Chapter Nineteen

The knock was quiet but firm. When she made no move to answer it beyond looking up at the dark wood, it came again. Wraith closed the book carefully, reluctant as she set it on the bedside table. She shook off the feeling of unease and disappointment, and crossed the lamplit room to turn the handle.

Opening the door a mere few inches, she was greeted by the sight of Mirage, out of his favoured combat gear and looking small and normal in sweatpants and a hoody. He smiled at her, but there was a strangeness in his eyes that told her he wasn't just making social calls.

"Hey," he murmured, glancing down the hallway, "can we talk?"

She hesitated, weighing up privacy against keeping him out of her safest space. He quirked an eyebrow almost bashfully when she didn't answer. She bit her lip.

"Sure," she decided, unexpected even to herself, "you should probably come in."

If she was expecting him to make one of his typical flirtatious her at her invitation, she was mildly surprised that he refrained. She stood aside and watched awkwardly as he edged into the room, and pressed the door closed behind him as soon as she could.

He was taking in the room, she knew. Taking advantage of the chance to gather intelligence on her. She may be antisocial, but Wraith was never stupid. She knew there was speculation about her, even amongst the Elites she considered acquaintances, or perhaps even friends sometimes. She knew they wondered who she was and what she was beyond the Arena.

Now she'd given Mirage, of all people, permission to see her place.

Why?

"Minimal." he murmured to her, sounding almost appreciative, "I'm not even surprised."

"What do you need to talk about?" she prompted, suddenly desperate to make him leave again, because she didn't have an answer.

He was making her feel claustrophobic and exposed, in her own room.

He tipped his head to glance at her but then he turned away again, eyes dancing over her walls, her bed, her desk. He spied the book on the nightstand, but he didn't start towards it.

"Pathfinder and I were ah- well, we were just wondering if you were gonna make joining us in the ring a regular-" (he briefly ghosted the word he was going to say, replacing it as though foreseeing issues, with so little hesitation that Wraith almost missed it,) "thing."

Her gut clenched uneasily. Her heart raced uncomfortably at the implication of such closeness. She folded her arms tight around her body and narrowed her eyes.

"That wasn't what we discussed."

"No, I know, we were just opit-optimic-optimitis- I- uh- hopeful that you'd consider it."

He shrugged off the stumble in his usual easy manner, but there was a brief cloud of irritation in his eyes. It passed quickly, but it made Wraith uncomfortable to have seen it, despite the fact that she couldn't help, like any of the others, to notice his infrequent stutter.

"It was a rough game." she answered slowly, watching his face closely, "We didn't feel cohesive, to me."

She didn't need to say that she thought it was a loss she wouldn't have had if she'd been without them.

Mirage winced, and rubbed his neck. For the second time, he looked smaller, different from usual.

Vulnerable, almost.

"We… We think maybe practice would help, there."

Wraith frowned.

"I… don't." she picked her words carefully, "Do that." she said, hesitating before expanding, "Pick my squad."

He looked down at his feet, the tips of his ears pinking. It was unsettling to see him like that. She almost wished he'd make one of his irritating jokes just to reassure her she was really there in that moment, when she felt so much like she wasn't.

"I… I'm sorry. For being part of issue with the cohish- cohsesi- teamwork." he answered quietly.

Wraith felt uncomfortable to see him vulnerable, even just for a second, and shied away from the potential heart-to-heart.

"Path's really keen to work with you again."

She said nothing, tightening her arms across her chest. Mirage shifted, the fingers of one hand moving to fiddle with the cuff of the other wrist. Wraith watched him, wishing he'd leave. Wishing she could open her own mouth and tell him to. It was disconcerting to find her tongue unable, and a Voice whispered somewhere about a warning.

She was sick of voices. She just wanted some peace and quiet. Not cryptic help, not to be faced with this strange version of the Trickster, looking out of place and uncomfortable like she was seeing more and more regularly.

Why couldn't he just back off? Leave her alone?

"Listen, I'm sorry, about the Game." he muttered, avoiding her eye, "I was… I should have listened to you before. I… I picked that fight too early."

"You cost us that fight." she answered, truthfully, watching her words make him wince.

"I know."

"Then learn from it."

He raised his head to look at her, caramel-coffee eyes sweeping her face. Wraith tightened her fingers on her arms. He looked like he were forming words, but he said none of them. Wraith had had enough. She was tired, and she was tired of him.

"Mirage?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to get some rest now."

"Oh." he said, softly, looking suddenly even more uncomfortable, "Right. Yeah, sorry, I- right."

He turned toward the door, pulling it open with one hand and pausing. Wraith opened her mouth to say something sharp to make him leave, but he turned his head a little to the side and spoke first.

Be careful. came a sudden, clear warning. Adrenaline jolted through her veins.

"Just… think about it. I know we could be Champions, you and me and Path. We just need some practice."

The door fell closed behind him with a gentle 'snick', and Wraith was left with the disconcerting feeling that she was seeing someone who wasn't Mirage. Deja vu curled around her head like weak smoke, too vague to grasp and only irritating her.

Be careful of what? she asked, but there was no answer.