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freuleinanna · 1 year

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night randez-vous

Young Masriel AU in which Asriel lets Stelmaria scope out the area before sneaking into Marisa’s room.

the idea & gifs by @tragicotps So uuuh... *nervous chuckle* I did a thing, and I hope it's okay? You absolutely destroyed me with that post, and I wanted to write it as soon as I stopped screaming in my pillow over how talented you are. It's insane, you're insane, I love your work 💛

I am also crediting @queenofnabooty because the "worse half/better half" exchange came from your tags and I died laughing, I hope you don't mind :D

Word count: 1,130 Also on: AO3

'You're late.' 'You weren't exactly elaborate in your instructions.' Within the amber eyes, a mild rebuke and a twinkle, almost a teasing. 'We spent some time searching for your room.'

The stars are dancing, and the candles are lit, and lovers are, as lovers always are on nights like this, awake and longing.

Marisa, in bed, is doing her best to concentrate on the pages, but her mind wanders. She finds herself looking at the door way more often than she promised herself she would. She also finds her heart leaping at every sound. It shouldn't do that, they agreed long ago. Distracted, she almost starts biting her nails again, a habit that has long been beaten.

'Oh, hush.'

Her daemon chatters lightly, restless because she is. A frown on her face, when she buries her nose back in the book, is not the kind that causes trouble. She hasn't turned a page once this evening. Both are well aware of that.

A sound comes three long quarter-hours later, and it is not the sound she expects. Instead of careful steps, a barely audible scratching.

'Hush, I said!' Marisa scolds, before she realizes that the monkey is listening, too. Tilting a head, he regards the door, his tail curled in a golden question mark. Looks are exchanged: his – sharp and insistent, hers – well, hers is softer for once. Their nature keeps getting mixed up in unpredictable ways.

As the scratching continues, her daemon jumps on the bed and squeaks eagerly.

'Him, you think?' A swelling, arythmic noise in her chest. Then, with a nod, 'Yes, who else.'

She kicks the covers off, throws on a robe. Pauses before the mirror to check her reflection and put a few unruly curls back to their place. Then hurries to the door. Then comes back for a candle. Just in case it's someone else, to pretend she was sleeping, and just lit it, and surely did not expect–

Silky gold at her knees, pushing her forward.

'Ohhh!' she exclaims in a whisper, unable to even get properly mad. Then finally, finally–

There isn't anyone at the door. Marisa opens it just a crack at first, then wider. The hallway is dark and empty to the eyes, as her expectations grow dark an empty, too.

Maybe he left. Maybe she waited too long. Maybe he thought her asleep. How could he have thought her asleep? What a rude, intolerable...

Shadows come alive suddenly. One in particular does, and Marisa recognizes the graceful step. Candlelight turns the pearliness of the leopard's fur to near-gold, like her own daemon's; colors the eyes amber. Stelmaria slides closer, greeting Marisa with a slow whisk of a tail.

'We thought you changed your mind.'

A deep voice blends with the curtains' rustling. To the right, a window is open, leading to a cascade of balconies on the outer wall. She must have come through there. Marisa's eyes examine the shadows for a moment, trying to guess where Asriel might be.

Not far, though. The thought is warming.

'You came,' she smiles down at Stelmaria. The leopard nods with her usual enigmatic expression, yet looks subtly pleased. 'You're late.'

'You weren't exactly elaborate in your instructions.' Within the amber eyes, a mild rebuke and a twinkle, almost a teasing. 'We spent some time searching for your room.'

'So, where's your worse half?'

If leopards could snort, that's what this sound would have been. Stelmaria glances at the windows.

'Conquering heights. Where's your better half?'

The monkey brushes past Marisa's legs, chattering excitedly, though making sure to lower his voice. His fur in orange light is gilded with a color so deep, it shines from within.

It's sweet, to see the mightly leopard in such a twitter. She grumbles tenderly, then treads forward to let the monkey throw his golden arms around her neck. She even gives him a lick on a shoulder. Both let out a sigh of the deepest content.

The same emotion is trembling in Marisa's own chest, lungs, hands, a longing so profound she can hardly stand it for a moment longer. The need to hold, and to be held. To call him his. Her Asriel.

She bites her lip, and worries. Outside, the rain is splattering – in quietude, gusts of air through the window bring its noise.

'Why would he climb the balconies, or the roof? It isn't safe. He's being reckless.'

'We couldn't go through the house', Stelmaria hums, 'the help was everywhere. And he was determined to come see you.'

She pauses, with something resembling a smile. 'Of course, he's not as agile as I am, hence the delay.'

Marisa bites a nail again, frowning. With the utmost care, the leopard slides out of embrace. Her voice is spiked with honey as she comforts Marisa by settling on the floor right at her side. Down below and out of the orange shimmer, she regains her ghostly silver frame once more.

'He's close, child. I can feel him.'

The monkey comes to lay a hand on her neck. Marisa aches to do the same, but Stelmaria, probably knowing her better than she knows herself, is already whispering a caution.

'We don't want him to fall.'

Well, that is true. Being away from your daemon, albeit barely, and then a feeling so intense and unexpected – he could fall. So Marisa waits, and keeps tangling her hair, and longs in silence. She could look out of the window and see him. She doesn't want to distract him. Three pairs of eyes, none moves away from a wide frame behind the curtains rustling in the night.

Then – a creak, a thump, a loud breath, and Asriel is here, grinning in triumph. Stelmaria perks up. He greets the daemon with a hearty laughter and a rub over her forehead, but his eyes are already drawn to Marisa. He does not lose more time.

He's cold and wet all over, hair slicked with rain. When he lifts her and turns, Marisa laughs the happiest she ever did in life. Her heart leaps. Asriel keeps every promise at once by kissing her in the only way he vowed to – like she is his, forever will be. A longing in Marisa's soul finally soothes and purrs, even though the bastard nuzzles her neck, leaving chilly raindrops on her skin. She only laughs, they both do.

'I say, lady Coulter, you made me run around like a whipped boy.' Asriel is playing with her hair, smug as ever. Marisa feels soft and light in his arms.

'I say, lord Belacqua, it's the least I'm going to put you through.'

'Oh, I sincerely can't wait.'

He sweeps her up, with shushes and whispers covering their joy, and carries her inside. Their daemons follow.

***

By dawn, they're all asleep in a tangle: Marisa on Asriel's shoulder, her golden monkey curled up happily by his other side, and Stelmaria sprawling behind Marisa, nose to her back.

#FOR THE LONGEST GODDAMN TIME #these gifs weren't showing up on GIF search #and then as soon as i spammed the owner BAM of course they did #smh #hdm #hdm au #hdm fic #his dark materials #masriel #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #marisa x asriel #asriel x marisa #young masriel #stelmaria #stelmarisa my love #golden monkey

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wanderingpages · 2 years

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.・。.・゜Dark AU ゜・。.

V E R S I O N 2

“It’s you that I’ve been thinking about and I shouldn’t be. You’re cattle waiting for slaughter, baby.”

TFOTA // All Human // AU : Cardan tries not to lust after the girl he's supposed to kill.

Trigger Warnings: Crude language, Drugs, Sex, Murder/Talks of murder, Sexual/Physical Assault.

Cardan's POV

It’s cold outside, but that doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should. I’m more annoyed about the fact that Madoc stuck me on babysitting duty. I’m standing in the shadows like some pervert stalker, and I can’t help but feel like this is some sort of punishment for setting off a bomb or two at my maybe-brother’s estate. With all the dick-wetting our town’s late Mayor Eldred has done since before condoms were invented, I wouldn’t be too surprised if there’s a whole country of half-siblings I’m unaware of. The only reason I’ve even guessed at Balekin being my brother is because of something Asha had said in passing – and even now, I still wonder if he’s related to me or it had been her delusion.

“You remind me of him,” I heard her say when I shouldn’t have been anywhere near her. “My sweet boy, my sweet Cardan,” and God, that shit made my blood boil. She didn’t care for me, she just cared that I got her the next fix way back when the crack she smoked could be obtained by letting her gross dealers touch her foster kid.

Maybe I kept tabs on her; maybe I wanted to make sure her life was going as shitty as it possibly could since the last time I saw her. Of course, since I’ve left, her life had changed from trailer park trash to being able to afford high-end designer drugs. The substances were not working fast enough for my liking, so I did what I wanted to do nearly ten years ago when I left all the gas valves in her stove running.

Yeah, her new husband, Balekin, had not been the target of the explosion, although, I hadn’t minded he was there. He managed to escape, and I roll my eyes at the thought of the spineless piece of shit still being treated in the hospital to this day. He suffered a few burns and a broken bone or two. Asha had been dead before the fire. The detonation was only to ensure her body was unnoticeable and evidence was null. Plus, I thought I was poetic justice, given her favorite method of torment had to do with using me as an ashtray.

I admit, I hadn’t run any of this by Madoc, who, for all intents and purposes, is my partner in all things that get me paid. Maybe ‘partner’ is putting it too mildly since he’s more of a boss to me than anything. He’s never said it was punishment for breaking our silent rule of not doing shit behind each other’s back –and especially if there’s no monetary payout – but I know, this whole babysitting gig, is in fact, a punishment.

“Just keep an eye on the girl,” he told me. “Anyone who looks like he could be her father, call me. You think she knows where he is, call me. She even uses ‘Daddy’ in a sentence, call me.”

“And you don’t want me to take her out?” I reiterated dubiously. I’m not one for this drawn-out torture and kill thing, that’s usually Madoc with all the elaborate persecutions. I like my game fast and my money even faster.

“No,” he said too quickly, and I file that to mull about later, “it’s simple, King,” and I grimaced at the name he’s given me. He coined it when he realized whose son I was.

“General,” I bit back, but unlike me, he’s quite fond of the name.

He had ignored the tone in my voice, continuing to say, “Watch everything and report back to me. Get as close as you can. Don’t do anything until I tell you to,” he had emphasized this last bit, and I shrugged, because I refuse to feel sorry for what I did the week or two prior.

Now, my hood is up and I’m trying to be one with the surrounding trees and shrubbery that marks the perimeter of this house’s backyard and the lake that separates these little rich kids and the less fortunate a boat ride away. It’s all very West Egg/East Egg of Elfhame.

Most of the party is being held outside, and as much as I clown on the only brother I claim for having stupidly themed parties, I’d rather be in Dain’s extravagant coke den than this half-assed frat party. Those who do end up going inside are most likely trying to fuck or shoot up their Mab’s Specialty without prying eyes. The music is decent, the alcohol looks cheap, the scent of weed masks whatever gross shit someone took off the grill, and when the feeling of boredom must permeate the air rather than just myself, someone jumps into the pool and starts a wave of noise. Some people follow after her, but the Project X they’re trying to recreate is looking like Project C or D.

I’m about to call Madoc, maybe try to barter a switch, but even I know I blend in with the crowd far more than he ever could. Maybe he could pass as a professor at the college, but no way would he be able to attend shit like this. I’ve also managed to convince myself that anything Madoc is doing is probably ten times more useless than this.

The gate to the backyard opens, and this time, the three that walk in holds my attention. There’s a tall, curvy girl, blue-green hair and a sparkly silver mini dress, legs for days and when she sways her hips, it’s obvious she knows she’s got everyone’s attention. There’s a smaller girl, with silvery curls and some sort of lilac corset thing going on with business casual pants. She’s not quite as sultry as the first, but she holds her own.

Maybe this is some sort of delayed gratification, but my eyes fall on Jude Duarte last. I may not like this job, but the anticipation still fueled part of me. I tell myself that taking her in, noting down every last detail about her, is all part of my report for Madoc later. Her leggings are firm-fitting, leatherlike from what I can see. A white shirt she’s knotted in the front shows off her midriff. Three golden necklaces dangle off her neck, the longest one touching just above her bellybutton and the shortest one fitting like a collar. Her dark hair is swept up atop her head with tendrils framing around her face, golden hoops dangle from her ears. Her eye makeup is dark, sultry even, but it’s the deep red of her lips that has my dick twitching. Of course, I’d be the one to imagine her lips wrapped around my cock, knowing full well that Madoc doesn’t want her dead tonight, but he doesn’t not want her dead in general.

The picture in my pocket had done her no justice. Taken maybe five years ago, it’s not hard to compare the features – heart shaped face, light walnut colored eyes, full lips – pretty then, gorgeous now. To my surprise, the group she’d arrived with, immediately disperses. Even I know about the buddy system, and a party like this, weak as it may be, it’s definitely not one to walk alone. Who knows who’s lurking in the shadows. Or besides the trees.

Jude walks towards me, or rather, towards the table of drinks a few feet in front of me. The burly guy manning the table immediately offers her an unopened bottle of beer. She takes it with a pretty smile, holds it close to her chest and says “Thanks, Roach.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he tells her. He sounds familiar, and I don’t know many people with a name like Roach. Maybe I killed someone for him, or maybe Madoc’s sent me into a Lion’s Den and I killed someone close to him.

Jude shrugs in response and turns to lift herself onto the table. Her back is to me now, and she sets her beer to the side of her as she leans back on her palms to better scan the party. “Lil came with me,” she tells him. “You can go if you want, I’ll watch over the drinks for you.” He chuckles and reaches to ruffle the top of her head.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back,” he promises. “I owe you,” he calls out as he walks over to where her silver-haired friend is passing a joint.

It’s quiet, and then I see Jude stiffen. She whips her head from left to right, then says, “Hello?” I quirk an eyebrow, but I’m just about ready to leave the camouflage of the plants, so I use it to my advantage. “Is someone here?” she turns her head and lets out a small shriek when she sees me.

I hold my hand up placatingly, holding a lighter between my fingers. “Sorry,” I tell her, “didn’t mean to startle you.” I smile at her, “lost the Bic,” I wiggle the lighter for reference. She holds a hand to her chest and watches warily as I make my way over to her, pocketing the item. She looks dubious, but far more relaxed than she had been. Than she should be.

She scrunches her nose and offers me her unopened beer, “Don’t do that again,” she chastises, “What if I threw a bottle at you?” I can’t help the chuckle as I take the beer from her. She tilts her head, eyes trying to catch what the hood doesn’t cover. “You don’t seem like you belong here.” Her eyes widen, “not like, you’re a loner – I mean, well yeah, kind of – sorry, it’s the get up.” she shuts her mouth abruptly and purses her lips. When I crack a smile, she smiles back, “Sorry. Hi. Are you one of the frat pledges?”

“Not at all.” I lean forward on the edge of the table, pressing a palm down for support and she turns her body, hiking a leg up to properly face me.

“Oh,” she says, her tongue darts out and taps the upper left corner of her lip before she asks, “Do you go to Hollow Hall?”

“Nope,” I admit, but if she finds it weird that someone who’s not affiliated with college is hanging about a frat party, she doesn’t mention. “I’m more West Egg,” I tease, giving her an in.

She startles herself with a laugh. “Insmoor?” she guesses, “New money, huh?” She’s about to say more, but someone calls out a greeting. We both turn to see him as he approaches. I don’t miss the grimace as Jude turns to face him, grabbing a beer and holding it at arm’s length. His russet colored hair looks wet and I guess he had been one to jump into the pool with the others. His eyes look blown out, but I can’t tell if it’s the lighting or the drugs.

“Thought I saw you here,” he takes the bottle from her and moves in closer, tapping the head to the corner of the table, popping the cap off. Jude’s body tenses, and she shrinks back the closer he gets in her space. When he backs up to take a swig of the beer, she sits up straighter and begins to swing her legs back and forth. It seems like a subtle warning that she will kick his balls in if she has to. He manages a smirk in her direction, “You look good tonight,” he flirts.

She scowls, “Wrong twin,” she mutters but he shakes his head. I'm taken aback at how much of the dark I’m in because Madoc absolutely never mentioned a twin.

“I think we both know I can tell the difference between the two of you.” He’s grimy when he winks at her. He backs off and gives her a two fingered salute, goofy looking grin still on his face. Someone calls out his name. Locke. “Catch you later, sunshine. Save me a dance and all that.”

When his back is to us, she sticks her middle finger to the air and lets out a huff. “Sorry,” she mutters, leaning back on her elbows. “Sister’s ex, or something.” I hum noncommittally, not quite caring about him, but storing this information for later, just because I don’t quite like him on sight. Jude leans all the way back, resting her head on the table now. Her shirt rises higher, showing me smooth skin I’d like to mark. “Anyways, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” She looks up at me, not concerned with our proximity. She squints, trying to see more of me. The pulse in her neck beats just a bit unsteady.

“What is?” I do her a favor and push the hoodie back, amused at the part in her lips when she takes me in. Dark eyes and even darker hair, sharp cheeks and pale skin. I’m no angel, but I can sure as hell pass for an avenging one. No one ever really suspects the pretty boy for murder. I lean down, closer. Her cheeks warm with pink, and I ask, “Jude?”

“Huh?”

“Pretty,” I murmur. “You said it’s pretty.”

“Y-yeah,” she croaks out. She clears her throat and daintily points upward, “the stars… you don’t really get to see them so clearly often…” she trails off, focused on my lips when I lick at them. Something primal in me imagines what it would be like to hold her by the throat just at this angle, watching her pretty red lips take me until I’m touching her sternum from the inside. She swallows thickly, her breaths coming short and sporadic. “Did I – did I tell you my name?”

I don’t get to answer, someone clears their throat before us. Jude shoots up looking embarrassed as she meets the gaze of Roach and her friend. “Sorry to interrupt -”

Jude cuts her off, “no, not at all!” she rubs a hand over her cheeks, “Hi, Liliver.”

“Hi,” Liliver laughs. She peeks behind Jude and gives me a once over before smiling, “Sorry to steal her away for a moment.” she takes hold of Jude’s hand and Jude holds no protest as she follows her friend off the table and towards the crowd. “We should say hi to everyone.”

Jude mumbles something like “Should we really?” she turns back one more time and gives me a coy smile before she disappears into the sea of people.

Roach comes behind the table to stand beside me, “Where do I know you from?”

“Party at Eldred’s kid’s place?” I throw out and when he grimaces, I know he’s bought it.

“You know Jude?”

“Not really,” I admit.

“I don’t know if it’s my place. But take it easy on her, okay? She’s got some stuff going on with that Locke guy and it just seems exhausting to even look at,” he grumbles. This is news to me, massive thanks to General for being completely useless. Looks like that one off just now goes deeper than I anticipated. I don’t really answer him, because I think, maybe, I might be the one to slit her throat in the end, and in the grand scheme, is that really taking it easy?

Too long later, after testing my social skills and trying to keep up with Jude from a distance, I find myself exasperatedly leaning against a pillar at the side of the house, phone to my ear. “You didn’t even tell me she has a twin sister,” I seethe.

Madoc sounds partially tired and partially amused, despite having gone back and forth with me for the past five minutes. “Don’t worry, that one’s out of town. I take it you saw her?”

“Yeah,” I sigh, “just like the photo. Older I guess, more filled out.”

“Pretty?” Madoc teases like I'm calling my older brother about a crush and not the girl my boss wants me to kill. “What’d you find out?”

“Nothing useful,” I admit, almost about to tell him about Locke when I hear scuffling around the corner. “Call you back,” I say and hang up the call. I peer around the corner, surprised at how irrationally annoyed I feel at the sight of said ginger and Jude fumbling in the dark.

“No,” I hear her murmur, and my brows furrow when the shuffling sounds more forceful. “Stop,” she whispers, “Locke, stop!” she’s pushing him away but her movements seem lagged, weak.

He has her facing the wall, an arm around her neck, “Come on, sunshine,” he murmurs, “don’t you remember doing this shit in high school, baby? Just like this, while Taryn was in the other room? God, you used to be such a little slut,” he tells her roughly. His hand splays against her stomach, forcing it down into her pants. She’s crying, I realize. I don’t see reason when I make myself known, in time to hear him say, “We should have fucked that night. Should have been your tight little pussy I was sliding in to. Thought about you every single night since, wondering if you’d taste just – fuck!” he yelps when Jude turns her face and clamps her teeth down on his arm. “Stupid bitch,” he growls, pushing her, causing her head to bang against the wall. She hiccups, hand flying to her bruise and Locke grunts, grabbing at his arm.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Locke doesn’t even turn to look at me. “Nothing, just a little lover’s spat.”

Jude opens her mouth in shock, ready to say something, but before Locke can grab at her, I’ve got a fistful of his hair, dragging him back. Jude slumps against the wall, letting it support her as she slides down, pressing a hand against her chest. My jaw ticks when I spot the tear in her shirt, starting from her collar down to where the knot is tied. Her fingers clutch the material, holding it together. I notice a chain is missing and her hair is undone, askew around her shoulders. Even her lipstick looks smeared.

Before Locke can utter more bullshit, my other hand is at his throat, causing him to wheeze. “Didn’t look like nothing,” I say, too calmly for the red that I see. I’m moderately aware how visceral my reaction is. I'm the lion, she’s the mouse and this stupid little rabbit is touching my prey. Right?

I squeeze his throat harder, annoyed at myself, and my weird inner turmoil, but mostly annoyed because this stupid motherfucker tries to claw at my hand. I slam him forward against the wall and Jude gasps, scrambling to the side and away from us. “I think she said no, didn’t she?” I let go of his hair and reach a hand to the waistband of my jeans. Jude lets out a squeak and Locke looks worse for wear when I turn him to press the barrel of my gun to his temple.

His eyes grow wide and he gasps out, trying to shake his head, “N-no, do-”

“Shh,” I tell him, dragging the gun down his cheek. “Are you telling me ‘no’ means ‘yes’ and ‘stop’ means ‘go’?” I run the gun across his lips, “I can work with that,” I tell him. My hand slides up his neck, grabbing his jaw and forcefully working it open. “No teeth,” I tease, sliding the barrel between his lips. He splutters, nose leaking, eyes streaming and the scent of piss makes me wriggle my nose. “That’s a good boy,” I tell him, pushing the gun deeper. I turn to Jude, whose staring up at me with eyes so wide, they rival Bambi’s. “Should I?” I ask her, “Should I pull the trigger, Jude?”

It takes her a moment, so I know she’s actually considering me and it takes her quite the courage to shake her head no. She finds a pillar behind her and slowly makes her way up, legs quivering.

I slide the gun out of Locke’s mouth and wipe it across his chest. I shrug, knowing I’ll probably be back for the shithead, anyways. “See, I know when she says no, she means no.” He falls to the ground immediately after I release my hold on him. “I think we both know what’ll happen if you talk about tonight to anyone, right?” I kick his ankle, booting the bone so it not only hurts but it shakes his entire fucking soul too.

I pocket my gun, and turn to face Jude. She’s shaking, almost violently. I yank off my hoodie, walking up to her, and pulling it over her head. It takes just a few seconds for her to pull her hands through the armholes, and use the sleeve to wipe around her nose. “Can you walk?” I ask her, softening my voice. She nods her head, but moves closer to my side, pressing herself into me. “Should I find one of your friends?”

“Gone,” she manages.

“Uber?” I barter, though I know her answer. I try to lead her away, but she stumbles after a few steps. “Hold tight,” I murmur, not risking a moment to think when I lift her up, holding by her back and under her knees. She lets out a startled noise, but grapples on to my neck, holding me tight. “Should I take you home,” I ask her, already walking to my truck.

“were…” she sniffles then clears her throat. “were you watching me?”

“I was taking a call.” Then after a moment, I say, “Yeah. I was.”

“It… it wasn’t like that,” she whispers, “What you heard him say – I … we…” I understand she’s focused more on what I might have overheard and not me being a creep.

“It’s fine, I don’t really care. I just know you told him to stop and he didn’t.” When we make it to my truck, I settle her in the passenger side and reach over her for a bottle of water. She takes it and examines the seal. After deciding it’s probably safe, she uncaps it and takes a sip. By the time I make it to the driver’s side, the bottle is half empty. “Where’s home,” I ask her.

“Can we grab some food,” she asks instead. “I’ll pay.”

I drive to the closest McDonalds, not at all letting her pay for my McFlurry or her Happy Meal. “I don’t know why I did that,” she mumbles, taking a fry one at a time. “I never take open bottles.” She glances at me and in the cab lights, she looks worse for wear, but I don’t mention it. She then glances to my hip. “So, uh, should I be worried? You know, out of the fire and into the frying pan, or something.”

“Or something,” I chuckle. “I’m not going to kill you,” I lie.

“Right,” she nods, fidgeting in her seat, nibbling on a single fry. “Is the,” when she realizes her voice comes out in a whisper, she clears her throat and tries again, “Is the gun loaded?” I grin at her, more endeared than I should be.

“Why would I carry an unloaded gun?”

Her face pales, but she defends, “I don’t know, scare tactic? If I had said yes…would you have, you know…?”

“Shot him?” I raise a brow, “Yeah.” I take a lick the spoon from the McFlurry, conscious of her eyes on my tongue as I do. Her face runs red with heat. “Why didn’t you tell me to? I would have made him disappear for you if you wanted.”

It’s to spook her, I think, but to my shock, she scrunches her nose and digs into the red box I handed her. “I don’t know,” she confesses. She sighs and pulls out a toy. It’s a keychain with a small yellow Care-Bear. She makes a face, running her thumb over the sun patch on its belly. “Funshine,” she mutters. I nearly snort out my ice cream.

“Bless you,” I joke.

She lets out a laugh and tosses it to me. I catch it and place it on the dashboard. “So,” she says, eyeing my McFlurry. “I’ll be keeping this sweater.”

“Oh yeah?”

She nods, “I’ll also help you finish that off if you tell me your name.”

I hand her the cup. “Cardan.”

She pauses, hand meeting mine halfway. “Cardan,” she repeats.

“Most know me as King.”

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