It had been about a month since her deal with Falcone, and since then, she had received multiple threats from Maroni. She often would ask one of Falcone's men to retrieve groceries for her, or she would have someone accompany her because of the worry of a hit being placed upon her. On this particular day, she decided to go out on her own. If he wanted her dead so badly, then he could kill her. She strolled through the open farmer's market, her mind sharp with paranoia. She managed to find a few good deals, and soon her cart was full. It was a tall bin looking contraption that she could wheel behind her. She didn't remember where she had purchased it from, but it was well worth the money.
She stopped at a flower shop on her way back to her home, and she picked out a bouquet with a bright variation of colors. After getting home she quickly snipped the stems of the flowers and put them in a vase on her table. She worked quickly to put her groceries away, leaving out only the ingredients she needed for dinner. She didn't realize how long she had been gone until the sun was beginning to set behind the horizon outside of her window. Tonight she decided to make a simple stew. She began by making a broth before cutting the vegetables. After a few clacks of the knife striking the cutting board, she decided to play some music. She turned it to a random classical station and continued her work. She handled each vegetable with care, and spent her time cutting them lazily. She wanted to enjoy the different scents that they filled her air with. It was a way of relaxing as the music faded in with the scents, causing her to drift to and fro in her memories.
Zsasz stood silently watching her through the door way of her kitchen. He wondered how long it would take for her to realize his presence, his eyes tracing her every move. He had been following her since she had left earlier that afternoon, and it surprised him that she didn't notice him at all throughout the day. He had gone right past her as she admired flowers at the outdoor floral shop, slowing only to briefly smell her hair. She had switched shampoos. She intrigued him in a sense he didn't quite fully understand, but he somehow enjoyed it. She would eventually crack one day, and he would win their game.
He watched as she took a spoon from a drawer to dip it into the stew. She blew some of the heat away carefully before taking a bite. She tilted her head to the side as her tongue trailed over her bottom lip to catch a drop that had missed her mouth. She stayed still for a moment as she took the flavor in. "Oh! Garlic." She finally decided. She moved towards her counter, and her delicate hands retrieved a bulb from its netted bag. After thinly dicing a section she sprinkled it into the stew and stirred it in. Zsasz had taken a few steps into the kitchen and decided to finally sit down. He could have snapped her neck by now if he wanted to.
His nimble fingers reached out to touch some of the petals on the closest flower to him. He never understood the significance of giving flowers to other people, not even when he would purchase them for his own mother. She was always so delighted to have them, but why was she? They simply died shortly after, and he felt they were a waste. How can you express love through something that simply dies? Hestia had removed a bowl from a cupboard before she turned. The glass shattered on the floor round her feet as she met Zsasz's gaze. "I uh…didn't even see you there." She quickly moved to begin picking up the pieces, and soon his feet were close to her. He knelt down to take the pieces from her hands and she just continued to stare at the floor. She stayed this way as he picked up the bigger pieces of glass.
"You should be more aware of your surroundings. You've made a fair share of enemies by working with Don Falcone." He straightened up and walked towards her sink. One of his hands reached down and opened the door under her sink. He tossed the glass into the trashcan as she grabbed a broom to clean up the smaller pieces of glass.
Hestia didn't acknowledge this at first. She didn't understand why he would care, even if he had been around a lot more than usual. She quickly disposed of the rest of the mess before returning the broom and dust pan to their homes. She made her way to the sink to wash her hands, and soon the goosebumps tickled her skin as Zsasz's abdomen pressed lightly against hers. He moved his hands into the water to wet them before pumping soap onto his hands. He smiled to himself as he felt her stiffen up against him. He had been slowly introducing more of this behavior towards her to simply get some sort of rise from her. Sometimes she just stayed as she was, and other times she would slink away from him.
Her hands had worked their way into his as she examined the scar she left from their second encounter. She carefully moved water over their hands to remove the suds before reaching up to turn off the water. She waited for him to move away, but his warmth continued to spread against her back. "Mr.—"
"Victor." He simply stated.
"V-v-ictor. My dinner is going to burn." She carefully pleaded. He could feel her breathing quicken against him, and he waited one more moment before leaning down until his face hovered close to her ear.
"May I stay for dinner?"
The whisper caused her to jump and maneuver away from him. She moved back to her cupboard and removed two bowls before placing them on the table top. She avoided his gaze as she took a pot holder and placed it in between the two bowls. Her hands worked quickly to move the stew pot to the table and she rested it upon the fabric she had placed down. After setting the table with a few other components such as utensils, water glasses, and bread, she took her seat carefully and dished out some of the stew to herself. Victor filled his bowl in a similar manner before one of his hands pushed the vase of flowers out of the way. His stare burned down the table towards her, her hand moving her spoon absentmindedly through her stew. "Why Victor?"
He had just finished taking a bite as she asked this question. He worked the food through his mouth before swallowing. "I think that since I call you Hestia, you should be able to call me Victor. That is what coworkers tend to do, right?" He lowered his head to take another bite. She stared at him in a wave of confusion. He was typically to the point with her, and while they had a few in depth discussions, he usually just showed up to take her inventory lists and check to make sure that she was following Falcone's guidelines. He was really hard for her to understand most of the time, since his feelings often seemed displaced. She would sometimes tell him jokes, but she was rarely met with even so much as a smile. Sometimes he was short and angry in their discussions, other times he was aloof, and even still he had his polite and pleasant moments of discussion.
"I suppose they do…how has work been? Since we are speaking as coworkers now." Her voice was distant and distracted as her eyes carefully took in his appearance. He was never disheveled, even in his line of work, but today she noticed a very small, single stain on his earthy suit. Even Victor Zsasz was human she decided in the back of her mind as she continued to watch the way his jaw moved when he ate, the way that his face was so relaxed, leaving her without any indication to his possible answer.
He seemed to mull the question over, but all he was doing was taking his time relishing his work as of late. His deep earthy pools followed her movements as she stood to hang her apron on its hook before shrugging off her hoodie. He considered this gesture, as she rarely removed any article of clothing than her doctor's coat whenever he was around. The heat from the stove must be getting to her. She sat back in her seat in a nonprofessional manner. One leg bent to allow her to sit upon its foot, and she continued eating. Her tank top was fading, but he could make out Gotham University flowing across her chest. "It's been fine. I can assume you are busy because your inventory orders have been larger than they originally used to be."
She simply nodded as she took a sip of her water. This was their first time sharing a meal together, but to her it actually felt like a normal occurrence. She began to relax in his presence. If he wanted to kill her, she would already be dead. Unless he was toying with her. Either way, she enjoyed the company. Her classical music was starting to lose its conversational edge with her. He ate slower than her, and she wondered if he enjoyed it. He didn't seem too undernourished, but he could probably use a little bit healthier food choices. She finished her bowl and moved to the sink to rinse out the dish. She would wait for him to finish before she actually washed any of the dishes. She wasn't sure if the sound of the rushing water covered his steps, or if he was just that silent, but his touch almost caused her to break her bowl in the sink.
He had closed the space between them, his fingers slowly tracing over the splatters of scars peeking through the straps of her tank top. She froze as the warmth danced about, his fingers making their way over each scar. How could she be so careless? She turned off the water and shrugged away from his touch to reach for her hoodie. He stopped her by firmly grasping her wrist. "I have scars too." He let go only to roll up one of his sleeves. His pale skin was kissed with streaks of raised red scars. She reacted by simply gently tracing his.
"Yours are self-inflicted."
"Who gave you yours?"
Hestia began chewing her lip before snatching her hoodie off the chair. He noted that her entire demeanor changed. Her green eyes seemed to darken, and certain muscles had dipped her eyebrows down towards her nose. It was a question she was uncomfortable with, and this piqued his curiosity. She pulled the hoodie over her body to cover the scars and started to clear the table. His eyes didn't leave her as she continued to pack up the food from the table. He could feel the coldness that now emanated from her attitude, and he stood in place as she worked around him. The table cloth was removed and place in a hamper in the pantry, the table scrubbed after. The stove tops and counters received the same scrub down, as did the sink after she loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. She started the dishwasher and with that, she left the kitchen to head towards a different portion of the house. A simple dismissal echoed over her shoulder. "Goodnight Victor, you can see yourself out."
His nimble fingers adjusted the knob on her radio until the violins and pianos were brought to an abrupt halt. He would need to be able to hear which portion of the house she had journeyed to. He waited until he could hear her movements stop in a room down her hall. His prowess moved into action and soon he found her sitting on a daybed, her feet propped up and a book placed delicately between her fingertips. The daybed made little sound as his weight was sat slowly at the edge of it. He sat straight, his hands resting together, entwined, between his legs. The daybed was tall enough for his feet to plant to the ground, and he slowly rotated his head in each direction to crack his neck. A heavy gust came forth from Hestia's lips as the book in front of her closed with a thud. She pulled her legs up towards her chest as she sat up to give him more room. "Are you always so hard headed?"
Victor nodded slowly to her question. "Who gave you yours?" The question rolled from his mouth demandingly. He was curious since she obviously tried to hide it. He thought back to the folder. Did that sniveling Cobblepot hurt her in the past? He barely seemed like he could hurt a fly, let alone another human being. He was more of a mental attacker rather than physical. He hadn't forgotten that gaze she had given Cobblepot though. He recognized that gaze as he would often give it to people before he was who he truly was.
He could almost feel her brain racking itself trying to discover his true intentions. She had leaned closer in his direction before clearing her throat. "An ex of mine gave them to me." For the first time since he had known her, she seemed to actually shrink into herself, the defiance leaving her eyes, instead a genuine flash of fear took place. Her body language once again changed into more of a protective manner as her arms wrapped tighter around her legs, her face resting against one of her knees. She was rigid, her eyes hidden behind great distances from the plane of existence they were currently on.
The pair remained quiet for some time as the clock against the furthest wall ticked away loudly. Why did she have so many damn clocks? He snapped back to the present after trailing off to the ticking of the clock. He glanced to his side. "Why did he do that?"
Her shoulders raised as she inhaled the air around them. It was tinged in his scent, and she had never realized how comforting that smell was to her. "Doesn't matter now. He's dead."
"Did you kill him?"
"He died the same day my parents did."
This didn't answer his question, but he could tell he wouldn't be getting any more out of her about this subject. They once again sat in silence until the daybed creaked next to him. She had moved to rest herself on her knees, her palms resting against the tops of her thighs. He was confused by this movement as she just stared in his direction. "Why did you come here tonight? You already took my inventory two days ago." Why was he here? He didn't like being caught off guard, especially by this woman. A low rumble in his chest answered her at first. He knew that this wouldn't suffice, but he could at least buy a few more moments of silence. His fingers relaced themselves together as he pondered what would be the best course of action to handle this issue.
Hestia waited patiently, a few strands of her flamed locks framing her face lightly. He couldn't simply tell her that she intrigued him, but he couldn't tell her his visit was purely business. She gave him so many different reactions, always surprising him, and while he didn't care for surprises, he took pleasure in finding ways that he could provoke her. Her lips had curved up into a small smile before she moved once again to place her legs over the side of the bed. While his feet touched the ground, hers lingered over the carpet. She started to grow impatient with his silence, so she finally decided to break it. "Um, Victor…" she paused to consider her words carefully, "there is a new restaurant that is opening up downtown, and it is supposed to have really, well, good Italian food. Would you, I guess…Would you like to go with me? I mean we could just happen to bump into each other there I suppose, but it would be nice if we could just…you know."
She seemed to grow embarrassed as she rambled on, as he noticed the heat rushing to her cheeks. Her hands had started to wring themselves together in front of her, her voice becoming softer with each new sentence she sputtered in his direction. He wasn't expecting to be asked a question of this nature, especially not by her. He stayed silent as she continued her rant. "I am sorry, I shouldn't have asked. I mean, you probably don't even like Italian food, and you probably work a lot, and I work a lot. I just thought it would be nice to go on a da—"she paused abruptly before shaking her head, "It would be nice to have some company. I am sorry Victor."
One of his hands had moved towards her, and he caught the small wince she did at his hand approaching her. His index finger pressed gently against her lips to keep her from continuing. While he enjoyed it when she wasn't so sure of herself, this conversation was starting to make him feel strange. He hadn't been asked on an actual date, nor had he asked anyone else on a date for quite sometimes. Sure, he had his lady friends, but he didn't particularly date any of them. He removed his finger from her lips before resting his hand on her cheek. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, and he realized the power that he held over her in this moment. He gave her a mischievous half smile before allowing the words to pass from his lips. "Be ready at eight on the opening night, Hestia."
She was left in a whirlwind of shock as he left just as quickly and silently as he appeared. Maybe, just maybe, Victor Zsasz wasn't actually a human. Perhaps he was a ghost that haunted in her in her loneliness.
(Author's Note: I will be moving into the actual show time line in the next couple of chapters. I am trying to keep Zsasz in his character, but I am also playing off of some of his other portrayals. Let me know what you think, constructive criticism is more than welcome. Thank you for reading.)