DYING LIGHT | James Patrick March [paused]

03

Lilith spent the majority of her evening pacing. Her hands ached from wringing them and snapping her knuckles continuously. She had a plan, surely. It wasn't a good plan but it was still a plan. It was unfortunate that the majority of her week would be spent waiting and agonizing. She feared she'd back out, cower away from the daunting task before her.

Her mind was made up, though. It wasn't like her to change it. Regardless, she continued to ask herself if she was really going to go through with it. The answer was always yes but the cycle continued. Hours went by before her room began to feel a little too much like a prison and she decided to track down the hotel bar. She took the stairs, opting to avoid the elevator. About half way down, she regretted it greatly and stopped off at the next door to catch the elevator.

A door to her left opened as she waited for the elevator to reach her. Lilith offers a pleasant smile to the housekeeper that exits before it slowly melts away at the sight of bloodied sheets in her hands.

"Someone have an accident?" She asks, shifting her feet.

"Oh dear, yes. Terrible. I don't know how I'll ever get the stains out of these linens." The redhead huffs as she drops them into her laundry cart.

"Best of luck to you." Lilith says averting her eyes as the elevator opens, "Have a good one."

"You as well, mam!"

A pang of guilt made her stomach twist into knots as she stepped into the elevator, leaving her fear forgotten. Part of her was thankful that it wouldn't be a first for the seasoned maid, another sunk at the thought of the woman finding her room in a similar state. She'd have to remember to leave a good tip and a warning on the door.

The elevator shuddered to a stop at the lobby and she stepped out, heading over to the front desk where a new woman sat behind the counter. Godly eyeliner rested upon her gold painted lids, a pink lipstick on her mouth which was twisted into a frown as she looked down her nose at her book.

"Sorry to bother," Lilith said coming up, making the woman's eyes lift to her, "Could you point me in the direction of the bar?"

"No bother. Just up the stairs there, sweetheart." She smiled. "Love the skirt."

Lilith gave a little curtsy, "Much obliged. Have a lovely evening." She made her way up, holding her skirt slightly aloft so she wouldn't trip on it. "Iris, you wear many hats." She greeted coming up to the bar. It saddened her to see a slight surprise in Iris' face.

"I do. Can I get you a drink, miss Morana?" She leaned against the bar as Lilith took a seat at one of the stools.

"I'd kill for a gin and tonic." She admitted with a sigh, scooting the chair in slightly. As she opened her mouth to speak to Iris again, another's voice cut in.

"Would you really?" Her head swivelled to the owner of the voice, cane tapping against the tile as he neared. For a moment, Lilith was too stunned to speak. Elegantly dressed in a pristine pinstripe suit, a blood red ascot around his neck. His face was a pallid shade of white, dark circles beneath his nearly black eyes. He looked plucked out of another century and Lilith found it fascinating. A thin moustache hovered over his mouth which was upturned in a light smile. "People always say that. I'd kill for this, I'd kill for that. Is this seat taken?"

"Not at all." Lilith responds, clearing her throat slightly.

"A bourbon, please." The man requests of Iris, who fumbles in her rushed pace.

Lilith leans her face into her palm, eyes on him as he watches Iris. A crooked smile lifts to her lips, "Would you kill for it?"

A grin breaks his face, a short laugh escaping his lips. "I believe I would." He responds, thanking Iris when he places the drink in front of him. Lilith, too dumbstruck by the handsome man perching on the stool next to her, didn't even notice the way Iris retreated to the furthest end of the bar she possibly could. "James." He extended his hand and she accepted it, finding it cold to the touch.