Chapter Text
Sunday, October 17th
Sleep performance when you drop into bed could be termed abysmal at worst, fitful at best. You're tired, but somehow can’t keep your eyes closed for longer than 20 minutes at a time. The lines between wakefulness and sleep are mostly blurred, and every time your brain jolts you out of a muddied dream, you think of him.
Silco’s memory isn’t warm like the sun. He’s more like a pale flame, flickering on the edge of your consciousness. You aren’t sure if he’s really there, or if he’s imagined. The scent of him still lingers faintly on your skin, and like a ghost who’s sheet slips around the corner just as you turn to face its light, he haunts you.
You toss and turn through the night, and by the time you roll out of bed at 6am, you’re almost as desperate to see him as you are to get more sleep.
“Can you come just a smidge earlier pleeeease?”
Jinx doesn’t need to urge you twice, but you’re moving at a clumsy, corpse-like pace towards your departure time. In the end, you’re forced to choose between looking awake, or feeling alive. Feeling alive wins out. Food comes before make-up, although you do manage to swipe on some mascara before tripping out the door, hastily made coffee in hand.
Preppy dog girl – Sarah? – is jingling by as you hurry down the sidewalk, and waves enthusiastically.
“I’m so excited to interview with you!”
Your mind skitters as you struggle to extract your keys from your bag. “Interview?”
“Yeah! Sevika said we’re going to have a nice little chat Friday at 11! I’m like, super nervous.” She looks around and lowers her voice as if there’s someone nearby she doesn’t want listening in on the conversation (which there isn’t). “ Sevika scares me so bad. Do you have any advice so I can like, impress her?”
"She's not impressed very easily," You say, itching to keep walking towards your car. “But if you show up as yourself, be professional, and answer any questions she asks as confidently as you can, then you should be alright.”
“Oh okay, wow! Thanks a bunch.”
You inch away, “See you Friday?”
She brightens. “See you Friday!”
You practically jog to your car.
The sky is overcast, and the wind causes the trees to ripple like waves as you drive by. The world feels like a sun-leeched oil painting you’d find in an attic somewhere, with only vague tints of color left from the original pigments. Not even the witches and ghouls staked out in Zaunite yards are wearing their magical, frightful visages, looking more like the miserable lawn ornaments they truly are.
You’re inexplicably anxious, and even though the drive takes less time than it does to blink, you pull into the driveway with butterflies boxing in your stomach.
“I’m here,” You text Jinx, sitting in your car.
“I’m in my room!!”
You push open the back door feeling a bit like an intruder. The house is quiet, and you find yourself walking into the kitchen on tiptoe before setting your things on a chair by the island.
The house feels different today, like a friend you haven’t seen in a long time, and aren’t quite sure if you’re still friends anymore. But as you climb the stairs you get glimpses of familiarity. The paintings on the walls – mostly landscape paintings, Jinx’s paintings, or self-portraits of Jinx – are vaguely recognizable from your harried flight through the house ten days ago. Photographs are strangely non-existent, making Silco feel more phantom-like than ever.
Is this really his home? There are quiet rustlings behind a heavy, ornate wooden door – one of the ones that you’d marked as possibly Silco’s office during your worried tour. You pause in front of it to listen, but the sounds stop, and you can’t help feeling like whoever’s behind it knows you’re there.
The house is practically silent except for the ticking of a clock somewhere unseen, and music wafting down from Jinx’s room.
You raise your fist, but can’t quite bring yourself to knock. He’s probably busy (He said he’d be busy), but you don’t want to bother him (or make him regret that he agreed to date you in the first place). But he did agree to date you, so that means you're allowed to have some interactions that aren’t planned out months in advance.
Right?
And he did say he wanted to talk to you before you left for the firing range. The real trouble is deciding if you should talk to him now and get it over with, or go up to see why Jinx wanted you here early. Not that you want to just get it over with. In fact you want to see him more now than ever, just to prove that this is real, that you really belong here, that –
“Well, this is awkward.”
You spin around to catch Sevika lounging against the opposite wall, one hand stuffed in a bag of candy.
“I didn’t realize it was so fucking hard to knock on a door.”
“I uh – well I just –”
“You know he’s watching you, right? Through the security cams? He probably thinks you had a heart attack. I was worried myself, until you started talking out loud like a lunatic.”
“I just don’t know if I’m allowed to –”
“Allowed?” She snorts in an extremely unladylike way before pushing off the wall. “The Eye of Zaun lets you walk into his fucking house unannounced, without calling in his own personal hit squad. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to do whatever the hell you want.”
“Well,” You stammer. “But I didn’t know if I could just… walk into his office. Without permission? I mean that's like his own space, and I don't want to assume --”
“Seriously? Did you not hear what I just said? The boss invited you into his house, gave you his private number, and gave you a shitload of hickies. I’m pretty sure you’re allowed into his fucking office.”
You blush as you belatedly attempt to hide the spot on your neck. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” She reaches into her back pocket. “While I’ve got you, take this. It’s your new security clearance.”
The ID has Silco’s green eye logo on the top left, along with your full name, birth date, and a barcode. There is also a picture of you, the same picture that’s on your passport.
You turn it over in your hand. “How’d you make this?”
“I have my ways and means. Just flash it in any of Silco’s establishments and you’ll get free shit.”
“Nice.”
“Sure is. Now get in there panther, and show Silco who’s the real boss of this house.”
She reaches across you and raps twice on the door.
“What did you call me?” You ask, bewildered.
“A panther. Means older men really do it for you.”
She winks and tosses back a handful of candy before disappearing down the stairs with a rather impressive whistle.
A flush rises up your neck as you turn the brass knob.
She's right though.
The room is dim, but you immediately zero in on Silco, tucked behind a heavy desk overladen with papers. His high backed wooden chair is similar to the one he has at The Last Drop. The sight of him is reassuring, though for some reason you’re fighting disappointment when you realize he’s just in a suit, and not sweatpants and a band tee.
I wonder if he wears Armani pajama suits to bed. Is that a thing?
“I trust you had a pleasant night’s sleep?” He asks behind his pile of paperwork.
“I slept okay.” The carpet squishes underneath your shoes as you inch forward. You keep one eye on him as you try to take in the rest of the room. “And you?”
“My rest was adequate. Please make yourself comfortable, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“Okay.”
You do a slow circle, gazing wonderingly around the room. It looks exactly like a private study should. It has a tall, vaulted ceiling and leaded glass windows. The furniture is old and carved from heavy wood, while the cushions are well-worn, jewel toned velvet. A fire burns inside a fireplace with an ornate mantle, on top of which is a large framed picture of Silco and Jinx. It looks like it was taken recently, and it would appear to be a run of the mill professional portrait except for Jinx’s subtle smirk, and the peace sign peeking out from behind Silco’s shoulder. Silco looks to be repressing a sardonic smile.
You grin up at the picture for a solid minute before turning to take in the loaded bookshelves. They’re filled with deliciously musty books and strange, exotic knick-knacks. Wood smoke, cigar smoke, and dust are vying for preeminence as you pull out books at random. Many of them are in foreign languages, and most of them appear to be non-fiction. A single book of poetry sits in a prominent position on a marble topped sideboard, and you tug it out to read the cover.
A barely recognizable name shines in golden filigree on the cracked, golden dusted leather, but inside declares the book to be “The Poetical Works of John Keats”.
“I see you’ve found one of Jinx’s gifts.”
You peek at him over your shoulder. He’s still behind his desk, but the papers have been set down and his fingers are laced across the desktop. He’s watching you with undisguised interest.
“I didn’t realize you liked poetry,” You say.
“I don’t. I rarely find the time to enjoy works of fiction, no matter how artfully the words are arranged.”
"Ah." You open the book and flip carefully through the pages.
“You’re disappointed.”
“A little.”
“It's not that I don't enjoy art, simply not romanticism. I find flowery language to be unnecessarily trite. If you wish to tell someone you love them, you should state it plainly without beating around the bush. There should be no room for misinterpretation.”
You close the book and carefully put it back in its place before looking at him. “So what you’re saying is my confession the other night was a good thing, and definitely not as embarrassing as it felt?”
A small smile. “I can't attest to your feelings, but I certainly appreciated your honestly. Without it, I don’t believe I would have had the confidence to move forward.”
“Of all the things you could lack, Silco Spisak, I wouldn’t expect confidence to be one of them.”
“There are a lot of things about me that you wouldn’t expect.”
“Well I’m looking forward to finding them out.”
He stares at you for a moment without blinking.
“I have something for you.” He says suddenly, and reaches into a drawer in his desk.
You move forward automatically and reach out to receive the rectangular object. It's an iphone 14, brand new.
“What’s this?” You ask dumbly.
“A work phone, as yours has become increasingly unreliable. I need assurance that I will be able to reach you whenever necessary for business purposes. You can take your phone to the Verizon store in downtown Zaun, and the man there will transfer your information over at no cost.”
“Wow. Thank you. I… that’s very generous of you.”
“It’s nothing. As I said, I need assurance that I can reach you. Especially now that...” He stops himself and sits back.
You tilt your head in question. “Especially now that what?”
“That you are more than just a business partner,” He finishes.
You engage in a short staring contest. You know that wasn’t what he was going to say, but whatever it was, he’s clearly not interested in sharing it with you.
“I have something else for you as well.”
“Two gifts in one day? And you said you’re not the romantic type.”
"I'm not. But I do believe in practicality," he pulls out a nondescript white box and rounds the desk to lead you to the marble sideboard.
He sets it down carefully and indicates you should do the honors. You pocket the phone to remove the lid, gingerly pulling back the white wrapping paper. You stare down at the contents, then up at Silco in confusion. He’s watching you with a strangely smug expression.
“A purse?”
“I asked Jinx as to the design, since she has more experience with your sense of fashion than I.”
You pull it out to examine it. It’s surprisingly heavy for such a small bag, but a good quality leather in a wide crossbody design. There are more pockets than you’ll know what to do with.
“This is… beautiful.”
And practical.
“If you would allow me.”
You offer it to him, and he turns the bag to reveal one of the many zippers you hadn’t yet taken stock of, located on the side. He unzips it and pulls out a small black pistol.
Your eyes widen as he holds it out to you, handle first. You take it only after a few seconds hesitation.
“I would ask that you carry this with you at all times, from this day forward. You'll need to get a concealed carry permit, and be qualified, all of which will be accomplished today with Thomas."
"Thomas..."
"He's a rather skilled marksman, and works at the firing range as a firearms instructor when not driving me around to various board meetings.”
You consider this piece of news carefully as you hand the firearm back to Silco, and watch him slip it back into the purse pocket.
Sevika, a terrifying powerhouse, works as Silco’s bodyguard. Thomas, Silco’s driver, is proficient with firearms.
He naturally surrounds himself with dangerous people who know how to protect him.
“I feel like I’ve accidentally joined the army,” You say, only half joking.
“I’m afraid there is no other option. I can't offer you 24 hour protection at this time, so you are your own best resource for safety. The sooner you are proficient, the better I will sleep at night.”
A heart flutter. “You lose sleep over me?”
“There’s no need to sound so pleased about it,” He scowls, running his fingers through his hair (and making it adorably ruffled). “Whoever invented love was a meddlesome being.”
You have to work extra hard to hold back an ecstatic smile.
He just said he was in love. With you.
Well, more or less.
“I’m not sleeping so great either," You say, "if that makes you feel any better.”
“Marginally.”
“At least we’re in this thing together.”
He lets out a soft snort. “That does bring some comfort I suppose.”
You nudge him gently. “Come on Mr. Spisak, it’s not as bad as all that. There are worse things than haunting each other night and day.”
“It’s not the haunting, so much as the distance. I would feel better if you were nearby.”
“I’m only ten minutes away,” You laugh.
He makes a non-committal grunt before waving his hand in dismissal. “I believe Jinx wanted to meet with you early, and ensure you’re wearing the proper attire.”
“And am I?” You ask brightly.
“Are you what?”
“Wearing the proper attire?”
His frown eases as you spin, then his lip twitches when you put your arms out for greater effect. “The footwear needs some improvement, but otherwise your attire is adequate.”
You laugh. “‘Adequate’ says the man who’s walking around his own house in patent leather shoes. Do you ever go barefoot?”
“Never.”
He seems to repress a shudder.
“What about with socks?”
“Not unless I am also wearing house shoes.”
“What? Like Nike sliders or crocks?”
“I believe Sevika terms them ‘house slippers’.”
You consider, momentarily, the picture of Silco shuffling around in sliders on his days off. You make a mental note to text Sevika to take a picture the next time such an event occurs.
“What’s that smile?”
You do your best to smother it. “Oh nothing. I’m just… so grateful for everything. For the gun and the phone. And the purse! It was a good choice.”
You slip it carefully across your shoulders, especially now that you’re aware that the ungainly weight is on account of a pistol stashed in the secret pocket.
“It’s nothing. The safety of my family is important to me. I would be failing if I didn’t ensure yours.”
Family.
You smile. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
He grunts. “Believe me, I’ve tried. But it's an impossible task.”
“Well at least now you can call me if you need to. I’ll make sure you have a really obvious ringtone so I don't assume they're scam calls.”
“That would be desirable.”
“I also need a picture of you to pair with your number.”
“I’ll send you one of my professional headshots.”
You give him a look. “I can’t just have professional pictures of you in my phone.”
“You will, for now. At least until I can tell the board we’re a couple.”
“Oh, right, that.”
You narrow your eyes at him.
It takes less time than you thought it for him to look uncomfortable, and it’s oddly satisfying to watch him squirm under your gaze for a change.
His hand twitches, like he’s working extra hard to keep it from jumping up to his tie. “What is it?”
“Nothing. You’ll just have to get used to being stared at, since I’m not allowed to take pictures of you.”
You can't tell if he blushes, but you’re almost positive he does when, on a whim, you stand on tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek.
The bag swings on your shoulder as you sashay towards the door. You turn back at the last second with your hand on the knob. “Hey, what’s the 'J' in your name stand for?”
He folds his arms across his chest, his expression still slightly nonplussed. “I’m afraid that’s top secret information.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll just bide my time and figure it out on my own.”
“I wish you best of luck on your search.”
“You don’t have to sound so skeptical. You invited me into your house willingly, so now I have access to all your secrets. You won’t be able to keep me out of your business even if you tried.”
“Who says I want to keep you out?”
“No one, but…” You feel heat creep into your own cheeks. “Well, I just want to make sure you realize what you’re in for. That I’m not a – a short term, fling relationship kind of girl.”
A small smile curves the corners of his lips as he answers, equally frank, “And I am not a man who enters into relationships lightly. My pace might be a sight… slower, perhaps, than you’re accustomed to.”
You worry the strap of the purse. “That's okay, my mom won't be mad about it.”
"And you will?"
"I guess that depends on how slow we're talking."
“Slow enough to keep my neck out of the noose.”
You grin and tug open the door. “You're a smart man Mr. Spisak.”
"So I've been told."
“See you later?"
"I’ll likely be gone when you return. Tomorrow I'll be in meetings on campus all day, then on Tuesday I plan on being at The Last Drop. There are several more courses I’d like you to complete, so if you would be so kind as to meet me there after your shift, we can discuss what your week will look like.”
“Yeah, okay. Sounds good. I’ll see you Tuesday. Try not to haunt me too much before then, please?”
“I am unable to make such a promise.”
"Fine, haunt me then. See if I care. Just don't complain when I haunt you back."
"I would never."
“Good. Then I guess we know where we stand.”
He inclines his head with a small smile. "I guess we do."