“Do I?” Jo asks quietly, holding his gaze for a beat too long. She’s good at reading people. Usually. But every time she thinks she has him pinned down, he shifts into something else entirely, like smoke slipping through her fingers before she can close her hand around it. The scoff she lets out at the favorite employee comment is small but unmistakable nonetheless. Bullshit, it says plainly enough, even if she doesn’t waste the breath saying it aloud. They both know.
Still, the ghost of his hand lingers warm against the side of her head long after he pulls away, and she hates how immediately she notices the absence of it. If this were anyone else, she would’ve bridged the distance herself already. With him, touch feels dangerous in a way she can’t quite explain without sounding insane, and she hates him a little bit for that too.
His words hit too close anyway.
Run for me. Jo’s jaw tightens, her fingers curling harder around the neck of the bottle. “That’s your inflated ego talking,” she starts automatically, the denial instinctive. "If you weren’t useful to me—" The words snag halfway out, catching somewhere behind her teeth before she can force them loose again. "I wouldn't give you the time of day." Because, yes, he is useful. But that isn’t the whole truth anymore and they both seem to know that too. She tips the beer back again, wishing she’d chosen something stronger. “The company was more charming last time,” she mutters. “And there was a ring on my finger.”
But it’s the next part that finally cuts through her. You’ve already picked me. Something ugly flashes openly across her face then, quick and hot enough to burn through the alcohol haze. “I may owe you my allegiance,” Jo says, each word clipped sharp, “and you may own my soul. But you do not own me.” The certainty of it falters almost immediately beneath his gaze. When he speaks again, her eyes drift out toward the crowd instead, toward the bodies packed shoulder to shoulder beneath the lights and noise, laughing too loudly, touching too easily. Human. Normal. Separate from her in a way she can’t explain anymore without sounding just as unhinged as the things she spends her life chasing.
He’s right, and somehow that’s the worst part. Even the beer turns sour on her tongue. Jo lowers it unfinished onto the counter, silent for a long moment as she looks back at him, then finally down to the hand he offers her like this is a choice either of them truly believes she still has. Maybe that should frighten her more than it does. But what does she really have left to lose? Her fingers slide into his before she can think better of it, warmth curling instantly against her skin and Jo finds that even if he plans to drag her straight to hell, she doesn’t particularly care.
Her question earns a quizzical quirk of his brow in return, leveling her with a weighted look.
"If you don't know, then you should." Ezra's head tilts briefly. "You're beautiful, Joanna. And in a perfect position to be of use to me. But... there's countless others in this city who possess such qualities, if I cared to look." His eyes remain locked to hers, careful. "Your intelligence, the way you see things - those traits are rarer, and of much more value to me. You should always take care to keep that mind of yours sharp. For your sake, and your brother's."
Was there, perhaps, in some small hidden crevice of what had once been his soul, a part of him that wished his hand could linger a little longer against her warmth? He was not a fool, he knew without their agreement she would spend not a moment longer at his side. And still, there were some moments she drew a second glance from him, something more than the usual disdain, even if he would never allow her to see it.
Any real meaning quickly vanishes, however, as he flashes her a hard grin. He notes the way words snag in her throat, the insult she throws carelessly in his direction. "You should watch yourself, Darling." The words aren't quite a threat, but they're icier than before - the brief warmth she'd seen covered with the usual demon mask. "You can thank my inflated ego for keeping your brother alive. For keeping you alive, on more than one occasion." His eyes narrow. "You'd do well to remember that gifts given can be just as easily taken away."
Still, a small slither of amusement does return as she mentions the ring, a brow arching. "I wasn't aware you enjoyed our... arrangement so much. If you wanted another engagement ring from me, Joanna, all you had to do was ask."
Ezra watches Jo closely, listens to her words without interruption or sarcasm, for once. Even with the sharpness to her tone, he does not rise to it, no immediate bite to meet hers.
"Your soul is who you are, Joanna. Everything you've been, everything you will become." He nears her, just slightly, enough so he can lower his voice. "You signed that all away to me. Don't make the mistake of believing there's any part of you left that I cannot see." After a moment his brows furrow, a glance back out to the crowd. "And who's to say it's all so terrible? You've seen things most humans can only dream of." A pause. "And I am always watching over you, in some way - keeping you safe, when nobody else can."
Ezra watches the expression on her face as she takes his hand with visible amusement, doing little to disguise the entertainment her clear contempt provides. His hand closes around hers firmly, and without a further word he guides her out - once again passing through the crowd without a touch, bodies seeming to open up around them until they reach the exit, and the cold air of the night greets them.
---
It's only a short walk to their destination. He remains quiet, though his hand remains on hers. To anyone watching, they would seem almost ordinary - a young couple making their way home after a night out together.
Ezra had long owned many buildings in the city, under many names. The skyrise a few blocks over happened to be one of them. As he guides her to the entrance, doormen cast the glass panes of the entryway open wide before he says a word. Smoothly he makes his way to the elevator, soon pressing the button to reach the roof.
"I've never brought anyone here before." Ezra muses as the elevator rises, more to himself than her, though he does briefly glance in her direction just as they reach their destination. The immaculate metal of the doors open before them - revealing a picture of what could have been taken from a wildlife magazine rather than a skyrise in Vievecor City.
A glass dome encloses the rooftop, the air warm and faintly humid. Vines and flowering plants twist around dark metal beams overhead, thick with greenery. Somewhere deeper within the foliage comes the distant chirp of tropical birds. It feels less like stepping onto a rooftop, and more like entering a hidden botanical garden suspended above the city.
Slowly, Ezra guides her along a stone path winding between flowerbeds. Ahead, illuminated by candelight, waits a carefully set table - two chairs arranged opposite each other, looking down over the city below.
"I come here sometimes. When the city has worn me down." Ezra glances out at the skyline of the city through the glass, the dimmed light of the stars above them. Even for its height, the rooftop is oddly silent - only the rustle of leaves and the occasional call of unseen birds disturbing the stillness. Magic, woven into the space long ago, muffling the endless noise of the city beneath them. "It's one of the few places I can find peace."
Finally, he turns back to her, one arm gesturing casually toward the table.
"Please, take a seat, if you wish. I have a surprise for you, assuming you're willing to stay a little longer." An almost gentle smile makes an appearance, as if some guard has been lowered in this space, a sanctuary no one else is usually ever permitted to see.
