Marina looks critically down at the slumped figure of the Monster. Or, she supposes, of the Monster's old person suit. He's covered in blood, his hair is a knotted mess, and he looks gaunt, as if he hasn't eaten properly for weeks. Marina supposes that this is entirely plausible: from what she's heard the Monster isn't really one to take into account a human body's needs. She wrinkles a nose in distaste and wishes that Quentin or Brian or whoever he was at the time had introduced it to the concept of a shower.
"Eliot Waugh, I presume?" she asks.
He looks up.
"Who the hell are you?" he asks. His voice rasps and Marina can't tell whether it's from disuse or whatever PTSD flashbacks he's undoubtedly going through. She heard that he could actually see whatever the monster was doing while possessing him. Eh, whatever. Not like she cares.
"Marina Andrieski," she introduces herself, stopping herself from extending her hand at the last minute. Eliot is covered in blood after all. And she just got a manicure.
"Yeah," Eliot says, "That doesn't help much."
Marina sights.
"Well, I suppose you were slightly unconscious last time we met," she allows. Not to mention possessed.
Eliot is frowning in concentration.
"Marina…wait!" he looks up, "You're that hedge bitch that almost got Quentin trapped inside his own head."
An alternate timeline version of her actually, but considering it does sound like something she would do…
"Sure," she says, "And now I've helped save you from being eternally trapped inside you own mind. Isn't life ironic that way?"
She moves over to her fridge in search of the bottle of red she'd opened the previous day, pouring two generous glasses. She offers one to Eliot.
"Here," she says, "I figure you need it."
Eliot eyes her warily but takes the proffered glass and downs it. Marina winces: that's good quality burgundy. Sacrifices must be made she supposes.
"Oh my god," Eliot says, "You have no idea how long it's been since I've had actually decent alcohol. Black cherry, right? A 2005? Nicely aged."
Well. Maybe he isn't so bad after all.
"Black cherry and a hint of blackcurrant," Marina says, "I 'borrowed' a couple of crates last time I was in France."
She graciously tops his glass up, and watches in approval as he takes time to properly appreciate it.
"Now I suppose you're wondering where everyone is," she says after a moment.
Eliot pauses.
"They're not dead?" he asks lowly, a bleak look on his face.
"The last thing I remember I was-the Monster was suffocating Margo…"
Marina laughs.
"No, your little friends are fine," she says breezily, "It was all part of a plan. My plan naturally, as it actually worked. We dosed the Monster with ambrosia and bound him while he was incapacitated. Unfortunately, we had to use a considerable amount of magic, so the others are off infiltrating the library."
Eliot abruptly tries to get to his feet, and then collapses.
"Really," Marina says, making no move to help him, "That was a stupid move."
"I have to find them," Eliot says, "The things I did… I have to find them and help then."
Marina rolls her eyes.
"One of those types. Honestly Eliot. You've been possessed for months, are clearly battling some kind of malnutrition, and have just had two glasses of exquisite wine on what I assume is an empty stomach and a lowered tolerance. I'm not surprised you can't stand."
She sighs.
"Look, they'll be fine. They have a literal goddess with them after all. And if they come back and you've somehow managed to kill yourself through some bullheaded self-sacrifical shit they'll probably come after me next. Not that they would succeed," she adds, "But better for everyone that we avoid that problem to begin with. Now, either go take a shower or sit here and drink."
Eliot pouts-actually pouts!-but extends his glass for more wine which she refills. There is a silence.
"So," she says conversationally, "I hear that you fed your father to cannibals. What was that like?"
"An illusion of my father," Eliot corrects absently, "But pretty great actually. How did you hear…?"
Marina waves a hand.
"Quentin," she says, "Really won't shut up about you. The story stuck in my head I suppose. I can appreciate the sentiment."
Eliot raises an eyebrow.
"Childhood trauma, abuse, cursing my father with extremely bad luck and madness… You know, the usual. I think he's a hobo down in Brooklyn or somewhere."
"Fascinating," Eliot murmurs, "I don't suppose that you could be convinced to share the spell?"
Marina hums.
"Well usually I would charge you a few spells of your own," she says matter of factly, "But I suppose that those can wait until we get magic back to the way it was. Honestly your group owes me so many favours at this point: what's one more?"
"How very gracious," Eliot says dryly, "And I suppose that you'll get no benefit at all out of us defeating the library?"
Marina laughs: "Well a girl's got to make a living somehow," she says.
"Seriously though, fuck your father," Eliot says.
"I'll drink to that," Marina says and they raise their glasses in a toast.
Another silence falls, but this one is more comfortable, fuelled by the good wine and the not intolerable company. Really, Eliot isn't that bad once he's no longer being possessed by an amoral Monster. Maybe she'll go recruiting after this. For now she just sits back and relaxes.