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17:20.
The watch on your wrist illuminated the numbers, a stark contrast to the dimly lit surroundings as you entered the opera house owned by WGAA. The heels of your shoes produced a muffled click on the plush carpet, absorbing any sounds that could disrupt the serene atmosphere.
"It seems the audience is barely present," you murmured.
Anxiety began to creep into your mind, and your hand hastily sought the ticket within your coat, draping over your form. You had dressed meticulously for this occasion, a token of your genuine appreciation for her invitation to attend the opera together.
With the ticket securely in hand, your gaze traversed the printed letters and numbers, confirming the date and time with a sigh of relief as you found it to be correct. Though a trace of uncertainty lingered in the recesses of your mind, you forcefully suppressed it and proceeded toward your designated seat.
A spongy cushion cradled your rear as you settled into your seat, designed for the audience's comfort. Ironically, you found yourself far from at ease, unable to remain still. Your gaze canvassed every nook and cranny of the room, a fervent search for something, or rather someone, specific.
In the realm of familiarity, finding the woman had always been effortless, her hair a fiery crimson flag waving in the sea of ordinary. However, on this particular day, not a wisp of red caught your discerning eye. Your gloved hand found solace in the repetition of running through your own hair, a soothing ritual as turbulent nerves threatened to engulf you.
17:27.
As the minutes dwindled, you couldn't help but think, "It's nearly time," your fingers idly toying with the watch band.
The audience remained unchanged, not a soul added to their numbers since a few minutes ago. The count of attendees was so meager that you could easily tally them on your own fingers. Doubt gnawed at you, wondering if it was prudent for WGAA to proceed with their show in the face of such a paltry turnout.
Isn't it lonely to perform with a smaller audience than usual?
You've never thought that an opera hall could be a great place to be alone with. Dark, without a sound, with no one to hold onto as the time passes yet the show has to go on. But still, you're gonna wait. You're gonna wait for that woman even until the story reaches its climax.
With impeccable punctuality, just as stipulated on the ticket, the curtains parted, signaling the imminent commencement of the performance. You heaved a sigh, a tinge of melancholy settling in, knowing that a certain redhead was conspicuously absent.
In an instant, the hushed symphony of fabric's rustle seized your senses, pulling your gaze toward the enigmatic presence on your right. A stranger with ebony locks spilled like ink over her shoulders, draped in an elegant, figure-hugging black gown, emerged into your view. Her descent into the seat wove a tapestry of both grace and an intriguing hint of rugged elegance, like a character stepping onto the stage of your life.
"What? Never seen someone so gorgeous before, commandant?"
The woman subtly raised her voice, a tilt of intrigue. Deep within your mind, you delved into a reservoir of memories, seeking the source of that familiar tone. Then, like a bolt of realization, it struck you – this woman, oddly adorned in black hair and an elegant dress, was the very person you had been waiting for.
Your eyes widened in shock as you recognized the Cerberus leader, her appearance dramatically altered than usual. Vera, with an air of disappointment, exhaled softly.
"Behave, my little pup. Try to enjoy the show. It wasn't easy for me to secure these tickets," she chided with a hint of amusement.
"Ah, right-"
With the arrival of the esteemed guest, you couldn't help but wear a constant smile throughout the entire opera, much like a child with their own birthday cake, complete with candles. It was quite ironic, as it was actually the woman beside you who was celebrating her birthday.
As the curtain descended, signifying the end of the show, neither of you budged from your seats, fully aware that such moments were rare treasures. Backstage crews adjusted the lighting, bathing the room in a newfound radiance. In this artificial illumination, Vera's gaze remained fixed on the stage, her thoughts adrift in the aftermath of the performance.
"So, what do you think?" She asked.
"Gorgeous, I must say. Black suits you, both the hair color and the dress," you complimented.
A brief silence enveloped the space, with Vera gazing at you as though you had grown an extra head.
"Are you dumb or dumb? I'm asking about the opera."
She rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache creeping in. The more time she spent with you, a highly regarded commandant in Babylonia, the more exasperating it became.
"Oh, I adore it as well. Though, I can't quite fathom Don Giovanni's ability to pursue many yet still capture the love of that one person."
You trailed off, opera not being your strong suit, nor any dramas from the Golden Age. You shook your head, finding it perplexing how Don Giovanni, the central character, could pursue numerous women while also being seek for as something genuine in the end.
Your fervent storytelling kept you unaware of the piercing gaze fixed upon you. A set of red eyes, belonging to the woman who had already leaned her own face in her hand, observed you with bemusement.
"Hmm, who knows, maybe he saved the world before he died in his past life. Or, in another universe, perhaps."
"That does sound a bit cliché, don't you think?" you playfully remarked, almost snorting in amusement at the captain.
Your eyes followed Vera as she gracefully stood from her seat. Her once-vibrant red hair now cascaded in midnight black, down to her waist. It was then that you felt the pressing need to ask her the question, as if it were a hidden bond between you and the squad leader, compelling you to lower your voice.
"Vera?"
You called out as softly as possible.
Vera turned toward you, her left eyebrow slightly arched, a subtle gesture urging you to proceed.
"Why did you change your hair colour today?"
Had it not been for your keen observation, her slight squint could have easily escaped your notice. It left you uncertain whether it was surprise or annoyance etched in her expression. Suddenly, Vera strode closer to your seat, her hands gripping both armrests. She leaned in, closing the distance between your faces, but leaving a few tantalizing inches of space. Her trademark smirk played on her lips.
"Hmm, I feel like I wanted to be Elvira for today, my commandant~"
Vera extended her hand, which you accepted with gratitude. What took you by surprise was the soft kiss she planted on the back of your hand afterward.