Following the little pattern they'd established - or, rather, that Pavi had established - Zena might have been forgiven for assuming that once again he'd disappear for a bit and then pop up just as she was beginning to feel secure in his absence. However, she knew enough about him to know that was exactly what he'd likely want her to think, and so she was wise enough not to bank on it. That was why, that very evening, when she returned home with arms full of groceries to find the door to her apartment flanked with GeneCo bodyguards, she was more annoyed than surprised. The annoyance didn't lessen when she knew that meant he was inside, and that meant that he'd met her mother.
Neither bodyguard helped her as she struggled to open the door with her arms filled with bags, and when she left herself in she kicked the door shut behind her. No sound greeted her. Knowing Pavi was hardly the quiet type, she pressed her lips together and dropped the groceries down to the counter.
"Hello?" She called out "Ma?"
Still, nothing. Well. That didn't bode well at all. As she walked through the kitchen and into the living room, she joked grimly to herself that maybe he'd done her a favour and taken her mother's face. Of course, that would then mean that she'd be stuck looking at it, so it wouldn't be much of a win. The living room was empty, too, but the door to her bedroom was wide open and the room was lit in the warm glow of her bedside table lamp. Usually that was a bad sign in itself - that her mother had raided her stuff for money for her Z habit. Was knowing it was Pavi Largo going through her stuff better or worse than her mother? At least he was less likely to steal stuff. Marginally. Unless he was raiding her underwear drawer.
It was with that delightful mental image that she strode into her bedroom, and found him reclined on her bed, slowly leafing through her sketches from the night before. That in itself was infuriating, seeing as he would've had to move them all from her desk to her bed just to sit there instead. Or maybe he had the bodyguards do it. The warm lighting made the face he wore look all the more jarring, a few shaders whiter than his actual skin and all too corpse-like thanks to that contrast.
"Today's my day off," she said slowly.
"Ha," he gave a short sharp laugh, like she'd made a funny little quip "And yet you've been…busy."
Some of the sketches littering her bed were crumpled and worn - so he'd even gone digging into her waste paper basket to see what designs she'd nixed.
"I'm taking this opportunity very seriously," she said - and it was probably the most frank she'd been with him yet.
"I can see that," he said thoughtfully, still eyeing the sketches more than he did her.
He must've truly been considering her drawings, too, because his accent slipped just slightly as he did spoke - but he must have noticed that as well, because it was back firmly in place, voice rising just slightly in pitch as he continued.
"The ones that you abandoned were, ah, substandard - if you don't mind the Pavi saying so, bella."
"That's why I abandoned them," she shrugged.
"Just so, you knew to abandon them. It's a good sign. It saves me the work of bringing your taste levels up to standard."
Zena huffed a tired laugh, not really sure how else to respond - or if he was truly purposely insulting her to test her mettle, or if this was just how he was used to speaking to people. It really was difficult to tell. That in itself was almost impressive.
"Right. Well. Do you mind me leaving you for a second while I put away the groceries? I have things that will melt."
The move was a bit of a gamble. But Graves had been right - if she wanted to survive this little endeavour, she needed to be irreplaceable. Her skill would hopefully play the bulk of that role, but she had to make sure her personality held it up, like some sort of weird pillar. Sycophants were hardly in short supply as far as he was concerned, and while she was hardly going to push her luck by being rude or an asshole to him, she knew that fawning (as well as being scared, for that matter) would play directly into his hands. He wanted her to be bothered that she'd found him in her room? She'd leave him there alone of her own volition. There wasn't anything groundbreaking for him to find, anyway.
The face he wore shifted slightly above the eye holes in a way that suggested he was raising his eyebrows beneath it, but he recovered quickly and gestured for her to do so with a flourishing wave of his hand. Unfortunately, the creaking of the bedsprings once she turned her back signalled that he would join her.
"Was my mom here when you arrived?" She questioned.
Mostly out of a desire to know just what sort of drama she was in for when she resurfaced.
"Of course," he snorted "Who do you think opened the door?"
His bodyguards, maybe. Although if it was down to them, the door would probably no longer be attached to the frame. As much as she was trying to be normal with him, though, she wasn't quite ready to voice that thought.
"Well, I'm sorry she left you here alone. That was rude."
"The Pavi did not mind," he tutted as though to soothe her, standing much too close as she finally stopped in the kitchen by the grocery bags "She had a prior appointment-a - it cannot be helped."
"Yeah," Zena snorted.
Last time she'd checked, zydrate dealers didn't keep appointment books. Or at least if they did, Graves was woefully late to that trend.
They lapsed into silence as she began to unpack the groceries, and her attempts to pretend his watchful gaze didn't bother her fell short by how stunted and awkward her movements were as she pulled the items out of the bags and lined them up on the counter based on how soon they had to be eaten. She didn't do waste. When Pavi snickered at her side, she turned her head to blink at him, wondering if he found the discount stickers on seventy percent of the haul funny.
"One of these things is not like the others," he pointed out, gesturing to the ice cream among the sea of vaguely healthy options.
"My only vice," she murmured "That and energy drinks."
Maybe he'd think it vanity-based, and he was welcome to do so if it kept him from realising that it was a game plan. If she looked after the body-parts she'd actually been born with, she was less likely to find herself in a position of owing the Repo-man, and that saved her money. It was the same sort of logic that had her discount diving.
"Your only vice?" He echoed disapprovingly "How sad. We'll have to work on that."
"That's okay. I'm fine as is."
"Only because you're blind to how much fun you could-a be having."
"And you intend to show me, do you?" She snorted.
The moment she said it she knew she shouldn't have. Especially when his lips broke out into a wide smile, mask revealing perfect white teeth that were actually his. Well. Maybe they were.
"Is that an invitation, bella?" He asked lowly.
Zena laughed in a way she hoped would diffuse the situation. If he didn't think he needed an invitation to swan into her home, he certainly didn't think he needed one for just about anything else.
"That," she said finally "Would be unprofessional."
"Which some would say counts as a vice," he pointed out.
"I'm fine as is," she repeated - although she couldn't pretend she wasn't blushing.
He chuckled but, surprisingly, let the matter drop.
While she knew full well just exactly what the man by her side was like and how dangerous he was, there was no denying that he hadn't earned his reputation with women. He was oddly charming. It was the confidence. The clothes helped, as did the physique they donned, lithe but strong…and so did the hair and the eyes. The smile might've even been nice had it not often arose solely to make her uncomfortable.
No, Zena was just self aware enough to know that were it not for the faces he liked to wear so much, she'd weak-kneed at the sight of him like the rest of the masses. Sure, she wasn't blind to the scars - although she hadn't started working for the Largos until after he'd acquired them, there were no shortage of photos from that time - and if she was determined to minimise them she would point out that just about everybody here had scars. His were more extreme, based on what poked out of the edges of the masks he wore, but what looked even more painful were the wicked metal studs keeping the mask attached. She'd seen her fair share of flashy and absurd surgeries, but there was something about those clasps that just had her wincing every time. Still despite it all - despite the clasps, the phony accent, the terrible things she knew he'd absolutely done - the confidence almost let him get away with it. Almost. But that said more about her own moral standards than it did about Pavi Largo.
But still, what she lacked in morality, she made up for in self-preservation. Maybe she was a perfect match when it came to working for that family after all.
He refused to move as she packed away her groceries, meaning she spent half of the time leaning around him or reaching over him so she could get into the cupboard behind his head. All the while, he didn't move a muscle except perhaps to turn his head and follow her movements as he leaned lazily against the countertops. Zena was used to his issues with personal space by now…but the cologne was new. It was also nice. The bastard.
"So," she spoke again once she was done, moving to stand as far opposite him as her poky little kitchen allowed "Can I ask what brings you here?"
"Zena," he tutted, and she was faintly surprised that he actually remembered her name "This is new to you, yes, but you cannot make my clothing unless you have-a my measurements."
"They're on file at the tailor your family prefers, I called and requested them."
"Pah, my measurements change all of the time," he waved a hand "We're sure of better results if you do it yourself."
According to the tailor, they hadn't changed even a quarter of an inch in the last three years. But those eyes of his, cleverer than he'd have anybody believe, were fixed on hers - daring her to disagree with him. Zena had no intention of taking him up on that dare. At least she wasn't making him trousers.
He followed her back to her room and returned his attention to his surroundings as she fished a notebook and a measuring tape out of the drawer of her desk, and then gestured for him to stand in the free space in the middle of the room.
"This room is different from the rest of the…ah…place," he pointed out as if he'd noticed something incredibly clever.
"It's my room. I don't use the rest of it, so why would I put my touch on it? Can you take your jacket off, please?"
Surprisingly, he didn't use this opportunity to make some sort of sleazy joke.
"It's-a your property," he pointed out, complying with her request.
"Nope. Ma's name is the one on the lease."
Underneath the coat he wore a deep purple shirt, a black tight-fitted waistcoat, and a tie that appeared to be snakeskin, gleaming in shades of iridescent silver, purple, and black.
"And yet you're the one paying for everything, bella."
Ah. He'd forgotten her name again. Great.
"Am I?" She asked carefully.
"So I'm told."
Dithering on whether she should ask his permission before each and every measurement, she quickly decided it would be too awkward and instead just began. Holding the end of the tape to where his collar began, she held it there with one hand and ignored how her knuckles brushed the side of his neck, measuring down to the top of his shoulder. He faced straight ahead as she did so - his need for the clothes to fit well outweighing his need to annoy her.
"You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.
"Forgive me, Mr La- ugh, Pavi, but I think I did," she replied as she turned to note the measurement and then began measuring from his shoulder to the cuffs of his shirt.
He said nothing, but he flexed his fingers when her own brushed the back of his hand. Zena made a point of not reacting…even if she had to shake the tingles out of her hand when she turned and made another note.
"I'm mostly in this room," she added with a sigh, hoping if she explained adequately they might move on from the matter "The kitchen is clean and fit to cook in."
He snorted, as though finding that funny. The back measurement took no time at all - even if she had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculous situation she'd found herself in when she had to hold his hair up out of the way as she took it.
"The bathroom is the same - well, not fit to cook in, but you know," she continued once that note was made.
This time he did laugh.
"I don't use the living room, so I don't see the point in doing it up. Between you n' me, if I got anything decent she'd just sell it for Z money anyway."
"You do see the…curiosity in your saying that in front of me?"
There was nothing left to measure but his shoulders and chest. Moving so she stood opposite him, Zena responded.
"Oh no," she said drily in a deadpan "Please don't let her get in any trouble. Please, no. I beg you."
He watched her with keen interest as she worked, even though she avoided eye contact at all costs…up until her eyes flickered upwards and she laughed at the amused delight he found in her apparent coldness.
"I could, you know," he all but purred, voice lower than his usual tone.
Zena's gaze lowered again, bringing the tape down so she could measure his waist.
"I'll…keep that in mind," she said carefully.
Maybe that was her vice. Coldness. She'd argue that her mom had more than earned that, though.
"Good. Do. Pavi knew you'd be interesting to have around, bella. We can discuss-a this more at dinner."
"Dinner?" She echoed, stepping away for the final time and thanking the powers that be that she was done.
Mainly because the conversation had just taken a turn she hadn't expected, and she knew she was playing with fire.
"There is much business to talk over. Next week - your day off. Wear something nice - the press do tend to follow, si?"
Because that was just what she needed - more complications.
A/N: So upon my first watch of Repo! in my youth, many many moons ago, I went in with the assumption that Pavi's scars were either caused BY the masks (idk what my logic was there?), or that they were something fixable but he just went with the new faces For Fun anyway - because if GeneCo can do all of those impressive surgeries, surely they can cover scars? Right? But thinking on it, we see so many characters with scars or hazards associated with surgery (y'know, Amber's face fiasco), that was probably a very wrong assumption for my fourteen year old self to make. The thing we learn a lot from the movies is that the surgeries, although popular, aren't a perfect solution, so at the moment I'm just trying to work out how the hell I'm going to approach the situation with Pavi's scars.
We see him very briefly without them at the very start of the movie, where he's been photographed stealing faces, so we know they must be fairly recent? Are they a byproduct of surgery? I know there's a popular headcanon that Luigi had something to do with it, but surely then it would be mentioned in the movies? Although the Largos are so fucked up that I can see why it wouldn't be, considering it wouldn't even be in the top 5 messed up things they do.
Who knows? I'll work out my approach sooner or later.