EMBARRASSMENT
/
Evey still made an effort to avoid him when he was around. It had been a week since she arrived, but she felt little had changed. He had even seemed more frightening for that brief moment. The masked man often greeted her with kind words and offerings of food and TV shows. Part of her felt wrong for accepting any of it. It was his attitude that confused her. Why would a wanted man, someone who only desired chaos and destruction, be so kind to a hostage? That never happened. Not in movies, not in TV shows, or books.
It never quite added up, and sometimes Evey found herself wondering when her next meal might be her last. He never let on though, not that she could tell. He never once alluded to anything sinister, never threatened, never pushed nor prodded her, except to eat.
But, it was the dawn of a new day. Maybe she would finally get the courage to ask for some conditioner, and perhaps a razor. For years she had audibly complained with her friends, "Dear God, shaving is the most annoying thing. Why did it ever become the vogue?" This morning she realized that though it saved her quite a bit of trouble and time, the itchiness and rough texture of the growing hair was really bothersome. Though, probably not as bothersome as asking her captor for beauty products.
It was when she stood that she felt it. "Oh God." She breathed, and hurried out her door. The bathroom was vacant, to her relief, but alas, the damage was done. The monthly curse was back. She scolded herself for forgetting. She knew it would happen soon, she could have prepared herself. As Evey wrung out her ruined knickers in the sink, she cursed quietly. There was something else she'd have to gather courage to ask for.
Blood never came out easily, and the woman wondered if it was even worth it trying to save the undergarments. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Her shorts were safe, her sheets were spared. They were small victories, but victories nonetheless.
In a last act of desperation she checked the bathroom closet. No, no. Why would a man ever carry such things? A very botched napkin was pulled together. This plan would only work for so long.
In her state, she found courage. It wasn't much, but she had little else. On some paper she found in her room she wrote a list for the masked man. God, she felt silly. Writing a shopping list for her captor. It was almost surreal. She was specific, apologetic, sincere. These were things she needed, above all, if he couldn't get the rest, please get the sanitary material.
And if it wasn't too much trouble, a mirror for the bathroom?
With a deep breath, she entered the gallery, and searched for V. He wasn't at the piano, he wasn't watching television. He wasn't in the kitchen, so where could he have gone? Perhaps he was in the small gym he created, but she dared not go there. He would undoubtedly come back to the kitchen. He always seemed to be in the kitchen. With a magnet she stuck the note to the fridge and left it at that. Evey hoped she wouldn't have to wait long, but there was little else she could do.
In the meantime, breakfast.
/
He had finally ended his stretches and emerged from the dank confines of his gymnasium. A bit of exercise now and then was always in order, and V found it helped cure the boredom of living a solitary life.
He thought on that for a moment. If only she would make herself seen. Ah well, no matter. Everyone was different, and how could he blame Evey if she was shy? How could he blame her if she disliked it here?
But now was not the time to dwell on such things. Lunch would have to be prepared, and maybe she would even talk to him today. The thought gave the masked man some hope as he strode into the kitchen. Ah, but what was that on the fridge? A note? Well that was odd, and stranger still, written by Evey.
Yet, who else would be able to write to him?
He chuckled lightly at her apologetic tone. The poor woman really did think he was quick to anger, even though he strove to show her this wasn't the case. The list was pocketed, a sandwich was made and eaten, and the woman was found. That is to say, she was still in her room.
"Evey." V called out and rapped on her door gently, "Help yourself to anything for lunch, I'm stepping out." He heard a muffled affirmative, which he replied with a nod to the door. He knew she couldn't very well hear him rattle his head, but he was quite at a loss for words at the moment.
/
A terrorist he might be, but stealing from honest shops was not something V wanted to pride himself in. No, he would stride in, pay for the things, and stride back out with fairly purchased merchandise. His guise had been applied fairly rapidly, but nonetheless, it stuck to his face. He took on an appearance of someone much older than he supposed he really was. It managed to fool people in the past, but did gain some strange looks. People were not stupid, when something was not quite right, they did tend to notice. Some of them, anyway.
"Sir, would you like any help finding anything?" A young clerk was unboxing items just inside the pharmacy he had chosen. Without a word he handed her the list Evey had scrawled out not an hour prior—his name carefully ripped off, of course. The girl's face scrunched up in confusion as she read the entirety of it, then relaxed into a grin, "Ah, she even drew pictures for you. That's cute, actually." She turned and motioned for the disguised man to follow. He never once had to speak, and the girl easily found everything needed. He was glad for her. Even though Evey had been quite specific (according to the clerk) he wanted to make sure everything was right. No sense disappointing the lady.
/
She searched everywhere for pain relievers. They weren't in the bathroom. They weren't in the laundry room. They weren't in the gymnasium or in any cabinet in the gallery. She even thought to check the pantry, but no. Not there either. Defeated, Evey had slumped in a couch for a moment, and concentrated on old breathing practices she had been taught a long time ago. Once swallowing pills became old hat, she became dependent on them for when pain showed up in her life. Pills were easy, they were a quick fix. Hypnotizing oneself was not fast, and not easy.
As she felt the pain slowly leave her lower abdomen, the locks on the front door clicked. A figure clad in black, wide brimmed hat, and rather long black coat flew past her toward the locked door by the mirrors. "Ah." She sighed in relief. Hopefully he had brought back what she requested. Maybe he had some medication around as well…
She waited some time, battling the surges of pain that jolted through her. After what might have been an eternity, the familiar face of Guy Fawkes emerged from the locked door. His dark slits landed on her where she sat, turned carefully to look over her shoulder. He made a small noise, an exhale, "Evey." He greeted her with an incline of the head, "Are you…well?" In his hand she spied the bag, and within it all that she had asked for. He truly was the kindest terrorist she had ever met.
He was the only terrorist she had ever met…
"Yes, well, that is, no." She shrugged and turned back around to face the wall of paintings, "You don't happen to have any pain medication do you?" She paused, "If you don't that's, you know, fine too."
He stroked his porcelain chin, and after a moments thought asked, "Did you check the kitchen?"
"Well, no." Why would anyone check the kitchen for pain relievers? Why would anyone keep medication in the kitchen for God's sake!
"Ah, well, that would be where they are kept." His statement rather annoyed her, as he put it so simply. She felt stupid, not because she didn't know where they had been, but because he implied she should have known all along. She told herself to breathe, to calm down. It was just the hormones making her upset. It wasn't a big deal, not a big deal at all. "I have what you asked for." He approached her and extended the bag.
"Thank you." She responded quietly, taking the bag and eying the products carefully. Everything was in check, as far as she could see. He even bought those razors she requested. The good ones.
"Yes, well." He averted his gaze and stepped back, "Would you care for any tea? Perhaps a biscuit?" Tea and biscuits? Yes, of course, that would be lovely! But damn it all if she didn't have to take care of her problem first. She gave a nod, which he acknowledged. The woman waited until he busied himself in the kitchen before she stood. She'd really need those pills soon…
/
She didn't look too happy, he decided, as he watched her sip her tea. As usual, she wasn't quite in the spirits for talking, but V decided it was just her character. But then, people often loved talking about themselves. Ah, maybe he was going about this all the wrong way. "Evey." She glanced his way,
"Yes?"
"So tell me, Evey, how did you used to spend your free time?" A safe enough question, he thought.
"Used to…" She trailed off. Hm, perhaps not as safe as originally expected, "Well, after work I'd usually go out for a drink with my friends or catch up on some tv."
"And weekends?" V prodded
"Um, well, sometimes I'd take walks if the weather was nice. Chat with my girlfriends, read, or find things online to do." The mask tilted,
"Oh, did you read often? Did you have a favorite book?"
"Well, I…" She trailed off, "I did enjoy Shakespearian plays as a child because, as you know, I liked acting. But otherwise I suppose I mostly read magazines and the like." This poor, dear, uncultured girl. She really needed some more literature in her life.
"Have you read any of the books in my library?"
"You have a library?"
"Well, yes, you're currently sleeping in it."
"Oh." The look on her face was to be expected, probably, but personally V couldn't think of anything more exciting than sleeping in a library. So many books, so little time, "Yeah I guess I read a few."
"Any worth chatting about?" She paused to sip her tea and take a bite out of a crumbly biscuit,
"Well, I didn't like The Great Gatsby very much. I thought I would at first."
"Why is that?" The book wasn't one of his favorites, but it did provide insight to what the United States was like before all of the war and confusion. It was a long time ago.
"It was weird. I've only ever heard of the United States being so barbaric and terrible. The book made it seem so normal." She looked up to find the eyes of the mask, "Was it all true?"
"The events of the book?" V paused, "No. But it was true to the time period."
"I can't imagine that country ever acting like that. Ever being so…I don't know…relaxed. Carefree."
"It seemed carefree to you?" To him that was strange. Of all of the things she had taken from the book, it wasn't the deceit or social class differences. The book portrayed decline of all sorts, but perhaps because she wasn't aware of the country's history, she wouldn't catch it.
"Yeah, everyone going to parties and having a good time. I guess it just seemed really different." She trailed off, turning slightly pink in the cheeks. He decided she was embarrassed by her answer. Had he sounded so disbelieving? It didn't matter. What mattered is that there was some progress. With some pushing and prodding, there had been progress made. She had spoken willingly.
/
He didn't expect the encounter he had with her. At least, not so soon. When two people live together, it's only a matter of time before an accidental run-in, sans clothing, would happen. The thing is, he had carefully planned to avoid her at all costs when she showered just to evade the situation. He didn't enter her room unless she allowed him. Most of the time he never asked.
He just needed to use the loo. That's all. The door was open, which, in the unspoken contract between the two, meant that the bathroom was empty.
But no, there she was, clad in nothing but a towel, combing her hair. He might have compared her to a Pre Raphaelite painting, had he not doubled back and slammed the door behind him. He hadn't meant to walk in on her! How embarrassing their conversations would be now! How would they ever be able to face each other now—now that he'd seen so much skin?
She was shocked, rooted in place. She was combing out the tangles in her hair, and opened the door to clear the newly installed mirror of fog. She never expected him to walk in. He hadn't bothered before. She barely saw him slip out, and felt the color in her cheeks rise the moment that the door slammed. There was a muffled apology, "It's fine." She replied, though quite embarrassed, "It's…fine…" It really wasn't fine, but she had no idea what to say. He hadn't stayed there and watched, he hadn't thrown himself upon her. He did quite the opposite of what any man in her life would have done. Well, maybe not all of them. It was a curious thing. He wouldn't be that shy of nudity, so many of his paintings contained it! It hardly mattered, she was quite covered by her towel anyway!
She didn't want to think about it. How would she even face that damn Guy Fawkes mask now? Now that he'd seen so much bare thigh…
/
Breakfast was difficult. The mask kept averting its gaze, and she could feel the man's discomfort in the way he sat. "I am truly sorry." He apologized for the eighth time. She had kept track. What kind of bloody terrorist apologized so damn much?
She felt she didn't need to answer anymore. She told him it was fine, to forget it, there wasn't much to see anyway. He persisted, implied everything was his fault, and he really didn't mean to walk in on her.
Evey was never really one for broken records, and for once, missed the man's usual jovial attitude and ramblings about history and books. "I'll make you a deal." She said after a moments thought, "Let's put this behind us." The mask turned slightly to look at her. She assumed he was only looking from the corner of his eye—if there were eyes back there to see, "Put it behind us, no more apologizing. No more bringing it up." She poked at a bit of egg, "And instead let's talk about something else." He was silent. She hoped he would pick the topic.
"What would you care to talk about?" His voice was full of hope, his mask turned to fully face her, "I would love—I mean—Yes, let us discuss something!" His excitement was a bit distressing, his shoulders were now straight and his body alert. He showed no signs of being upset as he did before. She didn't want to disappoint him, or bring about any unwanted wrath.
Had she seen him angry?
It didn't matter. "Well, I'm reading The Lord of the Flies. It's, well, interesting." The masked man decided she must not a very fast reader if she put it down in the middle. No reason for him to complain though, this was what he wanted all along. Conversation.
Who knew a little bit of embarrassment would give him what he wanted in the end?