Glass Skin

25

Sitting at the dinning table, Fleurette laughed at her sister. Eleanor sat telling her a rather embarrassing tale of the moment when someone Felix worked with came over and Claudia mistook him for a door salesman and slammed the door in his face. It apparently took minutes to persuade the maid otherwise. "Since when did carrying a briefcase imply that you're a door salesman?" Eleanor laughed and shook her head.

"She often saw things we didn't pay attention to." Fleurette replied while narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. "Though most times than not, she often made up facts and information." This got a firm nod from her sister. "Maybe she thought he was trying to make an offer on the house?"

"To tell you the truth, he did partially evaluate it." Eleanor mumbled while lifting her cup to her mouth slowly. She mumbled thoughtfully over this sentence while drinking her tea slowly in case it was still boiling hot.

Fleurette frowned, "We don't need his evaluation."

"That's what I pretty much said. Felix didn't seem to agree with my bluntly spoken words."

"This is our house, our father bought it for our mother, he left it for you..." Fleurette trailed off slightly irritated. "You're not selling up."

Eleanor looked to her sister and fidgeted slightly under her serious expression and hard eyes. "When did you become so...stern?"

Fleurette tilted her head to the side, a little confused by her sister's words. "Between arriving in America and struggling to find my first job. Being innocently sweet wouldn't have got me anywhere." Fleurette said while drinking some of her tea. She frowned over the memory of her first job; it didn't exactly go to plan or end well. Shaking her head, she smiled up at Eleanor who was gauging her.

"You haven't told me much of where you're living." Eleanor said while leaning back before standing up. Fleurette looked up at her and followed suit, putting their tea things on a small tray they moved to the sitting room. Fleurette took the things off of the tray and put them on the small table between them. Eleanor sat down in the chair while Fleurette lounged back on the settee opposite to her.

Eleanor's words were the truth; since arriving the two were swept up with grieving, the funeral, and sending thank you letters to all who had attended. It was only now, a few days after that they both found themselves at a loss. It was also at this time that Eleanor realised that Fleurette hadn't really shared much about her life overseas.

"What's to say? It's busy, noisy, the people are interesting characters..." Fleurette rolled her hand in Eleanor's direction.

"Is it safe?"

Fleurette looked to Eleanor sharply. "Yes." She saw the concern which was suddenly etched on her sister's face. "It is, I don't think there's anywhere safer to live. Other than a safe, or a bank." She chuckled.

Eleanor rolled her eyes and shook her head. "How's Meg?"

"She's taken to life in America very quickly. More so than me. She seems like a natural at fitting in where ever she is."

"Madame Giry?"

"The same as always."

"Erik?"

"...The same as always." Fleurette said thoughtfully with a frown. Eleanor raised a curious eyebrow. What could she possibly say about him? It wasn't like Eleanor really knew how he behaved anyway, so if there was any drastic change Eleanor wouldn't exactly know. They'd met and interacted briefly and that was it. It was strained and a little awkward.

"The same as always. What does that even mean?" Eleanor frowned and leaned back in the chair. "Still hiding below ground level?"

"He doesn't hide." Fleurette rolled her eyes, trust her sister to choose that as the first thing to pick on.