Chapter Text
The clicking of her heels consumed the empty air around her, seeming as if the world itself was out to mock her. Reminding her of how alone she was. It felt childish, really. Cleo knew that she didn’t have to go. It was a ball, after all! Only some of the most important people in the underworld were going to be there. Not a big deal at all. Especially not with the fact that one of Faculty members went rogue, information that, once it had been made known, surely affected her reputation.
Cleo sighed. She didn’t have to go, no, but there was a creeping feeling that she absolutely had to. On one hand, staying home would allow her to recollect herself, to focus on plotting a new heist. On the other, the mere thought of giving the impression that Shadowsan’s betrayal has affected her so deeply that she can’t attend something so important such as this...well, it bothered her, to say the least.
She paused, taking a moment to take in her surroundings. When Cleo had started wandering around the halls, she had only intended to walk off the nerves that rattled inside of her. While she had no exact destination in mind, she couldn’t help but feel surprised to realize that she was standing in front of Saira’s lab. Looking through the window pane, she saw her, tinkering away at...some sort of technological orb. Whatever its function was supposed to be, she couldn’t say she was exactly interested.
It wasn’t surprising. Ever since the failed caper in Rio, they’ve all been on edge, fearing that, perhaps, another one of them was going to turn traitor and sell information to the enemy. Despite that, it’s felt like this was the closest they’ve ever been, continuing through this newfound hardship. That said, she’s noticed that Saira has become more distant, the gradual lack of her participation becoming more evident to the point that she’s scarce in their lounge, instead choosing to remain in her lab to try and invent some new brilliant technology that will turn the tables. Knowing her reputation of quickly abandoning projects due to a lack of attention, Cleo couldn’t help but worry that the doctor was going to work herself into an early grave.
Now, Countess Cleo didn’t think of herself as someone who necessarily cared about other people, nonetheless trying to convince them into taking their own wellbeing into consideration. However, there was some part of her that didn’t want to leave her like...that.
Perhaps...perhaps she could convince her to accompany her? Truthfully speaking, Cleo hadn’t even considered asking her, given that she didn’t seem the type for an occasion such as this. With all things considered, however, she was her best option. She may not have an interest in history or fashion, but Saira was a genius in most, if not all fields of science. Based on her previous experiences in these types of social gatherings, those topics always made for good conversation.
Asides from her own personal gain, she was sure that the ball would help Saira as well. To give her a reason to pry herself away from her work and remember that she didn’t have to go through this alone. Well, she wasn’t sure how she’d gather that from a ball, but it’s the thought that counts.
The question was...how was she going to convince her to go? Cleo was quite excelled at methods of persuasion, but Saira was a different case than most. She supposed that she would have to “go with the flow”, as a simpleton might say.
Taking a spare moment to ease her nerves, she entered the laboratory.
“Good evening, Doctor.” Saira grunted a greeting, her attention never straying from...whatever it was she was occupied with. “Might I spare a moment of your time?”
“Apologies, Countess, but as I’m sure you can see I’m rather focused at the moment.”
“You don’t need to completely divert your attention; I’m asking you to just...listen. And give light responses. Nothing too major, I would hope.” There was a brief pause before she answered.
“Fine. Continue.” With her permission given, Cleo began absently pacing the lab, careful to not get too close to the scientist. She was sure that she’d get a bitten response if she further distracted her.
“My acquaintances of the underground are hosting a party, a yearly gathering of high-class criminals such as myself. They’ve sent out dozens upon dozens of invitations, and, as expected, I’ve received mine a few days ago. However, I’ve run into a small issue: I lack a partner. The invitation recommends to bring at least one trusted individual, and there is no one suitable I can find.” Here it goes. “I came to you, wondering if you would like to accompany me?” Saira stopped what she was doing to look at her, a look of pure befuddlement on her face.
“Why ask me?”
“Well, I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re the most suitable person I could bring. Besides, I think an opportunity to wind down would benefit you.”
“Countess, I assure you that I don’t—” At that precise moment, the piece of technology in her hands glowed brightly and she could hear a jolt of static. Saira flinched, suddenly dropping it onto the table where it promptly rolled a few inches to the left before a piece of its paneling fell off. “….need to wind down.” She rubbed her hand in a soothing motion, her brow furrowed as she stared at it, presumably debating on a response.
“I’m sure there are more suitable members you could find to accompany you,” she eventually said.
“It’s...complicated.” Saira looked towards Cleo with a raised brow. “I want to go with someone around my age and is readily available, but the only ones who fit my standards are the other faculty.”
“And?” Cleo pursed her lips. “Why not ask Brunt? A party seems up her alley. I’m sure she’ll dress up if you ask nicely.” She felt appalled at that suggestion.
“Coach Brunt is much too brutish for an arrangement such as this.”
“Well, why not Professor Maelstrom?”
“I’d fear that he’d...unsettle the other guests. The last thing I would want would be to be escorted out.” Cleo averted her gaze, twiddling her thumbs. “You’re the only one who’s really suitable.”
“Untrue. I’m sure Ms. Booker would join if you asked her.”
“That’s the thing: she already has a partner. I’ve found myself at a loss.”
The following silence weighed heavily on her. Cleo’s not a fool, she knew that Saira wouldn’t be too keen on going to a party. After all, she spent the majority of her time staying away from any form of social encounters, instead choosing to fiddle in her lab for the majority of the day, concocting new schemes or inventions. Or looking up recipes. Or images of cats. Truth be told she actually didn’t really know what she did all day.
That said...it was worth a shot. To ask. It was important to her image, after all! Besides, what sort of Countess would miss a ball such as this?
To her surprise, there was a heavy sigh.
“When is this taking place?”
“Saturday evening, a few nights from now.” Saira looked at her, and then to her fizzling, smoking scrap of technology in front of her.
“I suppose I don’t necessarily have anything better to do.” Cleo clapped her hands together, her eyes crinkling in delight.
“You promise?”
“Sure.”
“Splendid!”
“What kind of party is it?”
“A ball, of course.” It was very difficult reading what her expression was, but she was sure that she was none too pleased. Unfortunately for her, she did promise. And she knew this. It was clear from the traces of defeat that sunk her shoulders ever so slightly. “I’ll owe you a favor,” Cleo quickly added in. “Anything you want.”
“Do you promise.”
“Of course! And a lady never goes back on her word.”