Glass Skin

33

"Can you stop fussing, please?" Fleck looked up at Fleurette as she finally spoke. Fleurette had been sitting away in a room, on her own, in silence. That silence was naturally broken when her friend came bounding in asking what was wrong. Obviously Fleurette would tell Fleck all that happened. She hadn't openly commented, but she seemed immediately worried about her being injured.

"You need to keep your foot elevated." Was Fleck's rather prompt reply. "We do have a show tonight, remember? We don't want you limping obviously around. People will naturally be sceptical. Injured performers ain't a too good of an image, may I just point that out now."

Fleurette leaned her head away from the window beside her and looked to Fleck. "I'll just bandage myself up."

"And look like someone celebrating Halloween too early? Yeah, sure, why not? Sounds good." Fleck said with a casual shrug. "Listen though, there's really only so much relief bandages can give. You've got several hours to rest up. That's all I'm saying, and if you don't, and I catch you walking around, you'll regret it." Fleck smiled cheerily, she was being serious regardless of her happy tone.

Fleurette smiled awkwardly. "I'll rest, it's fine." She said trying to reassure the small woman that she had no intentions of walking about. Really, she didn't have the energy. She actually found she didn't have the energy to do anything. She just wanted to sit, in silence, and stay here on this window seat in utter peace. Even if in her heart and mind was anything but peace.

Needless to say the show of the evening went off without a hitch, not that there ever seemed to be a hitch in any previously before tonight. Standing to one side, Fleurette clenched her hands only to slowly release the tension built up in them. She frowned and turned away from watching the conversation Giry was having with Christine. Openly it seemed the older woman was happy to see the brunette again. Oh yes, so happy that in fact that she rightfully, and bluntly, demoted Fleurette to just performing with the group.

Admitting to being bitter would make her the better person, so she openly admitted to herself that she was bitter. She had after all been pushed to become a soloist despite not wanting to and just as she got used to it, after all these years, it was suddenly gone. Taken by one person. Limping gently into the room where everyone seemed to be celebrating, like usual, Fleurette sat down heavily on a sofa next to Gangle. He slowly swigged from the bottle of wine he had and looked to her.

"You look like you need it," he said while holding the bottle to her, years and years this routine had happened, he knew she declined but it never stopped him from offering, more because he felt it was polite, always keeping an offer open. Fleurette frowned and looked at it. Reaching out she took it from his hand and looked it over. Lifting it to her nose she sniffed it cautiously. Her actions caused Gangle to laugh at her. "It isn't going to bite you, Fleur." He said while waving a hand lazily at her. It was clear the alcohol was slowly taking effect. Not only was he more laid back than usual, but he also had a rather dopey smile on his face, and his actions were turning rather sluggish.

Fleurette looked back to the bottle, she could easily have answered: "Yes, I know that." But that wouldn't explain her hesitance. How could she possibly tell him that she had never drunk alcohol in her life before? She avoided the stuff. Flat out disliked it. Thanks, father, she thought while raising her eyes skyward before sighing and lifting the bottle up. With wincing actions she took a mouthful and passed it back to him. Wiping her lips with the back of her hand, she looked at him. Gangle didn't seem to notice her obvious negative reaction because he just continued to swig merrily and then hand it back to her. Fleurette snorted quietly and took it from his hands again and passed it back. This seemed to happen until the bottle was empty and Gangle slouched off to find another one.