CHAPTER 31

The Finnish man did vouch for Berwald, after all, and even promised to send the camera footage.

Alice convinced the Swedish gangster to give him a sample of his handwriting, and it was conveniently not what she was looking for. "Hey, sweetie." A pungent rush of alcohol flew into Alice's face. She whipped around and out of the strangers hold. A drunk man stood, or rather, swayed from behind her. "Are you-hiccup-French, hehe, 'cause, Madamn."

Alice felt her nose scrunch up in disgust, a quick comeback ready on her tongue. "No, I'm obviously English, because you're just not my cup of tea."

"Aw, babe, come on-belch-don't be like that…" The drunkard stuttered. "I-I thi-think I could make you very, very, very happy." He gave her a lecherous grin.

"Why? Are you leaving?"

"You're so beautiful, honey." The man tried one last time, anger growing. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Hiding from you, obviously."

The man's fist came towards her before she could do anything. Alice braced herself, bringing her arms up to protect her. But the blow never came. Her eyes flash open and suddenly that drunk man laid on the ground, groaning. Francis is standing next to her, looking furious and ready to kill something. To kill the drunk. It revved up a shiver of fear through Alice. Francis' arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him.

Another shiver ran through her, but it wasn't fear.

"Allons." He hissed, pulling her away from the nightclub, still keeping her close to him. As if he was trying to protect her from the world.

The angry Frenchman stormed on, walking too fast for Alice too keep up. "Frog…Francis…Francis, stop! Francis!" She yelled at Francis. Yanking herself away, she stared at him in concern. "Frog, are you okay?"

"Bien sûr, je ne suis pas d'accord! Il mit ses mains sales sur vous et il a essayé de vous blesser!" He hissed at her, indigo eyes livid. "Le bâtard essayé de vous blesser."

"Hey, hey, écouter." Alice whispered, putting her hand in his. She didn't even notice; it was just her natural reaction to reach out to him. "Je vais bien, vois? Je vais bien. Tu m'as sauvé. Merci, Francis."

That seemed to calm him down. His shoulders relaxed and the hatred in his eyes softened. "But what if I wasn't zere?" Francis stared down at their joined hands. He squeezed a little. "What would've happened if I wasn't wiz you?"

Alice decided that saying that she probably would've taken a punch or two before knocking out the drunk man with his own vodka bottle wasn't a good thing to say at that moment. "I don't have to worry about that." The words flew from her mouth before she could stop them, "You're always by my side."

She watched the bright red blush sizzle over the Frenchman's face for a moment before she processed what she'd blurted out. "I-I-I j-just me-mean that you-your m-my assistant, so-so of course you'd be with me." Alice tried to cover up her mistake, blushing furiously.

"I'm not your assistant, now." Francis reminded her softly, his blush had faded slightly.

She forgot her embarrassment for a moment and looked up at him curiously. "Then why are you…?"

A soft smile spread over his face. A soft, slender hand cupped Alice's cheek and she found herself unintentionally leaning into it. God, she wasn't any better than a silly schoolgirl. "Because I want to be here. With you." Francis' words sent jolts through her.

And then, slowly, they began to lean in.

Francis smelled like lavender, Alice dully noted on the side, like lavender and vanilla and that Distinctly-Francis smell. His lips, soft and smooth, brushed hers. Alice pushed herself forward-

Ring...Ring...Ring!

Francis shot back, in surprise. "A-Ah, yes?" A frown crossed his face. "Now?... Fine, I understand." He looked back at Alice, shyly. "It's Matthew's babysitter… She says zat zere's been a change in plans and she needs me to come home sooner zan usual."

"I…I understand. You should get home to your boy. And I need to go back to my apartment." Alice stuttered, lips still tingling from the almost kiss.

"Come home wiz me."

"W-What?"

"Come home wiz me, Alice." Francis repeated. "It's not safe for you to be by yourself. Not wiz some crazy ass psycho murderer. I don't care if I get fired, it'll be worz ze risk."

Alice paused. She was lonely. So, damn, fucking lonely. But she couldn't. She refused to put Francis and Matthew in the position to be a target for the killer. Alice would deal with it, even if it killed her in the end. "No, thank you." She managed a smile, but it was painful. "I'll be fine."

Translations:

Allons = Come.

Bien sûr, je ne suis pas d'accord! Il mit ses mains sales sur vous et il a essayé de vous blesser! = Of course, I'm not okay! He put his filthy hands on you and he tried to hurt you!

Le bâtard essayé de vous blesser. = The bastard tried to hurt you.

Hey, hey, écouter. = Hey, hey, listen.

Je vais bien, vois? Je vais bien. Tu m'as sauvé. Merci, Francis. = I'm fine, see? I'm fine. You saved me. Thank you, Francis.