Christine had heard that little whisper of reckless adrenaline only a few times in her life.

The first time was on a swing set. Raoul had swung pretty high and leapt from the seat, landing on his feet in the mulch. He turned back to her, grinning widely. "Your turn!"

Christine coaxed the swing as high as it could go, lingering as she worked up the nerve. And there it was, that reckless impulse, whispering in her ear and taking over her body. She let go and for one brief moment she was soaring through the air. She felt limitless. For the first time, she had a tiny understanding of what it meant to be alive.

She did not land on her feet but the pain from the mulch stabbing into her hands and knees was a welcome escape from the numb, fearless person she'd been a second ago. Christine was a careful person. She didn't take risks. Her papa had taught her how to consider every decision, every outcome. It was evident in the way they meticulously counted coupons, why they used the car as little as possible and walked instead. They weren't adventurous. They couldn't afford to be.

Her papa ran over, helping her brush off the mulch, scolding her and checking her for injuries. She never doubted that he cared for her but, when she got older, she understood that a hospital bill would have crippled them.

She was careful. She didn't take risks.

When she was 16, she got her license. Her papa taught her to drive on old country roads. Her birthday gift was a full tank of gas and her first solo drive. Driving along those same country roads, she felt that little whisper, urging her to go faster. She rolled down the windows and pushed down on the pedal. Wind whipped her hair and she laughed and laughed, feeling that freedom she hadn't tasted in so many years.

As she grew up, she learned not to listen to the impulsive little voice and the thrill that sparked low in her belly. There were a few times it won out; the first time she kissed a boy; the time she let her best friend, Cecile pierce her ears; or the first(and last) time she shoplifted.

But she learned how to ignore the voice. To do the right thing. The safe thing.

That's why she decided to tell her mysterious vent friend that no, she could not marry him.

She knew he'd understand. They were barely more than strangers. It would be crazy for her to say yes. What if they hated each other? What if he was some sort of psycho? What if he was a hoarder who lived in a house full of newspapers and cat food? What if he hoarded cats? No, there were too many what ifs. She'd be insane to even consider it.

All day, she practiced what she would say. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I must decline" she said to her reflection while attempting to tame her unruly curls. "It's a kind offer, a great offer even, but I cannot accept."

A tiny part of her feared that he wouldn't actually understand. She was a single woman about to meet a man she barely knew and reject him. What if he didn't take it well?

Her father had a little knife he'd carried with him when he was younger that had been retired to the nightstand years ago. She tucked it into her purse, feeling slightly safer.

It was a blessedly nice day so she walked to the restaurant, her rehearsed words repeating like a mantra in her head. The hostess informed her that no one named Erik had arrived yet so she took a table and ordered a glass of water, starting to sweat a little bit.

Maybe she'd get lucky and he wouldn't show.

She was glancing over the menu, trying to decide what she'd get when a man walked in and she just knew it was Erik.

As he sat down opposite her, she mentally ran through all the reasons she had to say no one more time. He could be a psychopath. He could be mean. He might like cats a little too much. He could have a secret attic wife that will try to murder me in my sleep.

But the little voice whispered to her. "Say yes…"

She couldn't look away from Erik, the voice ringing in her ears as all the words she'd practiced fell away. "Say yes."

"Yes." she echoed. "I will marry you."

Erik knew he was gaping but there were too many thoughts running through his head and shut your damn mouth wasn't one of them.

"You… You will?"

She nodded again, and he saw the briefest moment of uncertainty flash across her pretty face and then it was gone and she offered him another nervous smile. "We… We need to talk about it a little more. About the living arrangement and marital… stuff."

"Of course!" He cleared his throat. "You'll have your own set of rooms in the house. I won't enter them without your permission and they're yours to do as you please with. I'll give you the finds to furnish them however you want. I don't expect any… wifely duties from you, if you're worried about that."

Christine looked relieved, relaxing slightly. "What would be expected of me?"

"You'll run any errands I require, prepare meals, and keep up with the housework."

"Is that all?"

"At the present, that's all I can imagine I'd need from you."

She nodded. "That just… doesn't seem like a lot. You're giving me so much in return."

"It's worth it, to me." He smiled slightly. "I'd rather have you there than rely on a total stranger, and I'm happy to help your situation."

The waitress came by and they both ordered. He noticed that she chose one of the plainest and cheapest things on the menu but he kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to embarrass her. But, given that brief moment to really take her in, he realized that her dress, while pressed, was faded and missing a button at the collar. He remembered what she'd said, that she hadn't any money. A small part of him thrilled at the idea of spoiling her financially, of dressing her up in nice things and expensive jewelry. If she was going to be his wife, she would be well looked after.

He was broken out of his thoughts when the waitress turned to him, giving him an odd smile as her eyes landed on his mask. "Nothing for me, thank you." She hesitated before nodding and leaving to put Christine's order in. Erik didn't like the way the mask moved against his lip when he ate and he certainly didn't want his future wife to get a glimpse of the horror beneath. By some stroke of luck, she'd agreed to marry him and he wasn't about to jeopardize that.

"I'll need your phone number. I'll take care of the necessary arrangements but you'll need to sign some papers and of course, we'll need to plan a date to move your things over."

Christine looked down at the table. "I don't have a phone."

"Not even a home phone?"

"No."

Erik frowned. Cell phones were growing in popularity, but to not even have a landline? How did one function in the modern world?

"That's alright." She looked up and he offered her a reassuring smile. "My cell was lost in the crash." He checked his watch. "I can arrange for my friend to bring you a new phone in the morning."

"Oh no, I couldn't let you-"

Erik held up his hand. "Yes, you can. We need to be able to communicate, Christine. Just give me your address and I'll take care of it. You're marrying me for my money, allow me to spend some on you."

She looked a little uncomfortable but she gave in, scribbling her address onto a napkin. He tucked it into his pocket.

"How soon will we be married?"

"As soon as I can get the paperwork filed. Since this is just an arrangement, we don't need a ceremony. Just a few signatures and someone at city hall saying "I now pronounce you" is enough, don't you think?"

She nodded but he knew something was still troubling her.

"Christine… you can get out of this arrangement any time you please. No questions asked. As easy as it is to sign a paper and be wed, it's just as easy to undo." Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true, but she didn't need to know that. It wasn't as if he'd force her to go through a messy divorce.

Her food arrived and she glanced down at it, then back to him. "I feel weird being the only one eating."

"I'll leave you to eat in peace. I can go home and start looking into what we'll need." He started to rise but her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"I didn't mean for you to go! I just… Share it with me. Please?" She held up half her grilled cheese sandwich and he slowly sat back down, taking it from her. She smiled, the first genuine smile she'd given him all evening.

He ate carefully, taking small bites and chewing slowly, trying not to disturb the mask. Christine seemed to finally relax and open up, chatting idly with him as they ate. She told him a little about her past, how they'd only been in the town for a few years and it was the longest they'd ever stayed in one place. He felt as though they'd recaptured what they'd found when they could only communicate through vents.

They talked long after the sandwich was gone. Erik insisted on treating her to a milkshake as well and she agreed, as long as he got one too. When they finally walked out together, smiling and parting with a quick hug, Erik could almost pretend that they'd just been on a date.