Indefinite

two.

"Now enough with this depressing stuff. Let's have some fun!" I challenged, taking another drink. "Tell me about yourself."

"Well, where do you want me to begin?" Alexander chuckled, the mood obviously lightened.

"Start with the simple stuff." I smiled. "Where are you from?"

"I've actually lived here my whole life." He nodded, waving the bartender over to refil both of our drinks. "What about you?"

"I'm from New York." I
said quietly. I had bad memories of that place.

"Woah." His eyes widened. "What's a big city girl doing all the way out here?"

"My job let's me travel." I tell him.

"What do you do?" He asked between sips of his drink.

"Photographer." I lied.

Rule Number Twelve: Always have a backstory.

"Impressive. He smiled.

"How about you?" I asked.

"I'm an architect."

"No way, that's so cool!" I exclaimed, making my voice sound overly interested.

Rule Number Thirteen: Acting must be second nature.

I somewhat zoned out as he began telling me about his job. My mind was focused on the task at hand, and how I wanted to deal with it.

"Still thinking about that boyfriend?" Alexander asked, my cheeks turning pink in embarrassment as I realized that I had completely zoned him out.

"Sorry." I muttered, taking a long swig of alcohol.

"Wanna talk about it? It might make you feel better." He suggested.

"It's a long story." I sighed.

"I've got time."

I chuckled before starting my story. I fabricated most of it, making it more believable. I also left out the times Asrael had tried to kill me, and when he tortured me by running a knife blade up and down my arms. I did hint at the abuse, but didn't blatantly point it out.

Rule Number Fourteen: Don't tell too much.

"Wow." He sat stunned. I had finished two drinks and he was working on three. "I'm sorry. Now I understand why you were so nervous earlier. That has to be horrible."

"This is why I can hold my liquor." I joked, downing the rest of my third drink. For a moment, I could feel guilt creep into my consciousness, but I quickly tucked it away. I had a job to do, and I was willing to do anything to get it done.

Rule Number Fifteen: Don't let it get to you. No matter what, don't let it get to you.

"I think we should leave soon." Alexander motioned to the bartender who was giving us the stink eye. The place had been emptied, other than us, what was probably hours ago, and I knew the bar was nearing closing time.

"I don't want to go back to my hotel." I frowned, making sure to slur my words a bit to seem more tipsy than I actually was.

"We can go back to my place?" He hiccuped, clearly on the verge of being drunk if he wasn't already.

"Ok!" I forced myself to giggle, clumsily grabbing my things and bumping into Alexander in the process, before we left the bar.

Alexander started to get into his car, before I stopped him. I didn't want to get into a car accident tonight.

Rule Number Sixteen: Keep yourself out of situations that could get you caught, or killed.

"Eden? What's wrong?" His voice was slurred, making him almost sound like a child.

"Take a cab?" I said slowly, pulling out my phone and calling one. It took him a moment, but it finally clicked, and he sighed in realization before locking up his car.

The cab arrived in minutes, and we clumsily climbed in the car, Alexander giving the driver his address.

By the time we arrived at his house, Alexander was beginning to slow down, and looked like he was about to crash.

He unlocked the door to his tiny house, and I helped him inside, setting him on his couch. I quickly took in my surroundings, noticing every little detail, such as the odd sock sitting on a dining chair, and the vintage band t-shirt crumpled up on the couch next to him.

"You need to sleep." I told him, exaggerating my words, laying him down on the couch. After a few moments of coaxing, he was fast asleep.

Now it was time to get to work.