charlotte-beaufort:
His demands were useless to her, but watching him squirm did help. She thoroughly enjoyed having the upper hand for once. (It was a sight she should have been owed back in St. Clemens, when she took over the brothel from him, but it was better late than never.) It calmed her a little.
“Why, monsieur, j'aurais pensé que c'était évident,” she said, innocently. He hated being kept in the dark, he always had. The best part was that he put himself in this situation; if he had ever taken the time to get to know her, or even gave a single thought as to what a person in her situation would need, then he would have no problem figuring out what she wanted from him. But he never considered her an equal, a human being worth his consideration. To him she was just another product. A pricey one, but a product nonetheless.
A soft laugh escaped her. “Là tout de suite je veux juste être en sécurité.” It came out just above a whisper, almost as if she was saying it to herself than to him. She steeled herself. She had to be much stronger now, especially if she was going to bargain with him.
“Je ne dirai à personne qui vous êtes vraiment,” she said. “Tant que je sais que j'ai une place ici.” And if Monsieur Deschamps was ever stupid enough to threaten that, he would find out what she was capable of.
He wondered if to be safe herself was something she was truly after, although he figured she must be afraid that he too would be able to make her life difficult here if he wished. After all, he had been with these people longer, he figured that in honest conversation they might take his word over hers, though she was great at putting up an act. They responded well to women in trouble. But it was a dangerous game, if either of them stepped out of line, they could expect the other to retaliate. He knew that much, the fact that she asked for security was more of a demand to enforce the idea that they could ruin things for each other, than that it felt like she was truly asking him to ensure she had a safe place.
Which meant Pascal thought that more demands might follow. Despite feeling like she had the upper hand right now, he did grimace at the mention of telling the people of the town who he really was. As if they would care. He was more afraid that she would use her little act to make his standing with the survivors uneasy. “Tu ne leur diras pas qui je suis vraiment?” he mused. “Alors qui suis-je, mademoiselle Beaufort?”
“Vous me demandez de vous assurer d'avoir une place ici? Ou est-ce que je comprends mal cela?” he went on, but his voice was dangerous. He could accept this treat, but he didn’t want to come for more surprises should she decide to bargain for more later on. He didn’t like how this was going, he didn’t like that he had this woman telling him what and what not to do. She proposed a challenge and a problem that he wasn’t sure yet how to deal with, but he wasn’t about to have to watch his every move just because she couldn’t be trusted.












