Locked (Fourtris AU)

3

"Why are you locked in this place?" she whispered as he helped her sit up. His body was awfully close to hers, and she could smell his masculine scent as he carefully rested her against the wall. She found it odd that he wore gloves in his own home, but she was afraid she'd offend him if she asked.

"I'm not locked in here," he huffed. "I'm going to go get you some soup." He was thankful he'd made it yesterday for his dinner tonight. He needed to tend to this lady.

"Oh. Don't you want to know my name?" she called out as he disappeared from the room she was in. He didn't answer her, ladling the hot soup into a large bowl with a  spoon.

"You talk a lot," he commented when he appeared again, taking a seat infront of her with his legs folded neatly. "I'll make a sling for your arm in a minute, but for now I'll have to feed you. I don't want the weight of the bowl to cause anymore damage."

"Thank you." She had never met such a gentleman in her life. The town she lived in was full off arrogant, balloon heads who had no sense. "But can I please know your name?"

"You can call me Four," he said, voice stark cold. It seemed that was his intention, to be a dark, cold person, but he couldn't manage it with the girl around.

"I'm Beatrice," she smiled, allowing him to pour the nice soup into her mouth, warming her belly from the inside.

He frowned, "It doesn't suit you."

"Um-" she had no idea what to say to that. It wasn't like she could change her name.

"I'm going to call you Tris."  He left no room for arguments, it was his nickname for her.

"I like it," she grinned up at him, seeing his lips quirk up before he quickly turned away. "Why do you hide your smiles? They make your eyes bright."

"Why do you keep asking questions?"

"I wouldn't have to if you would give me some general information about yourself," she huffed, wishing she could cross her arms, but suited for a pout.

He chuckled, the sound real and weird to his ears. She made the dark place he lived in bright and she was so full of life. He hadn't laughed in a long time, but it felt good, and he liked the accomplished look that crossed her features when he made the short sound.

"You remind me of a duck with that pout of yours," he whispered, shy all of a sudden. "I'm going to call you Duckling."

"That makes me feel short," she pouted again.

"Well you are." He gathered her bowl and took them to the sink, worrying himself to death. What if she thought the name was too weird? What if she thought he was too weird? They didn't even know each other and he had given her a nickname. Was that too personal?

He hadn't known this girl for more than a few hours and she already had a huge impact on him. He was confused and torn with his emotions. Negative energy didn't still well in him, and he could slowly feel his eyes change.