"I know what you want, Bela." Ketch's voice is cold. He can't bring himself to look at her. "And I can't give it to you."
"Arthur…" She looks confused. Hurt. It almost seems genuine, but he knows better.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" he spits. "I know about your deal. So this was all part of your plan? Pretend to care about me, then turn on the waterworks so I'll feel compelled to do something and get you out of it. Well, let me tell you, darling, the Men of Letters can't help you."
Her look of hurt turns to one of anguish, pleading, but he can see the gears of manipulation turning in her brain. "Arthur, let me explain. I swear it wasn't like that…"
He gives her a mocking look. "So you're telling me our meeting was down to pure serendipity?" She bites her lip, hesitates, and it tells him everything he needs. "Yes. Just what I thought."
"Alright!" She's lost control. He can see the panic in her eyes, shining with crocodile tears. "Maybe at first that's what it was. I admit I came into this just looking to use you, but then…something changed. I did care about you, Arthur. I still do."
A wry smile forms on his lips. He should have learned his lesson after Toni. "Don't lie. It doesn't become you."
She swallows. "Are you telling me these past few months meant nothing to you? Because they were real for me. Yes, I know I lied, but I was scared. I needed your help. And part of me hoped that after this was all over, we could have been happy."
"Do you expect me to believe you wouldn't have been out the door the minute the deed was done?" he snaps, and he's surprised by how much it hurts. "Because I'd rather you just get on and do it, Bela. Run away to America. Run away to the other side of the planet. I don't care if I never see you again. Wherever you go, no-one can help you."
"Can't, or won't?"
"Pick one."
She glares, jaw clenched to hide its trembling. She still has time. Five years, he figures, but it won't make any difference. No magic he knows of can break a deal like that, and she doesn't deserve his effort to try.
"You should be careful, Ketch," Bela says coldly after a few seconds, "I may be headed straight for Hell, but if you get any more cold-hearted, you won't be far behind."
He glares back icily. "Is that supposed to wound me?" It does. He doesn't want her to see.
"I'll see myself out," she says tersely. "Call a cab if you want to go running back to the Men of Letters. I'm taking the Aston."
She storms out, the room suddenly feeling colder once she's gone. Lonely. Ketch lifts a hand and drags it over his face. He was a fool for ever believing she could have had feelings for someone like him. It isn't a mistake he'll be making again.