Chapter 14: Good and Bad Advice

The Outsider found Greta in an empty corner of the Chapel library reading a newspaper while chewing on a pencil. Checking that the vicinity was people free- and it was, he appeared before her.

"Greta I need your help."

The little Zealot jumped at his voice, throwing the newspaper up and biting down on her pencil hard enough to make it crack. Her eyes flicked up to him. The Outsider lifted up his chin, his hands behind his back. Greta put down the pencil, and picked up and folded the newspaper.

"With remembering last night?" he opened his mouth to correct her but she ignored him entirely. "So, you made friends with a group of sailors, out-drank them all, sang a lovely rendition of 'The Harlot's Tale', drank some more, and on the ride back to the Tower started crying about whales."

He blinked, taken somewhat aback. "I do not recall the last thing."

"Oh, Billie and I do," Greta raised her eyebrows before moving on in a rather terrible impression of his voice. "I can't protect them Corvo! They are soooo big, and my hands are toooo small to hold them! We were in stitches. If only I had an audiograph…"

He could not take it anymore. "Greta I am serious!" Her smile faded. "I do not know who else I can talk to…"

"So you did kiss Emily because you liked her!" she sounded like she had just solved a puzzle.

The Outsider stared at her, a feeling of anger and humiliation rising in his gut. "If you are just going to make fun of me I will leave."

"No, wait!" Greta said, her face somewhat pained. "I am sorry if that came off as mocking. But after a dance that old and that passionate, it just looked like a tradition ending. I even told Emily that could be the case."

The Outsider put his face in his hands and groaned. "Why would you tell her that?"

"I did not want to give her the wrong idea if that was the case," Greta defended, crossing her arms and leaning back into her chair. "Besides, it has only been around a week since she learned about Wyman getting married. I think they were together for at least three years if gossip is reliable. I doubt she is ready for anything serious just yet."

He felt something drop inside him and it was almost like the Void was back with him. The Outsider was struck by how unpleasant it felt.

"It was always this unpleasant," his mind hissed. "You just became numb to it."

"Outsider, are you alright?" Greta sounded both concerned and fearful.

He realized that he was dematerializing, half in a shadow form, half in his physical form.

"I do not know what to do," he whispered.

The springs in the chair squeaked as Greta stood, and she carefully removed his hands from his face.

"I have no idea how to handle this, as I find anything surrounding love to be foreign and terrible. I will try to help you, but I cannot promise that my advice will go over well."

The Outsider sighed. "As I said, I do not have anyone else I can turn to."

Greta let go of his hands and took a step back. "Alright! Have you considered anonymous love letters?"

It only took a day for Emily to notice the Outsider's absence. He did not join her for breakfast, nor for lunch, like he had begun to do since the slaughterhouse incident. He was not there to whisper secrets in her ear as she met with the Prime Minister, or mock the rich whaling barons as they petitioned her again to lift the oil rationing.

She missed him. And yet, she was initially grateful for his distance. After that kiss on her birthday, Emily was not sure what she felt towards him. Oh, she was attracted to him. She had always been a sucker for high cheekbones and oh-so-messy hair; there was also something seductive about his eyes. But beyond that; beyond the desire of what was forbidden? Emily needed to think.

A few more days passed with him absent from her life, and Emily found she missed talking to him. Unlike with Wyman, Emily did not feel she had to choose between spending time with a friend or ruling the Empire. The Outsider dispensed advice alongside wit, and listened to her ramble for hours on topics from updating trade agreements with Morley to accepting an invitation to attend a soirée hosted by the Whites. With him at her side, Emily felt more confident with her decisions, and more certain that her choices were the right ones. She missed him whispering secrets into her ear, she missed his silent support. She missed the single-minded attention that kindled something warm inside of her.

Each day dragged on, as Emily signed documents, attended events, and listened to petitioners. Towards the end of a particularly taxing day, Greta appeared for a surprise, but very welcome visit. Immediately she pulled her aside to sit in the library together.

Emily took a seat in one of the comfy chairs by the fire as Greta shoved a cup of tea in her hands.

"These past few days you have looked gloomier than a wolfhound that has lost their favorite bone," the Sister's tone was sharp with worry.

Emily looked down into the teacup; its contents were a light green, and she could see tiny petals floating within the liquid. "I have not seen the Outsider for the past week."

Greta was silent, and looked expectantly at her, waiting for Emily to continue.

"I miss not having him around. I miss being able to talk about whales with him, being able to mock MP Baldwin together. I miss his horrible table manners."

There was a beat of silence. "It sounds like you miss him as your friend," Greta said kindly.

"I do, but…" Emily trailed off, frustrated. "It feels more than that. He has shared secrets with me about the paths my choices would lead me, he has guided me through negotiations, and he has encouraged me to think freely. And…I would not mind being kissed by him again." She finished with a mumble.

There was the clinking of metal against ceramic as Greta stirred her tea. "To be completely honest, it still sounds to me that you prefer him as a friend."

Emily took a sip from her cup. It was warm and sweet, tasting like violets and honeysuckle. She thought about what Greta said. Was the Outsider just a dear friend? She thought back again to her birthday and the dances they shared together. Emily recalled an electric feeling of his hands on her, a giddiness of sharing a space so small, and she recalled pushing those emotions out of her mind as soon as she felt them.

"He is a friend," Emily concluded quietly. "But I also want there to be more between us."

Billie scowled as she found yet another neatly folded scrap of paper. They had been popping up all over the Tower for the last week, left on bookshelves, hiding in vases, resting atop important documents. The more she gathered them, the more appeared. And without fail, each and every one was a neatly typed, yet poorly written, love poem.

Some were not that terrible. She had a particular fondness for a short one which sweetly likened a kiss to an exchange of secrets. But most made her cringe, one she even tore to shreds after reading it.

Billie had a hunch who was writing them, but felt that she should limit her role to removing the poems before Emily could find them.

"So you are the one who was taking all my poems," the Outsider did not sound surprised, just sad. "Did Emily ask you to do this?"

The quiet melancholy in his voice tugged at her heartstrings. Fuck, now she was feeling sorry for that black-eyed bastard.

"Emily has no idea these poems even exist," Billie replied, crossing her arms across her chest. "Which is for the best, considering how terrible some of them are."

The Outsider winced, but took the criticism with defeated resignation.

"What made you think this was a good idea?" Billie could not help sound disappointed.

"I asked Greta for advice." He admitted, his voice just above a whisper.

"Greta?!" she hissed incredulously. "You asked the Oracular Sister for advice regarding love?"

His ears turned red as he blushed. "Who else was I supposed to talk to? You? Corvo!?"

"You could have talked to Emily about how you felt," Billie snapped. "Rather than hiding from her and leaving terrible poems all over the place."

The Outsider was quiet. Billie looked at him, really looked at him for a moment, and was struck by how young he seemed. There was a frailness around him, and a lot of his quiet confidence was gone. She sighed.

"I know rejection hurts, but you and Emily cannot keep dancing around each other until you return to the Void. She misses you, and you miss her. The only way you are going to fix that is if you talk to her."

He merely nodded, putting his hands in his pockets before vanishing. Billie picked up the scrap of paper that she had been glaring at earlier and put it in her pocket. At least she would not be finding any more of these around the Tower.