Dancing with the Devil

Chapter 2

     I woke up to the sound of my alarm ringing. I blearily opened one eye and glare at the electronic device of death. I NEED MY GODDAMN BEAUTY SLEEP!

     After clambering out of bed and a quick shower, I found myself flicking throught the channels on TV with a bowl of cereal balanced on my knees. Sully was curled up beside me, cuddling the old stuffed Snoopy doll I gave him when he was a kitten. I absentmindedly rubbed his ears. I found a channel with something good and settled back comfortably into the cushioned chair.

***

     I jumped back to consciousness when I heard my doorbell go off. I pushed Sully off my lap and lumbered to the reciever. "Who's there?" I muttered heavily.

     "Me, madameouselle." Shit. I looked down at my baggy PJ pants and crupled black t-shirt. "Uh..." I started, panicking. "Just a moment!"

     I ran into my room and put on yesterdays clothes, which were strewn across the carpet. I whooshed back and pressed the button. Unlocking the door, I yelled a, "You can come in now!" down the stairs.

     I heard footsteps echoing up the stone stairs. A minute later, the shape of a tall man came into view. He had curly black hair and wore a black hooded trench coat. When he turned the corner and started walking up the last flight up steps, I took a step back.

     He was definitely not a work of art.

     He looked like he was attempting a smile, but not as if it came naturally. As if he had had to teach himself to smile. His eyes were a light blue, cold and buisness-like. Most importantly, he had a long scar stretching from the bottom of his nose to underneath the collar of the shirt he was wearing.

     I put a hand on my hip. "Now can you tell me who you are?" I asked skeptically, eyeing the hands that he kept in his pockets. He smiled again and put on a thinking face.

     "All right, madameouselle," he said after a moment. "I am - S. A. Tan, but you can call me Stefan. That's my given name."

     I stared at him. "Uh, um..." my voice trailed off. "Oh, right! Um, come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable." I swept a hand at the sofa.

     This man, Stefan, smiled. It streched his scar a bit. And it looked real. "Of course. Oh, and I like my coffee with two teaspoons of sugar. Mercí."

     I blinked. An eternity deened to have passed before he moved a muscle. He gave me strange look and walked in, not bothering to take of his shoes. Who does this guy think he is? The fucking president?

     I hurried after him. I found him sitting cross-legged on the couch, trench coat and boots forgotten on the floor, smiling crazily as he played with Sully. "This is perfect!" He exclaimed. "Is this extraterrestrial being going to be my friend?"

     I stared at him for a good ten seconds before saying, "Uh, that extraterrestrial being is a... cat. And, no. I'm trying out to be your - friend - if it's okay with you."

     He nodded vaguely in my direction while holding Sully's front paws and pretending to dance. I rushed to the kitchen, my face burning, and set off to making coffee.

     Once two strong cups of the drink were sat on the table, I called the man to the dining room. "Mr. Tan-" I was interrupted by him screaming back, "Just a moment more, please! This cat that you are talking about is a real man's best friend!"

     I stiffled a giggle. This guy was strange, all right. Definitely strange. He walked in at that moment and smiled. "Please, just call me Stefan, Sophia." I nodded curtly and gestured towards the dining room table.
 
     "Grab your cup, we can go chat over there. Learn some things about each other. If - you know, that's alright with you?" I looked at him. There was that strained smile again. Back before it even left.

     "Is it okay if cat comes with us, as well?" He asked pointedly. I grinned. "It's okay, he can walk. His name's Sully, by the way."

     "Sull-ie." Stefan pronounced it very slowly, and I began to wonder if English was his second language. He did seem to be going off into French a lot...

     We sat down at the small wooden dining table. I tokk a sip and he began firing questions at me.

"What do you do for a living?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, I was hoping to get this job with you. What do you do?"

"Doesn't matter. Personal buisness. Favorite color?"

"Why do you care? Brown."

He smiled for real this time. Again. "So is mine. I like the brown of woodlands, the type that smells musky and wet. Age?"

"Twenty-five years old?"

"You are saying that as if you are unsure."

"No. I am definitely twenty-five."

"You are hired, madameouselle."

I stared at him, taking a sip of coffee. "So, just like that? No interview, no reccomendations, no nothing?"

     He answered after a minute of thoughtful gazing at Sully, who was playing with a feather in the corner. "Well, first of all, that was your interview. Second, this job is looking for a friend, not an offie receptionist. I think I can chose my own friends, thanks. And you are hired because you are the first person to answer my ad for the last thou- three years, madameouselle."

     Stefan hesitated at the last part. I wonder why.

     I stirred some more sugar into my cup. "Okay then," I said. "When do we start?"

     Stefan looked down at his watch. "I believe I must leave you at this hour, but I shall pick you up tomorrow, at ten. Is that alright? We can get some coffee and you can tell me more about yourself, madameouselle."

     I nodded. "That sounds great," I answered, nodding.

     He stood up. "Well then, I best be off. Mercì, madameouselle. Being in your company was amazing." I noticed that he had his trench coat and boots on. I only realized what he nearly said after the tail of his coat disappeared behind the door.

     Did he mean to say a thousand years?