Jill Valentine was standing in the shower under stream of hot water. Dense steam filled the entire space around, reducing the opportunity to see anything even at a short distance. Jill loved hot water, it relaxed her. She put her tired body under it and enjoyed every moment. A little later, she will turn on cold water, which will give her cheerfulness and refresh, but this is later. She allowed herself to bask a little for now. Throwing her head back, she gently massaged the skin on her neck, inhaling deeply. Besides the aromas of shower gel and shampoo, she could catch the delicious scent of fried eggs and bacon, mixed with the flavor of coffee, filling her lungs. Excellent.
Jill liked it when Wesker stayed at her's. She loved these almost family feelings of comfort and serenity that joint awakenings gave her, feelings that she rarely felt in her life.
Getting out of the shower, Jill felt herself airily and carefree. Taking a fluffy white towel from the hanger, she gently dabbed the moisture from her body. The second towel, slightly larger, she wrapped around herself. With a quick movement of her hand, Jill wiped the glass and glancing briefly at her flushed face went to the door, in anticipation of the picture that would unfold before her eyes.
What could be better than Captain Albert Wesker, calm, cold and confident, preparing breakfast for her? As she approached the kitchen, the scents of coffee and fried eggs became more intense, and her stomach began to dance a festive rumba. She never made herself breakfast, most often she just didn't have time to do it. Jill preferred to lie around in bed longer, allowing herself to fully wake up, then she quickly jumped off, tidied herself up and ran to work. Occasionally, she drank a cup of instant coffee, although much more often coffee was drunk already at work, on the go and without any pleasure. Coffee was taken from a vending machine on the ground floor of the station, and finished before she entered the office. After the incident when Chris brought coffee and donuts to all his colleagues, stumbled and drenched several stacks of papers on which they had been working as a whole team for a week, Wesker began not to welcome food in the office.
The blonde's attitude to breakfast though, at least to her breakfast was the exact opposite. He didn't like the carelessness with which she treated her health. He used to told her that breakfast is essential, if she wants to preserve her strength for intensive work, like theirs, during the day. Every time they were together, he cooked for her, and, it must be said, cooked perfectly. Damn, she could get used to it!
It has become a habitual ritual for Jill now. She enjoyed the way he inadvertently woke her up every time, since he got up much earlier, although he behaved as quietly as possible. She liked to be able to devote more time to herself: bask in bed, take a long contrast shower, have breakfast. Something she never did when she was alone. She loved their short nice small talks in the kitchen before he left.
But this is now. On their first morning together, everything was completely different for her. She still remembered that trepidation and uncertainty, the expectation that everything would go awkwardly and extremely disappointing. She believed that this would be an event in her life, that leaving a bittersweet aftertaste, a mixture of confidence in her yesterday's decision and at the same time the strongest regret.
It all happened quite suddenly, becoming a complete surprise for her, albeit a welcome one. Her forgetfulness: she left her pass at the S.T.A.R.S. office. The attentiveness of her captain, and his foresight: she could easily be late for work, and later get a reprimand from Irons for carelessness, which would cause unnecessary trouble and for Wesker himself. Repair of the road leading to her house, preventing the car from driving directly to the entrance. Heavy downpour. The components that were enough to make everything that happened became possible. And also her desire, of course.
Jill had been dreaming about this for a long time, but she didn't dare even in her thoughts permit the possibility that it would become a reality someday. He seemed too unapproachable and unattainable, he was her captain, and she always strived to be the best at her job, which she valued very much. There were too many factors that stood in the way of her desires.
However, she just couldn't let him go when he stood in the doorway with her pass in his hand, soaked to the skin, with raindrops running down his face. She couldn't help but offer him some hot drink. And couldn't help but insisting when he refused and was about to leave. His wet look fascinated her, there was something special about him, he seemed softer and more vulnerable, but he managed to maintain pride, elegance and serenity in his image. He dominated the element, towered over, it didn't have enough strength to break him. He didn't seem to be bothered at all by the wet clothes or the trickles of water running down from his hair onto his face. Jill followed the drops, and her gaze involuntarily turned to his lips over and over again. She wanted to collect this moisture with her own lips and from the very thought, its allure and absolute irrelevance, Jill's head was spinning and her legs weakened.
He had already turned away from her and put his hand on the doorknob, ready to go outside, when she called out to him, grabbing for one last chance to stop him. She didn't even know why herself. He turned to his name, his short "yes?" made it obvious to her that he wouldn't stay, and it was completely useless to talk about his wet clothes or that he might catch a cold or come up with other nonsense hiding the real reason why she wanted him here.
Jill always was able to act decisively when it was necessary. A couple of steps forward to get almost closely to him. A short glance at his hand still resting on the doorknob, as a reminder to her that he hasn't abandoned his intention and she has only one chance, one attempt to stop him, and she can't be mistaken. It was necessary to choose the right tactics, not to miss the opportunity by thinking too long. This is all that will remain for her, if he leaves - to reflect. To think about what she did wrong, why she couldn't hold on him and, most importantly, why she decided to try to do something like this at all. No, she didn't want to be stewed in her own thoughts, there was no time for reflection. She thanked him again, said that it was absolutely unnecessary for him to do this, and especially in this weather. A quiet voice and not a word about her forgetfulness, she didn't plan to cause a feeling of pity. No, she was a predator now, and she was hunting. On him. He got, most likely, an unusual role for him, the role of prey. His banal, formal, colorless reply that this wasn't a problem. And a fractions of a second to start acting, before he has time, still emotionless, to wish a good evening and turn around.
It was an innocent, grateful kiss. He didn't pull away, didn't flinch, as if he was ready for any surprises, but he didn't answer either. Her lips lingered on his for longer than it was permissible to still be able to present it all as gratitude, albeit extremely inappropriate. The left hand slid around his neck. She didn't want to take the risk of pulling back and face to face with him. No, she didn't want to give an explanation, at least not right now. She planned to bury herself in him, hide, waiting out a possible storm. What an unacceptable insolence and an unforgivable mistake, which tomorrow she will be madly sorry for. Or maybe even today, when he is convinced of her intentions, he will put her in a more embarrassing position, where it will be impossible to retreat and laugh off, and leave her alone, like a beaten dog, afraid of the consequences of her crime.
However, he still didn't push her aside, although didn't show the initiative. She didn't mind taking the initiative in her own hands, or rather continuing to be a leader, she even liked it. She was playing with fire, the consequences could be the most unpredictable, and this made the situation more dangerous and attractive for her. She explored his lips with hers, the second hand followed the first, she run her fingers through his wet hair, pressed against his drenched cold clothes and this only made her turn on more. He remained indifferent and aloof, and she kept waiting for him to flung her away. But until he didn't, she acted, deepening the kiss.
Carried away, Jill didn't even notice at what moment he seized the initiative, at what moment the prey turned into a predator, and much more dangerous. She couldn't tell for sure at what moment she was pressed against the wall, or at what moment her clothes half left her body, or when his kisses became greedy and insistent. It was no longer she who was playing with him, it was he who was drinking her without a trace, enjoying his victory and his superiority. She didn't mind giving up the role of leader, getting no less pleasure from the role of prey, refusing only one thing, to let go of his neck and head, as if afraid that if she did, if she let him look into her eyes, he would immediately slip away. She didn't remember at what moment they were in her bedroom, at what moment he laid her on the bed, covering her with his body. She didn't see much, clinging to the collar of his shirt, letting her fingers occupy his hair, burying her face in the area of his collarbone and clutching to his shoulders. She grabbed at him, aspired to pull him as close to her as possible, to hold him tightly, not allowing him to pull away, as if she was hiding in him from the inevitable consequences of this action.
Jill never was able to sleep this night. Lying in bed, only pretending to be asleep, she thought about what would follow after all this. Such sudden incursions without a declaration of war were always doomed to failure, and she understand it perfectly well. Impulsive actions that put everyone who succumbed to feelings and desires in a difficult situation. And after that comes disappointment, anger and hatred for someone who dared to disrupt the usual course of things. Did she regret what she had done? Absolutely not. But a crime, no matter how sweet it was, is followed by punishment, and Jill was preparing for the worst options.
He didn't leave right away, which was already a good thing. But she assumed that he was too exhausted to sort things out until the morning. He's had too much of a hard day. Could this mean that this situation was desirable for him as well? Of course not, he had resisted her for too long, tried to remain steadfast for too long. Would a man behave like this if this intimacy was his long-standing desire? But he didn't push her away either. Maybe he wanted to make sure of her intentions, to give her a chance to change her mind before starting to act himself. No, she needed to be realistic, rather, he was just giving her a chance to come to her senses, but he himself couldn't resist the temptation, even if it was absolutely not a part of his plans at all. Although he was still here, and although it gave her a relief, it also complicated her life, because inevitably led to what would happen tomorrow. To meet him face to face after everything that happened, when their emotions finally settle down.
She felt that he was near. Tried to hardly breathe and not move, so as not to wake him up. His quiet, almost inaudible even breathing. Just the calm before the storm for her.
Jill was pondering what she would do tomorrow. She will say hello to him, and he will just get dressed, give her a contemptuous look and leave without saying a word. No, he would probably tell her to keep her mouth shut and not dare to tell anyone about their accidental rendezvous. Will he slip out quietly, like a criminal, if she pretends to sleep or just doesn't say a word? Will he continue the wordless torture that began last night, not giving her the opportunity to even guess what he himself feels and thinks about all this? Or will he rudely wake her up, along with a demand not to disclose their secrets, emphasizing that this will never happen again and she should be reasonable and forget about everything if she wants to continue working where she works now?
The body was covered with a sticky cold sweat, she was beginning to shiver. Her body screamed and begged to snuggle up to him to calm down, but she no longer listened to her instincts, her mind, which had so limply yielded to passion yesterday, now took the leadership into its own hands. Where were you yesterday?
She was afraid to look at the watch, feeling that the dawn was approaching closer and closer, scrolled through thousands of versions of their morning in her head, decided what she should say, how to respond to one or another of his barbs or verbal attacks. It will not be easier for her if he leaves silently, because it won't be long before she has to face him at work, surrounded by other guys, and it will be no less painful. To be embarrassed by his and her own views, hide the truth from others and to be afraid that everything will be figured out. She didn't know how to get out of this situation. She wanted to run away, just leave him in her apartment, but this will not solve the problem, it will not change the need to see him at work indifferent and disappointed with her, remembering him completely different, in a completely different position and with other emotions. This will not rescue from unpleasant conversations either. Besides, what if he was a light sleeper? She didn't want to be caught standing in the middle of the room with a pile of clothes in her hands.
It was as if she was preparing for an execution, a public humiliation, but she knew that she still had time. It wasn't even start getting light outside. Suddenly she felt a movement next to her, he woke up. Jill froze like a frightened animal crocked in its own burrow. Where was the predator that so mercilessly hunted down and tore its prey to pieces last night? Jill wouldn't mind him coming back, she wanted to feel confident in her actions and decisions again. But the predator was asleep.
She hoped that it wasn't she who woken him up and that he doesn't guess that she wasn't asleep. Jill held her breath, trying not to give herself away, waiting as if in ambush for what would happen next. Tactics. Sometimes it is better to wait out, sit out the danger, rather than rush to the embrasure in order to eventually win. With only one caveat: there was no chance of winning for her, not this time.
Wesker acted quickly and as quietly as possible. He found his clothes and dressed without turning on the light, and then noiseless left the room, closing the door behind him. Well, apparently he chose this option, leave without unnecessary explanations, leaving all conversations for a later time, giving it the opportunity to settle down. Probably, he needed to think through what he planned to do with her. Perhaps he was also awake and pondered this question, and when he made a decision, he got up and left. The fear that he can transfer her to Bravo or even expel her from S.T.A.R.S. for any mistake, maybe even invented by himself, made the situation even more cruel for her. She hadn't thought about this scenario before.
Jill didn't hear the front door close. He probably left it open so as not to wake her up and run into her earlier than he had planned. Did he think that she was so lacking in pride and self-esteem, that she would run after him if she heard that he was leaving? However, after yesterday, she wouldn't be surprised if he made that, quite fair conclusion.
The brunette exhaled, finally she was alone and could take a little breath after an emotionally intense night for her. She could look at the clock now, so she stretched out her hand to the alarm clock. Half past five in the morning. So early. Does he always get up this early, or was he just in a hurry to get out of here as quickly as possible? Disappointment, resentment, awkwardness. She was not even worthy of a scandal and a showdown. Well. She didn't regret it anyway. The sweeter the prize, the higher the price.
Jill tossed and turned, hoping to at least get some sleep, but quickly realized that there were too many thoughts in her head. Feeling completely exhausted, she swung her legs off the bed and, without bothering to put on a robe, went to the bathroom. She didn't look too blooming. Silently shaking her head at her reflection in the mirror, she got into the shower, hoping that this would help at least a little clear her head of the thoughts that had arranged a forum in it. She wanted to cry from despair and hopelessness, from sorrow and the insolubility of the situation. With all options she couldn't get everything she wanted, even in her wildest fantasies. Now she has only made the situation more difficult for herself. He will completely distance himself from her after that, and when you know what you are losing, it turns out to be much more painfully to lose. But there was not a single tear in her eyes, Jill wasn't one of those people who fall apart when faced with difficulties. Maybe she wanted to cry, but she definitely wasn't going to do it.
The shower was not long, it didn't help, but only intensified the desire to think and was completely unable to relax her. She dried herself hastily and found short shorts and a T-shirt in the laundry basket. She needs coffee. Dropping her shoulders and feeling as if she was dragging a heavy weight behind her, Jill headed towards the kitchen, where there was a life-saving drink. She noted to herself that one of the neighbors, obviously, couldn't sleep also and had already started preparing breakfast. Breakfast, just the thought of food made her feel sick. However, the further she moved, the more tense she felt. Something was wrong. Smell, extraneous noise. There weren't neighbors. She wasn't alone. She might have thought that someone had entered the apartment taking advantage of the fact that Wesker hadn't closed the door, and she had completely forgotten about it herself, but it was unlikely that a stranger would have gone to the kitchen and started cooking.
Jill didn't hesitate, with all the determination she went to the kitchen, wanting to unravel the mystery of the uninvited guest. Opening the door, Jill stopped dead in her tracks. Of course, this would be the most logical answer, but also the most unlikely. She would rather have believed that her great-aunt, whom she hadn't seen for several years, had come to visit her and, seeing that the door was open, didn't wake her up and began to cook.
The picture that appeared before Jill struck her much more. Albert Wesker was standing by the stove with a spatula in his hand and turning a pancake. Next to the frying pan on the stove was a Turkish coffee pot, which apparently had coffee in it. Jill stared at the scene in silence with wide eyes, blinking furiously, as if hoping that this would help to dispel the strange vision. The thought flashed through her mind, if she had hit the head in the shower, or maybe she fell asleep after all and now sees such strange fantasy dreams. Wasn't everything that was happening since yesterday a ridiculous wishful thinking dream?
Hearing the door open, Wesker turned and a shadow of a smile flickered on his face.
"Jill. Sorry, I must have woken you up." he turned his gaze to the pan, pouring another portion of batter on it. "You know, I need come to work earlier than the others to prepare materials for the briefing. Besides, Irons asked to come in, wanted to talk about something. And I" he pointed to his clothes, "need to change, yesterday's downpour deprived these clothes of even the slightest opportunity to be used for the second day in a row".
He spoke so calmly and casually, as if they were in the office and he was explaining what training sessions the S.T.A.R.S. were going to have today. The voice, as always, is velvety and purring. His head turned in her direction again, apparently he was expecting at least some reaction from her. Well, if he decided to choose this path, to behave as if nothing had happened and all this was in the order of things, maybe it's for the best. Maybe this is the only wise option to get out of this situation with the least losses for both. But everything that was happening still seemed somehow ephemeral and completely unreal. Trying with all her might to find the right words, she was able to squeeze out only a indecisive and confused "you...". She didn't know herself if it was a question or the beginning of a sentence that she couldn't finish.
"Did you expect someone else?" Wesker smirked. He was without shades and she could see a twinkle in his eyes. He seemed amused by her confusion.
She allowed herself quick surveyed him from head to toe. He looked the same as usual, albeit a little differently. The hair wasn't styled so perfectly, the top buttons of the shirt were unbuttoned, the clothes were a little rumpled. A slight negligence gave him even more charm and cosiness. Jill shook her head, she'd learned that lesson already, she shouldn't have let his appearance fascinate her, and she certainly shouldn't have succumbed to her instincts again.
It was ridiculous to keep standing in the doorway, and Jill walked forward, coming closer to him, but keeping the distance.
"You didn't wake me up." She decided to ignore his remark, pretending to continue her thought. "Just wanted to get up early to take a shower calmly. Are you cooking?" She put all the strength of her surprise into the last question, trying to show him that this situation doesn't seem normal to her and is certainly tensing. She wanted to set the record straight. Here and now, not to play these strange games.
"Sure i am. Breakfast is the most important part of the day, which, I believe, you often miss." Jill noticed with surprise that he straightened the arm closest to her and move it a little behind his back, obviously thus inviting her to come to him. She did. A little hesitantly, waiting for the continuation.
"That coffee you drink almost every morning and donuts occasionally borrowed from Marvin is definitely not the breakfast option that suits a special forces soldier."
Did he notice even that? Jill never stopped being amazed, one oddity followed by another. She felt his arm wrap around her waist, gently pulling her to him and she noticed that he turned slightly to her, proffering his cheek, continuing to look at the stove. Did he expect her to ... kiss him? Well, she had to go with the flow, so as not to make things even more complicated, so Jill raised herself up on the tips of her toes and reached out to kiss him on the cheek. But at the moment when her head was close to his, he turned and without waiting for her permission kissed her on the lips. It was a gentle and soft morning kiss of two lovers who spent a wonderful night together. There was no rigidity, desire to take revenge or demonstrate power and superiority. There was no feeling that everything that happened yesterday was an absolute accident and a fatal mistake of two people who succumbed to a momentary passion and regretting what happened. It was as if they had been together for a long time and it was completely normal and natural. She couldn't believe it, it was some kind of trap that she risked falling into.
He was still talking about breakfast and her habits, but Jill was half-listening, too overwhelmed by what was happening. She slipped out of his arms and, resting her back against the countertop, silently watched as he washed the pan and the bowl in which the batter was. Only now she remembered that she was practically not dressed and felt herself uncomfortable. It was yesterday she was a wild fury, but today... Jill crossed her arms over her chest, subconsciously striving at least slightly to cover up herself, despite everything she allowed him, or rather demand, to do to her this night.
He continued act like a host at her kitchen: opened the cupboard and took out a plate and a cup from there. Then filled the cup with coffee and put some pancakes, pouring them with maple syrup, which he got from nowhere. Jill didn't remember herself that she had something like this in her house.
Despite all his actions, she still couldn't believe that he was acting in all seriousness. Probably, he wanted to finish this date nice, on a positive note, but then never come back to it again. A one-night stand, random hookup, about which trying forget immediately. And damn it, Jill didn't like it. How she would continue to work with him after all this.
He was setting the table: laid out the cutlery, rearranged the plates of food. She noticed that he was serving the table for one. So what, was this his thanks for the night? Jill felt herself even more terrible than before.
"This night..." she began, expecting him to catch up the topic and take the opportunity to suggest to forget about everything. But she wanted to bring this up, don't make the guess, but to hear it from him.
"Yes, it was quite unexpected" he continued casually, then straightened up, turned and walked in her direction. "I know."
That's all he said about it, and he sounded like it he, who was the initiator. She understood what he was doing: take control in his hands, demonstrate that he was in charge of the situation and decide for himself what would follow next. She was still standing in a closed pose, but it didn't seem to bother him at all, his arms wrapped around her waist again and he bent over her, kissing her once more, this time a little more intensely and roughly.
He pulled back a little and raised his hand to glance at his watch. Then he looked at her again, frowning slightly.
"Are you cold?"
He asked it in his manner, coolness and dispassionately, but she could feel care in his voice and surprise, it was really warm in the kitchen. Jill couldn't remember ever feeling such attention to her person, at least not lately. She wanted to believe in everything that was happening, she wanted believed that he wanted all this too, to let go of her doubts, and surrender to the feelings of comfort and coziness that was broking through them. She lowered her eyes in embarrassment, and then looked back at him slightly from under her brow. She didn't want to tell him the truth, that it wasn't about the cold at all. This would destroy the atmosphere that he so unobtrusively created with his calmness and naturalness.
"A little."
"Then you should put something on. I have to run already. Don't forget the breakfast."
The last phrases sounded like commands, and Jill could hear her captain giving orders in it already. She swallowed. Her bright blue eyes were fixed on him, and she didn't even know what he could read in them, because she didn't know herself what was going on in her head right now. He calmly looked into her eyes, then stepped back a few steps, put on his sunglasses and went to the front door.
He left without even turning in her direction, already in his thoughts, focused and serious. Should she have stopped him, should she have tried to find out what he thought about what had happened and what it would mean for them now? Did he want to remind her to keep quiet and would he whether decide to transfer her? No, she'd had enough for today.
For a few moments she stood motionless, trying to comprehend what had happened. Then, as if waking from a dream, she slowly walked over to the set table and sat down on a chair, examining the still life. The aroma was wonderful, the much-desired coffee was waiting for her in a cup, next to which there was cream. Although she was still completely unwilling to eat, Jill simply couldn't afford to ignore this breakfast. She took a sip of coffee from the cup, and then tasted a piece of pancake.
Jill wondered if there was something this man didn't know how to do or did poorly. Perfection in everything.
Now she was entering the kitchen with a completely different mood. Eyes quickly scanned him from head to toe, he was in combat uniform, they had exercises scheduled for today. She knew that he would leave even earlier than usual. A towel hung over his shoulder, which made his appearance so cozy and domestic that Jill took her breath away.
Quickly, on tiptoe, she came up to him and hugged him from behind, thin arms slipped under his arms and wrapped around his shoulders in front. She pressed her cheek against his back, enjoying the warmth of his body and the familiar, pleasant scent.
"Good morning" she said with a smile on her face.
He had already set the table and was cutting vegetables for a salad.
"Morning. Did you sleep well?" a calm and slightly casual answer from him.
"Mhm." she hummed affirmatively and tearing her head off his back, pulling him in her direction with displeasure. Wesker didn't succumb. So she raised herself up and kissed him on the cheek, closer to the neck. He was too tall and that was all she could reach from this position. He chuckled slightly, clearly enjoying her exactingness.
Jill released him and sat down on the countertop beside, watching him skillfully and professionally handle the knife.
"Are you going to torment us today?"
"Indeed. And especially disobedient ones will be punished."
Jill smiled playfully.
"Patrolling the streets until the end of the week."
Jill's smile briefly turned into a grimace of displeasure, but then it returned to its place. She turned and picked up the newspaper lying next to her. A quick inspection of the first page.
"Did you see him already? The new deputy mayor?"
"Not yet, but judging by the conversations, he is a rather peculiar character, however, his activities will not be of great importance for us."
"Mmm. I hope so. It doesn't look too encouraging. And the rumors about him are very ambiguous. What did Irons want from you yesterday?"
"And you want to know that?"
"Well, you can share with me if you want, you know that I won't tell anyone anything."
"I have another idea, much better."
Jill looked at him with interest, expecting another barb.
"I'll send you to him next time. Will kill two birds with one stone: your curiosity and my special love for these long conversations." he especially emphasized the word "love" to reinforce the sarcasm with which it was said.
"That's unfair," Jill laughed.
"Why not?" a wide smirk appeared on Wesker's face. Damn, Jill loved that smirk, she wanted to kiss that smug bastard so badly every time.
She didn't answer his question, referring it to rhetorical ones and changed the topic, telling a funny story about someone she used to know. She was laughing, and he continued to half smile, periodically raising his eyes to her and occasionally asking questions or clarifying details.
Such their meetings were not very frequent, unfortunately for Jill, but they were always wonderful.
He dressed the salad and took the towel off his shoulder.
"Leaving already?" Jill said in disappointment.
He slowly approached her and she spread her legs, allowing him to stand up closely, and then crossed the legs at the ankles, enclosing Wesker in a ring of her legs.
"It's time."
"But what about breakfast?" Jill asked with sadness and a slight hope in her voice. Her arms wrapped his neck while his slid to the sides of her thighs. She didn't believe that she could persuade him to stay, but she hoped.
"Don't worry, Jill. I think Irons will feed me with promises in full."
It was easy to guess the notes of contempt for the chief of police in his tone and equanimity, that was beginning to show. This made Jill even sadder. Wesker was turning back into the captain of S.T.A.R.S. again in front of her eyes, and although she liked him whichever he was: and domestic, and coldly professional, and even severe, the magic of the morning was melting, despite how close they were to each other.
"And this is said to me by a person who claims that breakfast is extremely important and scolds me when I have only coffee at morning." her gaze shifted to the cup with the leftover coffee that he had obviously drunk while cooking for her. "You, it seems, to feed only on it yourself." There was a mixture of dissatisfied and slyness in her voice. She was luring him, trying to delay the moment of their parting. Her hands stroked his neck, shoulders and head, gently pulling him to her.
He didn't comment on her remark in any way and didn't react to her caresses. However, Jill didn't expect anything else. Gently freeing himself from her embrace, he stepped aside, his face was a mask of calm, indifference and carelessness. An explosive combination.
"Meeting you at work" Wesker said shortly to her, heading towards the door. He took the car keys out of his pocket, put on his sunglasses, and, as always, went out the door without turning around.
Jill didn't mind, she also was turning into a daytime version of herself, and all her attention was already directed to the breakfast on the table. Jumping lightly off the countertop, Jill picked up the fork and began the meal without sitting down.
"Mmm, damn, Wesker, how delicious you cook after all!"