Interlude [h.s]

fourteen

Alouette doesn't know what to think of the night before as she makes her way down the corridor.

She'd never seen Harry act like that before, and doesn't know what to make of it. He was so different from how he usually is, and she's more confused than she'd like to admit.

At the same time, though, it really isn't any of her business, and she has no intention of making it become hers. After all, Harry's emotional state is none of her concern.

She just hopes she'll get to throw herself into work for today and forget all about it.

Her plans, unfortunately, take a drastic turn only a matter of minutes later.

"Can you bring these folders to the President? I'm a bit busy at the moment," Evie says as soon as Alouette reaches her desk.

She isn't thrilled at the idea of seeing Harry again so soon and sighs. Something shifted between them last night, but she can't tell what it is.

He was upset, and she'd distracted him. She'd never expected to have such a humanly interaction with Harry, which makes it a problem. It's a problem, because she knows that the more she learns to see Harry as a person just like her, the harder it will be to complete her task. It's easy to shoot someone that acts like they only exist in the present moment, but it's very hard to do the same when you know the hopes and dreams of that person, when you've heard their laugh and shared moments with them.

At the same time, though, she also knows that it's indeed the fastest way to get him to trust her, and his trust will be essential when the time will come.

She hoped she'd have some more time to prepare before seeing him again, but luck isn't on her side this time.

Alouette takes the folders from Evie and walks to the huge closed doors at the end of the room. Her fist hovers inches away from the wood when she decides last minute not to knock, and she takes a deep breath.

If she wants him to truly notice her, she has to act differently. She's already figured out she can get away with more than most people around him, and it's essential that she uses that advantage. It's time to put up a show.

She opens the door without knocking, not missing the way Harry's eyes shoot up in her direction in the second she does so.

He's sitting behind his desk, wearing one of his usual, perfectly ironed suits, his phone in one hand. It's quite clear that he was talking to someone through the device until she came in.

Trying her best not to seem intimidated, she walks towards him and puts the folders on top of his desk, right next to a dish of dark red strawberries dipped in molten chocolate.

It looks like he decided to eat breakfast in his office today, she notes.

Harry's lips part at her action, the show of surprise being a first coming from him. "I'll call you later," he says calmly into the phone before putting it down and leaning back on his chair, narrowing his eyes at her.

Alouette gulps at the glacial, calculating look in his eyes, but doesn't let her uneasiness show. "An early morning, isn't it, sir?"

Her voice comes out a bit unsure, and she can't help it. The shadow of the night before hovers over them; he knows she caught him in a moment of fragility, and she knows he'll do all he can to deny it if she dares to bring it up.

"I have to admit I'm torn," he then says, shattering the stalemate they fell in.

Alouette raises an eyebrow. "Torn?"

He wets his lips with his tongue, staring at her like a hunter looks at a prey. "I'd tell you to call me Harry, but I adore the way the word sir leaves your mouth."