"It really takes a lot -especially in our line of work- for me to feel alive, but you do that for me, Vivienne."
When psychically gifted Vivienne Salvatore is forced to flee to London from her home up north, she stumbles upon a "prestigious" agency...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
~~~
A soft knock on my bedroom door is what wakes me. The moment my eyes open, my head throbs and the sunlight peaking in burns my eyes. At the sting, I let out a grumble of discomfort.
The person knocking at my door —who I already know is Vivienne, given away by her signature knocking pattern— takes that as a signal that it's okay to come in.
Only she doesn't.
She opens the door, but stands just beyond the doorframe, lingering outside of my bedroom.
"Hey," she says, poorly hiding a smirk.
I pull myself to sit up, leaning back against the headboard of my bed frame. At the sight of her, the memories of last night come flooding back into my mind:
Seeing Vivienne in the morning before I left, matching dark circles beneath our eyes; meeting up with Flo at one of her frequented relic-man bars; getting challenged to a drinking competition by a wide, scruffy old man (Trunk, I think Flo called him); losing at said competition by miles; drunkly stumbling to a night cab; and then trying to kiss Vivienne in the lobby back home.
I bury my face in my hands.
Vivienne only laughs.
"How you feeling?" She giggles.
"Pretty shit," my voice is muffled by my hands. Vivienne laughs again, and I can't help but crack a smile too.
I lower my hands from my face. Vivienne is still lingering beyond the threshold of my bedroom.
"You can come in, y'know?" I say softly.
"It's alright," she says. "Just came to check on you."
"And..?" I smile, looking up at her.
"You do look pretty shit," she smirks back.
We both laugh.
"I just came up to say," she starts, "if you don't feel well —which I can see that you don't— you don't need to meet with the client today. Lucy and I can handle it, and I'll give you a summary later."
I don't tell Vivienne that I have absolutely no idea what she's talking about. If she ever mentioned a client to me, the effects of last night must've wiped it clean from my memory.