Rose Thorns & Love Letters

21 ➪ Love, Uriel

•Camilla•

6/3/1890
Darling. Incase I do not tell you enough, I love you.
Love, Uriel

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"What do you do for work?" I ask as I throw a chip into my mouth. The crunch that follows shortly after grabs Phoenix's attention as he looks up from the screen of his computer.

I quietly chew as I lounge in his comfy office chair, eagerly waiting for a response. I mean, I have been in this office quite a lot recently, yet I still do not know what it is actually used for.

Phoenix pins me with his stare as I attempt to decipher the expression that has been slapped across his face. It is like trying to read the carved walls of cavemen. Almost impossible.

"Why?" He questions, drawing his attention back to his computer. I shrug as I place another chip in my mouth, sucking out the juices in order to minimise the sound of a loud crunch.

"I'm curious." I bring the water bottle sitting on his desk to my lips and take a small sip. "I mean, when I first met you, you seemed to know my Father. So, I'm assuming you're in the same field of work."

He cocks an eyebrow and conceals the growing grin on his face. "I guess you could say that." He confirms.

I nod. At least I've got that cleared up. "So what's your problem with him?" My curiosity builds and I am cautious of crossing the line. Phoenix suspends his digits from moving recklessly on the keys of his computer and reclines back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Just business, sweetheart." He says with a smirk on his beautiful face.

"What business does a 23-year-old like you have with my 100-year-old Father?" I press, no longer caring about boundaries.

"Age doesn't matter when it comes to business, sweetheart." He taps his temple twice. "It's what's up here that counts."

I nod as I watch him open a drawer and collect something from inside it. His gaze is fixed on whatever he is looking to retrieve and my eyes do not stray from the bulky arm he fortunately possesses.

A box of cigarettes is placed on the sleek surface of his desk as well as a lighter to activate it. My eyes snap up to his, however I cannot stop them from flickering back down when I find them already fixed on mine.

He slides one cigarette out of the box and in a swift motion, lights it before closing his lips over it.

"So you're a smoker?" I ask, already anticipating his answer.

"Selectively." He corrects after taking a drag. His head falls back and his eyes flutter shut as the white mist threatens to take an early leave through his nose. I watch as his chest deflates, allowing the shadow of fire escape his yummy lips. The flame's ghost moves as a unit and resembles the way in which the Chinese New Year's dragon would move.

"Let me try." I insist, holding my hand out to receive the apparent reliever. He does not look at me nor does he fix his posture. He simply chuckles and takes another drag.

I stand from the comfy chair and circle the wooden desk that separates us. Phoenix does not react to my shuffling, though I know he can hear it. When I reach a reasonable distance, I slightly adjust his spinning chair in order for it to be facing me.