Chapter Text
Monday October 4, 1pm (Or thereabouts)
Silco and Jinx live almost dead center in the middle of Zaun, in one of the oldest communities near main street. Before Jinx gave you the address you thought you’d be driving to the south into the thriving community of mansions that dot the ridgelines of Piltover Hills, but it makes sense that he’d choose to live in town. He’s involved in so many businesses, it's the most convenient place to be.
Still, you’d imagined him living somewhere a little more grand.
Not that his house isn’t nice. It appears to be the largest property on the street, with a well manicured lawn that leads up to a sprawling, Tudor style home. There’s a fence guarding the perimeter and you have to put in the code Jinx gave you to pull into the driveway. The gate closes behind you, and you drive through a vine covered stone archway to enter into a wide courtyard. Jinx told you to park next to her studio, which is actually a two story garage, and as you climb the stairs to the door you can clearly hear the sound of pounding drums.
Despite the racket, Jinx somehow manages to hear your knock.
“The door’s open!”
The sight that greets you when you enter is absolute chaos. The studio is large and well lit, and is crammed with more art supplies than one person could ever hope to fit into one room. The walls, floor, and even ceiling have been touched by paint, though only one of the walls seems to have been purposefully decorated. There are canvases of every size and shape in one corner of the room, and gallons of paint are stacked in goopy piles in the other. Strewn about at no particular attempt at order are paint tubes, brushes, and spray paint cans.
Jinx peeks around the corner of an easel with a grin, a top hat perched on her head.
“You made it!”
“Safe, sound, and ready for action.”
Jinx had texted you as soon as you got off work. Her first question was if you liked Tim Burton. The second was if you would accept the honor of modeling for one of her paintings.
Of course you said yes.
"So, the muse came back after all?”
"It took all night, but I finally nagged her into giving me some inspiration. I’m calling it ‘ Down the Rabbit Hole’. It’s going to be my hot take on Alice in Wonderland. It's kinda the theme of the show.”
“And I’ll be posing as…?”
“Any character you like!" She stops painting to beam at you. "I put together a few racks of costumes for you to check out. I don’t care what you pick, but I really want you to find the character that speaks to you, and infuse your own flavor into it.”
“My own flavor huh?”
You wander over to the racks and begin to browse.
There are several interesting dresses in powder blue for Alice, a large puffy white jacket that screams White Rabbit, and an interesting collection of designer sweat suits that you think might be intended for Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. There’s also a suit that reminds you of something Silco might wear. While the tag doesn’t say Armani, a furtive sniff confirms the faint hint of pine and tobacco.
You run your fingers across the slightly worn fabric, playing with the idea of putting on the suit only for a moment before quickly discarding it.
That might be taking things just a little too far, even for you.
You firmly draw the line at internet stalking.
The next thing on the rack, however, catches your interest. It’s a spectacular red power suit from the 80's that’s clearly meant for The Queen of Hearts. It consists of a sleeveless, knee length peplum dress and a matching blazer that has tiny playing cards stitched along its sharp, silky lapels. You grab a pair of stilettos, which appear to be the only pair of shoes that match the outfit, and head to the bathroom to change.
As soon as you’ve got on the ensemble you stand back to admire yourself in the mirror. It fits like a glove. And perhaps it's just the height you've gained by putting on the heels, but you’re suddenly feeling ten times more confident about yourself.
As you carefully totter out of the bathroom, Jinx squeals.
“The Queen of Hearts! Oh it’s absolutely perfect, and exactly what I would have picked for you. And now for the makeup.”
You’d already put on a base layer before you left the house (at Jinx’s request), so it takes less than five minutes for her to apply a vibrant blue eye shadow and dots of pink blush.
Her tongue starts to stick out as she concentrates on painting on the eyeliner.
“How’d you know my dress size?” You ask slowly, trying not to move your face too much.
“Oh I just guessed! Silco says it’s a superpower of mine." She nods as she finishes the look. "Done. Okay, you can put the lipstick on yourself."
She hands you a mirror and a fancy tube of chanel and you almost do a double take when you see your reflection. You’d forgotten how different you look wearing a full face of make-up. You rarely doll yourself up except for special occasions, and there have been precious few of those over the last few years.
You haven’t even gone on a real date since you started at The Last Drip.
But let’s not follow that depressing line of thought, shall we?
The lipstick glides on smoothly, and after spending a little time fluffing up your hair and positioning a tiny gold crown on your head, Jinx begins to pose you like her own personal Malibu Barbie. The first thing she does is make you take off the jacket and drape it over your shoulders like a cape.
“Good. Now I just need you to stand here with your hands like that…. Yeah. And your leg is like that… Perfect! Don’t move!”
She dodges back the canvas and begins to paint.
You end up posing in those heels for over thirty minutes, spending most of that time sweating and shifting from foot to foot as your feet start to ache. She spends her time sitting, humming, painting, and checking her ipad until at last she stands up to pop a few pictures of you from different angles.
She checks the results with a satisfied smile. "Even better than I imagined."
"Can I see it?" You ask as you stretch your back. You’ve been arching it awkwardly to maintain the required power stance.
“Maybe later. Right now it’s time to hang out! Besides, I’m famished.”
You barely manage to keep your feet as she grabs your hand and drags you down the stairs.
“You know, I’ve always thought that the costumes we choose express some deep truth about our inner selves. Like for me, The Mad Hatter really understands what it’s like to be lost and misunderstood.”
“Do you feel lost and misunderstood?”
“Sometimes. Most people don’t really get me, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve got Silco and Sevika. And now I’ve got you!”
The bright smile she sends over her shoulder tugs at your heartstrings.
“And my costume?” You ask breathlessly. It’s difficult keeping up with her as she pulls you across the courtyard. Both the shoes and your tight dress are doing their best to keep you from moving quickly.
“What does it express about my inner self?”
“Well only you can answer that, toots.”
Nothing immediately comes to mind. You don’t think you struggle with unresolved anger issues, or have an innate desire to behead people who don’t let you win at sports.
You’re still mulling over the question as you're pulled through the backdoor, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjust to the sudden change in light.
“I made sure we’re stocked up on snacks, and I’ve got a stack of movies a mile high we can choose from. We should be able to watch at least three before Sevika comes home and throws us out of the living room so she can watch the fights. Also, I wasn’t sure what you wanted for drinks so I had Tommy buy us the lot!”
“Tommy?”
“Dad’s driver. He’s a pretty normal dude, not like some of his bodyguards who can crush watermelons with their thighs.”
She releases your hand as soon as you enter the kitchen, but continues towards the door on the opposite side of the room.
“I’ll be right back. Help yourself to a drink from the fridge if you like!”
You can hear her boots squeaking on the wooden floors as she disappears down the hall.
The swift jog in heels has certainly raised your temperature, so as soon as you’ve caught your breath (and assured yourself that your ankles haven’t broken), you shed your coat on the nearest bar stool. The kitchen has a neat and tidy feel to it, and even from your position behind the marble topped island in the center of the room, you can tell it’s a well used part of the house.
You immediately head to the fridge to inspect the colorful papers that have been stuck to almost every inch of the stainless steel doors. It’s an adorable collection of animal drawings scribbled on everything from paper plates to receipt paper, and even a few important looking bills. One look at the scrawled signatures confirms your suspicions. They’re the works of a very young Jinx, and they’ve been carefully tacked up in order of the age at which she made them.
You tuck your hair behind your ear as you look from one drawing to the next, a strange ache building in your chest.
You don’t know very much about this Silco, the father who keeps every drawing his daughter ever made and displays them proudly in the most communal place in the house. It makes you feel like you’re getting a peek at the man behind the curtain.
You doubt many people get to see this side of him.
You probably weren’t supposed to see this side of him either.
You almost bite your lip before you remember you’re wearing lipstick.
You blindly reach into the fridge to take your mind off the sudden nervous fluttering in your stomach. It takes you a few seconds of staring at the label to realize you've grabbed a small carton of milk. The door is stocked full of them, along with a large selection of juices. On the bottom shelf are several different kinds of beers and sparkling wines (all with The Last Drop label, you notice), along with a nice stock of cold brews.
Well you certainly could use more energy if you’re going to keep up with Jinx.
You pull out one that’s mocha flavored and settle back against the counter. The only way to keep your lipstick from smudging is to tilt your head back to pour the drink fountain style into your mouth, and you can just hear the sound of footsteps coming back up the hall as you lower your head to swallow.
A figure steps into the room, and your stomach swoops.
It's not Jinx.
You're not sure why you’re so surprised to see Silco. This is his house after all. Maybe it’s because of his extremely casual appearance. The tie is hanging loose around his neck and his fancy vest is unbuttoned, revealing an even leaner frame that you could have imagined.
He hasn’t seemed to notice you. In fact, he’s completely distracted by whatever he’s doing with his phone as he heads towards the opposite end of the island. He sets a good sized pencil case on the bar stool you've set your coat over before leaning forward with his elbows perched on the counter.
Your pulse is racing wildly.
Obviously you should let him know you’re there, and sooner rather than later. But you’re still deciding exactly how to reveal your presence in the room when he stills.
Ever so slowly he sets down his phone and touches the edge of your blazer with two long, slender fingers.
He tilts his head. “Were you ever going to announce yourself, or were you simply waiting to be acknowledged?”
You blink. Did he know it was you?
How did he know it was you?
“I was going to say something eventually.”
“When, exactly?”
“I was still working that part out,” You concede.
“Hm,” He clasps his hands together, his eyes now focused on the wall in front of him.
“I guess you just surprised me.”
“This is my house. Is it so surprising that I’d be here?”
The flush is involuntary. “Well no, but I was expecting to see Jinx, and when I realized it was you…”
“You were disappointed?”
“No, definitely not!”
The words slip out just a little too emphatically. He clearly notices because a small smirk tilts up the corner of his mouth as he turns his head to look at you.
It’s difficult to gauge his expression as he takes in your appearance. The smile disappears, but before it sinks back into its usual, carefully maintained neutrality, you notice his eye flickers, and his jaw clenches.
You have no idea what it means, but it’s enough to send your stomach butterflies into a tizzy.
“You never sent me your notes on Shimmer,” He says at last.
You fold your hands around the cold brew bottle to hide their fidgeting. “No, I didn’t. I was going to send it tonight, after I got home.”
“Since we’re both here, I see no need for that.”
“Oh,” you say into an awkward pause.
It's clear he's ready to get into things right away.
Yet you're still feeling a bit flustered.
“Um, yeah. Alright. Well would you like anything to drink before I start or…?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m already over here, and um... It looks like you’ve got a big selection. Of milks and juices, specifically. There’s even V8, if you like to pretend that tomatoes are a fruit.”
His right brow arches upward.
You're nervous babbling, but there's nothing you can do to stop it.
“What about hot tea? Or coffee? You’ve got a Keurig so I’m sure you’ve got some of that stuff around here somewhere.”
“I suppose I’ll take the chamomile.”
“Awesome. And where exactly can I find the mugs and tea?”
He nods behind you.
The heels give you just enough extra height to reach everything without too much trouble (though you are conscious of the fact that your backside is rather prominently sticking out as you stretch into the cupboard).
There’s quite a selection of teas, but they’re very well ordered so it takes you no time at all to find the chamomile. As for mugs, the collection is uninspiring, except that you see a flash of some brightly colored cup in the back. After a short excavation you’re rewarded with the most adorable mug in the world. It’s obviously another one of Jinx’s masterpieces, with a monkey’s face on one side, and its curling tail on the other. Miscellaneous colored scribbles fill in the blanks.
You drop the sachet in and fill the mug with water from the Keurig.
“Do you always bully people into letting you serve them in their own home?”
“Nope, you’re the lucky winner. And my boss, so you’d have to pay me $18.50 an hour to serve anybody else.”
His throaty chuckle is extremely satisfactory.
As soon as the mug’s filled, you attempt a walk around the island. It takes a lot of concentration to keep from spilling and tripping at the same time, so it isn’t until you’ve safely settled the mug in front of him that you feel like you can relax.
“Here you are.”
“Service with a smile. That’s rare these days.”
“Oh it’s always my pleasure to serve you, sir.”
“I suppose you’re just saying that so I’ll give you a tip.”
“Of course not. I'm saying it so you'll give me a very good tip. I’ve seen your house now, so I know you’re good for it.”
His mouth tilts into a smirk.
You grin. “Of course it doesn’t have to be money. If you’ve got any really good nuggets of wisdom you’d like to share instead, I’ll take those too.”
He leans back against the counter and drops his eyes to the mug in his hand. “I might have one of those for you.”
“Fire away.”
“Very well. I wouldn’t make a habit out of sneaking up on me if I were you.”
Your smile falters.
"Although I was informed that you would be here today I wasn't expecting you in the house," He starts swirling the teabag. “And I don’t believe a man should be held responsible for his actions when he's been ambushed in his own home. Especially when the woman doing the ambushing is wearing such a dangerous dress. Don't you agree?”
His eyes appear to drag up your body, setting you on fire before rising to glare into yours.
He seems to be waiting for a reply, but you have no idea what to say under such a pining stare.
“What are you supposed to be?”
You swallow hard. “Oh, um… The Queen of Hearts. I was modeling for Jinx’s new painting.”
“That explains the crown.”
“Oh!” Your hand shoots up to the top of your head, and you almost stab yourself on the points.
You forgot you were wearing it.
Heat floods your cheeks, and you pace a few steps away under the guise of removing it, grateful for any excuse to put distance between you. You set in on the counter and do your best to flatten the hairs you know were pulled up by the headpiece.
“Well I umm... I can’t promise not to dress dangerously, but next time I come I’ll make sure to announce myself every time I enter a new room.”
“Do you anticipate there being a next time?”
You frown as you fiddle with the cold brew in your hands. “I don’t know. It’s your house, so I guess that depends on you.”
“Yes. I suppose it does, doesn’t it?”
He says the last part almost to himself.
In the silence that follows, you realize just how tired you are. This day has been one long, mentally tough slog after another, and you were actually looking forward to this fun, frivolous evening with Jinx before Silco showed up and ruined it.
Well, maybe it’s not all his fault that you’re feeling this way. You were the one who stayed up till 2am stalking and texting him, leading to a less than excellent 3 hours of sleep.
But still.
What gave him the right to show up looking so good, then act like such a fractious ass?
You gently rub at your temples as they throb.
This entire interaction has been an emotional roller coaster you didn't ask for, and quite frankly, you’re ready for it to be done. And since it looks like Jinx isn’t going to come to your rescue anytime soon, it’ll be up to you to get things back on track.
For your own sanity if for nothing else.
Screw the lipstick.
You throw your head back and drink the entire cold brew in several deep chugs.
“So you want to know what we liked about Shimmer?” You ask when you finally resurface for air.
“At your leisure.”
“Great," You spin around to face him once more. He's exactly where you left him, still watching you.
You steel your courage. "Well Allie says it had a nice mouthfeel. She mentioned being able to taste notes of cherry and mint, and something about mushrooms at the end.”
“Her palette is quite refined.”
“So I’ve heard.”
It’s probably just a placebo effect, but you swear you can already feel the caffeine working through your system, softening the edges of your headache.
“And you were right, she liked it better than the one I bought for her. She drained the whole bottle in under half an hour.”
“Well I’m in the business of knowing what people want," He tilts his head to the side. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“You might say my palette isn’t nearly as refined as Allie’s, but I thought it was nice.”
“Hm. Sevika will be glad to hear it. I know she values your opinion.”
You squint at him.
Sevika? Which Sevika? Certainly not the one you talked to this morning who told you that it was Silco’s job to take care of the feedback in regards to Shimmer.
You can still hear her laugh.
“That sneaky son of a bitch.”
What did she mean?
The wheels in your mind start to turn.
Sevika thinks Silco is up to something. Was it strange for him to give out his personal card? You don’t think so. After all, he did make you manager of his coffee shop. Maybe all his talk about Shimmer was some trumped up excuse to get to know you better before you take over for Sevika.
He certainly seems to be interested, and full of questions.
But even if that was true, then why lie about it being Sevika’s idea in the first place, especially when he could just ask you for your thoughts outright?
It doesn’t make any sense
“You know it’s funny,” You say at last. “When I talked to Sevika this morning I got the impression that she wasn’t interested in what I had to say. She said you were taking care of the feedback for beta tasting.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep.”
”A simple misunderstanding. Perhaps I failed to make her responsibilities clear.”
”Huh. Well you should probably get on that. Before I left, she mentioned that she thought you were up to something.”
“Did she.”
You nod slowly, observing his reaction. Nothing much seems to change except for a subtle, wary look in his eye.
”I thought you should know. I know first hand that miscommunication can lead to all kinds of trouble.”
“I appreciate your concern.”
He’s still slouching against the counter and appears to be relaxed, but his twitching hands betray him.
You’re not really in the mood to play any mind games, but there’s something inside you that refuses to give this up. You wonder what it would take to make him answer you honestly.
Maybe it’s time to take a page out of your book, Silco J. Spisak.
You’re not the most intimidating person, but you are wearing heels. And thanks to your mother, you know a thing or two about psychology. If you were to take just a few more steps forward, he’d be forced to tilt his head up to look up at you to avoid staring at your chest. Not that you have anything spectacular going on there, but you’re pretty sure even a stubborn man like him wouldn’t go so far as to risk overtly staring.
He watches you take a long, slow step forward, then another.
Before you can finish taking your third, he says, very quietly, “Careful now.”
“Of what?”
“You may enjoy playing with fire, but one day you're going to get burned.”
The glint in his eye makes your heart pound in a way that has nothing to do with the cold brew you just chugged.
“Is that a threat?” You ask lightly.
”Consider it fair warning.”
“Does that usually deter people?”
“All but the very foolish, or the incredibly brave.”
You raise your chin. “And which one would you consider me?”
”You don’t strike me as a fool, but that streak of stubborn resolve may be your downfall.”
“Something your daughter and I have in common, I suppose.”
“Does it bother you that I compare you to my daughter?”
“I don’t know, did it bother you when I compared you to my father?”
He blinks slowly before unfolding himself to his full height, taking his own long swagger forward until you're practically eye to eye.
You’re feeling a bit cowed by his sudden proximity, and your heart hasn't stopped pounding, but you refuse to look away as he regards you beneath that darkened brow in silence.
“You know,” He says in a dangerously silken voice. “It isn’t often that I’m surprised, yet you continually put me off my guard. Any guess as to why that is?”
“I... I suppose God thought you needed someone to keep you on your toes.”
“Or to be my perfect foil.”
“I don't know what that means.”
“Neither do I.”
You freeze as he leans forward, his warm breath caresses your cheek. Electric skitters dance across your skin as he whispers, “But I intend to find out.”