At length, Saffron cautiously made her way into an adjoining room, where she found a beautiful antique wall mirror. Surveying it, she guessed the mirror was nearly 100 years old and the sight of it among the assorted broken bottles, trash and busted furniture was oddly comforting. Something lovely had managed to survive among the ruins.
She knelt down for a closer look at the mirror. It was dusty, but otherwise in excellent condition.
Dad and Oliver would love this, Saffron thought. But then, considering how they'd wish to price and sell it, probably to some collector, Saff felt mildly depressed. The mirror was nothing fancy, just classic and sturdy. It obviously hadn't been a showpiece — probably it was just someone's everyday dressing mirror. She found it charming, though, and wondered how she might be able to get it back to her flat.
Maybe when Tony came back — if he did come back — they could take it to her place together.
Just then a voice from behind her cut softly through the silence.
"Gorgeous."
The rich sound of the word immediately transported Saffron back ten years to when she'd first met Jack. What had started out as a nickname meant as a friendly joke became Jack's pet name for her. He was the first, and still only, man who ever called her that.
Her breath caught sharply in her chest and, turning toward the entrance to the room, she found Tony watching her examine the mirror. He was carrying a small tray of hot drinks and doing a poor job of trying to also keep hold of a paper sack.
Saffron stared at Tony, as if she hadn't heard him correctly.
"What did you say?"
Her voice was hollow. She had to force out the words.
Tony smiled brightly.
"I said 'gorgeous.' It's gorgeous — the mirror there."
He nodded towards Saffron, indicating the mirror. But, secretly, he'd meant the compliment for her, too.
Then Tony added, in a joking tone, "The girl lookin' at the mirror ain't so bad, 'erself." He flashed a friendly grin at Saff.
Now Saffron's whole manner changed. Her body stiffened and her face became a mask of absolute stone. Only her eyes betrayed the fury and rage suddenly roiling up within her.
"Don't say that word to me," she snapped, her voice brittle with anger. "Don't you EVER say that word to me again, do you understand?!"
Getting to her feet, Saffron literally pushed Tony out of the way with her shoulder as she bolted out of the room. In doing so, she knocked the tray of drinks out of Tony's hands, spilling hot coffee and tea all over him.
He dropped the paper sack, which promptly split, and an array of pastries spilled onto the floor.
Tony started after Saffron, finally catching her at the first floor entrance.
"Saff… Wait…" he gasped, out of breath from running full-tilt downstairs and nearly tripping himself up in the process. "Please…"
He reached out, gently placing his hand on her shoulder and she whipped around to face him.
Tears streaked her face, her eyes were red and her lips quivered. But mostly, Saffron still seemed furious. She pushed Tony's hand away.
"Don't you ever touch me again, either," she warned him, her voice cold. "I hate you," she hissed. "I absolutely hate you."
Shocked, Tony stepped back and Saff, cutting her eyes cruelly at him one last time, rushed out of the building. He stood in the entranceway, gaping at the sight of Saffron hurrying down the sidewalk, turning a corner and disappearing from his view.
He made his way back upstairs in a daze, barely comprehending what he was doing. Finally, he returned to the room where he'd found Saffron. The mirror, now catching bright sunshine through a nearby window, cast a reflection that was blinding. Tony had to look away from it, it was so intense.
Sighing deeply, he began cleaning up the remnants of what he'd hoped would be a nice breakfast for Saffron and himself. Tony had wanted to surprise her and make amends for teasing her all morning. It would be like a small picnic, he'd thought happily, toting the goodies back to the old building.
Instead, all that was left was an absolute mess.