He was in the Egyptian exhibition, studying wall mounted papyrus scrolls when Kerry finally followed him. She went across to a display case of red clay pottery, leaning on the glass to study the pieces. They were mostly unpainted, some of them broken. It never ceased to amaze Kerry how much survived the ages.
She started when Michel leant over her. He pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck and put her wineglass down on the cabinet.
Still leaning against her, preventing her from pushing herself off the display cabinet, Michel studied the pottery pieces. "Why do humans find this so fascinating?"
"You should find it fascinating too," Kerry pointed out. "All of this would have been newfangled technology when you were young."
He pinched the flesh along her ribcage. Not hard enough to hurt; just hard enough for the sensation to be more fascinating than the pottery in the case. Kerry put her hands flat on the glass of the cabinet and pushed back. Her body hit his as she straightened, and he didn't step away, catching her around the waist instead.
"Am I safe to leave you alone for the start of tomorrow night? Not long. Can you find friends who will stick with you?"
He must have been planning on backtracking to the ice-cream parlour for the phone. She didn't care, as long as she got there first. "Yeah, that's no problem."
He stepped back, letting her turn in his arms so that he could see her face. His eyes were narrowed with suspicion. "I can trust you to keep yourself out of harm's way? You're more use to me dead than in Clarence's hands."
Kerry blinked up at him. That…was a lie. Though it shouldn't have been. She already knew that he was here to win her over to his side – so that she'd be of use to him later on. If she was never going to be of use to him, he was better off killing her and making sure that Clarence got nothing from her. But – he'd never come out and admit that to her.
Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, Kerry studied Michel. He watched her; expression hard and assessing. Kerry chewed on her lip, no more able to read him than she was to read Braille. "Unless you've decide to kill me, don't threaten me," she said.
His brow furrowed, eyes darkening. Not as though he was angry, but she wasn't about to let him try to intimidate her again.
"Don't," said Kerry. He wasn't actually threatening her. She knew Michel and he never said what he meant. If he wanted to threaten her he'd be so subtle about it that only she would know it was a threat. She just didn't know what he was doing by pretending to threaten her; didn't know what tracks of his he was covering.
He blinked and the threat – or whatever it had been – was gone. Kerry could practically feel the tension drain from the room. "Of course I'm not going to hurt you," he said, voice light. "I don't need to. You did tell me that you would let me call the shots until you were safe." He raised an eyebrow at her, as though asking whether she was going to renege on their deal.
She was; but he didn't need that memo just yet. "I did," she agreed, glaring at him a little, because if she was planning on keeping that deal she wouldn't appreciate being reminded of it.
"So you can keep yourself out of harm's way for a few hours tomorrow night?"
Kerry shrugged. "I'm working tomorrow night. Don't think anyone's going to kidnap me from a coffee shop."
"If you have a break before I get there, stay in the café," said Michel.
Kerry rolled her eyes at him. "I'm reckless, not stupid. If I go outside it will be a calculated risk."
"Calculate carefully," said Michel. "I'd prefer not to have to save you again."
"I'd prefer not to need it again," agreed Kerry.
Michel smiled at her. "I imagine that playing the victim is about as unpleasant to you as playing the hero is to me."
Uncomfortably true. Kerry smiled back at him wryly and shrugged one shoulder. "Well, if you don't think of me as a victim, I won't think of you as a hero," she offered.
Michel assessed her. "I think of you as many things; but never yet a victim."
She would have taken that as a compliment if his tone hadn't suggested that he was open to changing that assessment of her if she gave him a reason to. Sort of unfair, because she would never be able to think of him as a hero no matter what he did. He might save her when it posed no danger to himself – but only if he thought that she might wind up being useful to him.
Kerry wasn't sure what kind of use she might be to him. Something dreary, hopefully. Like the ability to queue up at the post office from nine to five to pay electricity bills. Though that was doubtful.
"You know how to use the Internet, right?" Kerry asked, checking. Maybe he didn't have online banking. Maybe he did just need help with bills.
His brows lowered, eyes registering slight confusion. "I do live in this century."
That theory was out then. Kerry pursed her lips, considering other innocuous things that required daylight. She had nothing.
That left the dastardly things. Crossing her arms, she studied him. "I'm not bait, you know," she said. "I'm not going to lure tender, blood-filled college morsels to you no matter how often you save me."
Michel tilted his chin to give her a frosty look. "The suggestion that I'm not gorgeous enough to lure my own college morsels is laughable," he said severely. "I can have college morsels any time I want."
That was also true. At this point in time Kerry was living proof. Sure, there was some psychotic vampire after her and she had more chance of surviving with Michel than without – but even when Kerry had thought that Michel was lying about her being in danger she'd had no inclination to get rid of him. And that was really, really bad.
Michel glanced at his watch, stepping backwards out of her space. She wondered whether he needed to; had always assumed that he'd have an inbuilt timer and would be able to sense the approach of sunrise.
"You're not running out of time," she said. The night had just begun.
He shook his head. "If we leave in an hour there'll be time to walk back to your apartment. If you wanted to?"
"Yes," said Kerry. She didn't have to think about it. It would be a ridiculously long walk, but the city was beautiful – all glittering lights and glass skyscrapers. And it would be better than getting a cab and being stuck in her room again reading about demons when the closest thing she'd ever met to one read German literature and ignored her.
He smiled, and she could see relief tinge the corner of his eyes. As though being a pseudo-intellectual was a hard act to keep up. But then, that wasn't quite fair. Michel did know his stuff. He'd told Eve and Sarah that he was studying petroleum engineering and he'd been able to answer any questions they had about it – which, considering how little they knew about petroleum or engineering, were few – and any questions Kerry had about it – which, considering that she liked to keep him on his toes, were many.
Chances were that Michel was just as sick of being cooped up inside as Kerry was. As much as she liked reading, there was a point where she just had to get out. They had been going to cafes and bars, but that wasn't the same. What it came down to was that they – neither of them – suited captivity.
They spent the rest of the hour looking at Palaeolithic flint tools and mummified bog bodies.
"Ethical, do you think?" Kerry asked, glancing sideways at Michel. "Keeping the corpses of people for public inspection when they would have had specific preferences on burial rites?"
"Ethics have never much concerned me," said Michel.
"Never?" asked Kerry sceptically.
Michel looked her over languidly. "Don't be disappointed now."
"Not disappointed," said Kerry, turning back to the display case. "Disbelieving. I think that ethics have been of great concern to you."
Michel grinned at her. "Because I come from a different era?" he asked, voice dark with amusement. "Humans always think that in times past people were unwaveringly principled. Ruled by the church and God and all that. Untrue. Moral depravity has always been and always will be."
Kerry shrugged. "Who's to say what moral depravity is anyway?" She glanced across at Michel. "In your time, what I'm wearing would have made people think that I was morally depraved."
He looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her face – on her mouth – and then sweeping on. "Oui." The word came out soft – husky and a little bit yearning. Kerry wondered whether he missed his world. Wondered how he felt when every day that passed he moved further away from it.
She shrugged again, sorry for having brought it up. "It's probably time to start walking back."