Chapter 8 – Taking Leave

It was dark when he opened his eyes. No lamps had been lit, and the sun had finished setting. As his eyes adjusted, he could see, inches away, Myria sitting on the floor just in front of his chair. She was looking at him, he could just make out her eyes.

"Myria?" he murmured.

She sighed. He tried again.

"Er... Myria, why are you sitting there?"

"I did not want to bother you." She murmured back. They were both speaking quietly. Why do people do that when it's dark? "I just wanted to look at you. I like looking at you." She paused. "That is alright? You would tell me if it was not acceptable?"

He smiled, and watched her lips turn upward in the near-dark as well. "Yes, I would. But isn't it hard to see in the dark?"

She seemed confused for a moment. "Oh… I- I guess I have… very good eyesight. I had not realized." The truth was, she had cheated, without even thinking about it. Her eyes were as good as a feline's at night just now. She had to remember not to do… abnormal things.

He realized that her eyes had a sheen to them, almost like a cat's. "You did something to your eyes, didn't you?" He started to frown, then reconsidered and let one corner of his mouth tilt up a bit further.

"What is that, that you are doing with one side of your mouth?"

"Ah… that, that is a little bit of a smirk."

"Is it a good thing?"

"It depends on the person and the situation." He paused. "Um, probably you have to look at what the rest of their face is doing."

"Your eyes are smiling."

"Very good. I suppose you could call it that. And you are avoiding my question, Myria."

She sighed again, and this time he caught on and interrupted her. "Are you going to sigh like that every time I say your name?" The grin got wider.

"It makes me feel, nice, when you do it. It did not when Susan called me that. It did not, before, when you said it. Why is that?"

Oh boy… "That is another long discussion, my lady." He chuckled. "It's probably something to do with why you fainted. And you still haven't answered my question, and I won't say your name any more unless you do."

She hesitated again. "Ye-es. I did – something – to my eyes. Are you upset with me? You do not look upset. I do not want you to think I am strange, I just was not thinking."

He took her hand and patted it gently. "Myria – don't sigh – I know you are not normal, and I like you that way. So please, don't worry. I should be the one having problems right now."

"Why?"

"Because, in case you haven't noticed, I am about four big rungs down on the social ladder from you. None of what I have done is even close to proper or socially acceptable. Probably the only person in Ankh Morpork who would approve is the Commander of the City Watch." He chuckled.

"Hmm… so it is a problem that I am… Lady LeJean?"

"That depends, on whether…" He took a deep breath. "…you decide that what happened earlier was not welcome, or that you don't wish to be seen with a tradesman for a… very good friend." Maybe he should not try for any subtlety at all. "Myria, do you know much about relationships?"

Myria giggled. She actually giggled like a schoolgirl. "I think I know that friends do not kiss on the lips, though I do not understand why. It was… almost as good as chocolate."

He laughed at that. "Yes, well, that's one reason, I guess. If everyone went around kissing everyone, nobody would ever get anything else done." And people would get jealous. Hmm…"So how would you feel if I kissed another woma. - " –smack–

"Ow…"

"I am sorry!" She was horrified. "I am sorry! I- I do not know what happened and my hand…"

Jon chuckled softly, rubbing his face a bit. "Yes, well, I think we can safely say that you know something about relationships."

It took a few more minutes to convince her he wasn't angry about the whole slapping thing. It helped that she seemed happy because she thought she knew about relationships. At least something about relationships. I mean, all those poems and things couldn't be totally wrong, right?

After a bit more coaxing, she found and lit the lamp. It was well after nightfall and he was hungry, but he was more interested in the change in Myria's state. She was, frankly, bubbly and almost alarmingly focused on him. She searched his face constantly when he spoke. What she was doing of course was trying to build a whole new language from scratch. This was different from the 'small talk' she had experienced before with Jonathon. The closest thing to it had been some of her previous conversations with Mr. Jeremy, and that had been pretty one-sided. There is a big difference between not understanding someone's reaction to you at all while vaguely being aware that they are doing things with their face, and having a specific goal in mind and carefully watching their expressions to divine the reaction.

She munched on his latest creations, and he smiled at how much she enjoyed them. Good grief, there was barely any flavor in them at all. He might as well have waved a dried basil leaf over the dough. But she loved it, and even better, she could eat them without being distracted by the flavor while still savoring it. And gods only knew how she lived off so little, but she didn't appear to be wasting away. Surely she ate other things at other times, but what?

Afterward, he asked her to show him around the house and received his next real shock. He had previously only seen the sitting room really. The reality was that the house was large enough for four or five families, and it was mostly empty. She animatedly walked him from empty room to empty room, lighting candles and lamps as they went and pointing out the size of the rooms, potential uses, number and size of windows, composition of the flooring and wall covering. It was strange of course, she seemed to have little interest or understanding in how decorations and furniture could make a house feel… well like a home you lived in.

The actual bedroom she used, and she didn't seem to have any qualms at all about him seeing it or being in it, consisted of only a single bed, made up so tight you could bounce elephants off it, and a simple bedside table. The closet contained a handful of very expensive and very elegant outfits, all in shades of black, white, and gray.

Returning back to the ground floors, he found that the kitchens were practically unused. The larder consisted primarily of food for the cat and what few things he had brought her but no real human food. The dining room was unfurnished.

In fact, other than her bedroom, the sitting room, which had up to now been the only room he had visited, was also the only room with any furnishings at all. And he also realized that except for the painting she had been working on, the meager furnishings were all white, gray, or at best a pale cream. Of course, it was a rented house, and she had only been here for a week. But somehow he expected more… personalization. That was it. It didn't feel lived in except for this one room.

But now it really was getting late, and he needed to get back to his shop and have dinner himself. Myria seemed to be doing much better. In fact she was almost giddy, which was itself slightly unsettling. Before today, in all his interactions she had been… well reserved at first of course. And then pleasant. Proper and pleasant.

"Myria, I really should be going. I need to have dinner, and I need to make sure the shop is… ooof!" Ooof, for those unaware of it, is the universal sound of 'you have just been tackled by a person half your weight who is now panicked'.

"You will take me with you?" she pleaded, her arms tangled around him, pinning his to his side. Her face was buried in his neck, muffling her words a bit, but he caught the desperation in the tone. "Please, you must."

Jonathon was shocked, this was not what he expected. "Well, of course, if you really want you can come with me. I- I guess we could have a coach bring you back home afterward, but it will be rather late."

But this did not have the desired effect either. She froze for a moment, then pulled her face back, moved her hands to his shoulders, and stared at him. Her face had paled again. Good grief, she looked like she'd seen death itself! Her mouth worked for a moment. "You won't come back with me? Is something wrong with the house? I can move! I have gold. We could… we could buy…" She was shaking.

"Myria! Stop! Myria the house is fine. But I can't come back here tonight."

She swallowed, choking down her distress enough to think. Her mind was betraying her again, trying to come to grips with things and instead sliding from one slippery fear to another. "But… I can't stay here alone. You don't understand."

Oh gods… this was impossible. That was impossible of course. It could not be done at all because. Because. "But… Myria you are a lady of status, and my family would think I was insane. It wouldn't be proper to have a man stay overnight here, with no one in the house to chaperone, no servants. People would talk."

"Then…then I could stay with you at the bakery?" She managed in a small voice. Her eyes were bright with tears. He was handling this badly, he suspected. His earlier explanation had seemed a nice idea before; about tears being a distress signal of sorts. But he found now that they were far too effective.

"I- I don't… It really isn't a fit place for you. I mean, it isn't nearly as nice as this," he added hurriedly. He was beginning to anticipate how she would take some things the wrong way, at least.

That sank in. He was talking about Protocol. She had tried to use it on Mr. White, and it had almost worked. Auditors knew about rules, and so did humans. She knew that if Jonathon said something "wasn't done" then there might be a reason for that. But humans were also good at knowing when it was important to tell Protocol to shove it. She had to make him understand! She couldn't keep swinging between this giddiness and terror. She had to find some solid ground!

She moved her face closer to his. "You do not understand…" she half whispered, half hissed. "Susan could not have told you how terrified I am." Jonathon blinked at the change in her demeanor. She was deadly serious, her teeth clenched together, but her eyes were still brimming. "Did she tell you, about waking up in the middle of the night so terrified that you wished you would die? Did she tell you about what it is like to really be alone inside your own head?" She was shaking now. Her long fingers dug into his shoulders. "I understand Protocol, I know things are just not done. But I am not ready to be alone yet. I need you to be my friend. To understand. Can you understand? I am sorry I am difficult." She searched his eyes. "I think I am still quite mad, but I want to be better."

Jonathon, for his part, was dumbfounded. No, Susan had not been able to get this across. Ankh Morpork was not the most enlightened place for someone with 'little ways'. Oh, some of the guilds would overlook a lot of quirkiness, and the alchemists were all quite insane by his personal measure. Hah, most of the wizards were too. But Myria was obviously perched on a precarious ledge here, and one thing that Susan had made clear was that she needed someone to anchor her.

O..kayyy… Jonny boy, you have found your dream girl and she is beautiful and fragile as a colored glass rose you'd get on Cunning Artificers. He took a deep breath and forced a smile.

And she might as well have seen salvation in that simple gesture. Human bodies were incredible. She began to shake again, but this time it was from relief. "You have an idea?" She whispered. "I can see it in your face." She was flying on hope. He could probably have founded a religion based on it, with himself as high priest. Of course, Io would probably have him struck down by lightning within hours, but still it was a heady feeling to have that much faith focused on you.

"Yes, I do. And I want you to trust me, ok? I promise that whenever this sort of feeling happens, I will listen to you, and we will figure out how to deal with these… situations. Ok? You don't have to be terrified every time something seems about to go wrong." She nodded frantically. "Ok, good. Now, you and I are going to get something for me to eat before I pass out from hunger. And we are going to go back to my shop." More nodding. "And we are going to put you in a bed there." And find a cot or something for me. And not light any lamps so you can't see the mess. Oh gods, and find a way to sneak off and explain this to my uncle upstairs before his family gets up and things get really complicated.

"Everything is going to be fine," he lied. But it was a nice lie. And the briefest and most chaste kiss afterward was nice too. It only took a minute before she was steady enough to grab a few items for the walk down Kings Way. But she clung to his arm the whole way; he was going to have a nice bruise the next day.