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Madelyn sits behind her desk; paperwork fanned out over it, and a cup of coffee in her hand. She seems relaxed, yet there is something wrong. He can sense in the way her eyes bore into his.
Why did you lie to me?" Madelyn asks, her head tilted slightly more in curiosity than anger. "About arriving too late to save, Anderson,".
The way she speaks, it's almost if she were inquiring about something ordinary like whether it was raining or not.
Homelander thinks about denying it, but knows Madelyn would never confront him unless she has undeniable proof. It wasn't her style.
"He wanted you," he tells her as if it were a perfectly reasonable excuse to standby and watch someone burn to death. "Anderson was never going to cough up the money he promised until he got you,".
He couldn't tell her that while he loved Vought as much as she did, not enough to let someone have her in their bed. The thought of it makes him want to tear at his skin until he's left holding flesh confetti. Even if he could force the words to come out of his mouth, she would disapprove of him being so open with a weakness.
"We both know if push came to shove I would have used Döppelganger so what you mean is that you think I wanted him," Madelyn replies, he shifts uncomfortably as her eyes tear away at his soul. "That I would willingly go to his bed because he was handsome and charming,".
Homelander can't tell if she's amused, annoyed, angry or curious at this point. Her face is blank and unreadable. Madelyn only ever divulged what she wanted. Her words were truer than his, and they both knew it.
"I'm the only one who really knows that you choose not to save him. If anyone else asks stick to your story," she tells him, and there is a hint of warmth in her voice that he latches onto. Like a leech latching onto the skin. "His family have a lot of influence and there is no need to make unnecessary enemies,".
