A Reunion of Lips

VIII

Mitch was laying face down on the floor, listening to The Little Mermaid again.

"I hate this movie."

"Give it a few more weeks and you might start memorizing it, too."

Mitch groaned into the carpet, ignoring the laughing from Cleo sitting at the door. They had been taking turns for the last eleven days listening at the flap. Surprisingly, they'd actually been able to hear a couple things from people walking past.

They figured their room was in a side wing of the Manor, so some of the staff took breaks near them. Which meant they got to hear some gossip, occasionally. Most of what they heard was just chatter about "Nancy burned the stew so bad I literally almost threw up" or "Well, I'm sorry that I said no, but I don't want to date a guy who thinks salad is fancy dining".

But sometimes they heard stuff like, "Did you see the new posters? I'll be honest, I didn't even read them—I figured they'd just be more 'bring back the trusted leaders' shit—but just look at the outlines! Sophia did them by hand and they look just like him!".

Mitch's personal favorite had been, "Bruce said the king looked exhausted when he got back, but I bet he didn't even see him and just made it up 'cause he didn't like that I called King Scott a hot daddy. Regardless of political opinions, that dude's got arms."

He'd been doing his best not to think about Scott, or Kirstie, or anyone else back home—other than brainstorming random elaborate ways to escape and get back to the Capital, of course—but hearing that Scott was okay (somewhat okay) was reassuring.

To fill the time, he and Cleo had been doing their best to work together without telling each other too much about themselves, which was both entertaining and very confusing.

Mitch knew that Cleo had been majoring in psychology at Alluvia University and had heard many censored stories about her friends and life on campus. Cleo had learned that he grew up on the seventh level in the Capital and had worked at a design studio for a few years. He'd shied away from his current line of work and so had she, so they wouldn't accidentally say something they really shouldn't say.

Cleo had noticed the wire wrapped around Mitch's finger, but he had outright refused to talk about it, so she had left it alone after that. He could feel the curiosity oozing from her sometimes, though. As much as he would love to talk about Scott until he lost his voice, it was easier to just keep his mouth shut. It made the ache in his chest a little more manageable.

They'd had their fair share of awkward crying interactions when one or both of them got overwhelmed, too, which did wonders for fast bonding. Usually, they'd end up talking too long about when they get out and they'd end up sniffling and rubbing at their eyes. Cleo would jump up and announce, "I'm gonna go cry in the shower for an unhealthy amount of time, now," and Mitch would grab the tissue box and sit himself in the desk and stare longingly out the window at the edge of the grassy property and the line of trees that marked a park and freedom until he got his emotions under control again.

Mitch lifted his head from the carpet when he could hear the credits start on the TV and sighed in relief. It was his turn to take the door while Cleo got to take a break.

Mitch brought a pillow with him to sit on while Cleo turned down the TV. "I'll turn it back up when I'm done praying."

Mitch gave her a thumbs up and tried to get comfortable against the door. She had told him the first night about how she didn't typically practice that much, but she had started praying again since she was captured. Her exact wording had made him laugh. "It's not like I have much else to do. But there's no fucking way I'm gonna fast in here." It kinda made Mitch wish that he practiced anything that would give him something to do—or believe in. He could always try the meditation she had recommended to try to make his anxiety chill out, though.

He focused on listening to the hallway as he absent-mindedly twisted his wire ring, but didn't hear anything other than shuffling footsteps walk past at one point. It wasn't until the last few notes of Let It Go faded that he hissed, "Cleo!", and beckoned her away from her tofu on her bed.

She pressed her ear against the door next to him as they listened to the two men mutter to each other from down the hall.

"—coming here?"

"Yeah. Nancy's been moved to the cleaning staff for now, thank God."

"I thought they weren't supposed to leave the Manor in Presque, though? Isn't that like, the entire point of them hiding from the king? Staying in hiding?"

"All I know is they wanted to be closer to the border. I figure they can do what they want; I'm not planning to tell the Duke to go home."

"Well, I'm not either, I'm just saying. Whatever, I just hope that Shelly orders more of those fancy towels before they get here."

"You were the one that took those?"

"Oh, please. Like, everyone except you took one. I bet if she ordered them soon and they disappeared again, she'd have time to order a replacement set before they got here..."

"Well, a lot can happen in two weeks."

"True. Speaking of Shelly, did you see her story..."

The voices faded away as the men left, leaving Mitch and Cleo staring at each other with wide eyes. They scrambled back from the door and over to the desk, where Cleo cranked up the volume of the TV to hide their whispering.

"Oh my god." Mitch hadn't seen Cleo this excited before.

"Shhhh."

"I love this movie!" Cleo announced loudly, then grabbed Mitch and whispered in his ear. "We have to get out of here. We gotta tell the others about this!"

Mitch nodded to her and answered loudly. "I know! Hans is such an underrated character!" He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Literally, how?"

Cleo rubbed her temples. "I don't know about that."

"Sleep on it?"

She hissed, "What do you think I've been doing?!"