She didn't even remember when she collapsed on her bed. She had a vague remembrance of the Chief heading out, sending her a strange glare, and then the weight of the world and of the last three days had fallen on her shoulders like a ton of bricks. She had fallen asleep the instant her head had touched the pillow, and she clearly didn't plan to wake up until, at least, the next evening.
Then, the doorbell rang. Many times.
«Fuck.» she grumbled, with a dough mouth and a pristine will to kill. She looked at her watch. It was seven o'clock in the evening. She had slept barely five hours of the one hundred she clearly needed. She waited to hear any sound in the dark house. Nothing. She sighed.
She stood up, dragged her feet to the door picked up the intercom. On the small black-and-white screen, an image formed.
She rubbed her eyes. Again. And again.
«Huh... hello?» called the voice from the intercom. She tried to articulate, to not much result.
«Chief...?» she asked, finally.
There truly was Garaham, with a dark brown suit and a bunch of flowers at her door?
«Are you going to let me wait down here for the next millennium, or do you need spoken step-by-step instructions to learn how to use a door?»
It was him.
«What... what are ye doing here?»
«I just came to check in. It had been a fatiguing couple of days for you, and I thought that you... that we deserved to celebrate a victory every now and then. Chico and Vopros seem to be out, so that leaves us. I get that you usually fill yourself with pestilential alcohol to celebrate, and I thought that maybe, just this time, I could come along. At least to make sure you don't pass out on some sticky floor.»
«Ah. Rite. Makes sense. Well. Ok. Unusual. Rite. I'm coming down in a moment.»
Before he could answer she closed the communication.
Panic.
She felt a renewed adrenaline rush blast through her veins. She ran into the bathroom, washed her face to wake up completely, just to be sure she wasn't in a dream and tried to put some order in her hair with furious brush strokes. She looked in the mirror. She still had half a blackened face, the rest was as pale as bleach and her hair was half a mess, half a tamed bush.
She slapped her own face three or four times. Some color started to flow again to her cheek. That was it for make-up.
She rushed to her wardrobe. She didn't have many choices. She took out the green cocktail dress and put it on, as fast as she could. She had no jewelry, so that part was fast, and as per the shoes, she cursed.
Last time she had worn that dress, she had borrowed the high heel shoes from Galaxia, an adorable drag queen who came to sing at the Finnegan's Wake at the "Queen of the Night Extravaganza" every two weeks. She had none.
The combat boots would have had to do.
He looked at her with a curious expression.
«That's... an original outfit. Also... fast.» he commented, giving her the flowers. They were simple and perfumed wildflowers, colorful and cheerful, wrapped in a light green crepe paper. She inhaled their smell to hide her embarrassment.
«Thank you, that's... unexpected.» they were both speaking with long pauses in their sentences, with a great deal of effort in avoiding each other's gaze.
«So, let's go and eat something, all right? I saw a nice little Italian restaurant right around the corner.» he said.
«Ah, well, we'd better get to know the local eating places 'round the new home.»
They started walking in a sort of awkward silence, as none of them truly knew how to start a normal conversation. Luckily, the place was near, indeed. They reached it in a matter of minute, thanks to their long strides, and they were seated in the cutest little round table-for-two, with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth and a box of breadsticks.
«So, are we actually going to talk, or are we truly that kind of people who can only talk about work?» he asked, crossing his hands on the table. Banshee hid hers in her lap not to show their wringing.
«No, ye're right, it's just... this is very sudden. We hadn't celebrated something, I think since Jane was born, and you brought around pasties.» she recalled, with a smile. «How are the kids, then? The little future Enforcers?»
«Oh, they grow up so fast.» he said, smiling slightly. «They mean the world to me. I surely hope they'll be happy in the Order when their magic is kindled.»
«Never really wrapped me mind about the fact they have to be kindled anyway. Couldn't they just, I don't know, sell used cars?»
«Being an Enforcer is a pride and an honor, Banshee.» he suddenly looked kind of serious. «Being able to Dispel magic makes the balance of the supernatural world be kept. There are not many mages, and of those, those who are born with, or are able to learn, Dispel magic are but a fraction. If the Enforcer families don't step up, we'll go back to Middle-Age chaos.»
«Didn't we say we shouldn't talk about work?» she tried to lighten the mood because clearly, the Chief had fallen in his usual serious mood again.
Against all odds, he smiled. Something that didn't even wake up the little wrinkles around his eyes that appeared the rare times he did that.
«You're right. I'm sorry. So, how are you feeling? All right, I hope?» he asked, while their meal was being served.
«I'm getting back on me feet pretty well, thanks. And, I'm sorry. Fer this afternoon, and this morning as well. I... I wanted to call you, but at the same time, I was afraid. I didn't want to... you know... be with you amidst the werepeople...» she struggled to find the words.
Garaham raised his hand, before putting it on hers.
«Don't fret. I'm sorry as well.» he said, clearly glossing over the subject with unexpected grace. «I can be pretty out-of-reach, most of the times.» he admitted, looking at the glass where the waiter had silently poured some wine. «Maybe I owe you an apology.»
Banshee blinked.
«Chief? Do ye feel all rite?» she worried.
«Yes. What happened at the school has made me feel like I hadn't felt for a long time. It's the kind of thing that makes you remember the things you're... neglecting.» a long pause, at the end of which he put his eyes in hers. Banshee suddenly forgot how to swallow.
«I'm sorry if our shenanigans have kept ye far from home. The kids must have missed ye. And yer missus.» she said, rapidly, after clearing his throat. And she saw his eyes go dark.
«Well, let's say that the bliss had ended even before beginning. It takes a lot to make these arranged marriages work properly. And sometimes just a strong will to be good isn't enough.» he said, with a strange, sad streak in his voice. Banshee frowned, her blood rushing through her ears.
«Ye seemed happy enough.»
«We're not a deranged couple, of course, we know how to keep a certain composure. But there's more to marriage than composure. At least, there must be, or... should be, don't you think?» he took a sip of wine, while Banshee desperately searched for lost words.
Then, she found at least some safe ones.
«Chief. Are ye all rite?»
Garaham's face changed, instantly. If words were expected, those weren't those.
«I'm sorry?»
«Ye know, I realized that every time we meet, every time we speak... I almost never get the chance to ask ye something as simple as that, and I think that there are not so many people that do. If ye've got troubles, and thoughts I'm here.» it was hurting her more than she thought, saying those words. But they were the right ones, and they both knew.
Garaham's expression, strangely melted down. He was looking at her with a strange intensity, something he had never shown before towards her.