nealie's panting hard, back against the wall like an injured animal. hiding and licking her wounds. only, her hiding place of choice is etienne's shop after hours. there had been tears in her eyes as she knocked at the door frantically, calling his name. they don't even know each other that well. fucking humiliating. it's the recoil from that humiliation that makes her nearly snap at him for asking a question.

but instead, she wipes the blood from under her nose and forces herself to relax. deep breaths, while she can, while she's safe, because it won't always be that way.

"probably not." it's tempting to call it a stupid choice, what she's done. "i made some enemies. it got a little..." out of hand. fucked. overwhelming. terrifying. her next inhale stutters on the way in. looking at him gravely, pissed with herself but pleading for grace, nealie searches for words.

mark thinks: are you mocking me? what a laugh. mark thinks: as if anyone would ever want to be you, mocking or otherwise. cunt.

that, however, doesn't show on his face. instead, it's a painted smile, two fingers pressing his glasses up from the bridge. working around people for so long has really helped train the 'i don't want to be here but i'll act like this is the only thing that's important' facial expression. it's easier than anything else.

" no, was i? i absolutely didn't mean to. really, it's an accident. what can i do for you, mr. beaumont? " there's a loud clap that echoes through the room, mark's hand on felix's shoulder. there's no hard feelings, see? no need to worry about anything.

well, felix doesn't know the supernatural, but he knows people. and he doesn't like this man, not his smile or the chummy way he touches felix's shoulder. he doesn't shake mark off, though. no reason to sour relations further, not when the stakes are whether or not he gets to know his daughter. still, his handsome jaw tightens and ticks once as he looks down at mark. his expression is careful, but there's a look in his eyes that seems to wonder: what does she see in you?

because he saw percy speak to mark. saw her eager smile, the tilt of her head, and even though he was too far away to see the sparkle in her eyes, he knows it was there. she likes him. felix gives him a once-over, not very subtly. for some reason.

But not by him. Looking over, war forever hard in his eyes, he's no care, a beast of hardship, for those turns of vanity.

"That how I'm supposed to see things? Look at something beautiful and wonder how I'm to get my hands on it?" Henry knows what he's getting at. He's trying to play him, but no, no! She chose him. And he must know, question it until it eats him, that that's the proof that he's better. Better favored than him. "My apologies. I wouldn't know, my lord. Truly. I'm a peasant, better made to admire from afar, and she is beautiful, I would never deny it, God is my witness, but if I remember rightly, I believe the taking is suited more for my betters."

still, he'd insist, he's no power-hungry lord after the princess for her titles alone. so fair is she, like an angel or a fairy-queen, that even were she a scullery maid he'd pursue her. and unlike those vapid baronesses and countesses who, dripping with jewels, giggle emptily at everything he says, the princess really, truly, listens. and she responds in turn! thoughtful and clever and well-read, her mind sharp as the steel hanging from her knight's side.

yes, he decides, it makes sense she'd choose for her guardian one who could keep pace with her in conversation. and if she truly thinks so highly of henry... felix might alienate persephone by crossing him.

(He knows Beaumont sees him. He does. Problem is -- and this is just the first, of course, for so numerous are those failings of this wretched pest -- he is a serf, and as such, is a right miserable fool at all things pretense.)

it crosses his mind fleetingly that perhaps the princess does long for those things, head full of stories as hers is. but it's so ridiculous that he dismisses it immediately; she's clever enough to know those desires belong strictly in fantasy.