The Imitation Game ✓

FORTY | COME WHAT MAY

They say all good things must come to an end, but Anais didn't want it to be true.

She was trying not to let herself grieve it too much until after it was already over—after all, why should she try to fight something she couldn't stop? It was a terrible feeling, knowing that the end was coming and she was incapable of doing anything aside from looking it straight in the eye, but the pain would be a waste, so she did her best to hold it down.

She carried on with her usual routine of getting Cora's costumes ready for the show. But tonight, the majority of their work would happen after the show, that dreaded moment when they'd have to start getting all of the pieces packed away to go into storage. Broadway costumes were never just tossed out—they were much too expensive for that—but rather stowed away in a garment warehouse until they hopefully got to see the light of day again or were repurposed for another use. Anais already had her fingers crossed that another production of Illicit Affairs would crop up somewhere else in the near future and that Cora would soon be able to slip back into Isla's dresses again even if Anais wasn't the one dressing her. But until then, they were off to storage.

Her most immediately pressing matter was the need to repair a tiny hole in the sleeve of Cora's first act gown before she wore it one last time tonight. She could run the risk of leaving it be, but there was always the chance that it could snag onto something onstage and tear open, and an embarrassing mishap was the last thing she wanted Cora to remember her last show by. She'd just make a quick detour back upstairs to their little costume shop; it would only take her a minute, anyway.

Apparently, she wasn't alone in needing to make a repair at the last second. She could already hear the quiet clicking sound of a sewing machine before she opened the door. When she did, she saw Gideon slightly bent over one of the machines, his back to her as he carefully mended a pair of trousers. Anais quietly approached the vacant machine next to him, not sure if she was pleased to have company right now or not.

His expression was serious, but he smiled when he glanced over and saw her. And yet it was a polite sort of smile, the sort spurred by a social obligation to be friendly rather than a good mood.

"Hi," she said plainly, then winced internally.

"Hi," he repeated, almost teasing. "How are you feeling? I mean, about...everything, I guess."

"I'll manage," she offered, and as she tried to correctly position the sleeve of the gown she was holding, she realized that what should have been an easy task for her was about to be made difficult by the fact that she was now distracted. "I get it's just how these things go sometimes...but it's still hard, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed gently, though his eyes had been drawn back to the project in front of him. "It feels a little bit like saying goodbye to an old friend."

"Or burying them."

To her surprise, his lips formed a crooked grin. "I'll be honest, you never struck me as being so morbid."

"I suppose there's only so well you can really know a person at work."

She prayed he could grasp what she was trying to get at. She was never going to be as upfront of a person as Cora was, but she was still going to try to get what she wanted one way or another.

Luckily, he took the bait.

"And will I be seeing you again?" he asked carefully, then quietly cleared his throat. "When we're not at work?"

Anais had to stifle a laugh—not at him, but at them both. God, they were way too shy, way too bad at this flirting thing. No wonder they still hadn't gotten anywhere after knowing each other for the better part of a year.