After not being close to him in months, Irene took the first opportunity that she could get. The blonde focused on exploiting Roderick’s weakness for her. She got close to him knowing that he wouldn’t push her away. She could have slipped a knife in between his ribs and he’d more than likely sit there and stare into her eyes. However, she also took in all of the features that she’d missed while she did so. Her fingernail dug into the skin of his neck and Irene tried her best not to focus on the feel of his skin beneath her fingertips. Her gaze bore into his and she tried not to get lose in the brown hues of his eyes. Her finger trailed down his body and Irene focused on the anger that she felt. She resisted the urge that she had to immediately give into him.
When his hand wrapped around her wrist tightly, she lost her breath for a brief moment. She shouldn’t have been drinking. She needed to keep a clear mind around him. Then again, how could she have expected Roderick Flint of all people to show up at her Floo after months of silence? His eyes darkened and hers were a similar shade, a brief hint of curiosity flickering upon her face when his face contorted in pain. There was something there. A wound, perhaps. What business had he been on? What had he been doing in the past couple of months?
She stepped away and watched as he covered whatever damage was on his ribs. He should have known that he was giving her too much information. This was the type of information that could ruin him. It gave her the ability to ruin him if she so chose. One finger upon the wound had caused him to contort in discomfort. What would happen if she chose to exploit this new weakness? Irene wondered whether or not it was worth it. She wondered if her anger was enough to cause him pain. “Show me,” Irene commanded lowly, her hands on her hips as she referred to his wound.
Angered herself, it took Irene a moment before she recognized Roderick’s anger. That he’d lost his patience. It was rare that he spoke to her in this manner and for a brief second, the surprise was clear upon her face. This was Martin’s doing. It had him all over it and Irene should have seen it coming from a mile away. She hated that her own weakness was exploited, especially when she wasn’t supposed to have one. Against her better judgement, the blonde put the bottle of wine to her lips again and took a very long swig of it.
When she placed the bottle of wine back down upon the desk, Irene turned her back to Roderick, her fingers wrapping around the edge of her desk. She dug her nails into the wood as she attempted to keep her composure that she was losing. Irene was angry. She was angry at Martin for exploiting her. She was angry at Cassius for taking advantage of the situation. She was angry at Roderick for thinking that she had any hand in it. More than that, she was upset. She was upset that she could be so easily convinced into believing something so stupid.
“You should go,” Irene told him abruptly, before clearing her throat to rid herself of the emotions that she was feeling. She still had her back turned to him, but the very thought of anyone seeing her in a state of vulnerability was enough to push even the closest people to her away. “I had no part in your assignment. I wasn’t aware of it. I thought…” She trailed off, not finishing her thought, her grip tightening upon her desk top as she took a deep breath to rid herself of what she was feeling. “Our arrangement is unfinished.”
Roderick removed his traveling cloak slowly, not to tease as he had so many times upon her orders to strip in this very office but, for ease of access. When he was standing or walking, it was easy enough to hide the shame on his side. A cane was still in fashion in Catalonia and, for the short time he spent there before his return to England, visiting his family was only taxing emotionally. He got to his feet, resting against the arm of his chair as he unbuttoned his shirt. Roderick could demand an answer from this woman but the second a command fell from her lips, he was reeled back in to her. It was ridiculous. Infuriating. Yet, it still gave him a glimmer of hope that her mentorship wasn’t through.
Aware of her eyes on him, Roderick did his best to keep his face impassive. Though how one did that after nails sharpened to points dug into your wound, he wasn’t sure. It took him longer than he would have liked even while being careful. Breathing out in lieu of making any sounds of discomfort. Jaw clenched, Roderick was able to undo all the buttons of his shirt and rested back down in the seat of the plush chair. His scarf still around his neck, the bandage against his side still sticky with murtlap essence. A poor substitute for not going to see a healer but wounds like this would draw questions about his hobbies, the way he spent his time.
When she turned her back, Roderick didn’t avert his eyes. He waited, full of more patience than he had been a moment ago, as his head rested back against the chair. If only due to the fact that he was still breathing and she had asked after him. The only tell of his rage and pain were his locked jaw and the tight ball he had made out of his cloak. He would sit here all night, calming his breath and talking himself down if she made him wait.
Through clenched teeth, he retorted quickly. “In a moment.” Admitting the pain was affecting him was one big ask. Admitting it to her was unheard of. His chest ached and Roderick wasn’t sure what was the cause. Irene was acting in a manner he’d never seen her before or her final realization that he was still, as always, on her side. The idea that still didn’t grasp he would follow her to whatever end was burning more than his wound. More concerning than the sight at her so uncovered.
The issue with turning to cards or tea leaves was Roderick’s belief. It was stronger than any will he could exert or action he could take. Magic had given him a small bit of sight but belief fueled his talent. It was the same strong belief that kept him in his chair, weakness abound, confident that Irene had not turned on him. But it was always what allowed him to see what was occuring to them before she did. “You didn’t.” His agreement was instantaneous. The Neither did I was unspoken. “I can’t tell you where I was or what I was doing.”
