It was the end of the week. Samantha was tired, but she was more energised than ever. The whole week, she had worked late on her schoolwork, even going so far as to turn in things days before the due date in order to have time set aside for this. She sat at her desk with the small mirror that sat on top of it tilted toward her, while she quietly did her makeup. Truth be told, she wasn't really big on wearing much of it in the first place but this was a special occasion. She wanted to do her best to look cute.
Samantha was a very organised person with the tendency to think ahead. So, on Wednesday, she picked out her outfit and accessories for the evening so that she would have everything she needed washed and sorted by Friday. Still, despite her planning, she wasn't quite happy with her jewelry. She felt that earrings that dangled appeared more "grown-up," but couldn't seem to make them suit her, so she went with a nicer pair in her usual style. As for her hair, she thought about that, too, and insisted that she drive this time, as to not have it mussed by a motorcycle helmet.
"Ooh~ Where are you headed off to?" called out a voice behind her. Her roommate, a girl by the name of Isabelle, sat on her own bed, fiddling with her phone when she looked up and noticed Samantha.
She was a nice girl, although strange by Samantha's standards. She came from a good school initially, although it wasn't up to Warwick or Tamworth's caliber. She was studying to be a social worker after her schooling was done, as she had a very strong desire to help others. Needless to say, she was very friendly. Very friendly. She liked to talk and often tried to do so with Samantha while she was studying, which prompted many trips to the library or to Geraldine's house. Samantha simply couldn't relate to how she had to call her mother every other day and Isabelle couldn't really understand why Samantha didn't want to talk to hers at all. Now, Samantha was a very patient young woman, but there was only so many times she could hear "but she's family!" before she wanted to scream. They had a mutual agreement to simply not bring it up.
Despite her quirks, though, they got along well enough. Isabelle occasionally invited Samantha along to hang out with her friends and sometimes, Samantha would take her up on her offer. Samantha often tutored Isabelle in core courses that everyone had to take, and it was much appreciated. That said, there was one thing that Samantha hadn't really explained to her yet.
"Going on a date?" Isabelle continued, sitting up a bit. "You don't normally get all dressed up unless you're going to meet that guy with the motorcycle."
"What guy?" Samantha questioned, clasping her necklace behind her neck and letting it fall against her collarbone.
"Don't play dumb! I've seen him out the window." the other woman said, reaching up and pointing at the glass. "I see him picking you up and dropping you off pretty often. Is he your boyfriend?"
"No." With all of her careful forethought, Samantha could sometimes be careless in conversation. Thoughtlessly, she told the truth, having become accustomed to being casual about her relationship. She forgot that that could have some consequences, if she weren't careful, and quite frankly, she wasn't yet confident that she had gauged this other woman's potential reaction correctly just yet. Really, she could go either way on the matter, be it she is alright with the concept or whether she is disgusted.
"What? Are you just talking, then? Are you planning on making your move?"
"I'm planning on eating some dinner and seeing a show and that's it."
"That's a date. Did he ask you? If he did, then he might be the one trying to make his move!"
"It was a mutual decision."
"Would it kill you to have any fun?" Isabelle questioned, raising a hand and waving it for emphasis. "Like, at all? Or are you really just allergic?"
"I ride on the back of a motorcycle with a cool, leather jacket-wearing, person who is a total mystery to you. How's that?" Samantha replied, causing the other woman to laugh.
"Got me there. Everything's such a mystery with you, though. First all those books about monsters and stuff, and now this… You're not secretly a witch, are you?"
"You caught me. I'm a witch, alright." Standing up, Samantha picked up the jacket she had laid out on the bed and started to put it on. "I'm a witch who reminds you you've got a paper due at midnight."
"Yeah, yeah, it's already like, 90% done." Isabelle answered, waving her off.
"You haven't started, have you?"
"I thought about it so I know what I'm going to write. All I have to do is write it."
"Mm-hm. I bet. Anyway…" The Westley woman patted her jacket's pockets to make sure everything was accounted for and picked up her purse, slinging it over her shoulder before taking one last glance at herself in the mirror on her way out. "I'm off, then. I'll probably be back late."
"I'll probably be up, still. See you later, then."
"See you." With that, Samantha made her exit, shutting the door and locking it behind her, being careful to shut it quietly as to not disturb anyone. It was a futile effort, but still, she made an effort.
The dorms she lived in were on the cheaper side of things, so it wasn't unusual to hear some commotion from the next room over. Even as she walked the halls, she could hear people. Some of them chattered with the door standing wide open while some were still somehow loud enough to be heard through it when it was closed.
A loud banging sound crashed from down the hall, over and over again. Rounding the corner, Samantha found the source. It was an acquaintance of hers whom she had met while attending one of the many talks that would happen occasionally on campus. As it turns out, he was also an acquaintance of Isabelle's, so she ran into him from time to time. His name was Patrick and he was a criminal justice major. He wanted to be a detective one day and worked hard toward that goal, although the amount of true crime books he always produced from his bookbag was somewhat staggering.
A few years older than Samantha, he still wore braces with bright red rubber bands on them.. With the glasses and polo shirts, he always had a rather nerdy look about him, save for the athletic build. He looked like he could tackle bad guys to the ground, but Samantha didn't want to find out if he could. It wasn't as though he had done anything that could possibly warrant that reaction from her, but she still couldn't help but get a bit uneasy about the thought.
Patrick wore a scowl on his face as he pounded on one of the many doors with his fist. "Turn that shit down! Nobody wants to hear your fucking music, arsehole!" His voice was loud and chest was puffed out. His posture and tone were both aggressive, only to slowly fade as the noise coming from behind the door grew softer. "Thank you!" he huffed, slouching his shoulders and turning to walk away. His face lit up with a smile, however, when he made eyecontact with the woman heading his way.
"Hey, Samantha." he greeted. "You heading out somewhere?"
In an instant, the woman needed to sort out what she was going to say. Since he was an acquaintance of Isabelle, however, it made the situation both easier and somehow harder. She opted to stick with her story from before.
"I have a date." she replied simply. "I'm heading out to pick them up right now. Neighbours giving you trouble?"
"Yeah, it wouldn't be so bad if they didn't have awful taste." Patrick answered, hands in his pockets. "Who with? Motorcycle girl?"
"I—what?" she gawked, clutching the strap of her bag a little bit tighter.
"What? Am I wrong? Sorry, I didn't want to assume…" the man answered, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. "It's just that I see you on her motorcycle sometimes out my window… I'm sorry if you're not—you know…"
"I… I just wasn't expecting it…" Samantha stated. She still wasn't sure what to expect. Her posture was stiff and her muscles were tense as she tried to anticipate the man's next move before he made it. There were many reactions he could have and many things he could say or do, and some of them were annoying at best, and dangerous at worst. Her brain ran a mile a minute, trying to calculate all of the possibilities and tailor her next answers accordingly. "I guess since you're closer to the ground floor, you can see better…"
"Isabelle not notice? Don't worry, I won't say anything, if that's a thing. I'm an ally." With that, he casually began walking past her to the next door over. "Have a nice time."
The door shut, leaving Samantha feeling a bit silly, but also relieved. Letting out a breath, she realised just how tense she had become, and relaxed her posture again. As she walked out the front door of the building, she took her keys in her hand and walked to her car. Once she was inside of it, she felt like she could relax a bit more.
One of the things that surprised her the most about living on campus was just how unsafe she felt. It was like when she first started living in Gehenna. It was hard to see where a potential threat could come from, because everyone was just so "normal." In fact, she felt a lot safer among supernaturals. Vampires who drank human blood and werewolves who transformed into beings with large claws and pointy teeth were just so ordinary. This place, though? Not so much. Maybe it was because she didn't have the privilege of being the only human anymore. In Gehenna, HELLSING would protect her. Out here, though? Campus police. She wasn't sure she could count on them, either. There were stories, you see. There were always stories.
It occurred to her that she would have to keep her proximity to and knowledge of supernaturals a secret, lest she attract unwanted attention or judgment. Her campus did have a paranormal research society, but she didn't want getting mixed up with psuedo-science to affect her academic reputation. It was difficult, having to keep it under wraps, but not terribly inconvenient. Most of the time, it simply didn't come up. Despite her careful nature, however, she had forgotten that she had another thing about her that she might not want to advertise.
In Gehenna, people could have relationships with the same gender freely. There was no shame, no disapproval, no danger—it was simply an "is" and everyone was alright with that. Couples could reference their relationship casually and openly without recourse and holding hands in public was completely safe. It wasn't so in the realm of humanity.
Samantha didn't care what other people thought about it. If they didn't like her dating another woman, then so be it. It was the risk she posed of making life harder that was so pervasive. Her roommate, as kind as she was, may change her tune if she felt that she was being threatened by rooming with a lesbian. Maybe she would be angry that she was "lied" to. Who knows? Furthermore, she didn't want to invite any gross comments or violence simply by existing as she was, so she was stifled by it. Still, she was determined to move forward. She liked Geraldine. She had liked her for quite some time and now she had her.
Needless to say, Geraldine was quite the catch. She was the daughter of a wealthy and very influential marquis, she was smart, and she was funny. They always had such deep talks about anything and everything when they were together and Samantha really admired her dedication to her specialty. Fencing wasn't something that Samantha ever felt like she would be good at, but she was proud of her girlfriend's accomplishments and prowess with the sport. She liked how Geraldine always strove to improve despite her already great skill and how big her dreams were, even if that meant that she was a bit busy. Samantha was busy, too, granted, but Geraldine had her studies as well as her practise. The Midford had dreams of winning gold in the next Olympics, but currently, was a bit stressed for a more immediate competition.
Although she was the world champion several times over in the juniour division, this would be Geraldine's first time in the adult leagues. Before, she had competed enough to know what to expect. She knew who to watch out for and she knew how to win. Now? She only had data and stats on her fellow competitors. Some of them, she already knew would be difficult to beat. So, she was practising a lot harder than usual in order to be properly prepared. Between that and being pestered by the school's own fencing team to join, the woman was under quite a bit more pressure than normal, but she conducted herself with dignity and grace, just as always.
She was really beautiful when she fenced, even though Samantha couldn't really see her under her protective mask. Her movements were beautiful. She was beautiful all the time, really. Samantha couldn't help but feel lucky. It wasn't as though Geraldine had no one else interested in her. According to Revy, Samantha was just one of the few people who were brave enough to go for it. There were others, of course—mostly in the fencing club back at Warwick and in the Midford's private classes. They were perfectly respectable people with perfectly respectable backgrounds, but as Samantha had seen echoed in the other woman's family, Geraldine had eccentric tastes. She had to, as she was rather eccentric, herself.
Not really prone to outward expressions of excitement, Geraldine was noticeably fussy that day. Luckily, she was still alone in her apartment as she scrutinized her options. Her foot tapped, her hand rubbed her chin, her arms were crossed, and her brows were furrowed in concentration as she stared at the two jackets laid out on her bed. She was wearing a pair of maroon slacks and a white button up, so either went with her outfit, but she had trouble choosing which one. Was the grey blazer or the black leather jacket better? She wore the leather jacket all the time, so maybe change for a special occasion would be good, but also, why fix what wasn't necessarily broken? Unable to make up her mind, she huffed and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
Scrolling through the names of friends, family members, former club members, and current deadweight classmates who neglected their group projects, she eventually found the one she was looking for. "Uncle Ciel." It was much farther down in the list than she remembered. Pressing the "call" button, she placed the device up to her ear and listened to it ring.
"Phantomhive." the voice on the other end said in place of a greeting. His tone somewhat monotone until he remembered whose name it was displayed when he picked it up. "Hello, Geraldine. What do you need."
"I'm going on a date." Geraldine replied in a similar tone, getting straight to the point, as she often did. "Should I wear a blazer or a leather jacket?"
"Depends on the venue."
"Dinner and a show."
"What show?"
"A musical. West End."
"Blazer. Those are considered formal events."
"Understood. Thank you, Uncle."
"Anything else?" Ciel questioned, prompting the woman to pause and ponder.
"How much cologne is too much?"
"One to two sprays is plenty. Spray them on your neck or wrists. I personally prefer the neck, but you may do whichever."
"Thank you. I heard you're meant to walk through it, but that didn't seem right."
"Oh, goodness, no. You'll ruin your clothes. Have a good time, though. Stay safe and remember: be a gentlewoman."
"I will. Thank you very much. Bye." Hanging up, she picked up the blazer and put it on before having a look at herself in the mirror. Ciel was right. She felt confident with this.
Being a high-born young lady, Geraldine was familiar with the etiquette of the upper class, although she had tailored it to herself, with the encouragement of her family. Being "ladylike" simply never sat well with her, but being a gentlewoman? That was perfectly suitable. She didn't need Ciel's classes, as she had already refined herself, modeling her formal style after the men in her family, with her own twists here and there. She knew how to treat a lady, as she was one. Still, not everything came easily to her.
Asking Ciel for advice on how to progress in her relationship was one of them. They were alike in that aspect. It was embarrassing, it was awkward, and it was uncomfortable. Ciel, having more experience than her, was now confident and had gotten over some of his hangups about showing weakness, but Geraldine was not. Her competitive nature worked wonders for her in an aggressive sport like fencing, but worked against her when it came to asking for affection. Avoiding embarrassment was a difficult thing to dance around when many things in the beginning of a new relationship were inherently awkward. She could kiss her girlfriend goodnight when the date ended, but Samantha was usually the one to initiate things normally. Geraldine recongnised that this was an obstacle she must overcome and was determined to do so. If she was going to be properly suave, she needed to.
It was just kind of scary, is the thing. She didn't want Samantha to think she was foolish or incompetent, after all. Geraldine Midford was superb in all things, after all. While she wasn't as smart as Samantha, she was always second or third in her class at the very least. She was sought by most of the girls' athletic clubs, not just fencing, and she always carried a dignified air about her that intimidated even her fellow blue-blooded classmates. For her to not be at least good at something was simply unlike her and when it was something this intimate? The consequences of failure—in her mind, at least; were high.
Still, she would do her best. She finished getting dressed and put on her own accessories. She fastened the clasp of a gold chain around her neck, put on a few rings, and one of her watches—Breguet; not Rolex. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she certainly looked the part and felt a bit more confident in the whole endeavour. Now, all she had to do was wait.
It was nice to be picked up from time to time instead of being the one driving. Samantha looked good behind the wheel and it was one less thing Geraldine had to think about. It was nice to be treated. She sat on her couch, scrolling through instagram until she got the text that Samantha was outside. One her way out, Geraldine checked her appearance one last time before shutting and locking the door behind her.
Getting into the car, Geraldine leaned over to kiss the other woman on the cheek before buckling her seatbelt. "Hey, Sammie."
"Hey, Gerry." Samantha replied. "You smell nice."
"Oh, really? Thanks." the other woman answered, feigning ignorance. "How were classes? That asshole teacher finally let up?"
"I don't see what's wrong with submitting a paper the day after it's assigned! I mean, most other people do it the night before anyway, so wouldn't being early be better? Eventually, I got him to accept it, but he accused me of cheating! Me! It's so insulting…"
"I bet it was good, though. That's probably why he was so mad."
"Not as good as I wanted it to be, but I had plans later in the week." Smiling over at Geraldine, Samantha giggled. "And I'd do it again, too."
"Aren't I lucky?" Geraldine grinned back. "So what's the plan. You're punctual as always, but it's a bit early to head to the theater."
"I was thinking window shopping, but if you have any other suggestions, 'milady,' I would be more than happy to entertain them."
"God, don't—don't 'milady' me. It's so cringey…"
With that information, Miss Westley mimed tipping an imaginary hat. "M'lady." A laugh escaped her as her date gently nudged her shoulder.
"Stop it. Oh my God… I'm going back inside." Geraldine wasn't really going to, but similarly pretended, only to whip her head back around to face Samantha when she heard the sound of the door locking. "Are you kidnapping the daughter of a Marquis?"
"No." Samantha replied. "I've been kidnapped before. They don't take you to see musicals or out to dinner. This is more like… Forced fun."
"No one forces Geraldine Midford into doing anything." the other woman haughtily stated. "I'll choose to go."
"I'm truly honoured." With that, Samantha shifted the car into drive and checked her surroundings before pulling out onto the road. Pebbles and other such minor road debris crunched beneath her wheels.
Upon arriving at the parking deck, Geraldine unbuckled her seatbelt before the car came to a complete stop and quickly bolted from the vehicle the moment she felt them do so. "Gerry!" Samantha urgently called out after her, watching as her girlfriend quickly moved around the back of the car, only to roll her eyes and shake her head when Geraldine appeared at her door, stood up straight, and elegantly opened it for her.
"Care for a relaxing night out, Miss?" the blonde questioned, the corners of her lips turning slightly upwards.
"You're ridiculous." Samantha replied, taking her hand despite shaking her head the entire time. Her heels clicked on the concrete as she was gently escorted out of the vehicle. Their hands quickly parted so that the door could be closed and so Samantha could straighten her skirt, but they didn't join back together again, even as the door was locked.
They were out in the open, now. Two women alone together in a parking deck was still better than one, but should someone see them and perceive them as they truly were, things could get bad very quickly. There would be nothing they could do in such an isolated area.
Instead, they walked separated, but side by side, all the same. Geraldine with her hands in her pockets and Samantha with her hands grasping the strap of her purse. They talked and were merry, but were still aware of their surroundings, relaxing only when they were inside the theater. Even then, they were still on their guard.
They weren't demons. They weren't werewolves, or vampires, or anything like that. Samantha and Geraldine were ordinary humans; as plain as they came. They couldn't heal immediately if they were hurt or easily overpower a potential attacker without even batting an eyelash. So it was in the dark of the theatre where their hands could intertwine, protected by a pitch black veil. Their faces were just barely visible from the soft glow of the harsh stagelights bouncing off of the actors in front of them and occasionally, they would sneak glances in order to gauge one another's reactions to certain events. Sometimes, they would catch the other looking back.
And then, if was over, and the lights came up. Separating their grasp, they rubbed their eyes as they adjusted to the light. After a quick trip to the bathroom, they set off down the street toward a restaurant that they had heard good reviews about. They sat down at their table and ordered their food, making room for a rather lively conversation about whatever came to mind.
"The captain of the fencing team really weirds me out…" said Geraldine. "She's so pushy. They offered to let me practise with them for World Championships, but I know it would turn into 'well, you're practically a member already!' Ordinarily, I would, but I just don't have time for their smaller competitions on top of World's."
"That's completely understandable, but I also imagine that it's tough on her, too. She was on the team at Warwick, right? She knows you're one of the best and she knows that they'll be unbeatable with you on the team. It's tough since you're right there in front of her, but she can't have you. I also assume that she's under pressure from the coach and the school, as well. It would look really good for them if they had a pro athlete bringing them trophies."
"You'd know all about that sort of thing, wouldn't you, Miss 'Every-Ivy-League-school-in-the-world-wants-me'?"
"That's more than 'a bit' of an exaggeration."
"America wanted you. That's pretty global."
"I don't think I'd fit in very well. I can barely fit in, here. My roommate already thinks I'm weird. She was asking about you, by the way?"
"Oh, yeah? What did she want to know?"
"She wanted to know if you were my boyfriend." Samantha said with a laugh. "She saw you from the window and thought: 'leather jacket? Motorcyle? Girl on the back? Boy!'"
"How rude. I can ride way better than most boys. I have a much prettier girl riding with me than most boys, too."
"Pft! Thanks…" A light blush dusted the brunette's cheeks as she unconsciously fiddled with a lock of her hair. "I try."
"It's a bit late, but you look great." Geraldine stated, breaking the rules of polite table etiquette and resting her elbows on the table as she leaned forward. "I don't really know about makeup and all that stuff, but it looks really nice."
"If you like it so much, I could always do yours." jested Miss Westley.
"How cruel. I compliment you and you threaten me with violence…"
Their discussion continued, weaving a complicated web of thoughts, ideas, and much smaller discussions until they amassed into one seemingly coherent stream. Even after they were done eating, they stayed a while until they felt as though they had worn out their welcome. It was dark outside and on a Friday night? People were out on their own nights out. They would have to be careful to avoid the bar districts on their way home, but luckily, it was still early enough that the drunkards weren't spreading out from their on their own trek back. Still, as late as it was, it was wise to walk quickly and with purpose.
"Roberta's hair is cool, but I don't think a side shave suits me." Geraldine commented, running a hand through her hair as they entered the parking garage. "Maybe an undercut, but I just can't do just the side."
"Yeah… I think an undercut would be cute, but you're right. Besides, she'd never let you live it down if she thought you were copying her. And your fans? Yeesh… Both of your fans…" Samantha replied with a light shudder.
"Are you cold?"
"I'm fine. I'm just imagining the imminent Twitter onslaught that would envoke."
"It's not like I'm gonna shave a lightning bolt in it or anything like that… She's got her signature and I can have mine."
"Luxurious golden curls?" Miss Westley asked, reaching up to pinch the ends of one such curl between her fingers. Her grin widened as the other woman blushed.
"Uh, yeah… I guess so…" awkwardly answered the Midford. As much as she liked the attention from Samantha, she still wasn't quite sure how to accept it gracefully. Maybe she should have asked Ciel before she left.
The moment was interrupted, however, when the two heard a pair of feet shuffling somewhere behind them. Two? Maybe more? It was hard to tell and tell how far away they were with the echo of the concrete complex around them. Immediately, the pair went quiet and Samantha pulled out her car keys.
"Hey! Hey, you!" a voice called out. The two women walked faster. They kept their faces forward and didn't dare look back. Despite their obvious effort to ignore the source of the sound, it continued.
"Excuse me! Can you tell me what time it is?" A simple request; one that could easily answer, but every nerve was telling them not to humour it. "I only want to know what time it is!"
"You can hear us!" another called out. At the confirmation that there was more than one person in the parking deck with them, Geraldine reached out, instinctively placing a hand on Samantha's back to either protect her or shoo her along. She didn't know which. In doing so, however, the harsh lights above them glinted off her wrist. "You have a watch! I can see it!"
Their footsteps were closer, now. "Looks like a pretty nice watch, too! Just tell us what time it is and we'll leave you alone… Hey! Hey, just stop for a second…" Then, Geraldine felt a hand on her own shoulder.
"Get away from us!" she barked, immediately turning around and swatting in the general direction of the man. She missed and she immediately noted that he was much taller than her.
"So you can talk!" he replied with a grin. He looked down at her and held out a hand. "You've got a watch, don't you? Check the time real quick for me. Or pull out your phone and do it. I don't care."
Geraldine was on edge. Her attention was being spread unbearably thin as she tried to focus on both the man in front of her and his associate at the same time. The other man moved to the side of the two women, wearing a similar expression as the first man. It was a smile, but it didn't seem friendly. While they hadn't said anything overtly threatening and their expressions gave off the appearance of kindness, they were all wrong. Everything about those two made Geraldine's hair stand on end. She needed to get herself and Samantha out of there quickly, but wasn't really sure how.
The other man seemed like he was moving to block off their path, while the two of them were big enough that Geraldine wasn't sure if she could take them on if things got down to it. Fighting in a sporting competition was different than this. There there were rules. Here, the only rule was that if it was a fair fight, it was a fight that she didn't want to be having. At the moment, it didn't seem all that fair, but not in the direction she had hoped.
"That's a really nice watch." the man said again. "What kind is it?"
"Omega, it looks like…" the other one answered for her.
"That's really cool. I've never seen one in real life. Can I see it real quick?"
It was just a watch. It was nothing that couldn't be replaced. Certainly, it was a nice one, albeit on the cheaper side of things, but it wasn't worth Geraldine putting herself and Samantha at risk for—even if it was one of her favourites. It was the first watch she bought with the money she had won from a competition. If these ingrates were going to take it, by all means, she would rather them take it and leave them alone, but her mind simply wasn't cooperating with her enough to think that far enough ahead. She didn't want to give them the watch, partially due to it being her property, and partly because she didn't want them to "win," but even still, she simply couldn't think about it.
Geraldine was used to making quick decisions in fencing, but this was real. It could be dangerous. She knew what sorts of things could happen when a person participates in a real fight. The last time she was in the field, things ended catastrophically for the person she was trying to help. Constance Belmont was her name. She fell to her death, despite Geraldine's best efforts to save her. No longer did she feel like she could trust her own judgment in these situations, so the Midford found herself doing something that she could not recall ever doing before: She froze. She couldn't move and couldn't think; all she could do was hope that the situation would end shortly.
"Watch this, you bastard!" a voice called out from behind her as an arm thrust forward from over her shoulder. She had shielded Samantha with her body and in return, Samantha acted to protect her, holding up a spray can that she had produced from her purse. The smell of the contents burned Geraldine's nose, but burned the providers of unwanted attention far worse as she sprayed it directly in the first man's face.
A horrible scream echoed throughout the concrete complex as he reeled backwards, his eyes watering and snot dribbling down his face as the substance burned him. In a vain attempt to soothe the pain that the Westley woman had wrought, he pressed his palms against his skin, doing nothing but keeping it there. It was enough to snap Geraldine from her trance just in time for Samantha to grab the collar of her shirt and pull her away, fleeing while the poor man's compatriot ignored them to try and help them.
Perhaps heels were not the best shoes to be wearing that evening. It was hard for Samantha to move, so she kicked them off as she ran. She completely abandoned them in favour of reaching the car and unlocking the door. Aggressively, she yanked the passenger door open and shoved her girlfriend inside.
"Your shoes!" was all Geraldine could think of to say.
"Forget the bloody shoes!" the other woman bellowed back before slamming the door and running around to the other side of the vehicle. Once inside, she locked them again and urgently shoved the key into the ignition. The car roared to life and she barely looked in her mirrors as she stomped on the gas pedal to reverse out of the parking spot. Shifting gears, she hit it again in order to zoom through the parking lot, mashing her stocking-clad foot into the pedal.
She sped down the street for a ways, forgetting that there was no way that they could be chased by a pair of humans on foot, but she was high on adrenaline and focused entirely on creating distance. She was so focused in fact, that she had to step on the brake rather harshly in order to stop in time for the traffic light. The poor car in front of her must have been in real fear of getting hit from how close she came to it. Once the car was no longer in motion, the two of them were forced to think about what had just happened instead of focusing on what was happening. Their hearts raced and they needed to catch their breath before either of them could speak or form a coherent thought, but instead, the initial reaction from Samantha was laughter. Nervous, tittering, breathless, laughter that didn't seem at all funny.
"Did that really happen?" she gawked, staring straight ahead. "Did it? Really?"
"You maced that guy…" Geraldine finally registered. "Is that even legal?"
"To mace someone?"
"To have mace?"
"Yeah…" Samantha anxiously nodded. "I asked Lord Phantomhive."
It was deathly quiet for a few moments after that, as neither of them quite knew what to say. What did one say in this situation? Was there anything that made sense?"
"Are you okay?" Miss Westley questioned, receiving an equally anxious nod in return.
"Yeah… I think so…"
"That was terrifying…" Pausing, Samantha scrunched her brows together at the feeling of the brake pedal against her toes. "I'm gonna have to walk through the parking lot like this…" she sighed. "Oh, well… It should be well lit enough that I can see any thing I don't wanna step in."
"My place is on the way." Geraldine suggested. "You can borrow some of my shoes if you want."
"Are you sure?"
"It's not like you haven't borrowed my stuff before. I'm still waiting on you to give me back that one leather jacket you took." Somehow, the suggestion lightened the mood a bit. Nervous laughter was replaced with a genuine giggle from Samantha at the thought.
"Most girls want to have at least one stolen item from their significant other. You're never getting it back."
"I don't want to steal from you, though?"
"I'll have to mark you as mine some other way, then… Let's see… You wear watches, necklaces… We don't really share styles, though…"
"We could get matching BFF bracelets."
"Yep. Just a couple of gals being pals… Going on dates… Holding hands… Kissing and all that. Just girl things…"
Geraldine felt her face heat up a bit at that last suggestion. Fortunately for her, she was concealed by darkness, save for the occasional streetlamp running its light across her face as they drove past. It was only then that she realised what it sounded like she was suggesting and she didn't think she was really on board for it right then. Samantha was so easy to talk to and so obviously safe, that she had forgotten that they weren't friends who could just drop everything and have a completely ordinary and platonic sleepover anymore. Circumstances and contexts had changed; and Geraldine realised that she needed to make her intentions absolutely clear before any misunderstanding may take root. The only problem was that she wasn't entirely sure how.
In doing so, she would be admitting to thinking about it, which was embarrassing for her on its own, but what if Samantha hadn't even picked up on it? What if Geraldine was the one overthinking everything and she brought it up unnecessarily? That would surely make her look foolish at best, and perverse at worst. Geraldine Midford was a gentlewoman—stoic, suave, and in control. She did not appear foolish and she wasn't some pervert, regardless as to how pretty Samantha was.
It was a long, long, drive back to Geraldine's place. At any time, she could have said something, but she put it off, so by the time she realised that she had wasted her time, they were already stopped and getting out of the car. "Do you need any help?" she asked, offering Samantha an arm to hold onto while she hobbled to the front door.
"Ooh~! What a gentlelady~!" Samantha jokingly answered, taking the arm anyway. The ground was freezing cold—so cold that it hurt the Westley's bones to stand on. It was a struggle to get to the door and a struggle to stay put while Geraldine unlocked it. The hardwood floors inside weren't much better, but at least they were insulated. "Oh, thank God… My feet are killing me!"
"You can sit down while I find you something. Do you want any tea?"
"Sure, if you're alright with me barging in here this late."
"I don't mind." Geraldine answered, taking off her jacket and putting it in the hall closet. She moved through the living room while Samantha took a seat on the couch and looked around the room.
Although she hadn't been staying in the apartment for very long, it was already fully furnished and decorated, with personal affects throughout the home. Samantha could see the picture of herself, Geraldine, and Revy at graduation on the mantle and a few pictures of family throughout the home. The Midford's trophies and medals were at the family estate, since she didn't want anything to happen to them while she was moved out here, but there were photos from competitions on the walls, and even a magazine cover with Geraldine on it from a youth fencing magazine.
Sometimes, being so close to Geraldine, it was easy for Samantha to forget how successful she actually was. Although she wasn't mainstream by any means, she had a certain level of fame from her exploits in certain circles, and for Geraldine, that was more than enough. She wasn't very good at handling the limelight and truthfully wasn't all that interested. As accomplished as she was with athletics, however, Samantha sometimes couldn't help but wonder what Geraldine saw in her.
Certainly, Samantha was smart. She was top of the class in the most prestigious private school in Britain, but she was also aware of how small that really was. Now that she was in college, that didn't mean much. Many people were the top of their class at their respective secondary schools. What made her so special? Of course, Samantha knew it was a bit unusual that she was aware of the supernatural world and was able to live so close to it, but what did that have to do with Geraldine liking her? The blonde was a world famous professional athlete and the daughter of a marquis, while Samantha was just plain old Samantha. She was Geraldine's girlfriend, though, and the one she invited into her house after a date.
"Here you go." Geraldine said, setting a tray with a cup, a teapot, and cream and sugar on it. "It should be ready in a few minutes. I'll go look for some shoes in the meantime…"
"Aren't you going to have any?" Samantha questioned, tucking a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Am I to just sit by myself and drink tea in your house?"
"I… Uh…" She could see the gears turning in Geraldine's head. How cute. Geraldine was always the sort to be forgetful about these things. "No. I'll sit with you."
"You'll need to get another cup and saucer, then…" It was hard for Samantha to not snicker at Geraldine's face when she looked down and noticed the Westley was right. How cute!
"Right… I forgot." the other woman bashfully replied before turning to head back to the kitchen. "I'll be right back…"
When she returned, Samantha was sitting very gracefully upright, having scooted over on the sofa in order to make room for Geraldine to sit. This time, the Midford picked up on this, and did so, keeping a stiff upper lip about the situation. It was a silly mistake, but she would not allow herself to break because of it.
"You're pretty lucky, having a place all to yourself." the Westley noted, breaking the silence. "My roommate is nice, but I still don't know her that well and it's a pain to have to try and navigate around her."
"Shared space woes?"
"Yes, but it's also like having to censor myself in my own space. You remember when I said she thought you were a boy? I couldn't figure out how to tell her that you're not and we're dating… I feel kind of guilty about that…"
"Doesn't upset me, any. As long as you're not being sneaky around people who matter, then I don't mind you having to do that."
"Like who?"
"Well, if you hadn't told your brother or something, then I would think it's kind of weird… How is he, by the way?"
"He's good." the Westley woman nodded. "He says he's going to try and hit open mic night at the Wolf's Glen."
"That would be cool. It suits him."
"I'm really glad he's getting back into music again. He's been a lot more cheerful since moving to Gehenna, and it's almost like that's the last step."
"What about you?" Geraldine questioned. "What's your next step?"
"Get good grades, see you wind World Championships, get my bachelor's, see you win at the Olympics, then get my master's, and my doctorate. From there, I want to be an expert in supernatural anthropology and literature."
"Ambitious as always." the blonde smiled. "I love how you're convinced I'm going to win World's and the Olympics."
"That's because you will. You're you, after all. Even if you don't win first on your first try, you'll win it eventually."
"What about short term personal goals? Like Dan and his music?"
That question gave the brunette pause. She had ideas, but she knew she would need to set aside some serious time in order to accomplish them. "I'd like to write more." Samantha nodded to herself. "I want to write a biography about Baldassare. It probably happen, but after how bad that last one was about Sir Phantomhive, I'd really like to write one about him, as well."
"Good luck with that. Nobody knows anything about Jim's past accept the round table and the higher ups at HELLSING."
"That's why I figured it won't happen. One of these days, I'll write your biography for you, too."
"You probably won't have much to write." Geraldine said. "'And then, the rich girl went to fencing practise for the millionth time that year.' Riveting stuff." Despite her nonchalance, her cheeks turned a very light pink when the other woman reached down and grabbed her hand.
"I can figure something out. You're plenty interesting." Miss Westley insisted with a smile before giving her girlfriend's hand a squeeze. Her attention soon shifted as she looked down at it, however. Letting go, she turned Geraldine's hand over and began feeling her palm.
"This is your fencing hand." she observed. "It's rougher in some spots. Dan's got the same thing on his fingertips from playing guitar."
"Yeah, I've got some callouses. Sorry about that."
"No, no! It's fine. I like it."
It struck the Midford how strange of a situation this was. She didn't think many people had a girlfriend who, instead of holding her hand, wanted to play with it. The pad of her palm just underneath her fingers had rough circles underneath each one. She had been holding a sword her entire life, so it was no shock that she had them. Then again, Samantha had a bit of a bump on her middle finger on the hand she wrote with. She always took tests a bit too aggressively. But still, if Geraldine had been holding a sword her entire life, she felt bothered by not having one in a situation where it might have proven practical. They were almost mugged that night and Geraldine couldn't do anything about it.
"Hey, Sam…" she began, prompting the other woman to hum in response. "I'm sorry for earlier… I've won I don't know how many gold medals for fighting and I didn't do anything… You even lost your shoes…"
"Shoes can be replaced. I'm just glad you're okay. You don't need to be sorry."
"Yeah, but it's a failure on my behalf to-"
"No, Gerry." spoke the Westley, her voice firm and her expression serious. She ceased her fiddling with Geraldine's hand and instead held it once more in both of her own. "It's not. You're a fencer, not a street fighter. If there's anything I've learned from being around you and your family, it's that not all fighting is the same. Just because you're great at fencing doesn't mean you have to throw yourself into harms way for everything. We got away just fine, didn't we? So there's nothing to worry about." Suddenly, she paused. "Do you not like that I used mace?"
"What? No! I'm glad you did! You were awesome!" insisted the other woman, leaning forward. "You saved us! It's really cool that you took charge like that! It's just… I feel like I made you take on my job… And you shouldn't have had to do that…"
"Your 'job?'" scoffed Samantha. "What 'job?' Are you my personal bodyguard or something?"
"Wha-? No, I mean… Isn't that sort of expected from me?" questioned Geraldine. Her face was typically stoic—a picture perfect representation of quiet dignity and grace, but now, when she was alone in her own home with Samantha? The change was slight, but for her, it was twisted with worry. "I'm the fighter. My family leads the Order of the Garter, and I've studied the sword my entire life. If I can't even do this much, isn't that sort of pathetic? I failed at something that should have been simple. It's… embarrassing…"
The Midford uttered the heaviest of sighs as she resigned herself to her fate. A failure like this was shameful. It was damaging to her reputation and sense of dignity. For someone so proud like her, one can imagine her confusion and astonishment when Samantha let go of her hand with one of her own, reached up, and pinched the Midford womans' cheek.
"Stop it." she commanded. "You're not a failure for having a normal reaction to an unusual situation. And for the record, I don't expect you to be my knight in shining armour, so you ought to cut that out. Honestly… Do you think I like you because you're a gold medalist and have a pedigree to make Sir Lancelot nervous? Those are all perks, sure, but I like you because you're you. I don't have those standards for you. You're free to impose them on yourself all you like, but don't think that I have the same expectations."
"Then… What? Then why do you like me?" thoughtlessly asked Geraldine through her own surprise, her speech slurred by her cheek being stretched and her eyes widening while the other woman's grin did the same.
"You're cute." Samantha began with, starting bluntly. "You've got pretty eyes, hair, eyelashes, and your face is gorgeous, too. Sure, I like that you're good at fencing, but I like how you're so passionate about it even more. You're a really hard worker and I really admire that. You're the one who changed my perspective on sports, actually. I like that you're smart on top of all of that. I like how funny you are and how you're so easygoing with other people. That's your biggest problem, though, I think… You're not easy on yourself at all and although I love how competitive and determined you are, you compete even when there's no one to compete against, sometimes. It's really cute, and you're really sweet, but you need to relax."
Blinking, the noblewoman stared at her girlfriend for a bit while trying to understand all of that. Her face flushed a dark red and hear heartrate picked up the pace at her compliments, but she also had to concede that Samantha was also right. She always was. That didn't make it any less difficult, however.
"Sorry…" Geraldine apologised. "I've shown you a shameful side of myself tonight…"
Reaching up with her other hand, Samantha pinched the other cheek. "You don't need to be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong." Releasing the other woman briefly, she then pressed her hands flat against Geraldine's face. "I'm just glad you're okay. That's all there is to it."
Samantha could feel the heat emanating from her girlfriend's skin as the poor blonde's face flushed a dark scarlet. Brows raised, yet poised at a slightly downward angle, eyes wide open, and lips pressed together in a thin line, Geraldine's expression was quite the sight. Naturally, the Westley observed their positions and found them to be most advantageous.
"Hey, Gerry?" she began, prompting the other to somewhat hesitantly answer.
"Yes?"
"I'd very much like to kiss you right now." Samantha stated. She sounded bold and certain, presenting herself as a person who definitely knew what she was doing. "May I?"
"Go ahead… If you want…" Geraldine answered, closing her eyes so that she didn't have to look at Samantha directly. She hoped it made her seem more confident in this turn of events. It didn't, but Samantha found it was cute that she tried. She left herself exposed on purpose, but still flinched at the sudden sensation of a soft pair of lips brushing against her own. She was always surprised at how soft they were. She thought she should be used to it, after having kissed several times with Samantha, but she hadn't. She was also always surprised with how gentle the other woman always was. She was careful with Geraldine. The Midford couldn't remember the last time someone was gentle with her, but it was… nice. As it turned out, she rather enjoyed it. It was embarrassing, it was difficult, but it was pleasant. Inadvertently, she found herself holding onto Samantha's arms as if she were worried Miss Westley may consider letting go at some point.
Still, they had to part sometime. While Samantha was grinning almost triumphantly at the feat, Geraldine still felt like her head was spinning. "Ro… Roses?" she said aloud.
"Uh-huh." Samantha nodded affirmatively, doing her very best not to snicker. "I hope you're alright with it. Let me know if there's a flavour you like better. I have a couple of them."
"I… Uh…" Geraldine stammered, trying to regain at least some sense about her. She shook her head, forcing her girlfriend to release her grip on her. Holding firm on Samantha's biceps, Geraldine hastily pushed her away, holding her literally at arms' length.
"Sam!" she began, "Listen! I, uh… I-I know I invited you here, but I don't think that I'm comfortable with anything more than this!"
"Oh, sorry… You said it was okay, so I thought…"
"No! No, this… This is fine. Just… Nothing beyond this, alright?"
"So kissing is fine?" Samantha questioned.
"Yes."
"What about cuddling?"
"That, too."
Miss Westley seemed almost sage-like in the way that she nodded, taking in that information and processing it. Once she had made her assessment, she looked the Midford dead in the eyes and gave a deadpan reply. "I can work with that." Right after, her serious expression cracked and a smile spread across her face. It was slow, at first, but then it came all at once.
"I didn't think you wanted anything like that." Samantha answered, finally letting out a small snicker.
"What?" asked the other woman. "What's so funny?"
"Oh, Gerry…" the brunette said between feeble attempts to stifle her grin. "You're just so cute…"
"'Cute?' How is that cute?"
"It just is. You're cute. Very cute. So cute in fact, that I'm going to have to kiss you again. Now, are you alright with the rose? Because I've also got mint in my purse, I think."
"What is with that reaction?!" finally cracked the blonde, completely flabberghasted. "Are you making fun of me?"
"No, not at all. I'm just… Overwhelmed. Oh my God… You're cute… Gerry, I know you didn't invite me in for anything like that. That's just not your personality. You say exactly what you mean, so I expected shoes only. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I'd never push you into doing something you're uncomfortable with like that." Leaning back in towards Geraldine, she pressed her lips against the woman's cheek as the blonde closed her eyes in misplaced anticipation. "I like you more than that, and that's just not how you treat a lady."
"Th-!" flushed Geraldine. "Th-that's my line!"
"Too bad. Get to it first, next time. Then again, you're really cute like this. 'Flustered Geraldine' is always a treat to see…"
"I'm not- You're just- When did you-? Ugh! You're vicious! Absolutely vicious! What is with that? Anyways, the tea is going to get cold, so we should drink it and go look for you some shoes…"
"And will you send me home after that?" Samantha inquired. "That's a shame. We didn't get a lot of hand holding and such done on our date, so I was hoping this might be a bit of an opportunity to make up for it. That's alright, though… I should get some sleep anyway."
Staring down at the teacup she had taken into her hands, Geraldine pondered as her girlfriend poured herself a cup. It wasn't very deep thought, as she didn't really want to delve too deeply on anything right then. She just knew what she wanted right then and felt the rare bout of confidence to try and make it happen.
"Well…" she began, still staring into her tea. "I suppose it would be alright if you stayed for a little while…"
"Great!" Geraldine nearly dropped her tea as Samantha kissed her again. "Let me text my roommate. I don't want her thinking I'm dead."
Shaking her head, the blonde wondered just what she had gotten herself into, but couldn't complain. As much as she didn't admit to it, she did like spending time with Samantha as a couple. Being alone at home together certainly had its perks as well. The main downside was that they inevitably lost track of time, leaving Samantha with a stream of questions to answer the next day when she walked through the front door of her dorm. None of her answers were particularly exciting, however, save for the part where she got to pain Geraldine's nails.
A/N: This took a surprisingly long amount of time... Will I eve release a chapter quickly? Who knows~?
(probably not)
I feel like this is the most character development Geraldine's ever had in one chapter though lmao. That's probably not true, but still. She feels kinda like a younger Ciel, which is both exciting and very strange... They are very much related, it seems lmao
Who knows what I'm gonna do next time?
Until the next chapter, my duckies~!
