‘ i’m not going to bite your head off. ’ unless you give me a reason to, is what she doesn’t say ;; unless you want me to. a she-wolf ! her old friend was more right than he may have realised, or perhaps she isn’t giving him the credit he deserves. her fangs have grown sharper in the years between now && then, it’s no stretch to say his mind has, too. always such a clever creature, he’d been. it’s no surprise at all – with that in mind – that he survived the war, && all that has come after it. ‘ i don’t think i could. you’re far too pretty to be headless, m— alexei. ’
she smiles, almost guiltily for the slip-up. it would take getting used to, this little change. not that she’ll really have to bother for any longer than a day. it is for the best this way. there’s a reason she has no friends, && it’s not entirely due to her uncuddly nature. ‘ we got out – – && i have kept busy. it’s no simple thing, for a mouse to become a wolf, after all. ’ she won’t go into details, of course. she can’t. evelin likes the way he looks at her. she doubts he’d look at her so fondly if he knew how many heads she’d really bitten off, how many she would continue to.
‘ why, you really have grown into quite the charmer, though, haven’t you ?? serenading ladies on the street, almost bursting with these compliments … you must be very popular. ’ she pokes him, gently, before pushing open glass doors. god, she could use of coffee. ‘ if i were still a girl, i might be jealous. i think i was a little in love with you. ’
a little in love with him. oh, how cruel the world was, to thrive in the give-and-take (and take, and take, and take). life was a joke, and he may as well laugh. time would wring the air from his lungs sooner or later. there was much to her little perceptions,
his palm catches the door as she passes through it, feeling nothing more than a benevolent WRAITH of bygone times. he is a ghost of her past, a mere shadow flickering through the periphery of her present. ( isn’t that the truth, though? how many times over should he have died? he does not belong in her present any more than he deserves his own. )
a charmer, she said. well, his mind had always been quick and his tongue quicker. it’s more habit than honesty, more the knee-jerk compulsion of his trademark cleverness tugging at his leash, snapping at his heels. charm it may be, but from less a genuine place than she deserves. ‘ poor you, ’ he quips. ‘ a shame you had such poor candidates when it came to affection. tragically, a scoundrel is hard pressed to change his ways. this dear old violin is still the only real contender for my heart and soul. ’ but who is he without the facade? who is he without the posturing, the whip-quick retaliation of his tongue? ‘i should be saying the same for you. i’m sure you’ve left your fair share of bleeding and broken hearts in your wake.’ LITTLE MOUSE she was no longer--no, she was a hurricane. there were heavy clouds bursting in her gaze, and there was no shelter to be found in the eye of her storm.