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The building was in one of the better parts of the city. The high-end stores and restaurants were within walking distance but were still far away to deter the ever marching mindless crowds from disturbing the lives of its inhabitants. The street in front was clean, even the lamp posts looked as if they were shined on the regular. But Zevran would not have expected anything less. Before coming here, he'd made inquiries at a certain real estate agent and had discovered that even the cheapest flat in the building was worth more money that Zevran could ever hope to earn even if he had several lifetimes.
The dual front doors were automated and flung open as soon as they caught a whiff of him. Zevran stepped into the lobby, a modern cavern of polished steel and stone that looked deceptively modest. Zevran had enough experience with expensive property to know that each individual tile of the intricate mosaic on the floor cost more than the average person's monthly expenses. His lips twisted into a bitter smirk.
He wasn't surprised to have found himself in such a fashionable place. As was his habit, he'd done his research beforehand, and so he already knew that Katoss was a fan of luxury and had the money to afford it. Now, the matter of how the youngest child in a poor family of 8 had come to live in this modern marble palace was a little murky. Zevran's friend Duncan, who also happened to be in a high position in the city's police force, was more than happy to enlighten him.
“No, he isn't employed. Not officially, in any case,” he'd said, fixing Zevran with a meaningful gaze. “He is … a companion of sorts. A pretty thing for rich people to parade around at events. From what I understand, he doesn't charge a fee for his services, but his, hm, clients, are often very generous to him.”
“Blackmail, I suppose?” Zevran said. It was always blackmail with these people.
“Surprisingly, we didn't find any evidence for it. It seems that he doesn't need to resort to that to get money out of people. I suppose … he's just very likeable.” Duncan had leaned back in his chair. “I know your reputation, Zevran. I know you like to get … personal with people. But you best be careful with this one.”
The mosaic led him to a receptionist desk. A heavy shelf with dozens of small compartments lined the wall behind the desk. Between the two stood a tall young man in a uniform that appeared to be a size too small for his broad shoulders. The desk was polished and barren of any ornaments and accessories except for a black telephone sitting right by the man's left hand.
Zevran was quick to paste a smile on his face as he walked towards the desk. His steps echoed unsavoury in the vacuum of the lobby. It was as if he was so low class that he didn't even know how to properly walk on this shiny floor! Zevran ignored the nasty thought, and then proceeded to greet the receptionist with a polite nod.
“Good day to you!” He said. “I have a personal meeting with a certain tenant here. Apartment 11.”
He slid his business card to the man. He had several different business cards and the one he'd picked was what he called the discreet one – the one which made no mention of his profession. Private detectives stimulated one's imagination and that often led to unneeded gossip. The person in apartment 11 would likely not appreciate if their meeting became public knowledge.
The receptionist looked at the card with a slightly disgusted expression, then moved his eyes to Zevran who kept on smiling cheerfully. A minute passed, then the man slowly reached for the phone. He picked up the receiver and dialled a number. A short, hushed conversation followed and afterwards, Zevran was allowed to walk further along the mosaic. The elevator was just round the corner, he was informed, and his destination was on the third floor.
Apartment 11 was located in the back end of the building. That side, Zevran noted, didn't face the main street. A discreet location, he thought and nodded in approval. Katoss was a smart man.
He easily found apartment 11 and rang the doorbell. He didn't need to wait long for the door to open. A tall woman in a dark dress stood before him. She didn't greet him and just stared at him with suspicion and disapproval. Zevran was starting to get the feeling his presence in this posh building was unwanted.
“I believe Mr. Katoss is expecting me,” Zevran said, utilising more charm than he had three floors lower. He'd always been more successful with women, after all. The discreet business card was in his hand once more. “I have a meeting with him for 3 o'clock.”
“Come in then.”
Zevran did so, ignoring the rude tone. He wondered amused if he'd have received a warmer welcome if he was dressed better – not that he had any better clothes. He took off his coat and placed it on the rack near the door. Of course, it promptly slid to the floor and solidified the woman's wilting impression of him. With a scorching glare, she retrieved the coat and secured it on the rack properly. She then led Zevran into a living room and motioned him to sit down. Mr. Katoss, she said with a cold voice, would be seeing him presently.
Left alone, Zevran looked around the room with interest. There were several antique statuettes placed on different surfaces. They were authentic and, likely, very expensive. He also noted that the curtains were large enough to fully cover the windows and were made of a thick, dark fabric. They were the only interesting features of the room. It was a stylish room but a very bland one, lacking any character of its own. There was no doubt in Zevran's mind that if he were to open this season's most fashionable furniture catalogue, he'd find this very same room in it.
In short, it was the kind of room that told Zevran nothing of its owner. And he was positive that it was done entirely on purpose. Duncan's words rang in his mind once more, and Zevran nodded. Yes, he had to be very careful with this one.
He heard a noise behind him. He turned around and flinched, managing to stifle his surprise at the very last moment. He'd heard enough of Katoss and was expecting to see a lecherous young thing slither into the room, wearing some extravagant and exotic garment. But what he saw instead was a rather tall young man with flaming red hair. He stood in the doorway, a green satin robe wrapped loosely around his rather skinny body. His feet were bare and his hair was messy. He looked, Zevran thought, as if he'd just been roused from bed.
It wasn't the glamorous professional companion Zevran had expected. And yet … there was something about Katoss … he possessed something that pulled one towards him. Zevran blinked and then braced himself for whatever tricks the redhead had prepared.
Katoss was leaning on the door frame, watching him silently. There was something graceful but oddly artificial in his pose. He didn't say anything, and Zevran didn't speak either. This was an important moment, he knew. The success of their conversation hinged on this very moment, on Zevran finding the strength to withstand the other's searching gaze.
Finally, Katoss moved. He walked into the room with a slow, lazy step. Zevran noted that even though his limbs were long and thin, his movements were elegant, absent were the awkward jerking steps that one could see in people that seemed to possess more joints than it was normal. Katoss, Zevran realised, had trained himself to be as appealing as he could.
Katoss walked over to the velvet sofa and laid down, flinging his legs over the armrest. His robe slid down and exposed one bony and freckled shoulder. He made no move to cover it and instead gestured to an armchair.
„Please, do sit down, Mr. ...?“
„Arainai,“ Zevran said. “We spoke on the phone yesterday. I'm sure you remember.”
“Yes, of course.” Katoss smiled. “Do sit down. Bella will bring us some coffee.”
Zevran took a seat. The armchair was positioned in such a way that he had no option but to look directly at Katoss. Normally, Zevran would have no issue with that - he liked to keep constant eye contact with people anyway. He'd discovered it made them nervous honest. But Katoss was different. Unwavering attention didn't bother him – as a matter of fact, he revelled in it. Zevran quickly realized that if he wanted the interview to bear fruit, he had to allow Katoss to take the lead.
The woman came back in the room. She carried a polished silver tray which contained two steaming cups, a small pot of milk, a sugar bowl and a plate with a mound of expensive chocolates on it.
„The coffee is hot, mind you,“ Katoss warned him. “I like it that way and as the host, I believe I have the right to impose my tastes on my guests.” He dismissed Bella with a hand-wave, then sat up and reached for the tray. “Milk, sugar?”
“None for me, thank you.”
Katoss shrugged his freckled shoulders, then handed a cup to Zevran. He took the other cup and, with a swift and graceful move, he took a piece of chocolate from the pile and dropped it into his coffee. He began to slowly stir it, while still looking at Zevran.
„A private detective ...“ He said, his voice soft, with the faintest trace of a snicker woven in. “How odd it is to be sitting here, having coffee with a private detective.”
“You are handling yourself quite well. I commend you for that.” Zevran gave Katoss a short bow. “Many people would be concerned to receive a visit from someone like me.”
„Perhaps those people have something to hide. Or they have conscience.“ Katoss smiled. He took a sip from his coffee, then placed the cup down and lounged back. His eyes were half-closed, but he was still watching Zevran and when he spoke, his voice was like the purring of a happy cat. “Well, Mr. Detective, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“How good is your memory, Katoss?”
„Above average, I suppose.“ Katoss shrugged again. “I have received many compliments, but none were with regards to my memory.”
„Then with some luck, I may be the first with that honour.“ Zevran smiled and leaned slightly forward. “If you give me a reason to, of course.”
“And how could I do that?”
„By telling me about the evening you accompanied Cailan Theirin to a dinner party at the Cousland manor. It happened eight months ago.“
“Did it?” Katoss tilted his head to the side. “Eight months is a long time, and there have been many dinner parties since then. And you know, they are all the same and in the end, one simply can't distinguish one dinner party from the other. Such a pity, isn't it?”
„This one is different, I believe,“ Zevran insisted. “You see, it occurred on the same night that Cailan's father-in-law, Loghain, was brutally murdered.”
The conversation halted. It was a pause that, with any other converser, would be interpreted as a sign of guilt or, at the very least, as a sign of truth being withheld. But Katoss was different. He simply gave Zevran an amused look, with one eyebrow gracefully arched. He said nothing, he didn't even move, but somehow, he managed to convey with his eyes that he found their conversation incredibly absurd.
„You must have heard of it,” Zevran continued, slightly unnerved. Katoss's calmness was too perfect. There was also something in the way he looked at him that made Zevran's skin tingle. “It was a very high-profile murder case – as was the arrest that followed a month later. The evidence uncovered against Cailan Theirin was circumstantial, true … but very convincing.”
He paused again, but Katoss remained silent. He took his coffee and took a slow sip. He was enjoying the tension, Zevran realised. Was it all a game to him? Cailan had been one of Katoss's regular clients – but of course, that didn't mean that Katoss cared about him at all. Zevran wondered if Katoss was even capable of caring for anyone but himself.
Katoss finally put his cup down. He lied back down and smiled sweetly at Zevran.
„Please, go on with the story, Mr. Detective. You have a real knack for storytelling.“
“Unfortunately, there's not much more to tell,” Zevran said. “Cailan was arrested, his trial was last month and he was found guilty. He denies it still, of course, but the jury decided that he had murdered his father-in-law and he was sentenced to life in prison.”
Katoss had his eyes closed while he listened to Zevran. His expression was angelic, and he looked like a child being told a bedtime story. When Zevran was done, he opened his eyes and smiled.
“It must have been quite the scandal.”
“I'm surprised you've missed it. The papers could hardly talk about anything else.”
“I was travelling for the past two months,” Katoss said. “I just came back and I haven't caught up with the local gossip yet.” He sighed, then looked at Zevran. “But I'm confused, Mr. Detective. What do you want of me? I wasn't involved in this case at all.”
Zevran knew that. Katoss's name had never been mentioned throughout the investigation, the arrest and the court procedure. It was odd, that the one person who'd been with Cailan mere hours before the murder was never checked up on. When Zevran had pointed it out, Duncan had explained that the Theirin family had explicitly demanded that Cailan's connection to Katoss was to be kept a secret, even from the police. And so no mention was ever made of Katoss, much to, Zevran suspected, Katoss's own annoyance. Zevran had not missed the hint of sadness in Katoss's last words.
“It is a shame you weren't called forth,” Zevran said. “You have information, I believe.”
“Is that so?” Katoss feigned surprise. “You seem to know so much about what I may know, Mr. Detective. You must be very smart.”
“It is my job, after all.”
“Yes, but ...” Katoss sat up. He was still smiling, but his voice suddenly became firm. “What is that job, exactly? You haven't told me why you are talking to me about a case which is, by all accounts, done with. What is your goal with these questions?”
Zevran hesitated. When engaging his services, his client had urged him to carry out his investigation as discreetly as possible. Most important, they'd said, was that the Theirin family must not know that there was an investigation. If Zevran revealed that he was looking into the case, he could not expect for Katoss to keep that information to himself. After all, what moral obligation would he have to follow the request of a stranger. But … there was a high chance he knew something about the murder, and the only way for Zevran to get any answers from him was to satiate his curiosity.
“I was tasked with proving Cailan's innocence,” Zevran said. “Cailan Theirin still has friends who are convinced he did not murder Loghain. They insist there has been a miscarriage of justice, and they want me to fix it.”
Katoss didn't say anything. He was playing with a strand of hair, curling it around his finger.
“I don't like this new shampoo,” he muttered to himself. Then he sighed and turned to Zevran. “And can you fix it, Mr. Detective?”
“I-I ...” Zevran stammered. “I believe I can.”
“So you believe he is innocent?”
“I ...”
Zevran fell silent. He'd never really stopped to ponder. It wasn't his job, really. His responsibility was to gather and examine the evidence. That was what his client was paying him for – and the sum offered was extremely generous. He looked at Katoss, who was now sitting up and waiting for his answer, and wondered what the redhead was expecting to hear.
“I can't say yet,” Zevran finally said. “I am going into this with no expectations of what I might discover. Maybe he's innocent, maybe not. What I will do is pour over the evidence the police have gathered, perhaps find something they have missed, and if I find any indication that something is not right, that Cailan's sentencing has been unjust, I will follow that lead until what was wronged has been righted.”
He reached for his cup of coffee and downed it in one gulp. It burned his throat and brought tears to his eyes, but Zevran welcomed the distraction. Katoss was still staring at him in silence. Tension hung in the room, heavy and suffocating like smoke, and Zevran knew better than to break it up by speaking.
Suddenly Katoss stood up. He swiftly walked around the coffee table and stood in front of Zevran. He grabbed the sides of the armchair, effectively trapping Zevran in his seat, and leaned in until his pale face was just an inch away from Zevran's.
“You better do as you said, Mr. Detective,” he said quietly. His breath was warm, smelling of coffee and chocolate. Zevran felt his mouth water. “I know Cailan didn't do it. I don't have evidence, I just know, because I know the sort of person he is. Save him! Get him out of there before it's too late!”
Zevran looked into Katoss's eyes. Despite everything, he couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful they were. Big, clear, bright green like a pair of emeralds. It was a pair of eyes one could drown in. He sat up straight and reached up, cupping Katoss's face with both hands. Then he kissed him.
“I will save him, mi bello.” He said after pulling away. “For you, I shall do the impossible.”