Chapter Four: Conversation:

Conversation: A spoken communication.

Ophelia yawned as she woke, slightly startled by the sleeping man in front of her. She stared at his mask for a mere second and realized that it was just V. She touched the cold mask, wishing that she could touch the warm skin underneath.

"I was wondering when you would wake," His silky voice purred.

"You weren't sleepin after all, were ya?" She smiled at him.

"No, I was not. I was watching you," He answered, his voice making her flush.

Ophelia felt slightly awkward around him suddenly, stumbling in her thoughts to find words that would form a full and complete sentence, balancing out her irrational thought.

"Speechless?" He asked.

"With a voice like that one, how could I not be?" She blurted out, instantly regretting it.

"A compliment?" He sounded amused.

"If ya wanna see it like that, then, yeah," She babbled.

"Haven't been around very many men, have you?" V lightly touched her arm, the cool touch of his leather glove made her shiver.

"Not since the project went to hell, no," She babbled, "and none of them had a voice that could make your toes curl."

V smiled under his porcelain mask as he saw her blush a particularly bright shade of red.

"Were there any other girls in the project?" V asked, hoping to get her to talk about an apparently traumatizing event.

"Yeah," Ophelia sighed, looking down at his shoulder instead of trying to look into his eyes.

"Will you tell me about them? Like their names?" V touched her cheek in a gesture of comfort.

Ophelia felt her neck flush. She could feel V's gaze on her face, searching her for an answer.

"There was Bohemia; her parents were artists from Italy, Kerstin; she was taken from an orphanage and she was a really sweet girl, Josie; who was particularly fond of cats, Cassandra; a tarot card collector, Savannah; a theology scholar...taught me a lot, Charlotte; she was a writer...taught me to write stories...gotta million of 'em in here," She tapped her head, noting V's obvious amusement, Sarah; a private investigator, Alexandra; a painter...taught me ta draw real good, Carella; a violin player...taught me all I could ever wanna know 'bout a violin, Emma; an archaeologist from Cairo...taught me about art and treasure...ya know, like what ta look for, " She saw V nod, "Rowan, Miranda, and Olivia; triplets...the most beautiful women I had ever seen...Rowan had long ginger red hair and rain blue eyes...their eyes...they were identical, but the only thing alike in appearance...their hair was different, but their eyes...their eyes were the same. So beautiful, V, so beautiful. Miranda had wheat blonde hair and Olivia had hair as black as your clothes," V tilted his head up, "Nadine, Zoe, Molly, Mira, Marcia, Clare, Cherry, China, Beatrix, Benni, Delaine, Laura, Claudia, Tamra, Magdalena, Theodosia, Carolyn, Carolina, Annie, Elizabeth, Michaela, Anne, Mary, Amelia, Lisa, Cate, Tami, Nikki, Anna, Joanne, Hannah, Lucinda, Effie, Lori, Nancy, Nuala, Gillian, Amanda, Ivy, Barbara, Denise, Mina, Paddy, Ruth, Perri, Kat, Dorothy, Lilian, Jessie, Cynthia, Jessica, Koko, Georgia, Wendy, Montana, Bebe, Janet, Joan, Milana, Holly, Ottavia, Alice, Abby...so many of them, V...and they killed them all."

V could see that all she wanted to do was cry.

"Ophelia..." V started, but she interrupted.

"If you are going to be stuck with me for a while," She sniffled, "you can at least call me Lia. They did, the girls did."

V understood. She wanted to remember them...to remember what they had taught her. They had taught her to survive.

"Lia..." V tested it out, "I like it."

"Just rolls off your tongue, doesn't it?" She laughed.

"Yes, it does," He chuckled.

He noticed that even that little gesture, his chuckle, it did the same to her as hearing him speak did.

"In case, you were wondering, V," She said quietly, "I do know how to speak correctly. I have just never found a use for it."

He noticed her change of voice. She was British, after all.

"And in the whole of this conversation, V, you have said nothing," Lia said pointedly, "the silence is deafening."

"I was listening to you," V replied, "No-one has ever actually listened to you, have they?"

"Not really," She sighed sadly, "We were never actually allowed to speak vocally to each other. The few of us that were readers used telepathic imaging to speak to the rest."

"Ah," He almost purred, cursing himself inwardly.

Lia started to laugh.

"There is no need for that language," Lia laughed, "now is there...William."