Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzt.
The ring of the call buzzer was unusually harsh that morning, sounding through the stillness of Evey's flat. It was just after breakfast, and she'd been having some toast while she watched the morning news. ... ... Planned celebrations were the top story of the day, and London was ready and raring to go.
"Just a minute, just a minute," she muttered under her breath as she hurried out from the kitchen. Who on earth would be visiting at *this* hour on a *holiday*? ... ... "Yes?" she replied, pressing the reception button and speaking into the intercom.
"Good morning, Miss Hammond," came a friendly, heavily accented, Irishman's voice. It was the doorman, but not the usual one. This was Mr. O'Reilly ... an especially personable, elderly man, who sometimes substituted for the position during weekends and holidays. "I hate to disturb you so early, but there's a Mr. Viedt here to see you."
Within seconds, Evey went from being only mildly annoyed over the idea of an early morning caller ... to being downright uncomfortable.
Adrian*? Why in the world would *he* be here?
She'd been doing an excellent job of avoiding him, these last few months. Around the government offices; functions; and various events. ... ... They'd still bumped into each other a few times -- yes, of course. But it had always been handled with the expected politeness of co-workers and acquaintances.
A year ago, he had been the agent sent to 'escort' her through her official duties for the day. She'd never determined with any certainty whether it had been a random assignment, or if he'd somehow rigged the situation to his advantage. As V always said, 'there was no such thing as coincidence'. ... ... But she had brushed him off then, just as she would brush him off now. With all that had transpired recently ... with her clear ending of their friendship, let alone any 'relationship' ... surely he knew that she had even *less* desire for his company *this* year.
And what was more, she had to be leaving in a couple hours anyway. It was her black-clad beau with whom she intended to spend most of this day, and they were to rendezvous outside a small park by late morning.
She pressed the intercom button again, intending to tell Mr. O'Reilly that Mr. Viedt should be politely turned away ... only to discover that Adrian had apparently already turned on the charm.
"He's quite the lad," the doorman chuckled, as if he'd just been sharing a laugh with the hopeful guest. "I hope you don't mind my saying so, Miss, but he really is quite the lad. Says to tell you he'll stand fixed at these doors til his foot grows fast, just in the hopes of seeing you."
Evey's eyes closed as she tried to retain her composure. Mr. O'Reilly meant well, she reminded herself. ... He did. ... He was an elderly man who took a fatherly interest in some of the young ladies living within the building. He probably thought he was doing her a favour with his sage advice. And Adrian always knew how to turn on the charm. For example
"Quite impressive credentials too," Mr. O'Reilly added, almost as if he thought he were in on some secret. "May I send him up, Miss?"
Yeah, alright. She didn't need Adrian hanging around when it came time to leave. Might as well just get this over with.
Evey double-checked the chain lock on her door. She would prefer *not* to let him in, if she could avoid it. Maybe she could pretend she was still getting dressed? ... She ran to the bedroom, rolled up the cuffs of her jeans, and pulled on a heavy, terry-cloth robe.
And as she hurried back down the hall, a tempered, very proper knock came at her door.
She probably needn't have looked out the peep-hole, but she was glad she did in the end. It took the edge off the shock. A distorted, Fawkesian mask stared back at her. Almost grimaced in fact, as the traditional, frozen smile of her beau was twisted by the optics of the peep-hole lens. Or maybe it was just an effect of the man who lurked behind *this* particular mask. Either way, she was not amused.
