Rose had gotten a grand idea to keep customers occupied while they waited for her to read their fortune. Lately, it seemed as if business had been booming with numerous appointments filling her schedule. A few weeks had passed, and a routine settled over the Palace of Mysteries.
When not running errands for Rose or watching divination sessions as part of her training, Menat spent her time with Nash, trying to ply him open and get more information out of him, a herculean but not impossible task so far as he was ridiculously tight-lipped about his past and his death.
That being said, little by little she managed to gather that he was in the military at one point in his life, alluding to someone who meant a lot to him there. Who that someone was, Menat never learned. She just knew that he attended that someone's wedding.
Still, her curiosity dwelled on the different possibilities and theories as she made her way down to the wine cellar and opened the door to the secret room. A chill greeted her once she slipped inside as the basement window stood open, sending in cold breezes. On the mattress on the floor, Nash lay, fast asleep. Menat tended to find him like this often whenever she came by to visit.
It tended to worry her at times with how much he rested but she could presume reasonable explanations for that given what he had experienced. Or, well, something logical to a wholly illogical situation. People being brought back from the dead was incredibly and undoubtedly illogical but not impossible as evidenced by the man laying in front of Menat. She would let him rest, sitting down with the bowl of fruits and oatmeal.
He looked almost peaceful when in deep sleep. No frowning or scowling or eyes of sadness either. But Menat could still trace signs of unrest in his expression by the way his eyes moved under their lids. It made her wonder what he looked like when he smiled. Heck, even a fake smile would do. His breathing was light and faint, remaining as such when his eyes flickered open. For a moment he stared into the ceiling before shifting his gaze to Menat.
At this point, Nash waking up to her sitting by his side just became a routine. He never asked her to stop, just giving her a confused glare the first time but refraining from those as she greeted him most mornings.
"Good morning! Up for a shopping trip?" she offered him the bowl, waiting for him to sit up slowly and knead his thighs before his leg twitched. It was the first time, she had seen him do this as he'd usually just remain laying down until after she left. Nash looked at her briefly, snatching his glasses and pushing them up the bridge of his nose.
"Sometimes, my legs lose their feeling in the morning," he explained and Menat couldn't help but pinch her brow in worry.
That would unfortunately explain why he didn't emerge from the basement before noon. He seemed used to it, but the tightening of his jaw made it apparent that he hated this self-perceived flaw within himself as well. Silence settled in the basement for a moment, until Menat curled where she sat, pulling her knees to her chest as she mused over the last few weeks.
Nash tended to keep himself secluded most of the time and she could imagine it didn't help his emotions one bit. It wasn't her place to try and fix people, but she felt compelled to help him more. She could only perform divination on him so many times.
"I think going outdoors will help a lot with the mood. Can you wear a cloak?" she asked, well aware that him wandering outside with patches of green skin crudely grafted onto his body was out of the question.
Naturally, Nash was skeptical, narrowing his eyes, "On a bright sunny day?"
"Oh, I got an idea!" She jumped to her feet and ran out of the basement to the first floor and her bedroom to get some supplies before she trotted all the way back to the wine cellar, carrying her rather bulky makeup box and other things. Nash hadn't moved out of place, let alone eaten the oatmeal when she returned. He crocked a brow at the object in her hands, frowning when she gestured to the bowl with her foot.
"First you gotta eat up," she ordered, and he shrugged, taking the bowl.
While he ate, Menat worked on finding the best skin tone for him. Almost every piece matched her skin tone, which was significantly darker than Nash's. But Rose had been so kind to give her a few of her own products once that matched Nash better even if they were a tad rosier than him.
"Now, be still," Menat commanded, applying the concealer, foundation, and setting powder. Just enough to hide the patches of green. She did not have nearly enough to cover his chest or his arm. This outing could be used to buy more makeup at least.
"Done!" Menat pulled back, using the mirror of her makeup box to show Nash the result.
He looked completely human with the crude stitches looking more like a scar than skin grafts. Stolid that he was, the slight arching of his brow gave his surprise away. He wasn't smiling, far from it, but the softening of his body suggested he was pleasantly astounded. Menat took the partly empty bowl, curious at how he sustained on so little.
With the sun beaming over a cloudless sky, Menat had a feeling that it'd be moderately warm today. There was still the issue with Nash's arm, but she fixed it by wrapping it in bandages. His ear was still green, but Menat had a fix for that as well. Before long, they stood ready for an outing, on the ground floor within the Palace of Mysteries. Heels clicked against the steps of the staircase from above and Rose soon descended from the upstairs floor, ready to open for customers.
"Oh," she uttered, giving Nash a long and musing look before turning to her apprentice, trotting down from the last step. In her hand was a small slip of paper.
"Are you going outside? If so, could you get me these things?" Rose gave her the note and Menat read it thoroughly to make sure she'd please her master above all else.
"Sure thing, Master!" she exclaimed. On the sheet, numerous householding and food items were written. Nothing out of the usual. Including the chocolate spread. No doubt Maggio had been hogging it again. That kid never learned, did he?
From the corner of her eye, Menat watched the two silently stare at each other with Rose scrutinizing Nash while he looked thoroughly on edge.
Rose folded an arm over her chest, resting her head in the other arm's palm, "Remember to buy more makeup as well. For the both of you,"
Menat looked up from the note, hoping to have memorized everything, "Will do, Master!"
She folded it and stuffed it in her pocket, grabbing Nash by the rim of his vest instead of taking his hand. She had a feeling he'd scoff at her if she did. Before they managed to step out the doors, Nash pulled a hood over his head, hiding his face somewhat.
The vest didn't have a hood, but it did have buttons to attach one, which he was quick to utilize once they made it out of the basement. As such the ashy purple hood went weirdly well with the yellow vest.
The Palace of Mysteries stood in an area that was right smack dab in the middle of busy and peaceful. Traffic balanced itself out with quiet nights and lively days. More energetic come holidays and national celebrations with the Palace being within walking distance of everything from ports to shopping districts and public transportation. Staying with Rose had given Menat the chance to explore and become familiar with the area, even when the shopping district was packed with people passing in streams at this time of day.
Once Menat and Nash reached the pedestrian zone, she instinctively grabbed him by the wrist, feeling him tense by her touch but never pulling away while they ventured through the crowd. With the sun beaming down on the street and the natural body heat of the people around them, Menat worried that it would melt Nash's makeup off.
Briefly, she turned to look at him, surprised and elated to see her work still remaining. Menat didn't mind crowds but there was something reassuring about traveling amongst them with someone else even if she felt like a mother, dragging her child after her.
As they were about to make a left towards the grocery store, Menat stumbled over her own feet when someone bumped into her. At that moment, she let go of Nash, briefly feeling as if her life was about to end. Mere seconds passed before she felt him catch her by the wrist and pull her to stability. He let go and instantly, she wrapped her fingers around his arm, feeling a little more secure with the feeling of his cool skin.
"Oh my. I am sorry. Are you alright?" a blonde woman asked in a most peculiar accent that sounded wholly different than Rose's.
She pushed a pair of black glasses to the bridge of her nose, flickering her gaze to Nash for a second. With the woman was an assortment of bags and suitcases. Menat assumed she had stumbled over one of those.
"Mm-hm! No need to worry," she shrugged, watching the woman stir free of guilt and politely bow before she attempted to make her way toward wherever she needed to be.
Alone amongst a crowd of people, Menat expected Nash to follow her to the store, but he stopped, almost causing her to drag him along by accident as if she was trying to make her schnauzer walk. She could feel by his arm that he was tense, sliding down to his hand, only to find it clenched.
"You okay?" she asked, then turned her attention to where he was looking. In the crowd, the blonde woman walked in the distance, stopped to look back at the pair, then vanished behind a corner.
"…She reminds me of someone I knew," Nash answered once they made it inside the chill of the store.
"Your army buddy? Your sister? Your wife?"
"…No, no and hell no," he turned to look at Menat as if he was about to tell the tale of a woman who meant a lot to him – or whom he held a grudge against. She almost anticipated it, being the first bit of information, he'd tell her without being asked to. Or coaxed as Menat tended to do.
"Never mind," he shook his head just slightly, adjusting his glasses. Menat huffed in disappointment. Maybe some other day.
The shopping trip turned out to be a success, pleasing Rose and Maggio with the addition of more chocolate spread. As soon as Menat and Nash had returned, he went down to the basement and remained there for the rest of the day.
He seemed particularly sullen, so Menat left a plate of food outside the closed door to the saferoom, having to bang on it in order to announce her arrival. There were no sounds from the other side and Menat assumed he was resting. Nash didn't strike her as a people person; no wonder drowning in bodies drained him.
Later that night, Menat woke up with hunger pangs and a craving for chocolate spread. And to the sound of Maggio gaming again. One of these days, she'd have to pull the plug, so he'd learn a lesson.
But first, her hunger.
Menat crawled out of bed, yawning, scratching the back of her head. She pushed the door to her bedroom open, stepping out to the hallway. Wearing little except an oversized hood shirt and tank top, goosebumps spread over her bare legs when she didn't have the warmth of her bed.
By the end of the hallway, she spotted a figure making its way up the staircase. She couldn't quite see who it was but judging from the sounds of guns shooting and a young man cursing in Italian, it sure as heck wasn't Maggio. Before going upstairs, Menat made her way to the kitchen, fixing herself two premade pancakes with chocolate spread. It was a trick, Rose had shown her and Maggio for whenever movie nights occurred, rare as they were.
Maybe that was why Maggio always ate the spread.
With her pancakes in hand, Menat made her way to the upstairs floor, spotting the figure making its way outside. Soon after, she followed and saw Nash standing by the railing, staring into the cloudy night sky.
"Nash?" she called, and he turned to look at her. He wasn't wearing his glasses, rather having them in his hand, but that didn't seem to bother him. On the other hand, he looked exhausted, and the lack of glasses only highlighted that.
She took a spot next to him, nibbling on one snack, "Problem sleeping?"
"Sort of."
"You can have this," Menat gave him the other pancake, empathetic and thankful that she had an excuse to not eat more than she could on a clean consciousness. Nash accepted it but didn't bite into it, looking at it as if he did 't know what it was.
Above them, the clouds thickened, and thunder rolled in the distance followed by a faint drizzle of rain. Without shoes and pants, Menat ushered Nash to a nearby bench on the balcony, in a shelter of overgrown foliage, just in time as the rain came pouring. She pulled her knees to her chest to retain some level of body warmth, eventually but completely accidentally, leaning and resting her shoulder against Nash's.
"Sorry, it's really cold," Menat shivered.
"You say that because you're not wearing pants."
"F-fair point," she said, flustered. The hood shirt was long enough to cover her short shorts at least, though its cat tail might bring attention to her thighs.
Nash sighed but remained still, "It's not like I'm warm either."
"You're warm enough. By the way, who was that blonde?" it flew out of her mouth too quickly for her to even hesitate with asking. She stiffened, fearing she overstepped her bounds.
"…I don't think I know her, but she reminded me of someone I used to know. That woman watched over me after I came back to life. Also a blonde with a funny accent and glasses."
"Oh," Menat wondered what ''watch over'' meant. But considering Nash was, well, unusual to put it eloquently, she assumed it may have been science related. "I hope she treated you well then."
"Does it not matter to you that I'm undead?" this time, Nash moved, causing her to shift in her seat. The subtle warmth from his body faded away and she shuddered in the chill of its absence.
"Yes but no. There's not much of a point to freak out over it constantly. Besides, you're not trying to eat my brain or anything," Menat smiled and watched his reaction. Once again, he didn't return the gesture, just narrowing his eyes. And yet, the softening of his body indicated some level of pleasant perplexity.
"I'm not that undead."
"I hope you never get there then. By the way, isn't it blurry without your glasses?" she tilted her head a bit, watching him unfold them with one hand but never wear them.
"They aren't necessary for me to see. I just have them for cosmetic reasons. I think the me of the past thought people looked smart with glasses and now I just wear them out of habit," something melancholic washed over his face like the rain washing away the heat of the day.
"I think some people look cool with glasses. Like you!" Menat exclaimed, chowing down on the last bit of her pancake, having to lick her fingers clean as she used too much spread. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Nash looking at her, softly almost. His expression was hard to define, but Menat couldn't concentrate on that, not when he pointed at her face with his pancake.
"…You got chocolate on your cheek," he said, finally nibbling at the snack she made. Flustered again, Menat used her finger to find the spot and removed the spread. With her fingers, slightly sticky, she had a strong urge to wash them. While she held out her hands for the rain to cleanse her hands, she leaned against Nash, savoring his subtle warmth. He wasn't human warm but he didn't need to be.
Menat hoped the weather and the moment could stay like this for a little longer. Maybe even forever.
And with that, happy holidays.