Her.

Chapter XII

"Hello, Erik," Haya said calmly as he entered the house with a bottle of bourbon in his hands as promised for their picnic.

"Haya," he replied with a soft smile, looking to the basket in her hands.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and held the basket out to him so he could place his bottle inside. He even took the now heavier basket from her and offered his arm to her.

"We shall see you later, Henry," Erik said and pulled Haya through the threshold of the door.

They walked long enough to the park where they sat down and placed everything out, watching as the sun stood high in the sky. The grass was nice, perky for that time of season, and she couldn't help but relish in the cool shade they'd found. Haya found the small spot below the large tree was quite exquisite when they could see through some of the city buildings. No one was around, either, hardly the passing visitor walked past the couple in the grass. There was a soft humming from a few insects, and every so often a bird chirped as well, flying past them to some unknown destination that would fulfill that day's needs.

"Here," Erik said kindly and handed Haya her food, his own resting in his lap as his legs were folded in front of him.

It was strange to see him in such a sight, for she'd never seen the man so casually placed upon such a casual background. Honestly, Haya hadn't been able to picture Erik in a park, under a tree, comfortably eating food that she had packed for him, and attempting small talk. There was just no way a man that lived and breathed music could inhibit another space without looking as though he belonged somewhere else; and how wrong Haya was.

Erik looked ethereal in the slight breeze blowing past them both. His slicked down hair moving just a bit at the end, and his yellow eyes practically absorbing the warmth of the sun that reflected from the non-shaded grass. His black outfit stretched him into the shadow as though he were a shadow himself. God, if she had met Erik in a situation like this one, maybe he would not have been as intimidating as he'd been when he waltzed into her dimly lit house. But she hadn't, and she had to make due with what she did have, which was Erik right in front of her.

"Did you bring glasses for the bourbon or are we swigging from the glass?" Erik asked suddenly snapping Haya from staring at him. She widened her eyes and ashamedly looked into the basket that lacked cups for the both of them.

"It seems the bottle will have to be shared... Are you capable of such, Monsieur?" Asked she, raising a dark eyebrow at him, a smirk resting upon her delicately tinted lips.

"Mhm," Erik said with mock distaste, "Sharing wasn't always my-" he seemed to contemplate the thought of sharing, as if there were an actual reason as to why he shared not... And Haya had a pretty good feeling he knew just who he hadn't liked sharing. "Strong suit," he finished finally.

"Well," Haya said and plopped the bottle in front of him with a soft thud, the ground absorbing most of the reaction. She had her hand tightly gripping the neck of the glass bottle until Erik's hand slid over hers, pulling it away from her loosened grasp.

It was as if the cork was nothing, snapping it from the bourbon bottle with the twist of his own fingers. In that moment was when Haya discovered the man's strength despite his very scrawny looks.

"Here you are... First sip," Erik offered her, and with a sly grin, Haya took to gently sipping the liquid.

It burned. That, among other things, was what she felt as the liquor traveled down her esophagus and right into her stomach, feeling just as though it might go through it.