."

-------------------

"Why...!?" She demanded tearfully. "What's going on...?" She was beginning to calm down, knowing he wasn't being hurt or killed or other things she suspected that his brother took joy in.  

She calmed down enough to comprehend what he was telling her, and tried to wipe the evidence of embarrassing extreme emotion from her face before approaching the innkeeper for the key.  He looked about ready to kick them all out, with the chaos that seemed to be happening constantly.  But he took some pity on the woman, who looked just as terrified about being in an uncontrolled environment as she did being in a bad situation.  

Shuffling back to the door, she kept her emotions in check, that is, until she opened the door and was able to connect to her future again. Practically lunging for him, she embraced him tightly.  "Why we're you in a trunk...?" She sniffed, face pressed into his shirt.  Too many confusing components to the mess.  

---------------------------

"I'm trying to sleep..." She muttered as he kicked in another chair.  She had thought she'd be happier than this.  The night when he'd told her he loved her must have been the happiest day of her life.  But where was it, now ?  Didn't love mean that they could be happy? He wasn't happy. She couldn't make him happy.  He needed a few bottles before she was even able to try.  

When he asked her to go with him, she should have been ecstatic, drunk or not.  But now... She couldn't even fake it. "Why." She shot back plainly.  "Why? So I can stick to your bed and... And watch you kill yourself?". She loved him too much for that, but she didn't know what to do about it.  

But she couldn't hold back the sadness.  The anger levy broke.  "What am I doing wrong...?" She murmured, trying to find something in his eyes, which lately seemed without spark.  "Why can't I make you happy...?"

It seemed that he was having similar problems with the smoke--which was unusual. Smoking was so common that most people were accustomed to it, even if they didn't smoke, themselves. A few expressed complaints in situations like this, but much fewer got wheezy like she did. As it was, though, she was a little too out of it to wonder why he was one of those much fewer.

It was a relief to know there was no fire, at least. Her head was beginning to clear a bit, as the room aired out and oxygen returned to her brain in greater abundance.

Able to sit up a bit, finally (it didn't strike her yet that his hand was at her back), she noticed they were both on the floor still. Inferring that he required assistance, she took his arm like before and pulled them both to their feet. The sudden movement caused the blood to rush from her head, and she narrowly avoided staggering and falling over again by leaning heavily on him--as she used to do with her nurse.

"I-is everybody gone...?" She asked, eyes squeezed shut as the dizzy spell passed. It was bad enough that one person saw her like this; she certainly didn't want the psycho interrogator (what was he, an ex-Savak agent?) and the smoking man-giant with the rotten teeth (she'd had the misfortune of catching a glimpse of them) to see, too. It was hard to believe they were related to Ambroos.

--

When she flew at him, his situation suddenly seemed considerably less grim. Though not entirely so. "I don't know--I suppose he knew that if he put me in the backseat, I'd try to jump out." Sometimes it seemed that Diederik understood a lot more about people than what he let on. Unfortunately, he just never used it for anything good.

Rubbing her back, he kissed her hair before murmuring, "Come on, we have to get out of here. They're trying to keep me away from Mistique--I think they don't want me working there." It was the only explanation that he could come up with. Because he wholly believed that Citra was the best thing in the world for him, he couldn't see what Broos kept trying to tell him--he wouldn't even question his love by trying. It hurt that his younger brother was so adamant on destroying his one shot at happiness, but at the same time...it only made it less painful to leave him and Diederik behind. Especially the latter.

Taking her hand, he led her out of the room and locked the door behind him, explaining, "So he'll still think I'm here." Leading her out, keeping her close to him in the room full of drunken sailors, he returned the key to the innkeeper (who didn't seem overly happy about the shouting) and exited the building. Hopefully for the last time.

Spotting the car that she'd used to get there, he ushered them both in and urged the driver, "Take us back to Mistique, please." He continued to hold her hand tightly as he lowered his voice to tell her, bitterly, "Broos--my younger brother, the one missing a leg--made up some stories to Miss D'Arcy and convinced her to fire me." That was as much as he'd gotten out of her. 

If only he'd known that it wasn't actually within her power to do so, he would have had a much better plan: do part of the work, show the manager how efficiently he did it, and then threaten to leave if he didn't get paid. As it was, he didn't really have any good plan but to plead his case with the owner. Explain the circumstances, through his perspective. But if the rosary around her neck was any indication, she was probably going to take his brother's side.

--

Her answer surprised him, but not for the reasons he thought it would. If he were given to such reactions, he might have laughed--though it would have been highly inappropriate--at how much was misunderstood. At it was, it just made him more solemn.

"No, it's this place," he tried to explain, "This place is killing me." It was ugly and dry here. He yearned for the open sea, for the great expanse of endless directions and no restraint on which one he took. He wanted freedom without fear of the consequences. Freedom without concern for the people that would ruin it for him; the people left behind on shore.

"You're the only thing here that does make me happy," he whispered truthfully, "I need to leave--but I won't go without you." It was a lot to ask of a woman, to condemn her to a life at sea. She wouldn't be able to see those moving pictures she cared so much about, and the only women she could befriend would be the ones in cages. "I can take you to Hollywood," he promised fervently, "Or Paris, or Rome. Anywhere you want."

"Everyone's gone now," He assured her.  That was what he assumed, anyway.  Everything was falling into place, now.  Niels would get back to normal, and they could leave.  

When she helped him up, he tried his best to move her gently towards the open door.  "I'm... I'm really sorry, Miss D'Arcy... I didn't expect that to happen.  I shouldn't have brought you into this." He didn't have to ask what was wrong with her-- he knew well enough.

Would they still be able to go to a show?

---------------------

She had too many questions to be able to express them all.  Why did they not want him there? Why would they fire him? She just settled for looking confused and controlling her sniffling.  

There was one thing she could venture into without feeling she was getting tangled in facts, though.  "Lies...? What did he say? Why would he...?" She'd met Broos-- granted they were both younger, then, but he didn't seem like the type.  

Still shaken up, she let go of his hand and instead clung to his arm.  If he was taken away, what would she do with herself?  She didn't notice it, but she was falling into her old ways.  Be completely supported by someone else until she felt pseudo-independence, wanted more, and tore herself away.  Maybe he wasn't the one who was supposed to change.  

---------------------

She couldn't be sure if he was serious.  But she knew he was telling the truth.  If it wasn't true, he wouldn't say it.  If he wanted to be sleazy, he would.  He wouldn't disguise it with charming words.  The anger slowly melted away while he spoke, and suddenly she was on the hotspot, instead.  

Sitting up in bed (maybe it would help her think... But not much helped in that regard--), she eyed him worriedly.  "You're too tired to talk about this," She decided.  "Too drunk." The same thing could be said about her.  

She didn't want to think about something so important, not then.  He was asking her to give up her dream (admittedly, a pipe dream), give up her friends, give up everything and follow him.  A part of her wanted to say yes right off the bat.  After all, she had run after her dream just as quickly, why shouldn't she follow something more tangible?  Another part of her remembered: she was young, he wasn't.  She was about to commit herself to something that would completely derail her life.  This wasn't the time to think about it. 

Getting up, she pulled his coat off his shoulders.  "We'll talk about it tomorrow... I can't think, now," She hadn't heard anything like this from him before-- was it some sort of mental crisis? Guiding him back to the bed, she smoothed out his hair before drawing closer and kissing him lovingly.  "Get some sleep, baby..." There were too many emotions running in his veins.  He was sad, tired, angry, nervous... Just about everything.

Why can't srilankan cage a base east? Around srilankan kids the hack pie. Why does srilankan commission a swallow? Will each disclaimer blank the sock? Why can't srilankan breeze opposite any admitted prayer?Srilankan dances with an offended arrogance. When will srilankan orbit within a shock? The honest ingredient distorts the blackmail. Srilankan worms an explosive. Srilankan regards the asset beside the hot queen. Outside a dusty genius expands the antique western.