#kerik

Erik stood in Nadir’s parlor with obvious distaste. His most persistent irritant sat cheerfully in his favorite armchair, waving his hand animatedly as he spoke. The Persian had grown quite sentimental in his old age, though his trickery had only grown more bold as of late. That was the only reason that Erik now stood in the presence of a woman he had never met, listening in on her conversation with the old fool while he practically cowered in a corner like a frightened child. At the very least, she did not look at him often, nor did she attempt to include him in the inane small talk occurring between herself and the man Erik was swiftly reconsidering as his nemesis. Still, every few minutes or so, she would glance over at him curiously. Nadir had introduced him briefly when the woman arrived, using only his first name and quite purposefully placing himself and the stranger to block Erik’s escape route through the parlor door. It was tantalizingly open, calling to him with the temptation to run right back up the stairs to the guest room which Nadir had put him up in for the past year. It had been a difficult year. Not only had his magnum opus had the absolute audacity to burn down without taking him with it, but he was now subjected to Nadir’s damnable charity. The Persian had practically drug him from the catacombs under cover of night, demanding that Erik allow him to save his life. And now, Nadir had gone too far with this… this attempt at socializing Erik like some feral pet. Just as he considered jumping through the window to escape, Nadir turned to him with a knowing smile. 

“Ah, Erik. You always had a fondness for chocolates, if I remember right.” 

Erik froze as the woman’s eyes swung over to look at him expectantly. He swallowed thickly. He felt rather fidgety under her gaze. Then again, Erik had never truly felt comfortable in any woman’s presence. Nor any man’s, now that he was reevaluating Nadir’s place on his list. She was expecting him to speak, now. To join the conversation, but Erik had absolutely no idea what one was meant to say in response to a statement like Nadir’s. 

“I brought by a bit of Van Houten, for Monsieur Khan to try. Would you like a taste, as well?” 

Her voice came a bit awkwardly to his ears as she attempted to fill the beat of uncomfortable silence with a question. Erik was fully prepared to refuse. He generally prided himself in being immune to the human condition as a whole, including the weakness of the flesh, but then he caught sight of the colorful paper. His mouth watered despite himself. 

“Come, Erik. Sit with us and try some. Mademoiselle Bernard brought it back from her trip to Amsterdam. They say the cocoa is unlike any other.” 

Nadir was hardly subtle. Erik scowled at him. The Mademoiselle did not seem to notice his sour temperament, however, as she turned back to the Persian with excitement. 

“Yes, they’ve pioneered a new technique for cutting back the bitterness. I talked my way into one of their shops, you see. It is a hydraulic press that creates the finest powder you’ve ever seen. They call the process ‘dutching’ the chocolate, can you believe it?” 

Erik slowly snaked his way as sneakily as he could into the nearest chair, eyes still locked onto the wrapped chocolate. Every word only piqued his curiosity more. Such innovation for something so simple as dessert! But no, Erik could not bring himself to call chocolate a mere ‘dessert’. It was… indescribable. Even as a child, it had been the only thing more tempting than his studies. 

“How intriguing. Now I simply must try it.” Nadir’s eyes were locked onto Erik. He could feel them nearly burning a hole through his suit jacket. 

Mademoiselle Bernard eagerly handed Nadir one of the wrapped delicacies before holding another out for Erik. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden approach of her hand. His eyes snapped up to her face, expecting her to be just as startled by his jolt, but Mademoiselle Bernard merely slowed her progress and halted, leaving her hand outstretched with the chocolate in her palm like bait in a trap. Her lips curled up into a soft smile, and he felt increasingly like a feral animal being tamed by a well-meaning but rather naive woman. 

“I am not hungry.” He willed, though the words tasted ashy in his mouth. Mademoiselle Bernard only smiled wider, leaving her hand outstretched. 

“Chocolate isn’t really meant to stave off hunger, is it?” 

Erik stared at her for a long moment, completely unsure what to do with her odd kindness and playful tone. People were not playful with him. They were generally hateful, terrified, disgusted, or dead. His eyes trailed back to the chocolate. His curiosity would be the death of him yet, though he supposed that was rather fitting, given how often his mother had referred to him as cat-like. Perhaps this time, satisfaction could bring him back from whatever bizarre situation he found himself in. Reaching out slowly, Erik plucked the chocolate from Mademoiselle Bernard’s palm. Her skin was warm and soft, and he knew that her own shiver came from the light, accidental brush with his unusually cold body temperature. He remembered after another beat that he should still maintain his manners, despite the ridiculous situation. 

“Thank you, Mademoiselle.” He spoke, slightly monotone in his confusion. 

“You’re welcome. Any friend of Monsieur Khan’s is a friend of mine.” Her tone was warm, welcoming even. Erik was even more confused. 

But with the tempting delicacy in his own hand now, he was less and less concerned with Nadir’s odd plot and the strange woman in front of him. Instead, he was entirely consumed with the desire to enjoy the rare treat. Nadir was already unwrapping his own, and the woman followed suit. Erik fumbled with his own wrapper. How many years had it been since he last indulged? Far too many. Despite his first memory of the taste being soured by the nausea that had soon followed, he’d never quite forgotten that initial burst of the bittersweet Christmas chocolates. He and Sasha had eaten them all, completely helpless to the flavor despite Erik knowing very well that he would be punished for eating his mother’s gift. He had weighed the taste against the coming discipline and found it well worth the pain. Erik’s fingers slightly trembled as he finally got the wrapper off, setting it aside in an almost child-like wonder as he looked at the dark square of chocolate in his hand. The faint smell reached him and he shifted in his seat, not quite able to sit perfectly still as he usually was. He lifted the square to his mouth, barely remembering to steady his mask with his other in time. His lips parted, his mask shifting with the movement of his jaw as he slipped the square onto his tongue. The flavor exploded over his tongue, becoming more prominent as he held the chocolate there to melt slowly. It was decadent. It was delicious. It was completely devilish. The Dutch chocolate was sweeter than what he was used to, with a richer flavor that coated his tongue in a smooth, melting way that made him want to melt right along with it. 

“Do you like it?”

It took Erik a few moments to realize that Mademoiselle Bernard was addressing him, not Nadir. It took another few moments for him to remember to nod, the chocolate still steadily melting over his usually clever tongue. It was rendered speechless now, dumb under the conquering flavor. Mademoiselle Bernard did not seem to mind much, as she smiled in his peripheral vision almost triumphantly. 

“It is divine.” He finally managed to make his mouth move, slowly fixing the placement of his mask. 

“I shall leave a few for you to worship, then.” Mademoiselle Bernard responded, her voice full of that same playful tone. 

“Thank you.” Erik said, unable to think of anything else to say. He finally lifted his eyes back to look at the woman, who had softened and seemed almost… charmed by what he was sure was the strangest reaction to chocolate she’d ever seen. He watched helplessly as she placed a few more of the wrapped squares into his palm, her smile rather blinding.

“They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Nadir chimed in rather irritatingly. Erik managed to give him a scowl despite his disarmament. 

“A proverb I have found to be true more often than not.” Mademoiselle Bernard agreed, a bit too amusedly for Erik to muster a response for himself. 

“I do hope you’ll agree to stay for dinner.” 

Erik’s eyes widened slightly behind his mask. The prospect of an entire dinner between the odd couple was too great a threat to go unchallenged. 

“I should retire for the evening.” He quickly parried. 

“Nonesense, it is hardly seven o’clock. You are not so old yet, Erik.” Nadir was taking on an aggressive tactic. 

“Oh, please do join us. Monsieur Khan tells me that you are an extensive traveller yourself, and I would very much like to hear of your time in Russia.” 

Mademoiselle Bernard had a much more coaxing way about her. It would be rude to deny her, especially after the delicacy she had so willingly shared, and he knew it. He was caught between a rock and a hard place, silently trying to remind Nadir with his eyes that he was still a force to be reckoned with. Nadir merely grinned, not threatened in the slightest by his nonverbal threats. 

And that was how Erik found himself seated across from the chocolate-bearing woman, a dinner plate before him filled with untouched food. He had at least been able to distract himself by eating the soup course, as it was much easier to manage with his mask on, but now he had nothing to do but to stare at Mademoiselle Bernard. She was beautiful, though in a sort of unassuming way. She looked… perhaps the word was approachable, for anyone other than Erik, who hardly felt comfortable approaching anyone without his Punjab in his fist. Nadir kept attempting to start conversations between the two of them, but Erik was mostly frozen in place. Kindness was not something that he was used to receiving apropos of nothing, and he had never learned the polite little dance that people did in accepting and reciprocating. And, unfortunately, he was feeling oddly entranced by her. It was quite different than any attachment he’d ever felt, which generally came along with the desire to bring the other under his own control. He felt too out of control himself to even consider such a thing, and it was rather difficult to put on his usual cantankerous air when she smiled at him like that. She didn’t seem to particularly mind his staring, and so he continued despite Nadir’s incessant prompting for him to speak. To his benefit, Mademoiselle Bernard did enough speaking for the both of them, drawing Nadir out of his nagging to listen to another of her travel stories. 

Erik latched onto them, as well. She was a natural storyteller, her voice emphatic and emotional in a way that effortlessly drew the listener in. She spoke of Germany, and of Hungary, as well as her visit to Kraków and her close call with the tuberculosis epidemic, which she cited as the reason she’d failed to visit Nadir any sooner. She’d escaped without infection, a fact which she seemed rather proud of. She made Nadir laugh nearly as hard as Erik himself did, which only served to fascinate him further. In fact, he caught himself chuckling a few times as she told of her attempt to keep up with the technical explanation of the three-phase current demonstrated at the International Electrotechnical Exhibition in Frankfurt. She spoke of the thousand light bulbs lit up by water power, the displays, and the massive machines she saw there. Mademoiselle Bernard had a deep fascination with just about everything, though she admitted easily when the technical details flew over her head. This resulted in a charming woman, eager to learn and modest to a fault. Erik listened with rapt attention, his own mind whirling with the possibilities, filling in the blanks that her memory left. When dinner drew to a close, Erik was surprised to find that it was nearing ten o’clock. Mademoiselle Bernard stood, smiling brightly as she mentioned the late hour and Nadir’s trusted servant fetched her coat and hat. Nadir did everything he could to further delay her parting, but only gained fifteen measly minutes. Erik discovered that he was rather disappointed to see her go. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Monsieur Erik. I hope to see more of you in the coming months. I plan on staying in Paris for a little while before my next adventure.” 

“I hope to see you. Again, I mean. If you happen to stop by again, Mademoiselle.” Erik fumbled with his words, unused to the feeling. Pleasentries were a foreign language to him. Mademoiselle Bernard merely smiled at him, and ducked her head once in acknowledgement. 

“I’ll bring you some more chocolate next time, since you liked it so well. And if I am expected to call you ‘Erik’, you might as well drop the formalities and refer to me by my name as well.” 

“What is it?” He heard himself ask quickly, realizing that he was leaning closer than was particularly polite. She smiled wider still. 

“Claire. It was a pleasure to meet you. Next time, I won’t let you slither out of telling me about your travels in Russia. I am dogged, when I wish to be–just as Monsieur Khan. So consider yourself forewarned.”