for: @prxcticalmxgic characters: annette& bhari setting: paris, 1925
Revenir au lit, Bhari.
The brunette called for him from his bed. The same brunette whose skin was like milk--or was it porcelain?--clear and smooth, not a freckle to be seen. Her eyes were dark like his; deep pools of black water like the Seine in the night. By all accounts, she was different, and that was most important, wasn't it? Atop his bed she combed the curly tresses that hung from her head like a heavy curtain using one of his combs she had found in the bedside drawer, poking out from beneath a photo of a blonde-haired woman. He did not know her more than a few hours spent together on odd nights would allow him to. Even then, it was not as if they spent that time talking. Bhari wasn’t that type of man, until he was. Until he forced himself to be.
“Dans un moment.”
He called from the little kitchen. The smile on his face was apparent in his voice as he rinsed a cup in the tinny sink. French was becoming more comfortable for him, through practice. Time had been set aside each day, outside of the typical everyday interactions, to learn new words and familiarize them on his tongue. Children’s books helped, but having beautiful teachers worked best.
Bhari’s mouth opened to ask her a question, which would quickly slip his mind the moment he heard the ping of the doorbell. At this hour? he thought, but quickly dried his hands and turned to the hall. The brunette was stirred by the noise as well. From a hook on the wall he grabbed a shirt on the way to the door, a button done for every two steps.
Not far behind him, the young woman leaned against the wall, craning her neck to see who was behind the door as if she was right at home. To him, she was not, and were she close enough to see the mixed up expression that took his countenance into an equal blend of excitement and horror, she would have known not to make herself too comfortable.
“Annette?” he croaked. “You’ve come back?”