MARIEL

17~ Better ~

Tira stopped running as soon as she took a turn at the downstairs hallway. It led to the Grand Ballroom, and she could see the guards that stood on either side. From the distance, she could also see the president, facing her in his black tuxedo, his hands folded in front of him.

The music of Vivaldi - Presto sounded ominous as it grew steadily louder, mimicking the rhythm of her heart pounding against her chest. She looked like a mess, and she'd fixed herself up as much as she could en route to the event. Realistically, she knew that wouldn't be enough. Sweat glistened on her skin, and she suspected she looked flushed. Her hair was likely not as perfect as it had been... all because she'd stopped to resuscitate a subhuman. So, as the hall widened, and she strode confidently towards the large double doors, Tira Arcelin prepared herself the worst.

The staccato of the music vibrated against the walls.

As she approached, Aleksey's gaze was icy, his lips pursed. His eyes glinted in the bright, overhead lights as he stared down upon her.

Tira stopped in front of him. She tried to keep her head high and control her breathing. She would not apologize. Apologies would enrage him even more.

After staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, coolly, Aleksey finally spoke. "Little girl, there are very important people awaiting my arrival in that room. They have a lot of money, and much of that money goes into my pockets, which also goes into your bank account when you get paid. I truly hope your excuse is worth my late arrival?"

Returning the icy stare, Tira wanted to challenge him, to tell him that he should have gone in without her then. She didn't know what to say. Agent 4 knew no excuse could be made. She refused to tell him it was due to saving a life. It would humiliate her, because that wasn't who she was or who she was trained to be. But, oddly enough, Tira felt it would end more badly for the custodian if she told Aleksey.

"There is no excuse, Papa."

The crescendo rose. An image of Esther dancing sliced through her mind, a whirl of brown hair as she gracefully spun, the lights reflecting down on her sparkling brown eyes.

Aleksey backhanded her. The force of his knuckles cracked across her face and nose. Tira's head whipped to the side. The pin she'd just readjusted clattered to the floor again.

"You're right, there isn't an excuse, you stupid cunt!" Petrov hissed, breathing heavily as though the force of his strike took the wind out of him.

Vivaldi's crescendo diminished... or perhaps the blow momentarily destroyed her senses.

Tira felt her heart throb loudly in her head as she lifted it to meet his gaze again. Her hair flooded into her face on the right side, and she felt something trickle from her nose. It rolled over her mouth and splattered on the left toe of her shined high heel. Inhaling slowly, her gaze did not waver from his.

"Are you done?" she said, mimicking his comment from earlier in the office. Tira felt confident enough to mock him. She knew his limits. He'd gotten his frustration out simply by striking her. He would be fine now.

Aleksey straightened his jacket and looked at the time. "Yes. Wipe your fucking face off, fix your hair, and take my arm."

"I don't have anything to wipe off my face. Let me use your pocket square."

Aleksey scoffed. "I don't want your disgusting genetics all over me. Use your hand. Hurry up." He'd returned to his natural state of impatience. "If I lose money, so do you."

The guards stood stiffly beneath the bright lights as Tira pinned her hair for the third time that evening. Afterwards, she slid the back of her hand across her nose and mouth, noticing the red that smeared across her skin. "Is it gone?"