CII

Eleven can't deal with so many emotions; she covers her face with her hands. Poe lets out a weak 'meow' in protest because the petting has stopped again.

"Please stop," she begs in a low voice. "I can't… I can't."

Henry is silent, but he does not move away.

"It's too much," she sobs. "This and… that Mike thinks so badly of me, that I lost control with… Angela and… And that I've found Poe when it was already too late."

At her words, the man purses his lips. Eleven knows this because she finally looks at him again after a few seconds.

"And you… Did I do something… to offend you?"

Henry frowns. "Pardon?"

"You're acting… weird," she confesses. "You're quieter and… And you spend a lot of time…"—"away from me," she doesn't say—"A lot of time in your study and in the attic and… And it's since the issue with Angela. Since… I brought Poe. And maybe… Maybe it's my fault, I cause you a lot of problems and… And that's all I seem to do lately: being a problem for you," she concludes disconsolately.

It takes her a moment to identify the noise Henry is making: at the end, she notices that he is laughing quietly, despite his obvious attempts not to.

"Henry…?"

"Excuse me." He clears his throat. "I'm sorry I made you think such a thing: it's not like that. You are never a problem."

It is impossible for her to doubt the sincerity of his statement when he looks at her—and smiles at her—so sweetly.

"You're not wrong on one point, though: I've been spending more time locked up in my attic and study than with you." Unlike her, Henry admits the latter matter-of-factly, as if it were obvious that the only other possible place he could have been is at her side. "And there is a reason for that."

That piques her curiosity. "Yeah…?"

His smile only gets wider. "Come with me." His blue eyes land on the cat in her lap. "And bring… Poe."

It's been a while since she has last set foot in the attic. She doesn't notice any big changes: the table is still in the same place, and so are the pillow and the jars with spiders…

And then, she notices a huge curtain that completely covers one of the walls.

"What's that?" she asks, pointing to the object in question with a movement of her head.

"Hm? Oh, it's nothing," he assures her casually. "It's something I'm working on; I'll show you later on."

"Uh… Okay."

"Make yourself comfortable," he tells her, his gaze fixed on the pillow; Eleven does so, always keeping the cat in her arms.

Henry takes a seat next to her, although he adjusts himself until he is looking at her. Noticing this, she does the same; she turns to him. Poe lets out a slight grunt at the movement, but seems determined to continue dozing, as he immediately closes his eyes again.

"He's taken a liking to you, apparently," Henry notes.

She nods. He takes a moment—he seems to be searching for the right words—before asking: "Can I carry him?"

The request surprises her; she wouldn't have expected it from him. However, of course she doesn't refuse it: "Sure…"

Carefully, he reaches under the cat's body and pulls him away from her. Poe, now awake, opens his eyes instantly.

"Here—"

When Henry extends his arms to take him, everything happens in less than a second: the calm animal's personality seems to take a one-hundred-eighty-degree turn and, with astonishing speed—especially considering his fragile state of health and general weakness—he extends his claws and opens two straight lines on the perfect white skin of Henry's right arm.

"Ah—!" exclaims the man as the feline shoots towards the other side of the attic.

Shocked, Eleven doesn't even know where to look: at Poe, who, with his fur standing on end, doesn't take his eyes off the man in front of her and doesn't stop hissing ferally…

… or at the blood that is already accumulating in Henry's arm and overflowing the two lines.