Political speeches are notorious for being absolutely meaningless and Edward Coulter had chosen not to break with this time-honored and respected tradition. His speech was littered with political jargon and indecipherable code words. Afterwards, several very eminent scholars returned home rubbing their heads and wondering if they weren't as intelligent as they'd always thought themselves to be.

Marisa, the lone woman in the room, had her eyes on her husband as he spoke. The monkey fidgeted beneath her chair, stretching his neck for a better look at his surroundings.

"Stop that," Marisa hissed, "We have to look like we're paying attention. More that that. We have to look captivated."

Support was one of the main parts of being a politician's wife. A senator's wife (Marisa thrilled at the prospect) had to seem to put her husband before all else. She would decorate his arm, agree with all his opinions and never allow an independent thought to drift into her delicate mind.

In Marisa's case at least, this was the price she paid to hold power nobody knew about.

A pity nobody could see her laugh.

She drew the monkey into her arms. He was restless, more than usual. He often felt stifled, wanting to run wild while she held him and bade him quiet.

She heard footfalls behind her, and the scratch of paws (so familiar), but kept her eyes fixed on Edward, though she wondered who had arrived halfway through the speech. Rude man, she told herself, rude. The monkey, though, whipped his head round to see the latecomer.

"It's him. Asriel," he whispered in her ear.

Marisa tensed, but kept her eyes forward.

"Hello, Marisa." His voice held a certain smirk, she thought. If voices could smirk.

"You do know it's rude to show up halfway through a political speech, don't you?" She laughed a quiet, tinkling laugh.

"And so, I believe, is whispering during said political speech. And yet here we are."

Marisa turned a little, enough to see the man beside her. His eyes had a sort of fierce, hungry glitter to them but his half-smile seemed sincere.

Stelmaria was watching her monkey, taking him in with her eyes.

"Here we are," she echoed.

The monkey clasped Stelmaria's paw with his little black hand, examining it and stroking it at once. She growled in response. The monkey raised his eyes to meet Stelmaria's.

Marisa kept her own eyes forward, slightly embarrassed at her daemon's behavior.

"And if the necessary changes are made, provided, of course, the Church supports them," Edward droned from the front of the room.

"Do you still lack a last name, Mrs. Coulter?" Asriel asked. He did not seem to be mocking her.

"Please don't call me that. I introduced myself as Marisa."

The monkey kept Stelmaria's gaze.

"Marisa, then." He repeated his words from the party.

"Thank you." Her tone was brittle, empty. She could have been thanking him for passing a glass of Tokay.

"What do you see in him?" Asriel turned his head towards her, almost forcing her to turn and look at him. She hoped nobody noticed.

"That's a rather personal question."

"I was merely curious."

"I do hope you aren't offended when I don't answer."

The monkey drew away from the leopard, hissing. Stelmaria looked a little sad, a touch disappointed, but unmoved. She knew he would return.

"Not at all," he responded.

"That's good to know."

"And are you happy with him?" Asriel inquired, Stelmaria fixing her claw in the monkey's fur, pulling him back to meet her.

"And what makes you think that if I refused to answer your previous question, I would answer this one?" Marisa scoffed.

The monkey jerked out of Stelmaria's clutches, baring his teeth.

"Perhaps you owe me, Marisa." His voice was soft.

"I owe you nothing," she laughed, the monkey drawing back still further.

They remained silent for a moment.

"While, foremost, adhering to the wishes of the King and Church and hopefully keeping England the country it has been and shall remain!" Edward finished. He lacked the voice, the passion, the drive to make the speech powerful and it came out unmemorable.

All the same, voters liked Edward Coulter. He was not imperious or intimidating (that could be left to the King himself) but he seemed to the public a trustworthy man, one who would look out for their interests.

Marisa clapped at the end, ever ladylike, pressing her hands lightly together. She noted the speech garnered enough applause. Nothing impressive, but enough.

The monkey was smiling at her feet, self satisfied.

"I must be going. It was good to speak to you again, Asriel."

"You as well, Marisa." He seemed to mean it.

She rose and went to stand by her husband, the perfect wife. Asriel continued to watch her as she went, Stelmaria growling softly.

She took the gray fur from its hanger, pulling it on.

"It's good to be leaving," the monkey snorted, "His speeches are so dull."

"Don't be rude," Marisa reprimanded, though she agreed with him. He was her wild self, she always thought, the part of her that voiced thoughts and never hesitated. She had found him odd, once, when she was a child. Other children's daemons would pull back, question rightness, moralize, and worry, while their humans went forward.

If anyone questioned or held back in this pair, it was Marisa.

She wrapped the fur round herself, almost ready to leave the cloakroom, when she heard the door creak open.

She knew who it was before even looking.

"I seem to see you everywhere, don't I?" she laughed. Asriel laughed with her, a deep, wild sound.

"Perhaps you're following me," he suggested.

"I think it may be the other way round," she countered lightly.

"You never answered my question."

Stelmaria moved closer, reaching for the monkey, a hungry look in her eye.

"Am I obligated to answer all your questions now, Asriel?"

"Yes."

Marisa turned away, buttoning her coat.

"You're truly improper, do you know that?"

"I'm still waiting for my answer."

Stelmaria moved closer to the monkey, casting her shadow over him. He smiled, his face twisting and fur bristling.

"Why do you care?" Marisa's laughter was brittle and nervous.

"I'm merely curious," he repeated.

He took her hand, lifting it to his face. She stepped forward, the monkey mimicking her, sinuous.

Her face was under an inch from his.

"Marriage," she lilted, "is an advantage, a blessing and a trap."

And then, on complete impulse, she was kissing him, her lips barely brushing his. It was a teasing kiss, a calculated kiss. The monkey drew his hands through Stelmaria's fur.

"You're not contained by it, though." Asriel laughed.

"I am not. Now if you will excuse me, I must be going."

She strode through the door, a light smile teasing her lips. She will keep the smile for the rest of the day.