“Only when it’s worth it.” – Nunnally replied, with a smile that might have hinted Zhora she’d taken his words as a compliment. Or perhaps she was simply stating a fact. Her tone mirrored his,  neutral and measured, as if she was sending him a coded message. Was part of that message that she had, in fact, found him worth it?

Flirting followed soon after: --

“I still prefer to be described as confidently charming rather than bold.” – Nunnally said, deciding she actually enjoyed the meeting. Unlike him, though, she didn’t expect there would be another one. She was aware that, if she truly were his date, she must have seemed like the most peculiar , and perhaps even unpleasant, person to date. Maybe she should have explained the misunderstanding now? But that didn’t feel right either.

Oh, she was terrible at these games. Or at least, internally uncomfortable.

He told her she could go after anything she wanted. She kept her smile, but inside, she knew Zhora couldn’t be more wrong. If anything, she was an overthinker; the kind who made mental lists of pros and cons, only to end up doing nothing at all. She knew how to seem confident, though. So that no-one could see the real her.

“True…”  – she laughed  – “…But sometimes it’s more fun when what I want comes after me.” – Nunnally tried to sound playful, but her words sounded fake. Faker than anything she’d said before. Somehow, he had accidentally touched something she deeply despised in herself.

“But I am also an overthinker.” – she admitted, unsure why she suddenly dropped the flirting mask, even if only for a moment  –“I sometimes talk a big game and then hide behind confidence and a decent smile. And behind coffee and sarcasm.” – she laughed more genuinely this time. After all, Zhora hadn’t come here for deep conversations. Right? Right; she replied herself.

His next question, a reflection of her own words (and one she should have phrased as a question herself), caught her off guard. She knew exactly why she was single, and she knew even more clearly that she wasn’t going to tell him. So she shrugged.

“The idea of ‘the one’ is overrated, don’t you think?” – she said, her voice gentler than it had been so far  – “But yes, I haven’t met anyone even close to meeting that criteria.” – up until now, it might have sounded like a teasing line, but she wasn’t playing anymore.

“As for the first part of your question…”  – she hesitated (again) – “…I like meeting new people.” – a blatant lie  – “You?”

Then, after a pause, soft, but deliberate: --

not to mention, it didn't seem to be the right moment for him to answer in such a serious manner when their EXCHANGE thus far had been primarily playful & superficial. for a moment he suspected that she might have been more honest herself for a moment, he didn't dare pry further to confirm it.

" I wouldn't say overrated, " he replied light heartedly, though he cast his sights down at the table instead of at her for the first time since they settled into their seats. " a bit wistful & silly, but its a beautiful idea to hold onto on lonely nights. " because if he was experiencing such loneliness & pain, his other half must be feeling the same thing. perhaps if they both thought of each other, it might be a bit more bareable until they met.

" I hope you meet someone who will change your mind one day. " he replied while he lifted his gaze back to her. as unlikely as that would be. if Nunnally wouldn't open up and ALLOW herself to feel that way, it would never be.

although he didn't entirely agree, Zhora understood the point of view. there were a many who were set on forming connections with others without GENUINE commitment. he was similar, never turning down an opportunity.... but he still held on to that embarrassing shred of HOPE-

it was a common opinion... yes. but was it TRUELY hers..? Zhora let go of her display of uncertainty moments before, but when Nunnally continued to seem rather unsure of her own response he had to comment- indirectly. " really? you must have formed quite the social circle. I should thank you for not completely forgetting about me today. although if you did, I could almost understand. is it overwhelming... at times? " as for his own answer, well...

NEXT question. " yes, of course. " he answered simply, as if it was obvious that he would. but just in case it wasn't, he decided to elaborate further. " a bit of resistance isn't enough to deter someone like me. everything I have, I've fought for. " Zhora didn't see relationships as something that would come easily.

Of course he wasn’t joking. Kisumi simply was denying him. There wasn’t going to be a route forward for him to interact like this. He was no fool.

“Alright then buddy,” Kisumi smiled and added a bit of a wave to his hand brushing Zhora off as he took another sip of his drink as he acted unfazed by the sudden interruption. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so harsh but the other’s behavior had rubbed him the wrong way. He was ready to admit what had happened in front of Ami anyway. Besides all the eyes in the coffee shop were already on them.

Kisumi hoped to write off this one time run in as a fluke. Satiated the fates or whatever Zhora had been ranting about that day. That was until he had the misfortune of running into the man again a week later.

“——Shit”

that didn't mean they had NO place at all in his life, though.

Kisumi hadn’t simply ignored Zhora; he’d gone out of his way to look as though he were trying to evade him, which (unfortunately for him) only guaranteed the OPPOSITE would occur. If he had truly acted like he didn’t care, Zhora might have allowed him to slip by. yet he’d made it far too easy, as if he was INVITING him in for another confrontation. Zhora was not someone who left things unfinished—no matter how grotesque or bitter the ending might turn out to be.

he moved effortlessly, slipping away from the bar & positioning himself squarely in Kisumi’s path. an obviously INTENTIONAL move to force them to accidentally stand face-to-face again.

Her eyebrows formed a straight line. For a mere second. Why were men often so predictable? Almost boring. Why did they always insist to pay? As if only their pride mattered. And what about hers?

For another mere moment, Nunnally wanted to explain the situation, and leave. But something again stopped her. After all, she couldn’t know what he had been told about “her”. Perhaps that she would expect that? Nunnally knew a lot of women in her social circle that would simply feel insulted if he didn’t refuse. So, perhaps she should just accept the social norms, and not be irritated by his behaviour? She would have opted for iced espresso, but wouldn’t that then send the message that she wanted to leave?

Again why did she care?

“Do you serve cold brew coffee?” – she asked, and without waiting for the confirmation Nunnally added – “I’ll have it then, and if not I’ll go for iced Americano.” – she now turned her attention back to Zhora – “Thank you.” – she hesitated – “I…”

“I apologize I am late…” – she didn’t add any more explanation, as nothing smart came to her mind. Surely, she could tell she had lost his phone number, but seriously that would come up at the end of their “date” if they at all decide to meet again (which she doubted?). Obviously, it must have been some sort of a blind date. He didn’t seem to know anything about her (his date?), and probably he’d simply get mad when he was to find out she was pretending?

Or perhaps he’s actually be flattered?

Nunnally didn’t think she understood men. Or most of them anyway. Dealing with a very specific kind of them, she believed she knew how to push their buttons, but otherwise? She had not dated for a longer while.

“So…” – she started slowly as they walked to their table – “What do you do on the blind date now? I have not done it for a while…since High School to be exact…” – not entirely truth, but not an absolute lie either – “Should we now ask all these polite questions about hobbies and what we are looking for in the relationship?” – there was a light irony in her voice – “Or rather the weird ones are fashionable now?”

“What is the weirdest combination of food you like?”

She laughed.

“I don’t attempt to be off-putting…” – she added, though she probably were – “Though I probably am.” – she tilted her head – “You’re handsome…and patient. It’s difficult to imagine that you…”

on one hand he could respect the way she didn’t scramble to cover the silence with clumsy excuses or half-truths. it wasn't easy for most to do, especially not so unashamedly- it carried a certain unique appeal. however, without any context, her actions remained... DIFFICULT to digest & anticipate. that was what bothered Zhora. not knowing if this behavior was typical of Nunnally meant he couldn’t adequately prepare for the next time they crossed paths.

oh, and yes—

he had already decided: there would DEFINITELY be another time.

still, as CURIOUS as he was, Zhora chose not to press the issue further. he might have been forward with his line of questioning, but he was not oblivious. she didn't want to say what happened. something had occurred that she either didn’t feel comfortable sharing... or she didn’t think he deserved to know.

that didn't mean they couldn't still TRY to enjoy each others company... right? Zhora trailed behind her to the table & sat opposite to her while she seemed to be entertaining herself.

YES, he’d waited for her. patiently. but it wasn’t just about time, was it? everything else—the tone of his voice, the intentional phrasing... Nunnally hadn't accused him of being passive-aggressive, overly persistent, or tactless—though he was certain at least one of those descriptions would have crossed anyone's mind. did she pretend not to notice to maintain the upper hand?

" you’re bold, " Zhora replied at last—a neutral enough observation, delivered with the kind of tone that left the interpretation entirely up to her: praise, critique, or provocation. then, he continued, " I’m sure you don’t have any problem going after what you want, " he added, watching her reaction with measured interest.

Lovers whose love don’t add up. 

Lovers who are in for different things.

Lovers whose love never comes at the right time

Lovers who pine but can’t act on it.

Lovers who send each other secret glances in hope for the other to notice.

Lovers who love each other, but don’t dare to say it out loud.

Zhora surprised him again, for the better. Wolfgang had hoped that with that push at the back of his neck, he would have forced to plant his face between that legs, and yet, Zhora was betting on a kiss.

A fervent kiss, to which he responded by welcoming it wholeheartedly.

>> the gambler lost all he does not have

He let his body fall to the cold floor and parted his lips to receive him, as if Zhora had wanted to enter him. Whether it was a passionate kiss or something that required more use of tongue, it didn't matter; he'd been horny for a while. His body hid nothing from its counterpart: the fever, the anticipation, the desire. He wanted, no, he longed for this man with his destructive power to rebuild him with his hands and intentions.

almost... but he KNEW that Wolfgang was just following his whims to play the part for now- & Zhora had much more work to completely DEVOUR him.

Zhora followed Wolfgang to the floor. as soon as he was on top of him, Zhora pulled away, hovering just above him with a playful smirk tugging at his lips. " proud of yourself? you're making me crazy already.... " he spoke breathlessly. he craned his neck down, lips brushing along Wolfgang’s jaw, trailing DOWN.