DYING LIGHT | James Patrick March [paused]

08

Lilith wasn't in a mood per say but she certainly hadn't been in a good one since she woke up, less so since she received the Countesses' invite. Knowing James sought her company lifted her spirits. She needed to hear it from the horse's mouth, one more time.

Immensely thankful for the opacity of the bag, she went up the stairs with her coffee cup in hand. Her brows furrowed as she glanced around the bar, finding each stool empty.

"Lilith, my dear." His voice came from over her shoulder, startling the shit out of her. It was lucky her coffee cup didn't go flying, instead only a spot of coffee tarnished her blouseS My sincerest apologies." He said with a coy smile as she turned to him, handkerchief in hand, "I forget myself. Not everyone is used to me coming out of thin air."

"Scared the hell outta' me." She said with a nervous laugh, accepting the pristine handkerchief to dap at the spot, "You were looking for me?"

"Yes," he placed a hand on her back and gestured to a one of the booths in the corner. The small contact sent a shiver up her spine and she hoped he hadn't felt it as he led her across the room, "Last night, you requested I tell you everything I told you was real."

"This is the part you tell me it was all a joke, right? The police are on their way?" She asks dryly, sitting down on the leather seat.

"Could you imagine?" James chuckled softly, sliding around the other side of the booth. "That'd be a tad hypocritical, darling." Her heart fluttered of its own accord every time he peppered in a term of endearment. It was a sensation she was far from used to. Butterflies wasn't how she'd describe it. Perhaps an agitated murder of crows flapping their wings to escape her chest. She was sure it wasn't meant to be taken personally but she couldn't help it. "It's all true. I'd swear on my life not to lie to you but.." he made an ironic grimace, "that wouldn't be much of an oath."

She laughs lightly at that, settling her purse and the assorted arsenal bag at her side. "So it's true then? You're really dead?"

"As a doornail." He hummed, swirling his drink in his glass before taking a sip. James leaned back in the seat, one arm over the back slightly behind her. It was odd to find herself with the desire to slide closer to him. He was a gentleman, it was hard not to find it alluring.

"Who is the countess?" Lilith asked suddenly, unable to restrain herself in order to work her way up to it. James' face reacted a quarter of a second before he composed himself. His eyebrows pulled together and his jaw sharpened as he clenched his teeth.

"Matron of the hotel." James replied, expression smoothing back to an apathetic mask. "Why do you ask?"

"I was hoping.." she reached into the bag for the letter which floated out of the envelope in her purse. She extended it to him, "I was hoping you could shed some light on it."

James accepted the parchment, his nose wrinkling slightly as he unfolded it. Her dark eyes studied his face as he read the letter. His lips pursed tightly, a slight twitch to his nose. Even annoyed as he seemed to be, James was a very beautiful man. A classic kind of handsome, the kind she'd only seen in old movies. Of course, he was a classic man. Her guess was the roaring twenties based on his aesthetic.

Enough time had passed that she could assume, his silence was no longer due to reading. He was thinking, she could practically hear the wheels turning. "Is it a death sentence?" She asked with a slight laugh, though her nervousness trickled through.

James opened his mouth and then closed it again, carefully choosing his words. "No, I do not think so." His posture was stiff, a slight crinkle in the paper from where he held it. "Though it could be, if you're not careful. Ghosts are not the only paranormal creatures to walk these walls."