Chapter 4

Four rooms. Comfy and warm, a far cry from the dank dungeons I had pictured when the Merovingian had mentioned my accommodations. As unsettling as the Merovingian's new hospitality is, I cant complain. I expected to be dead or worse by this time, and the Mero's recent unpredictability is an impressive change. I heave a sigh, clearly all these years apart have sharpened his skills and I cringe at the thought of how long he must have been fantasizing about all the horrible things he'd do to me once he managed to recapture me.

I wander my new, and hopefully temporary accommodations trying to shake the disturbing thought from my mind. A bathroom, bedroom, dressing room and living room make up my living space. Each room is warmly colored and densely furnished save the simple bathroom. The bathroom walls are a pure and eerie white, each hard surface is completely sterilized and colorless. No wall hangings or windows, the light is artificial, unflattering and unkind to my already throbbing headache. I blow past the large bathroom mirror desperately trying not to glimpse myself in it, I'm sure the last thing I need is a reminder of how undoubtedly horrid I must look by now.

Considering that I might just have to stay here a bit longer that I originally anticipated I help myself to the large bathtub, washing the dried mixture of grime, blood and sweat off my body. I emerge from what was the steamy clear water leaving only the now cold and grey memory of it's former glory. I rap my self in one of the pure white and unbelievably soft towels neatly folded and laid out for me. Defeated, I inspect my face closely in the mirror, picking the last few splinters of scabby cement from my face and washing the small blotches of blood that spring up from the tiny pits they leave behind.

Walking briskly from room to room I reach the dressing room that is attached to the bedroom. Its small and fairly unimpressive in comparison to the rest of my living quarters, slightly larger than the average walk in closet its not stuffed full of expensive, elegant and revealing gowns as I irrationally feared it would be. Instead the closet is only semi-occupied with surprisingly plain, all black cloths. Satisfied that I don't have to wear my dirty, torn cloths that I left in a careless wad back on the bathroom floor I quickly pick out and thrown on a pair of plain black jeans and t-shirt, of course fitted to my exact measurements.

I carelessly comb my wet and tangled hair with my fingers as I return to the bedroom and flop on the ridiculously large and comfortable bed. I didn't realize how exhausted I am until I faded remarkably quickly into sleep.

It's a numb, dark sleep. It almost feels as though your half asleep in the Matrix. it's an almost indescribable hollow feeling, as though your totally aware of yourself inside your mind, you can think exceptionally clearly, almost normally, but your body is numb and unresponsive. I cant explain why it feels like this, it just always has.

There's an unexplainable spinning feeling inside my stomach that signals my awaking. I recognize the sound of knuckles on wood as I'm jerked awake from my eerie half sleep. I gain my feet too quickly and realize almost immediately that was a mistake, my head spins violently along with my stomach as my eyes dart about my surroundings franticly searching for the source of the noise.

He leans on the doorway, uncrossing his arms as he straightens himself. Thin and gangly, but he's not the Mero and he isn't built like a guard, nor dose he carry himself like one.

"Easy now, don't hurt yourself." he spits slowly eyeing me. I inwardly shudder wonder how long he's been standing there watching me sleep with that same, dumb grin on his face.
I open my mouth but he's quicker.

"The Merovingian requests an audience with you immediately" He says quickly and business like as he intently straightens his jacket .

"But I'm sure he wont mind if you straighten yourself out a bit" he smirks glancing up and gesturing toward my hair.

In my panic I had forgotten the disheveled state of my hair, which I had lazily attempted to comb out with my finger as I was too weary to rummage through the bathroom to find a proper comb. It had now dried and molded into a messy and tangled lump in my sleep. I realize that my patients is already running extremely thin even before the Merovingian has had his chance at me, and that's not promising.