A/N: Yes, there are references to Lost in this chapter. Why? Because combining two fandoms into one chapter amuses me. So there. Anyway, I hope everyone is enjoying it. The title for every chapter is going to be either a song title from a musical, or based off something in a musical---because it's POTO, bitches, moozack is what it's all about. If you have any comments--
Nadir: I have a comment.
Delicate: O..k..what is it, Daroga Honey?
Nadir: Where do you get off saying that you visualize me as that dude from Lost--Naveen Whats-his-face?
Delicate: You have a problem with me saying you look like Naveen Andrews?
Nadir: Well..yes.
Delicate: But... why? Naveen Andrews is HOT!
Nadir: Well MAYBE I WANT TO BE SEEN MORE AS AN OBJECT OF LUST, OK?
Delicate: Uh, whoa. Nadir? Why are you going all Whitney Houston on me here?
Erik: Nadir has a little phobia of fangirls.
Nadir: Excuse me, but I've seen what happened to you. My nerves can't take that kind of over-exposure.
Roulette: And, plus, he doesn't like sharing the spotlight with me.
Nadir: (scowls at Roulette) You don't count. You aren't a real character.
Roulette: ...am I going to have to choke a bitch?
Delicate: That is enough. You two are..on...time-out. That means no "Desperate Houswives" For you tonight, Nadir. And Roulette? No "Grey's Anatomy."
Nadir: You're joking. Surely.
Roulette: Somehow I think not. She has that Omnipotent Authoress Look Of Crazy in her eyes. Again.
Erik: Oh, yay.
Nadir: (wanders off, grumbling) WE'LL DISCUSS THIS LATER.
Delicate: (sigh) Roulette, please go keep him away from the sharp objects.
Roulette: Whatever you say, Bosslady.
Delicate (eyes Erik suspicously): You're uncharacteristically silent this evening, aren't you?
Erik: Well, since I haven't actually been featured in the story, I technichally don't have anything to complain about. Yet.
Delicate: Your confidence overwhelms me.
Erik: But by the end of the chapter, I'll try to have a list of critisicms prepared for you.
Delicate: I'll look forward to it. Now go find a song with appropriate lyrics for this chapter, will you please?
Erik: Mademoiselle. (sweeps a bow and dissapears)
Delicate: (sigh) I love when he does that.
Roulette: Oh, stop. You're drooling.
Delicate: Er..on with the story.
- - -
Berry Scary: Thank you for your review! I'm glad that you're giving this story a try---honestly, I'm usually not a big AU fan either, so this is something completely new for me. I am, definitley, going to incorporate things from the original plotlines; i.e. Leroux, Kay, ALW, etc. into this story..but there will be some changes made. But hopefully it will work. I have it all formed in my head, we just have to see how it translates onto paper, I guess. I'm also going to try and develop the characters in such a way that they'll be familiar, even if they're in totally different settings. Er...does that make any sense? I'm just thrilled that you labeled my story as "badass". HEE.
And yes, the title is based off of the Kanye West song. Becuase it ROCKS MY DAMN SOCKS. And also because I got the idea for this fic. while watching the "Jarhead" preview, and that song was playing in the background. I know, strange, right? Heh. Thanks for your review, and I hope you like this chapter!
SimplyElymas: Aww. Goodness. Thank you. Nadir is adorable, and Iloveee writing his character. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the first one!
- - - -
Springtime and Hitler
Too low to find my way
After one to many thursday evenings spent watching Lost, Roulette had developed a fear of flying rather late in life. Which meant that five minutes into their twenty hour flight to Amsterdam, she'd knocked back a couple of sleeping pills, clapped on her headphones, and promptly put her seat back and passed out. Nadir was relieved, it seemed that the only time Roulette was quiet was when she was unconcious. He knew her stream of nervous chatter stemmed from the fact that she hadn't seen him in over a month, and was her way of finding their common ground again. He didn't mind it, he just needed an occasional reprieve from it.
For him, he was just glad he'd made it onto the plane without being detected. Thankfully, the faux passport Roulette had acquired was perfect, and no one had even seemed the slightest bit suspicious. He shifted uncomfortably in his roomy first-class seat. Roulette had brought only one outfit for him to change into; an immaculately tailored Hugo Boss suit that probably cost more than their plane tickets---and belonged to Erik. Which meant it was too tight, and miles too long for Nadir, and gave the appearance that he was melting. Roulette had apologized profusely, but he'd caught the mischevious look in her eye, and was fairly certain she'd snapped a picture of him on her cell phone, presumably to be used as blackmail at a later date.
He sighed and looked over at the girl sleeping soundly (so soundly he was tempted to make sure she was still breathing) beside of him, and smiled.
She looked deceptively safe when she was sleeping.
Yawning, Nadir pulled out the copy of The Financial Times he'd bought before they'd boarded the plane, and smiled. It should have bothered him, this ease with which he slipped back into his former life as a criminal. He'd spent much of his time in prison pondering what his course of action would be upon his release, or, in this case, his escape. He had been a law abiding, moral man once. A policeman, who had believed in the things he stood for with all of his heart.
But this, he realized, had been before the government he'd worked for had killed his wife, and forced him to let his son vanish. Before he'd seen a masked genius driven to the very edge of his sanity, all for the amusement of a sadistic queen. He had been a believer once, in his country, in his life, but it hadn't done him much good.
The life of a criminal was not an ideal one for a man like him, who was more ideally suited for something quiet and low in stress, but it was the one the Fates had given him.
He would not turn his back on it now.
Too high to wonder why
- - -
I've touched this place before
The effect Roulette had on people never ceased to amaze him.
So severely jet lagged she could barely walk, with her eye make-up smudged in such a way that it more closely resembled war paint, and strutting around in her standard airport attire; gym shorts, flip-flops, and an oversize hooded sweatshirt from her high school lacrosse days, she still managed to stop traffic. It was almost comical, the way men gawked at her, the way impeccably dressed, beautiful women would stop to glare at her as if she was encroaching on their territory.
Roulette, oblivious and exhausted, ignored them all, her lazily gracefull, loping walk never hesitant as she strolled towards the the taxi stand, letting Nadir handle their baggage, which, admittedly, there wasn't much of, just one big duffle bag for the two of them. In their line of work they'd learned to travel light. Whatever they didn't pack, they could buy when they arrived at their destination.
Another perk of traveling with Roulette, Nadir mused as he hurried after her, was that they never had trouble finding a taxi.
"I hate this place." Remarked Roulette, slumping low in the cracked leather seat of the taxi and scowling out the window at the scenery that whizzed past them. He knew what she meant. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, but it was so heavily steeped in sin and debauchery that it was hard to escape from it unscathed. Someone like Roulette, used to being lawless, was at odds with this city, where everyone was lawless. In this city, she was always on pins and needles, on unsure footing. Because if Roulette wasn't the outlaw, then who was she?
"We'll only be here a few days." He assured her, though he had no idea how long Erik was planning on staying. Erik didn't mind the city as much as Roulette did. There were no questions asked in Amsterdam, no curious looks, no hateful speculation shouted at him----in this city, everyone had a secret.
Everyone wore a mask.
somewhere in another time
- - -
now i can hear the sun
the clouds drifting through the blinds
The Amsterdam Ritz Carlton was one of the most luxurious hotels in the civilized world. They had also managed to lose Roulette and Nadir's reservations. There had been a brief struggle, when the concierge had flatly refused to give them the number of Erik's room---'Herr Erik has specifically requested that he not be disturbed!'---debunked only when Roulette, ever subtle, leaned across the desk and caught the short little man by the lapels of his jacket, "Listen, mien herr," She'd growled, her green eyes taking on that all too familiar predatorial gleam, "we've had kind of a long day. It would really be appreciated if you just gave us the fucking room number. Ja?"
Five minutes later, they were in the elevators, with the promise of two suites (no charge, natch) by tomarrow morning, and free mini-bar privleges. Damn but Nadir loved traveling with Roulette.
They arrived outside Erik's suite---the presendential suite, of course--and Roulette exchanged a glance with Nadir as she knocked. "You ready?" She asked. He shrugged. "It can't be any worse than prison, right?"
"You were in a minimum security prison, so yes, it could be." She replied, her tone serious. The door remained shut, and Roulette scowled and pounded on the door with her fist. "Errrrrrik." She whined, and Nadir could practically see Erik cringing on the other side of the door.
The lock clicked, but when they pushed open the door, the spacious, elegant room was empty. Roulette seemed upreturbed by this. "Lucy, we're home!" She sang gaily, and spotted a pristine, untouched fruit basket dumped carelessly on a coffee table, beside an unopened bottle of Evian, and practically dove on it. "I slept through the in-flight meal." She explained, mouth full, when she caught sight of Nadir's shocked expression.
Nadir set their bag down beside the door, and collapsed next to Roulette on the couch. "I want to sleep." He muttered, burrying his head in a cushion, and Roulette snorted. "Fat chance, honey. We have a par-tay to get ready for." She glanced around the empty room and frowned.
"Erik?"
No response. She sighed. "Oh, fine. If you're going to be a twat about that stupid voice mail I left you-" She began in an irritated tone, the rest of her rant swiftly cut off when Erik emerged from the bathroom, looking impeccable and furious.
"I have told you" He began, his voice deadly, rebervating around the room like thunder, "that you're practical jokes are not amusing to me, Roulette."
Roulette sat up, and smiled impishly at the masked man who fairly towered over her. Any other man would have forgiven her in a heartbeat. Erik's demeanor did not change. "And that, Erik darling, is because you have no sense of humour. Nice tie, by the way." She added, taking a bite of apple, and Nadir was sure he was the only one in the room who noticed the adoring look in her big, movie star eyes as they wandered over Erik's lanky, almost skeletal frame.
"I suppose there is a good reason for the two of you invading my rooms like this?" Erik rumbled, nodding at Nadir in welcome and flatly ignoring Roulette's response as he walked past them towards the closet to retrieve his coat. Roulette sighed. "Oh, yeah, it's a great story, apparantly-"
"Roulette, as difficult as I know it must be for you to do so, please shut up for a few minutes and let Nadir do the talking. He is infinitley less grating on my nerves. We're leaving in twenty minutes," He added, not noticing the kicked dog expression his words had left on the younger girls face. "so I suggest you get ready."
Without another word, Roulette got to her feet, grabbed the duffle bag and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door so loud it shook the room. Nadir jumped at the loud sound, his frazzled nerves already stretched to the absoulte breaking point, but Erik didn't even flinch, merely looked exasperated.
"It's good to see you, Nadir." He said stiffly, as always, unsure when it came to expressing an emotion that wasn't black rage or irritation at Roulette. Nadir smiled at his friend and got slowly to his feet. "The hotel has lost our reservations, I'm afraid. But Roulette---ah, persuaded them to give us your room number." Erik shook his head. "Wonderful." He muttured, clearly not thrilled with the idea of sharing a room. For as much as Roulette rambled about the three of them being a team, Erik never ceased to be annoyed with the two of them---Roulette more than Nadir. Nadir knew it was mainly because Erik was unused to responsibilities; he'd spent so much of his life alone, with no one to answer to, that even after nine years, he still had difficulty adapting to the fact that he had two people relying on him, and that he, subsequently, and however minorly, relied on as well. Though he would never admit it.
"How was prison?" Erik questioned, the hint of a smile quirking the visibile side of his mouth. Nadir pulled on his rumpled suit collar, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "You two keep asking me that. It was prison. it was...monotonous. How else would it be? It wasn't like I was at bloody summer camp, Erik."
Erik scoffed. "It was minimum security, Nadir. There are probably Girl Scout camps in existance with tougher regimes." The persian scowled. "When was the last time either of you were in prison, may I ask?" Erik chuckled and took Nadir's vacated seat on the couch, draping his long frame across it elegantly, with all the feline grace of a jungle cat.
"Ah, well. At least now you have some street credit." Erik pointed out, and Nadir laughed. Erik checked his watch and sighed. "Roulette, five minutes. If you aren't ready, I swear to God we'll leave without you." He barked. There was no response, but Nadir could tell from the muffled grumbling that escaped from behind the door that she was not well pleased. "How did everything go? Any of the colossal mistakes we've come to expect from anything Roulette does?" Erik wondered idly, only half joking. Nadir hesitated for a second---thinking back to the botched escape Roulette had planned so painstakingly. Honestly, it wasn't her fault everything had gone so perfectly, predictably wrong. And it hadn't been that bad...really. They'd gotten away, after all, hadn't they?
"It was fine." Nadir said, lying through his teeth. Erik arched an eyebrow at him. "Hmm." He said non-commitally, clearly not believing him.
The bathroom door opened, and Roulette sashayed out in a flurry of purple silk, and did a little piroutte for their benefit. "Ta-da." She said, bad mood dissapating, as it always did when she was primping for an evening out. Nadir smiled indulgently, the way a father might--torn between dissaproval at how low-cut/tight/revealing his daughters dress was, and pride at how lovely she looked.
"Very nice, Rue." He said and Roulette beamed at him, before turning expectant eyes on Erik. Nadir winced. Erik was staring at Roulette silently, an unreadable expression coloring his eyes. Roulette's smile slowly faded. "You think it's crap." She said, her voice uncharacteristically small.
Her words seem to jar Erik back to reality. "Not just crap," He replied in a faintly ironic tone. "but crap that cost me two thousand dollars."
Instead of looking hurt, Roulette simply looked pissed. "Jesus, what is your problem tonight?" She snapped, grabbing her purse off the bedside table and stalking towards the door. Erik remained seated on the couch for a second longer, and Nadir caught a flash of remorse cross his features briefly before he got to his feet and motioned for Nadir to follow him.
"Come on, daroga. We don't want to be late----you know how much I love parties."
a half a million thoughts
are flowing through my mind
- - -
a satellite recalled your voice
sent me round the world again
The party was too predictable for Roulette's taste.
It was the same party she could have attended in any other glitz obsessed city in the world; same boring, rich people. Same pretentious cause giving a bunch of losers the chance to act like they actually gave a damn about something other than themselves and mug for the cameras. Usually, she wouldn't have minded---usually, she would have fit right in. But lately, as her fights with Erik became more and more frequent, and were less and less easily resolved, she found herself growing disenchanted with the privledged society parties she'd grown up around.
She looked around the elegantly decorated room, easily picking out Nadir, who was surrounded by a band of over-eager females, and couldn't resist giggling. Even in his ill-fitting suit, with fatigue marking his eyes, women could simply not stay away from the quietly charming persian. It never ceased to amuse her. She made a mental note to tease him about it later.
Erik was just as easy to pick out, standing by himself on the very fringes of the party, looking tense and ready to bolt for the door. She sighed, feeling a familiar, protective tug at her heart and snagged two glasses of champagne off of a passing waiter's tray and headed over to him, ready to bury the proverbial hatchet for the evening.
"Need a drink?" She asked casually. Erik glanced over at her and accepted the glass greatfully. "You haven't poisoned it, have you?" He questioned, his tone hovering between teasing and cautious. Roulette smiled. "No, I have not. Not that you wouldn't deserve it." She added sharply, and sensed him tense up. "It wouldn't hurt you to be a bit nicer to me sometimes, Erik." She pointed out, leaning against a pillar and rubbing at her aching feet. For shoes this expensive, you would think they would be a bit more comfortable.
She glanced up when she realized that Erik was watching her carefully, his expression weary. Her heartbeat quickened, and Erik smiled vaguely reaching out with long, tapered, infinitley graceful fingers to hover next to her cheek, as if to brush back a stray strand of hair, before he looked away, and let his hand drop back down to his side. Roulette bit her lip and turned her face downward.
"You're right. And..it is a nice dress." He admitted after a moment, albeit grudgingly. Roulette's eyes brightened and she did an impromptu spin for him. "You like it?" Erik's smile was indulgent. "Very pretty, and ..sparkly. Although it is a bit skimpy." He looked away quickly, as if he was embarrassed to have made such an observation. Roulette grinned. "That's the point, silly." She said happily, punching his shoulder gently, regretting it almost instantly when Erik practically lept away from her.
They stared at each other warily for a moment, before the strains of the band on stage seemed to perk Roulette back up. "Would you like to dance?" She asked, trying to quash the hopeful tone from her voice. "I..suppose." He mumbled, failing to notice the brilliant smile that illuminated Roulette's face at his reluctant aquiescence.
"Fab." Roulette said, and Erik chuckled at the endearing sound of British slang in her lazy southern belle accent. She grabbed impulsively for Erik's hand, and they locked gazes for a minute. For the first time in recent memory, Erik didn't cringe away from her touch. Roulette flushed, and glanced down shyly, peering up at him from underneath the fringe of her eyelashes. Suddenly, Erik's eyes hardened, his demeanor changing completely. His good mood had inexplicably vanished as suddenly as it had reemerged, and he was glaring death at a point beyond Roulette's shoulder.
Confused, Roulette turned to find the cause of Erik's rage-filled expression and felt her blood turn to ice. "Shit." She hissed. Erik yanked his hand out of her grasp and stalked past her. "Stay here."
"Erik---wait." She said desperately, grabbing him by the forearm. Shit, shit, shit. The last thing they needed right now was for Erik to hurl some goober out of the window. "Let me handle this." She pleaded softly. Erik sneered at her, and shook his head in disbelief. "Incredible. You're so weak, Roulette." The venom in his tone was like a kick to the solar plexus, and it took a moment for Roulette to force any believable display of anger into her voice. Because, truthfully, she wasn't angry; she was hurt.
"I'm trying to diffuse a potentially threatening situation that has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me. I'm being responsible, Erik. How does that make me weak, exactly?"
Instead of responding, Erik simply turned and stormed off towards the doors. Roulette felt like screaming. She hated when he did that---just walked away, with no inclination to respond, as if he simply had just deemed his opponant (her) unworthy of any more of his time.
"Hey, Rue." Said a deep voice from directly behind her. Roulette shut her eyes and clenched her teeth, casting up a prayer to a God she'd never really believed in; give me the strength to get through this without killing anyone and turned around.
"Kevin." Her words were clipped and precise, her eyes cold as she gazed at her former boyfriend. She stared at his handsome, smooth features, his cruel, dead blue eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if she was a closet sadist, or just had really, really bad taste in men.
"I haven't seen you lately."
"Yeah. That wasn't accidental." She reminded him harshly, feeling disgusted, more with herself than with the man standing in front of her. He smirked. Once upon a time she had swooned for his blue eyes, his spiky blonde hair, his confidence. Before, of course, she'd figured out that he wore contacts, spent more time on his appearance than most supermodels, and wasn't confident at all; just too stupid to realize what an utter doucebag he was. Kevin Clearly; a B-list celebrity with a string of terrible movies to his name, and most famous for driving a car into some poor old women's living room in Malibu. He couldn't even claim to have been drunk, or on crack, or something interesting like that. He was just a bad driver.
He was also an abusive asshole who'd thrown Roulette down a flight of stairs when she'd broken up with him six months ago, fracturing her wrist and dislocating her shoulder. Being tossed down some steps hadn't been nearly as painful as the blow her ego had suffered when she realized what a complete tool she'd been wasting her time on for the past four months.
"You always were a charmer, Rue." He drawled, draping an arm around her and breathing heavily into her face. She cringed. Oh, and he was drunk. What a nice bonus for her.
"Kevin, get fucked." She wasn't aware that it was possible to be more direct then that.
"Rue, Rue, R-ueee." He sighed dramatically, and Rue was reminded of all the reasons why Kevin couldn't get parts in anything bigger than Halloween 16: IN SPACE. "This is not about you and me, baby. I've moved on." To prove his point he nodded across the room, where a half naked blonde girl was standing by the bar, pouting like she'd just stepped off the cover of Playboy, and looking ready to topple over from the weight of her disproportionately large breasts. Roulette felt queasy. She had dated this guy. And she had been sober! What was the matter with her? "This is all buissness."
"Which means..what, exactly?" She prodded, ready for this conversation, and this evening to be over with as soon as possible. Buissness? What the hell was Kevin talking about now? She glanced over Kevin's shoulder and saw Nadir, having escaped from his throng of female fans, making his way towards her, his expression grave. She caught his gaze and rolled her eyes, motioning for him to wait for her by the doors. Ignoring the slurred nonsense Kevin was spouting, she grabbed her purse, fumbling for her cellphone.
Suddenly, the room errupted in cheers, and Roulette's head jerked up, eyes narrowing at the sight of the elegant figure swathed in jewels that had just taken the stage. "Fuck." She growled, more to herself than to Kevin. She glanced at him and was stunned to find her former boyfriend looking uncannily lucid, and also a little bit scared. "They're watching you." He hissed. "And they don't like competition."
"Ladies and gentlemen--" Began the host of the party, a small, reedy looking man in expensive glasses, who looked as if he was about to wet himself, "--we have had an unprecedented honor this evening--"
Roulette grabbed Kevin's arm. "They've always known who we were." She growled, irritated. If Kevin had interrupted her conversation with Erik for this, she really was going to kill him. Kevin looked like he was starting to regret ever approaching her and tried to inch away from her, but Roulett'es grip was like iron. "Look, I was just trying to give you a friendly warning, Rue--"
"A warning about what?"
"Just..that..you should keep your head down. Maybe lay low for awhile." Roulette released his arm and sighed. "Jesus Christ, Kevin, how do you know about any of this shit?"
Kevin looked mildly nauseous. "I'm in a little over my head." Roulette failed to summon up much sympathy, and chuckled. "Stupid ass. I might have known."
Kevin scowled, ego insulted and straightened his garish jacket. "If you don't want that masked freak you run with getting killed, I'd get out of here, Rue---OWW." He reeled backwards, clutching at his freshly broken nose. "You bitch! I have a fucking commercial to shoot tomarrow!"
The crowd had quieted, turning their backs on the stage, craning the necks excitedly in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the action. Roulette's gaze was murderous. "He is not a freak." She spat, punching Kevin's shoulder. Hard. She heard a pop, and Kevin howled, falling to his knees. The cheering crowd had fallen silent, turning to face the direction of the commontion, and craning their heads for a better look. Roulette smirked in the direction of the stage, blew a kiss, and turned to stride non-chalantly towards the exit, silently praying that La Carlotta--reigning diva, crime boss, and conniving bitch of the year-- who was looking livid that her introduction had been up-staged, didn't shoot her in the back of the head.
all the night you've dreamt away
- - -
i feel your smoky mist
up to the stratosphere
The car ride home was a tense, silent affair, and Nadir rubbed morosely at his stomach. His ulcer, which hadn't been bothering him in the past month, was returning with a vengeance. Roulette's knack for attracting trouble would never cease to amaze him. Only she could have simultaneously pissed off Carlotta Gudicelle, shocked all of Amsterdam society, gotten tipped off that they were in trouble, and broken her ex-boyfriends nose in a five minute time span. Sighing, he glanced in the rearview mirror, where Erik and Roulette were sitting as far away from each other as humanly possible, arms crossed defiantly, glaring out the windows, resolutely refusing to look at one another.
"So...tell me again what Kevin said?" He ventured tentively. Roulette pursed her lips and jiggled her foot impatiently, anxious to get out of the car. "Just that 'they were watching', and that we should 'lay low' for a while. That was all he said."
"Was this before or after you dislocated his shoulder?" Erik questioned bitingly. Roulette rounded on him voice shaking with anger, "Are you actually scolding me? That--that--fucker did the exact same thing to me, and he didn't even have a reason!" Erik arched an eyebrow. "And what was your reason? Or is that just how you repay anyone who tries to give you advice?" Nadir watched Roulette's expression closely as she struggled to respond.
Fatigue, regret, sorrow, anger; all these emotions played out in her eyes before she leaned back in the seat and shook her head. "You wouldn't understand." She told him quietly, twisting at the silver ring decorating her right hand.
"You're going to have to be more careful, Roulette. I know that the concept of subtlety is a foreign one to you, but if you don't want to draw even more attention to yourself than you already do, you're going to want to refrain from breaking former lovers bones in such a public setting from now on."
Erik's tone was deceptively mild, but Nadir could sense the genuine emotion lurking just below the surface of his gilded voice. Roulette shut her eyes. "I'm not a child, Erik."
"Obviously; children normally do not dress like prostitutes."
Nadir cringed and jerked the steering wheel, accelerating in the direction of the hotel. Hopefully, he could get them back before one of them killed the other. "Could you, for two seconds, treat me like an adult? Like an equal?" Roulette raged, voice arching dangerously.
"If you would like to be treated like an adult, Molly, then I suggest you start behaving like one." Erik responded patronizingly, and Roulette stared at him for a long moment, her eyes deep and unfathomable. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, she was forcing herself to be gentle.
"Erik, please--"
"Just stop, Roulette." He snapped, finally showing his agitation, just as Nadir pulled up to the front of the hotel. Roulette, who was now close to tears at being rebuked, lept from the car and ran inside. There was silence in the car for a moment, before Nadir looked up again at the rearview mirror.
"She's right, you know." Erik's head snapped up, mis-matched eyes blazing furiously. "About what, exactly?" He sneered and Nadir sighed again, removing the keys from the ignition and slowly getting out of the car. "She isn't eleven years old anymore, Erik. You've got to start looking at her like the woman she is."
Erik set his jaw and shook his head. "No."
Nadir paused, surprised. "No?" Erik stalked past him. "You have no idea what you're advising, daroga. It would be best if you simply kept your opinions to yourself from now on, I think." He snapped, his voice clipped and devoid of any emotion. Nadir watched his friends elegantly retreating form. "Allah," He breathed, "help us."
did you notify my way
to hide a wonder why?
i've touched this place before
- - -
so we're in another time
now i can hear the sound
By the time Nadir made it back up to the room, another explosive row was taking place. The personalities of Erik and Roulette were so different, and so equally dynamic, that they're fights were like the colission of two massive elements; and Nadir had unwittingly walked right into the eye of the storm.
An expensive looking vase collided with the mantlepiece, narrowly missing Erik, who looked distincly unruffled by the fact that a short girl in a cocktail dress was lobbing breakables at his head. "You're in luck, Nadir," He remarked casually, "Roulette was just about to make her grande finale, I believe. Perhaps she'll be lucky enough to actually hit something this time."
Roulette let out a scream of frustrated fury, stalked into the bathroom, and reappeared a few minutes later in jeans and a sweatshirt, her two thousand dollar dress left crumpled in a heap on the floor. She hurried past the two of them, her face red with anger and shiny with tears. "Where are you going now?" Nadir demanded helplessly.
She didn't respond, just grabbed her bag and fled out the door. Nadir rounded on Erik, who had been watching the proceedings with an amused expression in his eyes. "Are you happy now, Erik"
Erik laughed bitterly. "You, of all people, should know the answer to that question." He pushed past Nadir and picked up his coat, making his way towards the door unhurriedly. "Where are you going now?" Nadir cried, ready to tear at his hair. Erik turned around and looked surprised.
"You don't honestly think I'd let her roam the streets of Amsterdam this late, do you? With her luck, she'll end up sold into some kind of white slavery practice." And then he was gone.
Nadir reached into his pocket and popped an anti-acid tablet, wincing as his ulcer flared angrily. He looked around the spacious, beautiful room, and realized he had it all to himself.
He wondered why this didn't make him feel any better.
i've touched this place before
-
Delicate: Jesus. Finally. It's done. I apologize for the delay, folks. This has been kind of hectic week.
Erik: At this point in time, I would like to point out the song Delicate has raped for this weeks chapter is called Lebanease Blonde and is by a band called The Thievery Corporation. Which can be found on the Garden State soundtrack.
Delicate: Which is, coincidentally, Erik's favorite movie.
Erik: I hate you.
Delicate: Shenannigans. You do not. Now, please, everyone, review. Comments, criticisms; anything you want to hit me with, I will take willingly.
Erik: She will to. She's desperate.
Delicate: Shut up, or no America's Next Top Model for you.
Erik: You wouldn't DARE.
Delicate: It's been a long week. TRY me.