Veronica ignored the knocking on her front door. Why wasn't Melanie answering? More than a morning person her tiny roommate would surely be up at-she searched blindly for her phone, blinking against the harsh screen light- eleven AM. Clicking it off, Veronica rolled over, pulling blankets up to her chin to fend off any light that dared filter through her dark curtains.
Just when she thought peace had returned to the modest apartment, the knocking began again. With inexplicable urgency. Kicking off her comforter in a childish fit, she rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on the jeans she'd been wearing the night before.
People usually called in the event of an emergency. Green locks of hair floated in disarray around her head. They dropped into place as she unlocked the front door and swung it open, half expecting some overeager Mormon to be on the other side.
Her visitor paused, mid-knock when she opened the door and upon laying eyes on him, she all but closed it again. More accurately, she laid eyes on an expanse of chest hidden by a forest green dress shirt and a heather gray vest. He was taller and wider than she was, and she glared at him from the crack in the door.
[spoiler]
"Solarflare," she said icily, her gaze snapped towards his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Makai," he corrected, and frowned when she only hummed in response.
He looked annoyed, perhaps by her cold stare, but otherwise he didn't have the right. She certainly hadn't invited tall, dark and handsome to her apartment, and she'd done nothing to warrant a visit from the so-called superhero that had taken down her parents.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, rough voice presenting more of a demand than a question.
"No," she replied, automatically. She should have been more considerate of her benefactor-slash-parole officer, but unsurprisingly they'd never gotten along very well. "You can't stay long, I'm sure," she suggested. "Akiona International will be missing their CEO."
"You don't think someone will notice the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company standing on your porch."
He had a point. She pursed her lips and pretended to consider his words, before stepping back and letting the door fall open. She walked to the kitchen as he came inside, closing the door behind him. She started making coffee and didn't offer him any because they weren't friends and she was a terrible hostess.
"What do you want?" she asked, less polite this time, not that the bar had been set very high. Pushing her hair back with one hand she watched him wander into the living room. He looked around, hands shoved into the pockets of pressed slacks.
"Where’s Melanie?" he asked, instead of getting to the point.
Veronica shrugged, didn't care that he couldn't see her do it. Her roommate's whereabouts wasn't the business of either of them.
"I got your e-mail," he finally explained as she washed out her favorite coffee mug in the sink.
"Y'know, the great thing about e-mail is you can respond to them from your own home," she replied, reaching for a paper towel. "Your billion dollar mansion. Or even from your high-rise office downtown."
He turned to look at her and his handsome features probably would have made her more compliant had she given them the time of day. "I wanted to see you." As if that explained everything. Or anything for that matter. Veronica was aware of what it usually meant, but he couldn't have possibly meant it that way.
He shouldn't have meant it that way.
"Here I am," she said, despite not being nearly as presentable as she could in an ill-fitting seasonal t-shirt from an old job and wrinkled jeans. She had no idea what her hair was doing, or to what extent her mascara made her look like a raccoon. She'd feel less sloppy if he wasn't always wearing one suit or the other.
"Your e-mail said you were going out of state? To some sort of music festival?" he paused, so she could hum and agreement from behind her coffee mug. "I don't think that's a very good idea."
"I wasn't asking permission," she replied like it was obvious. "I was simply informing. Like I am required to do. Per contract." When her parents had been defeated, her freedom had come with a variety of clauses. Being a rehabilitated villain and vaguely part of a witness protection program meant the government kept loose tabs on her.
A superhero in her living room made it seem like those tabs were tightening.
"Veronica…"
"Need I remind you I'm an adult?"
"I'm only suggesting…"
"You don't get to make suggestions!" She dropped her mug to throw her hands in the air. It floated above the counter, liquid precariously clinging to its own surface tension. "You're not my father. You're not my boyfriend. You don't get a vote."
He inhaled slowly, hands reappearing from his pockets to adjust his tie. His staccato movements implied she had hit a nerve, but she didn't know which one. "Who are you going with?"
"This guy…Max and some other people."
"Max? Maxwell Pennington? From your English class?"
Veronica didn't mask the disgust on her features, displeased with the tabs they were keeping on her. They stared at one another in silence.
"That's…fine, I suppose. He's shown no signs of villain activity."
"And neither have I," she reminded him.
"True enough. But you've also been spending a noticeable amount of nights away from your apartment."
She was floating before she could stop herself, unable to keep herself on the ground. "Stop. Watching. Me."
"It's my job to watch you," he replied, calmly. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing out all night?"
"I'm allowed to have a life. I'm twenty-four. I go out. I'm not doing anything wrong."
"Veronica."
"Maybe I'm seeing someone."
That seemed to take him for a loop. He paused. Opened his mouth to say something, but closed it with an audible click of his teeth. There was a hard set to his jaw that made it difficult to ignore her creeping suspicions. He was not allowed to have feelings for her. He'd ruined her life. One parent dead and another in prison because of him. He was not allowed to like her.
"Have fun a your concert," he acquiesced sharply, and she felt her feet come in contact with the ground, hair falling down around her shoulders. He moved towards the front door and she followed close behind him.
"I will," she replied, challenging and childish.
Wrapping fingers around the doorknob, he turned abruptly and she almost ran into him. Huffing, she looked up and he was towering over her. She didn't back up of spite, keeping her gaze on his. She could feel heat radiating off of him, and he smelled like soap and fancy cologne.
"You know the second you step out of line, I will be there to stop you." He was being unnecessarily hard with her, perhaps she had hurt his feelings.
"You can try," she said, feeling unusually bold in this context. Normally she wouldn't bother being so pugnacious when it came to him, or her past, or her abilities, but it seemed they were both annoyed with one another.
Wrenching open the door he stepped out of her apartment, leaving her to close it behind him. She released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and padded back to the kitchen to reheat her coffee. She pushed Makai Akiona from her mind, and decided that if she were going to be awake, she might as well pack.
[/spoiler]
Just when she thought peace had returned to the modest apartment, the knocking began again. With inexplicable urgency. Kicking off her comforter in a childish fit, she rolled out of bed and quickly pulled on the jeans she'd been wearing the night before.
People usually called in the event of an emergency. Green locks of hair floated in disarray around her head. They dropped into place as she unlocked the front door and swung it open, half expecting some overeager Mormon to be on the other side.
Her visitor paused, mid-knock when she opened the door and upon laying eyes on him, she all but closed it again. More accurately, she laid eyes on an expanse of chest hidden by a forest green dress shirt and a heather gray vest. He was taller and wider than she was, and she glared at him from the crack in the door.
[spoiler]
"Solarflare," she said icily, her gaze snapped towards his face. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Makai," he corrected, and frowned when she only hummed in response.
He looked annoyed, perhaps by her cold stare, but otherwise he didn't have the right. She certainly hadn't invited tall, dark and handsome to her apartment, and she'd done nothing to warrant a visit from the so-called superhero that had taken down her parents.
"Are you going to let me in?" he asked, rough voice presenting more of a demand than a question.
"No," she replied, automatically. She should have been more considerate of her benefactor-slash-parole officer, but unsurprisingly they'd never gotten along very well. "You can't stay long, I'm sure," she suggested. "Akiona International will be missing their CEO."
"You don't think someone will notice the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company standing on your porch."
He had a point. She pursed her lips and pretended to consider his words, before stepping back and letting the door fall open. She walked to the kitchen as he came inside, closing the door behind him. She started making coffee and didn't offer him any because they weren't friends and she was a terrible hostess.
"What do you want?" she asked, less polite this time, not that the bar had been set very high. Pushing her hair back with one hand she watched him wander into the living room. He looked around, hands shoved into the pockets of pressed slacks.
"Where’s Melanie?" he asked, instead of getting to the point.
Veronica shrugged, didn't care that he couldn't see her do it. Her roommate's whereabouts wasn't the business of either of them.
"I got your e-mail," he finally explained as she washed out her favorite coffee mug in the sink.
"Y'know, the great thing about e-mail is you can respond to them from your own home," she replied, reaching for a paper towel. "Your billion dollar mansion. Or even from your high-rise office downtown."
He turned to look at her and his handsome features probably would have made her more compliant had she given them the time of day. "I wanted to see you." As if that explained everything. Or anything for that matter. Veronica was aware of what it usually meant, but he couldn't have possibly meant it that way.
He shouldn't have meant it that way.
"Here I am," she said, despite not being nearly as presentable as she could in an ill-fitting seasonal t-shirt from an old job and wrinkled jeans. She had no idea what her hair was doing, or to what extent her mascara made her look like a raccoon. She'd feel less sloppy if he wasn't always wearing one suit or the other.
"Your e-mail said you were going out of state? To some sort of music festival?" he paused, so she could hum and agreement from behind her coffee mug. "I don't think that's a very good idea."
"I wasn't asking permission," she replied like it was obvious. "I was simply informing. Like I am required to do. Per contract." When her parents had been defeated, her freedom had come with a variety of clauses. Being a rehabilitated villain and vaguely part of a witness protection program meant the government kept loose tabs on her.
A superhero in her living room made it seem like those tabs were tightening.
"Veronica…"
"Need I remind you I'm an adult?"
"I'm only suggesting…"
"You don't get to make suggestions!" She dropped her mug to throw her hands in the air. It floated above the counter, liquid precariously clinging to its own surface tension. "You're not my father. You're not my boyfriend. You don't get a vote."
He inhaled slowly, hands reappearing from his pockets to adjust his tie. His staccato movements implied she had hit a nerve, but she didn't know which one. "Who are you going with?"
"This guy…Max and some other people."
"Max? Maxwell Pennington? From your English class?"
Veronica didn't mask the disgust on her features, displeased with the tabs they were keeping on her. They stared at one another in silence.
"That's…fine, I suppose. He's shown no signs of villain activity."
"And neither have I," she reminded him.
"True enough. But you've also been spending a noticeable amount of nights away from your apartment."
She was floating before she could stop herself, unable to keep herself on the ground. "Stop. Watching. Me."
"It's my job to watch you," he replied, calmly. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing out all night?"
"I'm allowed to have a life. I'm twenty-four. I go out. I'm not doing anything wrong."
"Veronica."
"Maybe I'm seeing someone."
That seemed to take him for a loop. He paused. Opened his mouth to say something, but closed it with an audible click of his teeth. There was a hard set to his jaw that made it difficult to ignore her creeping suspicions. He was not allowed to have feelings for her. He'd ruined her life. One parent dead and another in prison because of him. He was not allowed to like her.
"Have fun a your concert," he acquiesced sharply, and she felt her feet come in contact with the ground, hair falling down around her shoulders. He moved towards the front door and she followed close behind him.
"I will," she replied, challenging and childish.
Wrapping fingers around the doorknob, he turned abruptly and she almost ran into him. Huffing, she looked up and he was towering over her. She didn't back up of spite, keeping her gaze on his. She could feel heat radiating off of him, and he smelled like soap and fancy cologne.
"You know the second you step out of line, I will be there to stop you." He was being unnecessarily hard with her, perhaps she had hurt his feelings.
"You can try," she said, feeling unusually bold in this context. Normally she wouldn't bother being so pugnacious when it came to him, or her past, or her abilities, but it seemed they were both annoyed with one another.
Wrenching open the door he stepped out of her apartment, leaving her to close it behind him. She released a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and padded back to the kitchen to reheat her coffee. She pushed Makai Akiona from her mind, and decided that if she were going to be awake, she might as well pack.
[/spoiler]