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Foncé didn’t typically bother to smoke outside. But Kane had started to cough passive-aggressively to make a point that her fistful of lit cigarettes was becoming a distraction as the Game-masters all worked together on the finishing touches for the next round’s mystery. And Foncé would rather have an excuse to get away from the bossy woman than stop enjoying her nicotine. So, she left the building and wandered towards the trees to see if Canadian nature was really as great as everyone said it was.
She doubted it.
She also didn’t expect Toska to follow her. Foncé discovered this quickly; being tall gave Toska a long stride that helped her easily catch up before Foncé got very far, and also made her footsteps loud enough to notice, even in the grass.
“What are you doing here?” she asked the other detective with annoyance, turning to face her. “Did Kane bother you too, or did she send you out here to bother me more?”
Toska gave a small, friendly smile that bothered Foncé. “I didn’t want you to be all alone out here. Everyone deserves some good company.”
“There’s far more value in having peace and quiet,” Foncé scoffed before taking another drag of a cigarette. “But I’ll concede that you’re at least better company than Kane. Dear God, that woman loves the sound of her own voice. Conver’s personal bootlicker...”
Toska shook her head and offered a more positive perspective. “She’s young. She only wants a chance to prove herself.”
“Of course. That’s all it is,” Foncé responded sarcastically. Even if what Toska said was true, it didn’t make Kane look any better or make her behavior any less unbearable.
Toska’s smile faded, but that didn’t make Foncé regret anything. She was too old for regrets. Too hardened by life to be soft and care about hurting anyone’s feelings.
Besides, Toska was clearly fine. She quickly moved on from the conversation, walking past Foncé with a light step. Foncé watched with crossed arms as she continued to smoke, half-imagining that Toska might march straight into the forest and wrestle a bear just for fun, then invite it to dinner. But instead, she stopped only a couple of yards away, kneeling to get a better look at a small blue flower that Foncé never would have noticed. And if she had, she’d likely step on it on purpose.
“Look at this lonely flower,” Toska said, to which Foncé rolled her eyes.
“Flowers can’t be lonely. They have no emotion.”
“Then maybe you two have more in common than you think,” Toska joked with a light laugh, looking over her shoulder towards Foncé with a twinkle in her eye. Then she turned back to the flower, searching through the plants surrounding it with a gentle sweep of her hand as she continued, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the lonely flower had a friend? Aha! Here’s one. A little ladybug. Or where I am from, we call them ‘little cows.’”
She gently guided the insect onto her hand, transferring it to the flower’s petals, then sighed with contentment. But Foncé was unimpressed.
“If you’re trying to make a point, you’ve failed,” she said. “Just like the bug hasn’t improved that flower’s existence by being forced upon it, you have not improved mine. Let me smoke in peace.”
“Why do you think there has to be a point to be made? Isn’t it enough that it’s beautiful?”
Foncé rolled her eyes and squinted up towards the bright midday sky as she retorted, “There is no such thing as beauty. It’s a false concept made up so people can pretend their lives are less miserable.”
“Just because you think that’s true doesn’t mean it is.”
Foncé saw that as a challenge. She took a step closer to better observe Toska’s silly display, one side of her lips pulling back into a scowl as she watched the ladybug dance across the plant’s leaves.
“I recognize that flower,” she noted. “Its species is poisonous. Its consumption brings an ugly death. The mud beneath it is cold and damp. It will stain my shoes, track everywhere and make an ugly mess. Not to mention the soil is likely riddled with ants that will also follow, lay their foul eggs, and spawn into a thousand more uglies. They’ll take over our kitchen as they search for the crumbs of breakfast, crumbs made because even my croissant is ugly too, a crumbling mess that flakes apart at the lightest touch.”
She gestured towards the ground, the cigarettes hanging limply between her fingers, ashes falling off the tips and littering the earth. Toska may not have been trying to make a point, but Foncé was.
With finality, she reiterated, “That flower is ugly. Nature is ugly. My shirt is ugly. I am ugly. Everything is ugly. That’s the honest truth. And in our line of work, truth means everything.”
Toska’s brow creased with concern as she rose to her feet and reduced the distance between them once more. “Inès,” she called out softly. “Of all things, why would you say you’re ugly?”
Foncé let out a sound that only a disenchanted elderly Frenchwoman who had seen too much could voice, a sharp, dry laugh with no real humor. “How has this world not chewed you up and spat you back out yet? You’re supposed to be a detective. Put the pieces together,” she told Toska, disappointed that someone in their 40s could still hold such a childish worldview. Foncé saw everything much differently, explaining, “The real world is ugly. And I am a realistic person. Unswayed by frivolities. Bitter. Selfish. Old. Wrinkled. People who see ‘beauty’ are fools, but they’d certainly never find it in me.”
Toska stared blankly. Those deepset eyes of hers were often hard to read, but Foncé was convinced for a moment that she had gotten through to her, snuffed out that ridiculous optimism. Good riddance.
But she was wrong. Toska started to slowly smile again, lifting one strong hand to give the older woman’s bony shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Your wrinkles aren’t an ugly thing. They’re a living book of history on your body. It shows what a wonderful long life you’ve led, how many stories you have to tell,” Toska disagreed with deep conviction in her voice. “I love your stories, Foncé. You are a beautiful woman, and I admire your beautiful life.”
Foncé should have been able to dismiss those words as nonsense just as easily as she dismissed all of Toska’s other niceties. But something made her pause.
Had she ever been complimented on anything other than her intellect before? Maybe decades ago, when she was young. It was getting harder to remember those days. But Toska’s words had brought her back to some old feeling that she had forgotten. Or maybe it was a completely new feeling.
Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable. It made her chest feel tight.
“…Ah, shut your damn mouth. Lies,” Foncé grumbled, shrugging Toska’s hand off of her. “You’re almost as foolish as Maar. No, even more foolish.”
Toska looked at her hand, then let it drop down to her side. “You really don’t think anything in life is beautiful?”
Foncé took a drag to calm herself and briefly entertained the question in her mind, stupid as it was. “Absinthe and a good book after a long day is as close as it gets,” she decided. “But no. Nothing. Life is too gritty for that, my dear.”
Toska tilted her head to the side like a curious Saint Bernard dog, trying to figure her out. With a small, toothy grin, she replied, “You are a tough nut to crack, Foncé. But I will do whatever it takes to convince you that beauty is real. There’s a shine beneath all that grit you see in the world. You’ll see. You and your pretty wrinkles.”
She moved a bit closer, and Foncé was about to blow smoke in her face to make her and her overenthusiasm back off. But before she could, she was caught off guard by a kiss. The gentle giant had leaned down and quickly but tenderly pressed her lips to Foncé’s gaunt cheek. And as quickly as it had happened, Toska then began to happily plod back towards the building they had come from, leaving Foncé alone to be confused and disturbed. That uncomfortable feeling had returned.
“Maybe the others will help,” she overheard Toska say to herself.
God, that sounded dreadful. Another reason to feel uncomfortable. Toska was just being Toska, but if she convinced the others to help her in this pointless quest, they might join in just for the sake of torturing her. It’d be torture whether intentionally or not, in fact.
Foncé couldn’t let that happen.
“Toska! Wait!” she called out. Once Toska stopped and turned around, Foncé reluctantly continued, “Will you stop this madness if I concede that something is beautiful?”
“Since that’s my goal, yes!” Toska cheerfully answered.
Unfortunately, Foncé knew she couldn’t lie her way out of this situation, make something up to appease Toska. She was too honest for that, and Toska would be able to tell she wasn’t being truthful. As much as it would kill her, she’d have to agree that at least one beautiful thing existed. Or at least something close. And she couldn’t just say absinthe again…
She looked at Toska through narrowed eyes, grumbling her way through her words as she struggled to form them. “Tsk. There is…” Foncé looked away, placed all three of her cigarettes in her mouth, and mumbled her answer around them. “There is something beautiful in you.”
“Really?” Toska asked, sounding surprised and touched.
Foncé vaguely and casually gestured with one hand to not look too invested in the idea, but went on to explain, “The world doesn’t deserve kindness. But you are kind anyway. And that is strangely beautiful, I suppose. You enjoy life despite knowing how dark it can be. I’ve largely forgotten how to do that. I know I often ruin your fun, but… Maybe I could learn from it instead.”
She looked at Toska again out of the corner of her eye and felt strangely warm inside at the sight of her delighted smile. The woman wasn’t only strong in stature, but also strong in spirit. That made her a key part of the game-master team. As sickeningly sweet as she was, Foncé knew it was for the best that she was there.
Toska felt the same about Foncé, and felt especially fond of her after that compliment. “You are so sweet, Foncé. You’ve made me so happy right now,” she practically cooed with gratitude. “I believe that deep down inside you, your heart is as bright as the colors on your clothing!”
More obvious lies, Foncé thought. But it did feel strangely nice to make someone happy for once. Toska deserved it more than many others. Foncé didn’t plan on making a habit of it, though.
Toska started to close the distance between them again, and wrapped Foncé up in her arms to lift her into the air with a tight squeeze of an embrace. Once again not expecting such affection, Foncé helplessly dangled a few inches off the ground while being crushed by Toska’s muscles.
“Sacré bleu, you’re going to kill me!” she croaked.
“Hug me back!” Toska demanded with a jolly laugh. “If you do, I’ll leave you alone like you wanted.”
Foncé sighed in defeat and limply patted Toska on the back. Toska responded by nuzzling her cheek against Foncé’s like a friendly cat. Foncé didn’t normally like being touched much, but… This certainly could have been worse. It wasn’t all that bad.
After a few seconds, Toska followed through on her side of the deal and set Foncé back down on the ground. She thanked her and told her to enjoy the fresh air, but that she hoped she’d see her back inside soon. With that, she left.
Annoyed with everything that had transpired in the past minutes, Foncé shook her head and rolled her eyes. Yet… She almost felt better than she had before Toska had followed her, oddly enough. Like her body was lighter. Like the sunshine was warmer. Like maybe there were a few things that could be both real and good.
Like Toska.
“Yes, she’s still better company than Kane…” Foncé mused to herself once Toska was fully out of sight. “There are worse things than a little ladybug.”