A Doubting Thomas

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Mr. Oakby Snr, a.k.a. The Mayor's father, a.k.a. the Titan opened the door and slowly walked into the library. Petra lifted her eyes from the book she was pretending to read.

"Ah," said the Titan.

Since the 'ah' lacked any sort of emotion, it clarified nothing to Petra.

"Yes?" she asked.

"You haven't left," the Titan said calmly.

"The leg." Petra pointed at her broken extremity, clasped in a plastic contraption, with her reading glasses. "And storming out seemed rather dramatic, considering I would look too much like that doctor from the American telly series. But I have to confess, I mostly stayed here because I have a suspicion that you wanted me to leave."

Once again, the man's face expressed exactly nought, and Petra sighed.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asked. "It is rather awkward, since you moved my belongings here less than twenty-four hours ago."

"I do not," he answered and approached her. Like a stalking tiger, thought Petra.

"Hm, you could've deceived me. Since announcing that the woman was your mistress, and explaining nothing, and leaving me here seemed to point at–"

"Would me having a mistress upset you?" he interrupted.

He'd stopped in front of her chair and was towering over her.

"Could you sit, please? I'm going to end up with a kink in my neck, and those make me rather stroppy," Petra grumbled, and he chuckled and sat in the second armchair. "Did you mean to say, your second mistress?" she said. "Or would she be your mistress number one, since I came after?" she added pensively.

"You aren't my mistress, Petra," he said in a quiet voice.

"Oh? Why not?" She knew it was a trap, but the temptation was too strong. The man was made of layers and layers of temptations, after all.

"The term implies the man is attached when entering the association," he said with a shrug. "And there is too much judgement in the whole concept, don't you find?"

"I do try to avoid the latter in my life." Petra nodded. "But aren't you attached?"

"Am I?" he said in the same lazy baritone and threw one leg over the other.

"See, this is exactly the behaviour that makes me wonder whether you've once again decided to get rid of me," Petra said. "You aren't explaining anything, you aren't defending your choices - not that I'm asking you to. You just... keep calm and bash on, so to say."

She sighed again and gave him a scrutinising look over. The man looked just as always: dashing, radiating confidence, and... unfeeling. Petra scratched the back of her head with the temple tip of her glasses. The reason she hadn't stormed out was, to be honest, rather lamentable: she simply didn't want to leave. She wanted him to start talking - and to say all the right things to make her feel just as content as she had been an hour ago. It seemed, though, she was once again expected to read between the lines - and most likely, make herself scarce afterwards.

"You having a mistress - and to remind you, I only use this term since you used it when leaving for your study - at the same time as being in a relationship with me would upset me," she said firmly. "Call me old-fashioned. I'm all for other people doing whatever they want with their lives. I simply aren't progressive enough for such... lack of exclusivity." She shrugged. "I have to admit that I'm not entirely without a fault here. When it all started - my leg, the alleged attempt on my life, the dinner you invited me to - I didn't give a single thought to the question whether you potentially could have had a romantic partner at the time. It's rather odd, actually," she drew out pensively. "So not in my character. I always worry, you see, that someone could get hurt as a result of my actions. And, say, if you had a mistress at the time, I'd hate to cause her misery. I was rather persistent, and kept bugging you with the Bible, and my investigations, and dropping by your office simply because I wanted to see you. Oh that's not good! Oh I'm now thinking it's all my fault!" she exclaimed and pressed her hands to her cheeks.

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