paradisa | (no subject)

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[ Her memory of last week felt like someone else had lived in her body, said and did things she would never do but leaving all the blame for her to bear. She remembers it all like a bad dream in which she holds no control of herself. It feels jarring, and for a moment she contemplated whether it would be better to keep acting like her younger self. Most preferred her thus. Sweetness itself, a rose without a thorn.

It is perhaps a good thing that she doesn't recall meeting Spike then because now it feels as if he's among the very few who wouldn't frown at seeing her this way, older and sadder. Being sad isn't so terrible if it means being stronger. If it means not letting herself be so easily hurt.

But Lucrezia doesn't want to be sad today. She even keeps a lid on her smile when she knocks on his door with a bunch of Madonna lilies that haven't yet bloomed. ]

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[She's still convinced of that, huh?]

You didn't need to come to apologize.

I do not apologize.

[ Lucrezia tries to sound nonchalant, as if saying the sky is blue today, isn't it? But she keeps her eyes fixed on him as if his face would yield more answers. She should learn her lesson. ]

I do say thank you, however.

[His expression remains carefully passive.]

I'm pretty sure you already paid off your debt.

I wonder. You paid us a visit while I was gone.

... [Oh. That.]

I was in the neighborhood.

[ She smiles as placidly as if she were saying the weather is nice. ]

Liar.

[He moves to reach in him pocket, the way people do when they need an excuse to turn away.]

I thought I might have left something there.

Like a coffin or a soul?

[He's glad that he made that decision when she asks her next question. Digging out a lighter successfully hides his expression until he's recovered.]

It wasn't as comfortable as it looked.

[ That doesn't stop her from standing to step in front of him and peer at that strange contraption with the same wonder in her eyes when she was younger. At least that hasn't changed. ]

Did you mean to console him?

[He hadn't considered how foreign a lighter may still seem to her until she stands. After thinking a moment, he holds it out for her.]

What else are friends for?

[ So she passes her fingers over the flame before taking the lighter from him to fiddle with. ]

He has no friends.

I think that's easier to say.

[ She tries a few times to light it up and fails, so she hands it back to him. What use is an automated candle anyway? ]

Is it true though?

[He takes it, and proceeds to pull out a pack of cigarettes, as if he's about to demonstrate.]

You already called me a liar.

I would have you prove me wrong.

Lying is all subjective anyway.

Is it? How?

They can be read into, and believed or not depending on how much you want to.

[That's a nice neutral way to put it, he thinks, and he lights his cigarette.]

Hm.

[ Lucrezia may not be entirely convinced but she at least allows him a few moments of peace as she ambles toward the table where he set his book so she can push aside the flowers to read the title. ]

Tell me a good lie and make me believe it, Spike.

[He keeps his eyes locked on her, thinking he should have tried harder to distract her with the lighter.]

You say that like I'm an expert.

[ The name Anne Boleyn is of course familiar, so she gives him a pointed look at the discovery. Has he been reading up on people's histories? Hers? ]

You must be. Tell me everything will turn out for good. Make me believe it.

[And left it out in the open for her to find? That would be awfully careless of him.]

Nobody can see the future. [And he hasn't read her history. It really isn't a habit he wants to pick up.]

[ Lucrezia chuckles, reaching to take that book and hold it up for him to see the cover. ]

That makes you nobody.

... [So much for getting away with that.]

I guess that wasn't my best work.