Fascinating Villains

{28} - The Niece

My first instinct is to share my awe.

"That's a cool name! Did you choose it?"

A soft smirk angles Persephone's lips, painted with a thin coat of plum-colored gloss.

"No, my parents did... Tanza has a nice ring to it, too. Is that a chosen name?"

I am frankly stunned that for everyone I have met tonight, the concept of changing one's given name is as natural as getting a new haircut, yet another aspect to express one's identity.

Smiling, I nod. "It is. I use they/them pronouns, what about you?"

"She/her..." She studies me with an enigmatic expression.

Persephone's blue eyes are now visible, ever since she moved away from the rainbow lighting. In the soft - but illuminating - yellow-orange toned haze of the corridor, I can observe more of her distinct features. For one, a horizontal scar jaggedly divides her nose into two halves. There is also a dark stripe inside her right iris, on my left, beginning in the top right corner, blending away underneath the pupil and emerging to cross the lower left half of the iris, in the corner closest to her damaged nose.

I sip on my fruit punch, wondering if I should have invited Colin to this. He would have made me feel more at ease, that's for sure.

The redhead inquires, after a few seconds, "So, are you employed? What do you do for work?"

"I'm a paramedic at Gotham General." I specify, "The hospital, you know?"

She scoffs. "Oh, I'm not from around here. It's tough, right? Being a paramedic? You must be hella strong."

"Where are you from?"

The woman swallows a gulp of her beverage.

"Just from out of town," she conspicuously replies, attempting to say it casually.

I let it go, still wary of infuriating her and losing my calm hideout.

"I don't know if I'm that strong, but it is physically and mentally demanding, absolutely. And you? What's your field?"

The mysterious guest snickers, almost speaking to herself, "I work for a travelling agency."

I am tempted to open the borders of my mind only to figure out what is so funny about her answer. Reasonably, I won't. But she questionably seems entertained by her own words.

"I'm sure it has its challenges," I affirm.

Perhaps she feels like her career is less impressive than mine?

"Sure," she responds, chuckling.

"Is that how you met Joseph and Cedric?"

If she shuts me down, I will cease invading her privacy and we can rest silently.

"No, I met them through my mom. Joseph's my uncle. How did you guys meet?"

Her half-smile is not mocking anymore, rather interested.

"I'm their neighbor."

I forcefully stop talking, subtly analyzing Persephone's body language. As an EMT, this skill can be the difference between life or death, but it is equally useful to be apt at discerning people's intentions as a simple citizen of our dangerous city. Luckily for me, I was trained to hone this ability, both in college and in my extracurriculars. Her long legs, clad in light blue jeans, are loosely propped between the yellow wall and the wooden floorboards. It would not be insane to believe she does not mind our conversation.

We simultaneously drink from our cups, filling the awkward pause.

Before it grows, I ask her, "What are you drinking?" even if I suspect that...