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"Sentimental as ever," Elisabeth commented, entertained despite herself by the simplicity of the revealed interior. She removed a light jacket, stepping out of her shoes in the threshold of the doorway. The gloss of her black heels seemed to possess more personality than anything else in the room. "I suspect you don't stay here as much as you'd like."[break][break]

Wealth presented itself in different ways; how a man spent it revealed his true priorities. Her late husband had funneled his fortune into an impenetrable fortress, enshrining his legacy behind lock and key, until she'd burned it all down.[break][break]

Though thoughts of that shadow felt far behind her, now.[break][break]

As if shaking that memory firmly from her mind, her fingers threaded themselves into the wet curls of her bun, loosening it from its tight hold. Water droplets shimmered with the movement as her hair fell to her waist, and she turned to him with a slight grin, buoyed ever so slightly by the sake they'd indulged in.[break][break]

"Why? Are you offering?"

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"No? Cold is cheaper than warmth, I find," Elisabeth said lightly, glancing over to regard the solitary candle in the room. "But far be it from me to tell you how to prioritize."[break][break]

She'd found herself mimicking him despite herself. He moved methodically and spoke evenly, as if they were discussing things as mundane as the weather outside.[break][break]

Although in a sense, they were.[break][break]

The dampness of his clothing betrayed the scars hidden underneath, their faint outline now familiar and yet nonetheless jarring against the businessman's facade. Her own body had yet to be ruined in the same way by Rocket, but that time would come sooner than either of them would realize.[break][break]

No one cared about a little florist outside of Petalburg City; no one wondered what poisons might lurk in the depths of her basements; no one asked why a widow would leave Kalos, seemingly friendless and without family.[break][break]

In this moment, her insignificance made her feel bold. To be no one meant you could be anyone.[break][break]

It meant no one could hurt you, if they didn't know who you were.[break][break]

For the second time tonight, her hands busied themselves with his tie, daring to intrude upon his time as she had so many other nights before. Rather than tightening its hold, she allowed the fabric to slacken in her grip, relinquishing itself into her palm.[break][break]

"And you?" Elisabeth asked, looking up at him meaningfully. "Is your own warmth of no concern to you?"

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How strange. Standing here like this, alone with him in his home, it felt odd to remember that this man had ever frightened her.[break][break]

There had been a time she'd tried to keep her curiosity of him at bay, their closeness built through invisible phone lines and the safety of hushed whispers in the dark. So long as they kept away from one another, it would make her transgressions with him forgivable.[break][break]

Except each transgression invited another, weakening one's resolve against temptation. An alcoholic's thirst wasn't meant to ever be cured; its agony was meant to be endured, instead. [break][break]

But she was so tired of enduring.[break][break]

As his hands found her waist, her body pressed against his own in answer, all pretense of restraint abandoned with the motion. One hand gently reached for his cheek, the other resting on the nape of his neck as she drew closer to him.[break][break]

"I don't think," she began, her lips brushing against his own as she spoke, "either of us is much for sleeping at this hour."[break][break]

The murkiness of uncertainty in his eyes endeared him to her, lowering some final wall she hadn't realized still remained in herself as she smiled up at him. The excuse of indulging in the curiosity of him no longer existed for her; a reckless and willful desire had replaced it, exposed by the way her hands openly laid claim to him.[break][break]

"Does that mean you wish for me to take?" she asked him softly. A hand lowered from his neck to find purchase on his partially unbuttoned shirt, flush against the damp cloth. It sat there patiently, awaiting permission to continue. "Or that you want to receive what you so freely give?"

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Theirs was a mutual surrender.[break][break]

She couldn't remember why she'd resisted this so much, back when she'd kept as much distance between them as possible. She couldn't pinpoint what it was about this encounter that made it different than the last, or why back then, she had doubted his kindness so fiercely.[break][break]

"Then give yourself to me," she whispered, shivering as the zipper's movements traced goosebumps down her back. "And I'll do the same."[break][break]

What was the harm, in giving into what she so clearly wanted?[break][break]

What good did it do her, really, to keep herself starving?[break][break]

She leaned into his kiss with her whole body, her black dress discarded as her fingers made swift work of his own clothing. The thrill of being wanted, and of wanting another in return, had been so foreign to her for so long.[break][break]

Human touch had an addictive quality, after so many years of isolation and neglect.[break][break]

He'd feel it in her sheer need as she returned his affection with her own, desperate to be sated.

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She wanted to forget herself, in this moment. Not just how to breathe, not just how to exist, but to erase everything about the person she had been up until this point.[break][break]

It had been so long since she'd been with someone for any reason other than spite.[break][break]

The touch of his hands molded her into someone new. Someone who didn't possess the faults of the past decade, someone uncomplicated and worthy of an adoration that didn't spring from hate.[break][break]

The fantasy of being deserving was intoxicating the more she gave into it, letting herself get swept up in the passion of being desired for the person she wanted to be, if not the person that she was.[break][break]

Some part of her loved him for letting her live that lie.[break][break]

She kissed him with a sweetness she'd thought no longer existed in herself, surprised by how easy it was to play the part of the girl she'd thought had died a decade ago. "Are you looking for comfort, then?" she'd asked him one night, but she'd been searching for it too, hadn't she?[break][break]

It felt exhilarating, to embrace someone without fear.[break][break]

It felt terrifying, too.[break][break]

How naive it had been to dismiss someone distant and far away, to put him aside like a book she enjoyed reading from time to time to distract herself. Here in his home, wrapped in his arms, lost in the sensation of all that he was and was willing to be for her, a tiny voice warned too late that she'd taken one step too far past the point of no return.[break][break]

That was why people called this 'falling,' wasn't it?[break][break]

He would tire of her, of course. Maybe not by morning, maybe not for some months, but one day he would, she knew. All men did. That was what happened when they finally knew her, but that was what made this safe, she reasoned. He didn't know her, and he couldn't ever know her, because to know her would be to hate her for all that she was.[break][break]

She closed her eyes as she basked in the afterglow, a fluttering sense of contentment and safety dizzying her with a peace she'd forgotten night could hold for her.[break][break]

She was fooling herself, but maybe he was fooling himself, too.[break][break]

Maybe they both loved to be fooled.

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