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Rodion’s heard a lot things about Gregor’s mom. How awful and strict she is, how much of a leash she has over his life. It’s not something he’s told her, really, but the absence is answer enough. He always trails his words at it, talking about it like it’s a thing that’s happened to someone else.
It’s hardly a unique story, but it doesn’t change how it’s still wrong. So she takes it upon herself to be the one who’ll finally fix it, get the right things done.
There’s just one thing. Gregor never told her what his mother looked like.
All words die in Rodion’s mouth as soon as she opens the door.
“How may I help you, young lady?”
Sharp, golden eyes. Lips like expensive wine. A gaze that could strip her terrifyingly bare. In alcohol-like stupor, Rodion stares at the most stunning woman she’s ever seen in her life.
Gregor’s mom is something, and Rodion doesn’t claim that very often. Even though she’s several inches shorter, her presence makes her feel like she’s utterly towering over her.
Rodion feels betrayed, almost, at the lack of warnings, of the detailed descriptions she should’ve been privy to. Her heart jumps to her throat as she tries to regain some sort of control. “Ms Samsa,” she begins, and god, when did she turn into Ishmael? “About Greg. I-I mean Gregor--”
Ms Samsa cuts her off with a smile that sends her mind dead on the spot.
“There’s need to be so formal, dear. You must be my son’s friend, yes?” she says. “You may simply call me Hermann. I hope to be well acquainted with you.”
A simple request. Yet, Rodion feels her heart going haywire. Oh man, she knows about me is what she first thinks. And then: no wait, you’re better than this. Remember the reason why you even came here in the first place.
“Ah, well – Ms – I mean H-Hermann,” Rodion tries, and it shouldn’t sound this weird on her tongue, this strangely intimate, calling her friend’s terrible mom by her name. “About what, um, Greg – Gregor told me-”
“Would you like to come inside for some tea?” Hermann asks. “It would be rude of me to leave an important guest out in the cold.”
Rodion’s entire body freezes. The offer is like the twirl of bait to an empty, aching stomach.
Don’t you dare, she hears Gregor’s voice hiss in her ears the same time she says, “S-sure, yeah, why not?” Like Hermann’s long, gorgeous fingers are coaxing them straight from her throat, the image leaving her aching for something she wants more.
Hermann looks at her, smiling, and Rodion’s mouth goes cotton-dry.
She’s fucked. So, so fucked.
Damned if she's gonna let Gregor know.