Maggie drained the second glass, watching The Governor warily as he crossed the room to a wind up vitrola. He looked through a stack of records, and she took the moment to slide the serrated knife for the bread across the table, doing her best to keep her movements slow and calculated, all for the benefit of him not noticing.
He held up a record triumphantly, glancing over his shoulder and his eyes full of malice and fire, he murmured. "Put that down. And come here." He set the record in place on the vitrola, keeping his eyes on her. Not moving the needle. Yet.
Caught, she released the knife and rose shakily to her feet. He crossed the space between them, grabbing her hand, and swiftly twirling her around. She blinked in surprise, gasping a little from the pain that shot through her ribs. He released her and she gripped, where he had broken her earlier, peering up to him wide eyed.
He murmured darkly. "A knife? You're not very clever, are you girl? Why do you want to make me angry? " His voice was soft, and her pulse began to quicken, as he gapped the distance between them in a long stride, moving to intimidate her against the wall. Her breath quickened, and she kept her eyes on his, jaw tightening. Trying her best not to show her fear, and failing. Miserably.
He laughed, and pressed his rough palm against her cheek and chin.
"Haven't you learned that I am your future? When that ends is up to you, but it will be a permanent end, little Maggie… and we've just started our romance."
She shuddered, and tried to pull herself away from his palm, eyes lowering. He was not well. That much was clear. She couldn't help feeling that this was all a game to him, a terrible game with the stakes far more dangerous then any she had played before. His other hand moved to mirror the one already pressed to her cheek, and a firm grip on her he pressed his lips to her hungrily.
She kept her teeth clenched, as his tongue forced it's way through the tight purse of her chapped lips. She squeezed her eyes shut at the feeling of his wet tongue pressing against her teeth. He gave a little growl and ground his hips against hers, and tears inadvertently spilled down her cheeks. He removed first his tongue and then his lips, thumbs of both of his hands moving to wipe away her tears, whispering.
"Hush now."
And he pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her, in what would have been a comforting embrace if it had come from nearly anyone else, but as it was, it made her blood run cold, as he stroked her hair, hushing her.
She blinked back her tears and took a shaky breath, shuddering as she felt his nose press against her temple. The sound of him taking in a deep inhalation of the smell of her hair made goosebumps rise on her skin. And she began to tremble.
He smiled and murmured quietly against the hair over her ear. "You smell like cinnamon." And he released her, crossing the room to return his attention to the record, and the promised dance.
She murmured softly. " Where's Glenn? Is he all right?" Her Southern accent thicker then usual with the emotion inherent in her question.
The Governor's eyes flashed, as he returned his attention to her, his fingertips tightening on the needle of the vitrola he was just getting ready to place.
"Mention his name to me again, and I'll bring you bits of him for supper every night."
She gritted her teeth, and the Governor added. "He's alive. I'll tell you that. And if you're a good girl, I won't kill him. I'll let him live, as my gift to you. But you're going to have to do a lot better then you've been doin', little lady. Do you understand?"
She grit her teeth and gave a little nod, and he relaxed, placing the needle on the record. The sounds of mournful music, and a bleating trumpet beginning to play with a surprising jazz undertone. He murmured quietly as the sound began to fill the room, pulling her to him. "Josie Miles, singing Mad Mama's Blues. I've always liked it."
The resolute tone of the singer filled the room. The lyrics catching her instantly as he began to dance with her, leading her flawlessly around the room, as she listened closely to the lyrics, hoping for some insight in this monster who held her.
"Want to set the world on fire.
That is my one mad desire.
I'm a devil in disguise.
Got murder in my eyes.
Now I could see blood running through the streets.
Now I could see blood running through the streets.
Could see everybody laying dead right at my feet.
The man invented war sure is my friend.
The man invented war sure is my friend.
Don't believe that I'm sinking?
Just look at what a hole I am in."
The music moved to double time, and she blinked in surprise when he released her for a moment to do a bastardized version of the Charleston, a grin spreading across his face, before the music slowed again to the mournful, sound that fit perfectly against the words of madness that brought The Governor such pleasure. He pulled her close, beginning to sing along, his voice deeper, and more melodic then she would have imagined, creating a duet that left her terrified.
Give me gunpowder, give me dynamite.
Give me gunpowder give me dynamite.
Yes, I'd wreck the city. Wanna blow it up tonight."
The music quickened again, and he gripped on to her hand, quick stepping, and taking her along for the movement, quick leaning left, and then right one, two. One, two before the song returned to the familiar tempo of earlier. His voice robust as he sang along.
"I took my big Winchester down off the shelf.
I took my big Winchester down off the shelf.
When I get through shooting there'll be nobody left."
Releasing Maggie for a moment, before moving to switch records, the more familiar sounds of Cab Calloway and "It Don't Mean A Thing If It Ain't Got That Swing."
He used it as an excuse to throw her around the room, and though it hurt her rib, he was careful not to drop her this time. A boyish light in his eyes as he danced with her, kicking his feet, and flipping her over, and swirling her around until she was gasping for breath. He laughed, and let the record continue with The Jitter Bug, and moving to guide her to the bed.
"Rest."
And she sat on the edge, but tensed with realization that being this close to him on the bed wasn't likely to end well.
He climbed behind her on the bed, and began to unzip the back of her dress, his lips following the trail as it revealed her flesh.
He whispered against the skin as she shuddered.
"If you convince me that you enjoy tonight, I'll let you have an hour with Glenn tomorrow." He promised, and the offer was something and she blinked, glancing over her shoulder to him. And he grinned a lopsided grin, moving to slide the shoulders of the dress down murmuring.
"I'll have you either way. But depending on how you react, will determine if you are punished, or rewarded."
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She knew what was coming was inevitable, and still everything inside of her heart told her to fight for everything that she could do to prevent it. He murmured.
"Come, Margaret. Come to bed."
And the name, that was her name, but wasn't, too, released part of her. This was survival, and her best chance was with Glenn. And she needed to know he was alive. They would escape together, she promised herself. And push all of this away.
She opened the door of her heart, and tugged Maggie inside it's protective walls, and shoved Margaret out and it was Margaret who grudgingly turned to face him, and Margaret's shaking hands that undid the buttons of his shirt.
And Maggie silently cried and screamed within the walls of her heart, at the scene her body was taking part of, while she, was somewhere else. Somewhere with a future.