Lead & Follow

a la Seconde

Part 2: Follow

Third Movement, a la Seconde

a la Seconde 

One of eight directions of the body, in which the foot is placed in second position and. the arms are outstretched to second position. ( ah la suh-GAWND)

🤍🖤

It's the second time you find yourself alone with Baxter Ward in an unfamiliar car, and the only thing that makes sense about the situation is the vehicular color palette–shiny black interior, sparkling white exterior.

"Welcome to my vehicle. Please, change the temperature and air direction to your liking. The radio works. I'll leave it off, but of course you can put on some music if you want."

Your gaze shifts from the passenger window to the driver at your side; he doesn't meet your gaze, and his tone is sterile, rehearsed.

At this moment, you aren't sure what bothers you more–the fact that you're almost certain he's said this exact spiel to you before, or the fact that the two of you are alone together after promising to never see each other again, and he's too stubborn to acknowledge it.

You sigh, and it's bone deep. It's been five years, and now you'll take the lead.

"Am I allowed to speak to you, or is that forbidden?" you murmur, and you wince at your own lack of spine. A more mature, more confident beginning statement dies on your lips. Shit. Be stronger, [Name], you can do this, you chastise yourself. "W-Well, either way, we need to talk."

"It depends on what you would like to discuss," Baxter begins plainly. "I can endeavor to help with any part of the planning, but unfortunately my base of knowledge is limited to specific areas ."

The blunt refusal towards discussing things of substance between you makes you recoil, and you sink into the plush material of the passenger seat.

"Right," you reply with pursed lips. "N-Not like I was gonna say I missed you or anything."

You're a little embarrassed by the latter half of the statement and you wonder why you'd even said it; you think you'll change topics to cake stuff if he responds. He doesn't, though his grip tightens around the steering wheel.

The tension hangs heavy in the air, and the shirt drive to Prism Vista City feels agonizingly slow. Relief comes in the form of a huge, pastel pink sign outside your window–' Xake Bakery: Cake designs by Xavier.'

Whereas Baxter's business sphere is sleek, distant, the inside of the bakery is soft and comforting. The air smells of autumnal spices, and shades of pink pepper the quaint space.

"Baxter, welcome!" greets someone with pink hair and an apron. "Always a pleasure. Is this a new client?"

"Not quite, but I do have a job for you," Baxter replies with a small smile. "This is [Name], a friend of my latest couple. She's here to assist with the preparation of the event. The lovebirds are busy with tasks of equal importance, you see."