England, July 2001
Lara Croft was bored. She was on her fourth date with Lord Peter Farringdon, the third in the line of 'eligible bachelors' her butler Hillary kept trying to set her up with. Peter was attractive enough and a nice man, but his conversation consisted entirely of stock-broking and the occasional golf story, one of which he was telling her now over dinner. Their last date had ended with sex that was so polite Lara felt as if she had to apologize for almost enjoying it.
Lara sighed and moved the food around on her plate. What she really needed was an adventure, but nothing worthwhile had come up for the six weeks since the Illuminati affair and she was getting restless. She was brought back to reality by Peter reaching across the table and taking hold of her hands. He ran his thumb over the still prominent scars across her left palm.
"Lara, you look so beautiful tonight, I.I love you," he said.
She was somewhat taken aback, "I..." she began, but her date cut her short by crouching down beside her on one knee and producing a velvet box from his pocket.
'Oh shit!' she thought, knowing what was coming.
"Lara Croft, will you marry me?" he asked, opening the box to reveal an antique diamond ring.
She let out a short laugh, "believe me Peter, you don't want to marry me!" she said, placing her napkin on the table.
"B...but..." he stammered, "don't you love me Lara?" he asked.
"Love? I tried that once..." she mused, "didn't really work out for me. So I thought I'd try cold hearted bitch for a while. It seems to suit me." Looking down at the stunned face she relented somewhat. "You'll get over me." Lara smiled with slight regret as she got up to leave. Everyone in the restaurant who had been poised to clap politely just stared as she strode out of the restaurant, her long braid swinging behind her.
The parking attendant handed her the keys to the Aston Martin DB7 on the way out and Lara climbed into the car, pausing for just a second before shaking her head and turning the key in the ignition. Gravel flew as she sped away, momentarily forgetting the events of the evening in the thrill of making the drive back to the manor in a record twenty five minutes.
*
"You're back early Lara!" Hillary exclaimed as she entered and proceeded to pour herself a large glass of scotch.
"Care to join me Hilly?" Lara asked and noticing the confused expression on the butler's face, "of course you would. There," she handed him a glass and gestured for him to sit with her by the crackling fire.
"He proposed," she began and had to cut off the congratulations, "of course I couldn't possibly accept".
"But Lara, a lady such as yourself really should..."
She cut him off again. "No!" she exclaimed, "please stop telling me what a lady should do Hillary! And no more setting me up with eligible lords, they're all so dull, none of them could possibly understand me. I don't have to get married and I don't have to be a fucking lady! I don't pay you to try and run my life, so just stay out of it!"
Hillary sighed. "You did ask me to find you someone more serious and trustworthy than Alex West..." he began, but thought better of it after the withering look that Lara shot him. He reformed his expression into that of the obedient servant. "Certainly Lady Croft, no more dates," he placed his untouched glass down on the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, the silver needs polishing," he said, heading towards the kitchen.
Lara downed the remaining whiskey in her glass and looked into the fire for a while, then she stood up, grabbing the other glass from the table before making her way upstairs to bed.
*
The next morning Lara was leafing through the Sotheby's catalogue over breakfast, but finding nothing of interest she tossed it across the room, smiling slightly as it landed perfectly in the waste paper basket in the far corner.
"More coffee?" Hillary asked stiffly, entering the dining room with the pot in his hand.
"Thank you," Lara murmured in reply, smiling warmly at her butler in way of apology for her rudeness the night before. He was used to it by now though. She noticed the way he was looking at her untouched breakfast and pushed the plate towards him, "I'm not hungry," she explained.
"I took the liberty of picking out a dress for you for tonight," he said, pouring the coffee expertly.
"Tonight?" Lara asked absent mindedly, having begun to flick through the Saturday papers.
"Yes Lara, the Archeology Association reception, remember? You were supposed to be going with Lord Farringdon..."
"Well, I guess I shall have to go alone," she stated, filling in three clues of the cryptic crossword in quick succession.
"Lara, I really think..." Hillary began but was cut short by the look she shot him.
"Was there anything else?" she asked threateningly.
"Well actually, yes." It was a long time since she had been able to intimidate him so he sat down at the table opposite her. Lara looked up in surprise. Although her domestic situation was far from the traditional this was still almost unheard of.
"I'm concerned about you Lara, you haven't been eating properly and I know you were ill this morning." She sighed, nothing got past him. "And yesterday as well," he continued, chastising her like a school master. "Is everything ok?"
Lara was already annoyed by his questioning. "Yes Hilly, I've just had a bug, that's all. Now stop fussing."
The butler looked her straight in the eye for a moment, but Lara always won that game. He looked away and stood up, excusing himself as he backed out through the door.
Lara Croft was bored. She was on her fourth date with Lord Peter Farringdon, the third in the line of 'eligible bachelors' her butler Hillary kept trying to set her up with. Peter was attractive enough and a nice man, but his conversation consisted entirely of stock-broking and the occasional golf story, one of which he was telling her now over dinner. Their last date had ended with sex that was so polite Lara felt as if she had to apologize for almost enjoying it.
Lara sighed and moved the food around on her plate. What she really needed was an adventure, but nothing worthwhile had come up for the six weeks since the Illuminati affair and she was getting restless. She was brought back to reality by Peter reaching across the table and taking hold of her hands. He ran his thumb over the still prominent scars across her left palm.
"Lara, you look so beautiful tonight, I.I love you," he said.
She was somewhat taken aback, "I..." she began, but her date cut her short by crouching down beside her on one knee and producing a velvet box from his pocket.
'Oh shit!' she thought, knowing what was coming.
"Lara Croft, will you marry me?" he asked, opening the box to reveal an antique diamond ring.
She let out a short laugh, "believe me Peter, you don't want to marry me!" she said, placing her napkin on the table.
"B...but..." he stammered, "don't you love me Lara?" he asked.
"Love? I tried that once..." she mused, "didn't really work out for me. So I thought I'd try cold hearted bitch for a while. It seems to suit me." Looking down at the stunned face she relented somewhat. "You'll get over me." Lara smiled with slight regret as she got up to leave. Everyone in the restaurant who had been poised to clap politely just stared as she strode out of the restaurant, her long braid swinging behind her.
The parking attendant handed her the keys to the Aston Martin DB7 on the way out and Lara climbed into the car, pausing for just a second before shaking her head and turning the key in the ignition. Gravel flew as she sped away, momentarily forgetting the events of the evening in the thrill of making the drive back to the manor in a record twenty five minutes.
*
"You're back early Lara!" Hillary exclaimed as she entered and proceeded to pour herself a large glass of scotch.
"Care to join me Hilly?" Lara asked and noticing the confused expression on the butler's face, "of course you would. There," she handed him a glass and gestured for him to sit with her by the crackling fire.
"He proposed," she began and had to cut off the congratulations, "of course I couldn't possibly accept".
"But Lara, a lady such as yourself really should..."
She cut him off again. "No!" she exclaimed, "please stop telling me what a lady should do Hillary! And no more setting me up with eligible lords, they're all so dull, none of them could possibly understand me. I don't have to get married and I don't have to be a fucking lady! I don't pay you to try and run my life, so just stay out of it!"
Hillary sighed. "You did ask me to find you someone more serious and trustworthy than Alex West..." he began, but thought better of it after the withering look that Lara shot him. He reformed his expression into that of the obedient servant. "Certainly Lady Croft, no more dates," he placed his untouched glass down on the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, the silver needs polishing," he said, heading towards the kitchen.
Lara downed the remaining whiskey in her glass and looked into the fire for a while, then she stood up, grabbing the other glass from the table before making her way upstairs to bed.
*
The next morning Lara was leafing through the Sotheby's catalogue over breakfast, but finding nothing of interest she tossed it across the room, smiling slightly as it landed perfectly in the waste paper basket in the far corner.
"More coffee?" Hillary asked stiffly, entering the dining room with the pot in his hand.
"Thank you," Lara murmured in reply, smiling warmly at her butler in way of apology for her rudeness the night before. He was used to it by now though. She noticed the way he was looking at her untouched breakfast and pushed the plate towards him, "I'm not hungry," she explained.
"I took the liberty of picking out a dress for you for tonight," he said, pouring the coffee expertly.
"Tonight?" Lara asked absent mindedly, having begun to flick through the Saturday papers.
"Yes Lara, the Archeology Association reception, remember? You were supposed to be going with Lord Farringdon..."
"Well, I guess I shall have to go alone," she stated, filling in three clues of the cryptic crossword in quick succession.
"Lara, I really think..." Hillary began but was cut short by the look she shot him.
"Was there anything else?" she asked threateningly.
"Well actually, yes." It was a long time since she had been able to intimidate him so he sat down at the table opposite her. Lara looked up in surprise. Although her domestic situation was far from the traditional this was still almost unheard of.
"I'm concerned about you Lara, you haven't been eating properly and I know you were ill this morning." She sighed, nothing got past him. "And yesterday as well," he continued, chastising her like a school master. "Is everything ok?"
Lara was already annoyed by his questioning. "Yes Hilly, I've just had a bug, that's all. Now stop fussing."
The butler looked her straight in the eye for a moment, but Lara always won that game. He looked away and stood up, excusing himself as he backed out through the door.