Chapter 11 : Fruition
Kilgrave sat and sipped on some wine, his eyes steadily watching the dance floor of the local club called The Funk Box. Patrons danced, dressed in their best 80's gear to show support for the theme of the night. His eyes were intense, no women were around him, no waiter to tend to his every need. He was on a mission. It had been a week since France and he knew It was time for his plan to come in to itself.
Hearing a familiar Oingo Boingo song, he put his glass down and tilted his head some. Ah, there she was, just like he knew would happen.
Camille came out onto the dance floor in a cute off the shoulder sweatshirt with neon leggings, dancing with a female friend of hers. Oh she looked so happy...it made him smile...in the worst way.
"I give it...5...4...3...2-oh, they're early," he mused to himself as he watched her band mates walk up to her.
Camille shooed her friend away playfully and turned to her friends.
With extreme interest Kilgrave watched the meeting. The boys looked upset borderline angry and Chris (her guitarist) started to speak. Poor Camille looked so so confused as they accused her of traveling in order to find a 'new' 'more talented' band to lead up. Of course she swore up and down that wasn't that case but the boys had their 'sources'...given to them by the women Kilgrave controlled. After about ten minutes, they boys shook their heads almost collectively and just left her there. Kilgrave noticed her complete and utter loss for words...and he was relishing in it.
2 weeks later he decided to pay a visit to her shrink. He couldn't really follow her around to find out what else had happened without making himself known but...he had his ways.
"Give me her file," he told the doc simply who handed it right over.
Kilgrave turned to the more recent notes and sat back with a big delighted smile.
"Aw, poor dear. Her band broke up with her so no job, the blogging wok cannot sustain her, and a lot of her possessions are in hock...what a far way to fall," he said dripping with contentedness. "Well then, I should get home...I think I have some...preparing to do," he said nearly hopping up to stand. He did his usual "forget everything" comment and left to go back to his luxury flat.
Later in the evening, around 10pm, Kilgrave sat in his front room slash study, fireplace roaring while he sipped on some very good brandy. "Mm delightful, well done Steven," he said to his butler.
"Thank you Sir. Shall I move into the kitchen to clean up now? Do you require anything else?" he asked.
Kilgrave smiled up to him, he actually liked Steven. He was the stereotypical 'British Butler'. Quiet, calm, practical, and VERY good at his job. Even Kilgrave could appreciate a person who was damned good at their job.
"I do not require anything else...but do not worry about dishes, I think I might have company later...we'll take care of it. You rest up, I'm sure our day will be busy tomorrow," he said.
"Thank you Sir. Good evening and do not worry about calling upon me if you need to do so later," he said, nodding before heading off to his quarters.
"Good man," Kilgrave said to himself and took the last sip of his brandy before putting the glass down. He was about to grab a book when there was a soft knock at the door.
"Oh...a visitor," he smiled nefariously and stood up to move to the door and open it.
A warmer...faker smile came to his face.
"Long time no see!" he said happily.
Camille stood there looking depressed and non-plussed. She looked a tiny bit gaunt, perhaps from living on a steady diet of ramen noodles and other processed food. The bright charismatic singer looked completely different in so many ways. Her eyes were red from previous hard cried tears, bags were under her eyes from stressful sleepless nights, and her lips could hardly form a frown due to a lack of energy. Even her posture seemed to have spelled out 'sad'.
Kilgrave actually frowned for a moment, if he had a heart in the emotional sense...he could feel it become heavy. Then he remembered he had her right where he wanted and the 'bad' smile returning to his face.
He stuck out his arm, lightly wrapped it around her one shoulder and brought her inside.
Camille hung her head low and walked inside. "I literally had no where else to go..." she admitted in a soft whimper.
"I know my dear, I know," he said lowly and shut the door once she was inside.