Heavy footsteps thudded up the once grand staircase as Count Olaf scurried to his mark on the small landing partway up. He took a moment to smooth down his suit jacket and check his hair before facing his audience – in this case his audience consisted entirely of members of his acting troupe. The great actor cleared his throat, raised a hand in a dramatic gesture, and abruptly shouted, 'Places! From the top!"

There was movement somewhere beneath him but Olaf was no longer paying attention. He had to get in character. With a dramatic sigh, he brought his hand to his forehead.

"Whatever is a man, as handsome as I, to do in such a dreadful situation?"

The hand against his forehead dropped to his chest and he inhaled for the big starting note. He waited for that big starting note. He waited for that big starting note.

With a snarl, he dropped character and reached for the nearest object. The old, cracked vase was roughly hurled at the target of his ire. He pulled a face when it went wide, shattering against the far wall instead of a skull.

"Boss, that barely missed me!" Two hooks were raised to protect a scarred face.

"You missed your cue."

"I-I'm sorry, Boss, but you were just so handsome." The hook-handed man stammered on a while longer but once again Olaf had tuned out of his surroundings, instead he was too busy preening at the compliment. Of course he was utterly distracting.

It took him only five seconds to snap out of it – surely a new personal best.

"Don't mess it up again. Or I will find a new pianoist. Pianioist." He could feel all eyes on him and snapped, "Just play the damn song!"

He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and found his character once more. "And a one, and a two.."

A loud knock at the door halted proceedings once again.

With an overly dramatic sigh, Olaf stomped his way down the stairs in a manner reminiscent of a grumpy five year-old that had not gotten the specific birthday present they had wanted. The visitor knocked again in the time it took him to reach the door and the disgruntled actor was seriously considering just installing some form of spiked pit system at his front door.

"All right, all right. I swear if you're a girl scout those cookies had better be-" All words left him in a heartbeat the moment he opened the door.

He stared at the visitor for a long time, almost as though he were questioning whether the sight before him was real, and began counting how many glasses of wine he had already drunk so far that day. A quick mental tally informed him that he was likely still sober and his voice returned, albeit only as a hoarse rasp, "Everybody out."

He waited only a beat before bellowing, "Out!"

The members of Count Olaf's acting troupe dropped whatever they had been holding and all but ran to the door, each uttering some form of apology or good-bye as they slid past the pair in the doorway. All except for the hook-handed man, who lingered at Olaf's shoulder.

"Hey, isn't that the Sni-"

An inhuman snarl erupted from Olaf's throat and he slammed his henchman bodily against the door, one deceptively strong hand wrapped around his throat. For a brief moment the other man struggled but knew better when he saw the fire in such icy blue eyes.

"You saw nobody here today, understood?"

"Ack, gah.." Olaf loosened his grip just a little. "Yes, Boss!"

Not as foolish as most assumed, the henchman hurried to put some distance between them the moment he was released, but he still managed a small wave and a smile for an old colleague. Olaf groaned and rolled his eyes. He seriously needed to stop waving at their enemies.

But was she really an enemy?

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Yeah, well you didn't have to come here and risk repercussions from You Know Who."

"I was careful."

He glanced around outside nonetheless before gesturing for her to come in. It was only then that it truly hit him and he stopped mid-step. Kit Snicket was in his home for the first time in over a decade. How different things were.

This manor had once been so full of life, love, and joy. Light had filtered through the foyer's many windows, illuminating the grand piano where Olaf had once played love songs for his fiancée. The couple had danced across the very spot where they now stood; young and in love, with their whole lives ahead of them.

Now the building was little more than a husk of the home it once was. There was no life or love anymore; almost every window had been boarded up against the brilliant sunshine. The dark, dingy shell was an accurate representation of the sole inhabitant.

Her presence in this space warmed his heart as much as it caused it to ache. He suddenly found himself greatly missing the picture of them which once sat upon the centre table, usually surrounded by fresh flowers his Mother would choose every week. He didn't quite remember what end the photograph had met but he regretted it.

"You've changed the place." Her voice was soft and sad. He nearly snorted. He'd not changed it, he'd neglected it.

Long fingers ran across old piano keys, too light to make a sound, but memories of tickling those ivories for her weighed heavy on his heart. He would sing for her almost every day and she was always an attentive listener, claimed she loved hearing his voice. Occasionally she could be coaxed into joining him and the two would lose themselves in song after song until they were exhausted. Those days had been so easy, and the best of his life.

"Why are you here, Kit? You hardly came just to comment on my choice of décor."

"I wanted to see you. Is that so wrong?" Whilst he prowled about the room like a caged animal, she had not moved from her spot one step inside the door.

"It's a mistake. We shouldn't see each other."

In the three months since he walked away from her in the tunnels, Olaf had done his best to forget her very existence. An impossible task, of course, but he really had tried his hardest. Now she was stood in his home claiming she wanted to see him. He desperately tried to ignore the way his pulse quickened.

"Sometimes, good things can come from mistakes."

He paused in his pacing to look at her. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her gaze was so serious he could almost feel the weight of it on his skin. He knew the truth behind her words all too well – memories of her lips on his, her body wrapped around him and her moans in his ear flashed through his mind. A mistake had led to one of the best nights of his life.

In a moment of weakness he whispered, "Nothing good can come from being around me," and the words spurred her to come closer.

"I don't want to argue with you. It was difficult enough deciding to come here in the first place, please don't make me regret it."

She was so close now that he only need lift a hand to touch her, and God knows he wanted to. But he had given in before and all it had brought was pain. No – that wasn't quite right. There had been such joy for a short while that his heart had almost exploded within his chest. She was worth all the pain in the world.

"We can't keep doing this, love." He pushed some hair from her face and brushed a thumb across her cheek. He couldn't ignore the way she leant into his touch.

"What if I want to?"

Olaf briefly considered that he might in fact be dreaming. Things like this didn't happen to him in his everyday life. He lived a miserable existence in a miserable house. There was no way that his True Love was actually in his arms again, right?

He was a selfish man and did things for himself, but when it came to Kit he found himself hesitating. "Are you sure?"

Her answer was a soft kiss that stole his breath. He couldn't remember the last time she had kissed him so sweetly and he made an effort to commit the feeling to memory.

"Who am I to deny a Lady?" He whispered against soft lips.