After Arundel (RP)

Henry made her wait. It wasn’t the first time.

There had been so many evenings where she sat by the window, watching the clock tick past the time he was supposed to come pick her up. Sometimes, he wouldn’t show up at all.

She only ever existed only to serve him. His flirting, too, was a constant reminder that she wasn’t enough. He would effortlessly charm the girls at school, just like he was doing now with the waitresses, while she stood by, feeling small and insignificant. And he always knew how to use it against her: 'Do this for me, or I’ll find some other girl who will.' He didn’t just flirt to boost his own ego. It was a weapon, aimed at eroding her sense of worth and make her feel replaceable. All the old wounds resurfaced as she watched him, and though she had no interest in him romantically anymore, he still had a way of making her feel uneasy.

He ordered for her. Again, nothing new. He always made decisions for her like she couldn’t be trusted to know her own mind. He never cared if she liked it or not either. As annoying as it was, she decided against challenging him. She was too tried, and letting him have that small win was a small concession to stroke his ego and make him more agreeable. Still, she couldn’t help feel herself slipping into that familiar role, the one where she tried to please him, tried to make him happy, even when it came at her own expense. He was getting the upper hand again, and she hated how easy it was for him to slip back into control.

"We’re doing fine" her jaw tightened when he asked about David while they were waiting for their order to arrive. How’s David? Like he had any right to ask. Like he truly cared. She didn’t miss his knowing smirk. The only way he brought it up was to subtly rub in the fact that David had never reached the same level of success. It was infuriating that someone as arrogant and self-serving as him had everything: wealth, power, success, while she and David were still struggling. When she was younger, after he dumped her and moved to London, she hoped Karma would finally catch up to him and kick his teeth out, but now, she finally realized the truth: men like him didn’t get knocked down. They thrived. They rose precisely because they were assholes, and the world rewarded them for it.

She deflected his questions about Bellingham too. She hasn’t been back in six years, and had no intention of doing so anytime soon. It was all just empty small talk anyways. Henry didn’t really care. He wasn’t interested in an update on her life or her family. Both of them knew it was nothing more than a thin veneer of politeness. They were just going through the motions, the prelude to the real discussion they were both there to have.

Her interest in the conversation finally piqued when he started talking about Eliot. She listened carefully. Even though she knew so much more about Eliot’s true nature, Henry was still right about how dangerous he was. More then he imagined.

"You offered to protect me from him"

She looked at him thoughtfully, waiting to see what exactly he had in mind. She knew he wasn’t making that offer out of the kindness of his heart. He was always looking for leverage, some way to gain from the situation. But right now, she needed to hear what he had to say, because if there was another vampire hunting Sarah, she couldn’t afford to overlook any potential ally, even if that ally was Henry.

Move me? As if I am a piece of furniture he can just shift into his villa at the seaside?

She forced herself to remain cool, maintaining her poise despite his audacity. His offer to move her to his seaside villa wasn't some goodwill gesture. It was another way of inserting himself into her life, and using his wealth and resources to make her feel indebted. And yet, she smiled softly at him, tucking a wayward strand of blonde hair around her ear. Her outward calm was a mask, but underneath, she was calculating, weighing her options. As much as she loathed to admit it, Henry still had power, still had resources. Perhaps there was something he could offer her. Something more... practical. Something she could use on her own terms.

"That’s a very generous offer, but we can't drop everything and leave. David’s work is here. Our friends..." She holds his gaze for a moment, letting the words sink in. "We can’t just run away"

She pauses, letting the silence hang between them for a beat as her fingers tapped against the edge of her glass. "So, you’ve been keeping tabs on my life for a while then?" Her voice is casual, but there was a hint of a challenge there, her eyes meeting his with a flicker of amusement. If he’s been watching her, it means he’s still invested, still clinging to some version of their past. Meanwhile, she blocked him on her phone, pushed him out of her life as best as she could. The old power dynamic between them had always been so clear, but now she felt like the balance was shifting. She’s moved on. Henry... still can’t seem to let her go.

Emma’s smiled mischievously when Henry mentioned a ‘stunning blonde’. She leaned forward slightly, just enough to draw him in: "Oh? I wonder how exactly they described me, to make you think of me" she teased him with just enough of an inviting angle to keep him on edge. She knows how he sees her—how he still sees her as something to conquer. And for now, she’ll let him think it’s still possible.

"So," she continued, the playful edge still lingering in her voice "Tell me, what did your ‘contacts’ really tell you about me? About... my connection with Eliot?" She lets the question hang in the air, light but pointed.
He’s hiding something. I can feel it.

Emma leans in just a little further, making sure that Henry’s attention stays fully on her. She knows exactly what she’s doing. Her blouse pulls tight in all the right places as she angles her body so that he can’t look away.

"I get it" she lowers her voice "You’re trying to protect me from these... ‘paranoid’ contacts of yours. You’re worried they’ll think I’m a threat. But you know, I don’t want to cause any trouble. I’d like to assuage their fears, show them that I’m not some... corporate spy, like they think I am."

Her lips curl into a knowing smile "I think the best way to do that would be to meet them in person, don’t you?" She looks at him invitingly "Maybe you could introduce me?" She shifts even closer, angling her body toward him to make sure he gets the full effect of her presence, close enough for him to get a whiff of her perfume "We can go together. Tonight. You can vouch for me, and I’ll play the part of the ‘stunning blonde’"

She knows exactly what’s going through his mind. He’ll jump at the chance to spend more time with her, to feel like he has some important part in her life. And she’s already two steps ahead. If he takes the bait, she will have access to his contacts, and if they’re as paranoid as he says, she might get the inside track on what’s really going on with Elliot.

Emma leaned back in her seat and deliberately straightened her posture. The playful teasing is gone, instead replaced with a faint trace of disappointment in her eyes:

"Of course. I’ll be waiting for your call" Henry always made the time when it suited him. She knew it wasn’t about him, but about the availability of his contacts. But she wanted him to try harder. Send him a signal that the playful, flirtatious Emma was withdrawing, just a little, because he wasn’t able to give her what she wanted.

She held his gaze for just a moment longer, then slowly drew her eyes away, shifting her attention to the dessert menu as though she suddenly lost interest in their conversation.

So that’s it? He can’t even wait for me to leave before he starts with someone else?
Her stomach tightened in annoyance as she watched Henry shifting his focus to the waitress, flirting with her the moment she got up from the table. He could have at least been more respectful, but no. She was just another option for him, discarded the moment someone else caught his eye.

She quickened her steps as she walked out, but the frustration remained. She shouldn’t even care. He’s an arrogant, selfish prick that always needs to feel like he’s in control. There was no doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through if the waitress let him. And who knows? Maybe she will. The idea stings her more than it should, that feeling of being...disposable. Insignificant.

Her mood was a bit sour when she reached the apartment, exacerbated by the lack of sleep, and it was hard for her to remain calm hearing the loud music emanating from her apartment. But she softened once she stepped through the door and saw Sarah, looking so lively and energetic after the previous night. For a brief moment, she felt a wave of relief. The young woman was coming back to herself. Must be the rest, and no longer having to contend with her blood being stolen from her. That was one positive, at least.

"That’s very thoughtful of you, looking after the place" she smiled warmly at her "and I didn’t know you had such moves. Where have you been hiding that talent all that time?" she made a subtle reference to her figure as well. Sarah deserved to be complimented. Boost up her confidence, after everything she has been through.

Emma didn’t miss Sarah’s reaction, but she was too exhausted to make sense of it all right now. She needed some shut-eye, especially if she was going out later that evening.
"Well; I think you’re great. Maybe I’ll take you dancing with me sometimes. David isn’t really into the club scene, and I do have to write reviews for them, every now and then"
She let the statement linger in the air as she studied Sarah’s reaction, half-expecting her to either dismiss the offer or deflect it like everything else.

"I’m going to lay down for a couple of hours. Feel free to use my earbuds if you want to" she gave her a subtle but firm indication that she’d prefer the noise level to stay down, but added a warm smile on top. She did want her to feel at home, not like she has to tiptoe around everyone.

Emma gave Sarah a small, understanding smile. "Yeah, getting some rest sounds like a good idea for both of us." She stretched a little, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in. She fished her phone from her pocket once she was in her bedroom.

"Hey, Benji. Free this afternoon? Need to catch up. Let me know."

She hesitated for a moment after hitting send. Benji was also a vampire. Could she really call him her friend? Could she trust him? He was part of the very world that made her feel so vulnerable, and now, Sarah, too. But the thought of both of them being in danger, the very real possibility that whoever had been preying on Sarah was still out there, looking for her, finally tipped the scales.

She hit send, the weight of the decision lingering in her chest.

With a deep breath, she climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up and letting her body sink into the softness. Her thoughts started to blur, and before she knew it, she was drifting into sleep, hoping for a few hours of quiet before her plans for the evening.

The following afternoon (or just a few hours later for Emma), Benji meets Emma outside a steak restaurant on the corner of Panton and Haymarket, a few blocks from the train station. He leads her through a side-door next to the restaurant and up three flights of stairs to a cramped studio apartment that smells strongly of mouse.

It’s a claustrophobic little space, somewhere between cozy and dingy, with dim, yellow-ish lighting and outdated floral wallpaper. There is a wardrobe and a cluttered bookshelf against one wall, and a plush green couch that looks like it’s been slept on recently against the other. An upright piano has been shoved into a corner, and a small round dining table with three chairs arranged around it takes up the rest of what little space remains.

Benji has hung paintings over the windows (probably to block out the sunlight, Emma would guess), which doesn’t help much with the overall sense of claustrophobia. Cobwebs abound, but the rest of the apartment isn’t especially dirty or dusty (aside from the pervasive mouse smell), suggesting that Benji may have left the cobwebs there on purpose to avoid disturbing the spiders.

A white raven in a gilt cage watches Emma from atop the piano and there is, even more bizarrely, a giant tortoise basking under a heat lamp in the kitchen. The kitchen has been sectioned off from the rest of the flat with a short wall of books, stacked like bricks, to create a make-shift tortoise enclosure.

"That’s Hermes," Benji introduces Emma to the tortoise as he leads her over to the table and chairs. "He doesn’t normally live here. He’s just staying over for a few days along with my friend, Lizabeth."

He waves a hand at the raven. "And this is—well, I don’t think Jacob ever told me his name, actually—but I’ve been calling him Snowy."

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" he offers politely, pulling out a chair for Emma.

Benji’s apartment is so much different than anything she imagined. The dim lighting, the cluttered but strangely cozy feel. All the eclectic mix of objects. This was exactly why she was drawn to the supernatural world in the first place. The mystery. The oddities. The sense of seeing something out of place. Something strange.

She scanned the room with her writer’s instinct for detail. This was absolutely perfect! All the mismatched furniture, the blacked-out windows, even the cobwebs that Benji seemed to leave untouched. She would have never thought to write a vampire’s lair like this on her own. Her readers will find Benji’s quirky space to be fascinating, and she made a mental note to herself about asking him if he would mind featuring in her next book.

Her attention caught by the tortoise basking under the heat lamp, she crouched down and smiled at it :"Hi there, Hermes" she looked at him like she was a wide-eyed six-year-old seeing a tortoise for the first time. Hermes seemed unbothered in the otherwise chaotic space. She was so curious to know how it ended up there to begin with. There had to be a story behind it, likely a story behind every object in the apartment. She could probably pick his brain and write an entire series based on his life.

Her gaze shifted to the raven perched nearby. The snow-white bird, Snowy, validated her conclusion. There was another story associated with that beautiful animal, though the mention of Jacob’s name darkened her face. Jacob suckered her into that ridiculous scheme, only to abandon her, and never call back the next day.

"Sure, I’ll take that cup of tea" she says while still looking at her raven, clearly distracted. Her mind was buzzing with ideas for the next chapter of her book, fresh with inspiration from the sights at Benji’s apartment. "Do vampires drink tea?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She had no idea if Benji could even eat normal food, or if he survived entirely on blood. Or maybe he just entertained guests often enough to always have tea on hand.