Beastly | Arcane Silco

Four

She stared at the metal mug in front of her, watching as steam rose from the hot beverage inside and faded softly the higher it reached. Her fingers were intertwined and resting on top of the desk she sat at, the mug untouched. An old blanket had been put around her shoulders but she didn't bother pulling to closer around her body, despite the obvious chills and faint shivering. 

The man was seated on the opposite side, his scarf pulled down to reveal a long face with high cheekbones and lips so thin it almost seemed as if he had none at all. His expression was neutral, though the white of his injured eye made him look more intimidating than he would have normally been. 

His gaze dropped to the mug between them, his eyebrow rising as he gestured towards the drink. 

"You should drink it as long as it is hot. I can assure you it isn't poisoned, if you think that."

She narrowed her eyes, the nails of her fingers digging deep into her skin as she kept her arms crossed in front of her chest. A scoff almost escaped her, but she suppressed it and looked away instead, focusing on a small shelf filled with old books to her left.

"Should I have reason to think so?" She asked with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, not taking her eyes off of the books. The spines were partially labeled in golden, thin letters but against the dark brown of the leather binds, they were practically unreadable. The doctor followed her gaze, the faintest hint of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. 

"Can you read?" She didn't respond, but her silence and expression were answer enough. Where should she have learned to read after all? Who should have taught her? Letters were nothing underneath the surface. They couldn't kill, they couldn't swim. They stored no oxygen. 

"How did you even know I wasn't human," she said silently, her voice pressed as she continued avoiding his eyes. There was nothing they could tell her, and their weight rested heavy on her shoulders. 

"I have witnessed a lot during my life, girl. But never once have I seen a human with gills." 

Subconsciously, she placed her hand on the right side of her neck, her lips pressed together in a fine line. She had been naive to think that she could hide forever. Once you got comfortable with a certain way of living, you also got reckless. Perhaps she hadn't been pulling to hood down far enough when she was standing in front of the booth, asking for medication she wouldn't receive. 

"Are they yours?" She asked to change the subject. Despite the question, her voice was dry and lacking any kind of emotion that would have indicated genuine interest. A deep, slightly sad, chuckle escaped him and out of the corner of her eye, she could see him purse his lips. Someone less observant might have thought it to be an unnecessary question, given how everything in the lab was made for one person, but she didn't need to be able to read to see that most of these books were fairy tales; not the sort of stories one might associate with a man such as him. Though people always had tendency to surprise her.

"No," he admitted, the single word carrying more emotion in it than most of what he had said to her until now. Finally, the woman turned her head to look at him, and found him staring at the shelf sadly. He didn't elaborate for a few moments, but she didn't push him. "They were my daughter's. She loved to read. Seeing them makes me feel closer to her."

She hadn't expected such a vulnerable answer, and for a moment she was even too surprised to speak. Naturally she considered whether he was using a lie to manipulate her, but the sadness in his voice seemed too genuine. 

The woman shifted her attention back to the mug in front of her; the steam had faded, leaving only a smaller, more translucent veil in its wake. Exhaling, she reached out with her hand hesitantly and wrapped it around the lukewarm cup. It immediately sent pleasant heat through her almost frozen fingers as she parted her lips slightly, raising the mug to them.