Sacrilege |H. S.|

9. new companions

"Would you like more tea?" Iain asks, pointing to the teapot sitting on the table between us.

"I'm good." He nods, a closed lip smile on his face, dark hair falling over his forehead in small strands, slick and shiny.

"Cold?" I shrug at his second question, the tremble in my limbs was mostly anxiety, but it was a bit nippy. He stands, tall and lean, moving to the large window to our left and drawing the curtains, sunlight infiltrating the room. "I can't imagine what it's like, to be susceptible to ambient temperatures."

"I can't imagine what it's like not to be." I watch as he steps back, falling to the seat he'd just left. He raises one leg over the other knee, joining both hands and focusing his brown eyes on me.

"You forget after a few decades."

"That's what Harry said-"

"Oh?" Iain interrupts with a sardonic smirk. "Harry's been saying quite a lot of things."

I don't respond to his continuous snide remarks, which seems to only annoy him further.

"Did you dream anything else last night?" Sighing, my eyes roll at his interrogation. The same questions, the same room, the same man for a week, my head ached at the repetitiveness.

"Yes, I had a lovely dream, where you stop filling me up with tea." An empty, emotionless laugh comes from him.

"Anything to do with the important matter?"

"I've already told you everything there is."

"I don't believe that's all there was to that night."

"Well, that's on you." I know speaking this way to him wasn't the best thing to do, Harry warned me, as did Cora. But I've honestly grown tired of his neverending doubts and inquiries.

"I can't just take what you're giving me and leave. They won't be the last to try and come for you, we can't have you killed."

"That's why you all came here like a flock of birds. Last time it was only Harry and Mason, I survived. I imagine whatever sparks up next will be easier." There wasn't much I had left to say, I was eager for Iain to drop the subject like I had.

"Run it down for me again." I scrunch my lips, exhaling loudly through my nose.

"Which part?"

"All of it."

"Don't you know it by memory now?"

"When I asked Vera the kind of person you were, feisty wasn't the word she used." He complains, leaning his head back on the chair, neck outstretched and the veins there seemed bouncy.

"I'm sure no one would use that word to describe me. I'm generally a nice person, when I've not been manhandled for a whole week."

"You call protection manhandling?" Iain scoffs, as if I owed him something.

"Protection against a danger I wouldn't be in if it wasn't for you? No, I call that a lot of other things. Things that wouldn't sound ladylike of me." I lean forward, partly to stretch my rigid back but also because I wanted to emphasize my point, the irony of their protection.

"Ah yes, because you're just too polite and cordial, right?"

"I wouldn't burden myself with such a description, but I guess I am."

Iain was kind of... fun. The subjects bored and irritated me, but had our talks been about anything other, I'm sure I would've enjoyed his presence. He's rather friendly, much more amicable than the rest of the companions he brought with him from New Zealand.