Dea laid back comfortably on Deacon's pillows, crossing her legs as she watched him start the trivial task of dusting his belongings. He apologized to her for this, insisting that he never kept his room this unkempt, but she didn't care. Her mind was too preoccupied with their date tonight, wondering what this might mean for them in the long run.

He noticed her eyes were focused on a certain part of the ceiling. There was nothing of interest within the light-beige paint, so it wasn't hard to know she was deep in thought. No doubt it was over what he'd been pondering about as well. He was busy with his hands so he couldn't read too much into her invitation, worried that he might overthink something and ruin their evening entirely.

"I assume you'll need some dressing arrangements for tonight?" He asked, moving around the room smoothly. "I'm sure you know there's a strict dress code in Valencia's restaurants."

"I have something at home; I just need to pick it up." She propped herself up using her elbows. "I haven't been to my apartment in months…"

"It's in Valencia City, right?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know that..?"

"I read everything in your file, remember?"

"…I guess that's fine, since I know where you live, now."

She moved to the edge of the mattress and took another look around since he was finished cleaning. He felt better after a proper dusting…none of their servants were allowed in their quarters for different reasons. It wasn't like he kept anything confidential in here, but he didn't appreciate someone rummaging around his belongings. A bit ironic knowing that he did the same thing for his job.

He clapped off the remaining dust from his gloves. "I can take you down there if you'd like."

"How are we going to get there without a ship?"

"I have a personal boat. Shouldn't take more than an hour to get there, I think."

She moved to him and clutched his hand, swinging it playfully as she led them both towards the door. "-Then let's go!"

Deacon showed her a smaller boat he had docked at the estate. She got a chance to look at the other Elite's personal crafts while she was there. She felt a little overwhelmed with these demonstrations of their wealth. On one hand, it made perfect sense that the Armada would be well-funded and the Elite received good pay for maintaining one of the strongest and reliable armies in the Spiral - but she wasn't used to facing such a reality. It seemed that the wealthiest in Monquista only had a fraction of what Kane's family did.

Still, she enjoyed the ride back to the city. It was nice to be on a smaller vessel with more privacy between her and Deacon…not that they did much besides look at some noticeable landmarks, where he told her a bit more about Valencia.

When they were on land, she led him straight to her residence - grabbing the key she'd had on her person for so long and unlocking the front door. It opened to a small flat that cost her nearly all her savings. Another thing she was grateful for was that the Armada took care of their soldier's expenses, including the rent that she owed on this place. She'd been relying on that fact when she moved here - as she wouldn't be able to afford an apartment otherwise.

" Mi casa ," She gestured around, hoping he wasn't feeling too claustrophobic.

He shrugged off his cape and coat, hanging them on the rack by the door. He folded up his cane and rested it against the wall and adjusted his gloves as he took everything in.

"It's a nice place you got here, you're in a good area," He complimented.

"It was kind of stupid to put a down payment on it before the Armada accepted me," She huffed as she took off her boots. "I was planning on moving back to Monquista before Queen got back to me."

He was getting a better look around her living area, eying the quaint couch and coffee table. Her apartment was nearly the same size as their cabin was back on The Executioner. He was well-acquainted with small spaces, as he usually had to rent single rooms and sleep in tiny cabins while he was out and about. He navigated her space easily and took a brief glance at the kitchenette.

"Get comfortable. I'm going to go look for what to wear tonight."

She went to the closet, shifting through her hangers and humming lightly under her breath. Deacon enjoyed the sound while he walked around, chuckling when he spotted a film of dust on her things. He hadn't been the only one away from home for awhile…he flicked some specks off his knuckles before stumbling on some framed pictures she had sitting on a table.

He held his breath then, fearing that he'd find a picture of Dea, but he wasn't greeted with that sight. At least…he didn't believe so. The pictures were of a woman and three children, with a handsome man behind them. They were posed in typical family portrait fashion. Upon closer inspection, he noticed one of them had handwriting on the bottom of the picture - written in pink ink, reading: "We'll miss you, Aunt Reyna!"

He studied them for a long time, so deeply lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear footsteps coming up from behind him.

"Deacon?"

He whipped around - his heart doing a strange leap when he noticed she changed out of her dress. She was wearing something more casual now, a long sleeve with a pair of black sweatpants, still donning her mask and zendale. His eyes lingered on her petite form before he forced himself back to the present. She followed his gaze and found the pictures herself. Sadness washed over her eyes as she hugged herself with her arms.

"I'm assuming this isn't you ," He pointed to what was written in a lighthearted manner.

She laughed softly. "No, that's my sister. Kind of obvious, isn't it?"

She leaned forward and grabbed the portrait he'd been studying. Her eyes glossed over her nieces and nephew before sighing melancholy.

"...I don't recall you ever mentioning your family." He confessed after a moment.

"You didn't talk much about your own, either." She tilted her head at him coyly.

" Touché ," He muttered softly.

She took a deep breath then, bracing herself for what was surely going to be a hard conversation. "I don't have a good relationship with my parents anymore. But my sister still stays in touch with me."

She turned on her heel and moved to the couch. He followed after, joining her on the cushions and keeping himself close. This seemed like a complicated matter, so he was willing to listen to whatever troubles she may have.

"What happened?" He asked curiously.

"We argued over the whole 'leaving the Monquistan army' thing." She winced at the memory, setting the frame down and looking away. "They weren't exactly fond of me joining the Armada, but they sure as Hell weren't happy with me leaving, either."

Deacon noticed a change in her demeanor as she focused on the hard tiles of her floor. She continued before he could interrupt:

"They had this expectation that I'd be married and have kids by now, but I wanted to train and fight. Most women my age are happy to settle down, but…I wasn't . And I think that infuriated them, honestly. They gave my sister more support because she met a nice guy and had kids with him."

"So, you didn't do what your family wanted?" He surmised. She nodded.

"She understood why I quit the army." Her shoulders slumped. "But my mother told me I should've dated one of the men who put their hands on me. She said I was a coward for fleeing to Valencia, and I would never find a man there for me."

She narrowed her eyes, anger momentarily uncurling within her. She clenched her hands before relaxing them again. "...My sister gave me these photos before I left. She told me to never forget my family, but it's hard not to, you know?"

"I can imagine so," He spoke softly, reaching out his hand to hold hers. She gripped back wordlessly. "I'm sorry your parents couldn't understand."

"I thought I might be able to make a family out of the Armada." She inhaled deeply and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad I met you."

He finally closed their distance. She melted in his grip, burying her face into the crook of his neck and letting the tears fall from her mask. She meant everything to him at that moment. There wasn't a single thing he wouldn't do for her, he realized.

"If it's any assurance, my family isn't the greatest either." He whispered quietly.

Her eyes fluttered open, thinking back to what he told her. "I've never considered how hard it must be for a military family."

"That's only part of it." He huffed. His hand traveled down her waist, smoothing the wrinkles in her shirt. "I feel like I've never lived up to what Kane has expected of me. I fear I will always live in the shadows of my brothers."

"You mean…like Rooke?"

"Him especially ." The strength in his posture fell. He lowered his head. "I could never be as successful as him. And I believe that's all Kane thinks of me."

She moved her hand underneath his bauta until her fingers collided with the underside of his jaw. She stroked the side of his face that she could not see. He had stubble there...a beard, maybe? Her mind went wild imagining what he looked like based on this small detail.

" Espía , remember what I said…you are smart and incredible in your own ways. I see it and I admire you for it."

His eyes remained on hers before he nodded weakly. On the inside, he was wrestling with his insecurities. What could possibly be incredible about him? He struggled to understand what Dea saw in him and what could have possibly lured her this far…but he was ever so grateful for it, whatever that may be.

She hesitated before withdrawing her touch, fingertips stroking his cheek as she pulled away. He frowned at the loss of contact, unbeknownst to her. She returned the picture to its place and excused herself to get her outfit ready for tonight. He drummed his fingers on the armrest of her couch in the meantime - feeling conflicted yet hopeful about the events that were soon to transpire.

They spent a little more time hanging around her flat and talking together. They exchanged stories, some jokes, and even tales from forgotten times. They were drinking in each other's company and prolonging this conversation for as long as they could. There was no telling how long this period of rest would last.

For now, they simply smiled at each other. Expressions neither of them could directly see - but knew it existed, from the way Dea tilted her head and how Deacon chuckled from under his bauta. It was unique to know someone so intimately yet have no clue what they looked like. For him, he experienced this regularly around the Armada, but Dea was pleasant and a welcome change of company.

"My nephew would love you," She leaned forward to drink from her glass. She freely tipped the mask with her head away, comfortable in knowing he wasn't trying to steal any glances. "He's into those comic books with the caped superheroes and villains."

"I am neither of those things," Deacon scoffed.

"Ah - but you wear a cape, you carry a cane, and you have a mask. That's a villain getup if I've ever seen one." She clicked her tongue. Something seemed to click in her mind when she paused. "You know, I've never asked this before, but…why do you wear that cape?"

There was a good pause. "...I thought it looked fashionable."

"Your jackets and gloves - fashionable. The cape? A bit much…"

"Don't YOU wear one?"

"It was given to me and it barely goes past my shoulders! Yours almost touches the GROUND!"

"Rooke wears a cape, too. Do you think he's lame?" He teased her. She didn't miss the way he fidgeted with his hands at this question, appearing a little embarrassed with this topic.

"I thought you two were going for a matching thing, if I'm going to be honest."

"Well, that's not wrong…he got his cape after I did. He told me he liked how mine looked and wanted one for himself. Kane barely let him get away with the one he has. Any longer and it would snag on something."

" Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery ~" Dea sang under her breath, earning a small laugh from him. He glanced outside her window and she followed his view - eyes widening when she noticed the sun retreating into the horizon.

He stood right away. "We should get going. We'll make a quick stop at the estate, then we can head to dinner."

"Good, I'm starving." Dea dramatically sighed as she rose from her seat and washed her glass in the sink. She grabbed her bag of things and met her partner by the door - who gladly escorted her out and began their trip back to his home.

Deacon instructed her to change in their restroom while he figured out his own ensemble for the night. Dea happily obliged after seeing the most extravagant washroom she ever stepped foot in. She spent more time gawking at the gorgeous mirror and sink than she did slipping into her dress and putting on her jewelry. When she checked her reflection to fix the straps, she paused upon seeing the white mask staring blankly back at her.

..Should she? Shouldn't she?

She clutched at the end of the marble with white knuckles, struggling with this internal debate. Deacon knew her name, where she lived, her troubled history, and even learned a bit about her family. The privacy of her face seemed so insignificant now. Why was she still hiding? He called her beautiful without ever seeing her…and she doubted that would change, if the catcalling and inappropriate fondling had revealed anything in the past.

She took a deep breath before unclipping the zendale and slowly removing her mask. She was met with a highly-defined reflection of her face. As her eyes observed her pores, she was filled with insecurity. She checked through their cabinets for anything to freshen up with - and thanked the Gods when she found some mascara, lipstick and exfoliating cream. Expensive brands she didn't own personally, but was thankful to find, nonetheless.

'These might be Queen's', Dea thought to herself as she applied the mascara. 'I'll have to thank her later…'

A knock on the door startled her. She nearly smudged the makeup that she was applying.

"Are you alright in there?" Deacon's voice asked from the other side. She realized how long she was taking and blushed in shame.

"I'll just be a few more minutes..!"

Not intending to rush her appearance, she finished putting on what she could and took one final inspection of herself. She wished she had time to properly treat her hair…all she could afford right now was brushing it. It looked alright... Agh ! Why didn't she plan this better before asking Deacon to take her out!?

With a defeated groan, she exited the bathroom with her mask in hand. Deacon was in the other room - dusting off the surface of his piano while he waited for her. She stopped in her tracks the moment she saw him.

She'd only ever seen her partner in his usual uniform and the Cool Ranch disguise - so it was safe to say she never imagined him in formal wear. But the double-breasted vest he wore hugged his thin frame just right , and the numerous pockets it had screamed 'Deacon' to her. He wore a long sleeve dress shirt underneath, complemented by slacks and dress shoes. He was missing his cape again…as much as she teased him for it earlier, its absence bothered her more than she thought.

Still…her eyes couldn't stop roaming over him. His getup was the familiar yellow-and-blue colors she recognized. When he turned around, he dropped the duster in surprise and hurriedly turned away from her.

"Ah - I apologize, would you like a bauta? I kept one for you if you needed it-"

"No," She interrupted, stepping forward and smiling. "I won't be needing a mask tonight."

He paused, slowly turning on his heel to face her again. She watched as his blue eyes observed every inch of her, his focus mainly being on her face before he remembered that she changed. Then he admired her dress - it was a purple empire waist that covered the small pair of heels she was wearing. Silver earrings and a necklace adorned her look, but the centerpiece of it all was her smile, radiant and beaming.

She could hear the grin in his voice. " Che begli occhi. "

She batted at his arm. "I take off my mask and all you can compliment are my eyes!?"

"I've loved them ever since I first saw them," He confessed, reaching out to cup the side of her face with his gloved hand. This action made the breath hitch in her throat. "You look amazing."

Her look grew nervous. "-Still beautiful?"

"You always will be," He replied before withdrawing his touch and hesitating. "..I assume you want me to take mine off as well?"

"Not necessary, espía. I just realized…I was still hiding from you even though I don't want to anymore. I will respect your mask, should you choose to keep it on tonight."

He scoffed, taking her by surprise. "The mask is part of my uniform, and to protect my identity while I'm elsewhere. We're in my homeland right now. I'm more than fine with taking it off."

To emphasize his point, he unclipped his zendale and took the bauta right off before her eyes. Dea's jaw hung open in shock. Before she knew it, she was facing his true face for the first time.

He wasn't a model, but he didn't need to be. The first thing she noticed was his stubble beard that she'd had the privilege of feeling over an hour ago, and the tired eyes that regarded her kindly. They hadn't been getting as much sleep as they needed to, so she wasn't surprised to see the bags there. He had black hair that fell to his shoulders and was just as messy as hers had been before she fixed it up. She had the strongest urge to run her hand through it until she could detangle the strands herself.

Upon her scrutinization, he shifted his weight to the other foot. He mirrored her reaction with a nervous tone. "-Still handsome?"

She laughed. "Of course, you silly man." To prove she meant it, she stepped forward and cupped his face into both of her palms. "I was never wrong about that."

He sighed, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her wrists. "That's a relief - I was fearing I would have to wear this thing for the rest of our relationship."

She giggled at him. Her eyes traveled to his lips and her expression suddenly fell. Her body was acting quicker than she could think, moving to stand on her tiptoes to close some of the distance between them. She was about to kiss him, but stopped herself short when she was a few inches away. Begrudgingly, she stepped back from him and returned her hands to her sides, nervously looking towards the door.

"..We should go now."

His gaze lingered on her, filled with the same confusion and longing that she was feeling. He cleared his throat and grabbed his jacket from the rack, offering her a small coat to keep her warm in the meantime. Their reservation was coming up soon - it would be unwise to dilly-dally and miss it.

"We shall."

They were seated in a luxurious restaurant near one of the windows. The place was filled with Valencian guests and families, who laughed and clinked their glasses together as they talked the night away. Dea enjoyed the live music being played and observed some of the musicians - pausing when her eyes landed on the violinist. She admired the woman far longer than usual, trying to imagine her date playing that instrument like he'd done for her earlier today.

Deacon brought her attention back by tapping on the table. "Are you comfortable?"

"Incredibly so." She rested her back against the cushioned chair with a content sigh. "Are all places like this?"

"Most of them are. You can find a few casual eateries here-and-there, but they're not very popular."

Her eyes narrowed when she looked at her pristine plate. The words left her lips before she could think about them. "What is it like to live in such luxury? Is it as nice as everyone says it is?"

Her date paused at the question. She realized how inappropriate it was in this setting, and was about to take it back before he shrugged. He took a look at the people around them, gesturing to others with a dip of his head. "For everyone here, it is part of their normal lives - they're used to these restaurants, these prices, and clothes. They're privileged and live well, so I'm sure they spare no second thought."

"-But what about you ?" She prompted. "You have this lovely house and plenty of gold…but this is the first time I've ever seen you off of a ship. Is there a reason you're away from Valencia so much?"

Despite the severity of the question, a smirk grew on his lips. Dea hadn't realized how thankful she was to finally be able to read and see his expression like this. It was a luxury she was indulging in more than the expensive restaurant itself.

"My job keeps me from here most of the time. I move around a lot because I need to. But…I do find that I avoid coming back, whenever I'm given the chance." His expression fell as he pondered on it. "I just don't feel like I belong here."

She raised an eyebrow, about to inquire more about that detail before she was interrupted when their waiter came around with their appetizer. He refilled their glasses and nodded politely to them before walking away. She took a quick sip before turning back to Deacon, whom she caught admiring her again.

"Eyes up here, espía," She pointed to them and he rolled his eyes lightheartedly. Her tone grew soft. "What did you mean by that? You don't belong here?"

"Obviously, I do. I was born and raised in Valencia. But we weren't rich, not at first, anyway." He paused to try one of the pieces of escargot. It was Dea who requested the appetizer, saying she never had it before. He gave a satisfied hum before nudging the dish to her. "-Here, try one."

She didn't appreciate him dodging the question so much, but tried it anyway. Despite everything her friends had told her…it was pretty good. But she expected that, with such a big price tag on it. He looked pleased to see her eating and continued:

"Growing up, we had to work for what we had. Kane was away in the military most of the time, so it was me and Rooke working jobs. I learned a lot of things in my time doing manual labor…I got to see firsthand how privileged Valencians are and how oblivious they can be. I did a lot of my own studying, and I learned about our society and how so much of it is attributed to wealth and ignorance."

He reached for his glass, checking to ensure no one was eavesdropping on them. She was surprised to hear such a response…but it made sense. He was smart, so of course he knew how things worked.

"I arrest criminals and undesirables every day. I've seen the worst in humanity. I do not live in gold and ignorance like most Valencians do. To go to these places and live in luxury like they do…it just doesn't feel right to me. I feel I must work to deserve what I have, which is why I'm never quite home." He paused before adding, "-The military training also worked, to humble myself."

She nodded slowly and tittered at that last comment. She dropped the subject for now, working on their appetizer and enjoying his company. Her question hadn't ruined the mood, thankfully. She had always been a little afraid to approach such a topic, wondering if Deacon would grow defensive about his family's wealth. He was more open-minded than she presumed.

"I must ask, why did you ask me to come here? You were pretty specific on where you wanted to go tonight." Deacon looked at her seriously. She simply shrugged in return and sipped from her glass.

"I just wanted to see what Valencia is truly like for myself. And I hear they have the best pasta around."

"That part is true - and remember to twirl it when you get your food."

"Does that really bother people here?"

"You'd be surprised how much it does." He shook his head knowingly. "Tell me, is Monquista any better? You know my feelings on the place."

She snorted, which was unbecoming, but made him chuckle even more. As she went into detail about the judgemental servers and treatment back at her home, they received their main courses. Dea had - obviously - ordered the pasta, and he went with a personal pizza. He let her try a slice before she even asked, knowing she wanted more than a bite of his food. She enjoyed everything they tasted and even requested tiramisu. This was the second time he treated her to new cuisine - and she had the feeling it wouldn't be the last.

As he took care of the bill, he unfolded his napkin and set it on the table. "Dea-"

"-Reyna," She interrupted. He did a double take, and when she refused to say more, he relaxed and corrected himself.

"- Reyna . Are you ready to head back, or is there something else you've been dying to do in Valencia?"

She thought about it, but it didn't take long to settle on an answer. "No, I'd like to head back home with you and relax." She waited a bit before adding, "-And I believe you owe me a drink tonight."

"Right." He hadn't forgotten about her excitement with their bar back home. He stood to his feet and helped her out of her seat like a gentleman, then bid goodbye to the waiter whom he tipped generously. He always did so when he was out.

He helped his date into her coat so as to not let her freeze in the cold night. As soon as he was done, Reyna spun around on her heel and kissed him soundly on the lips.