Do you have cards? We can play a round.
Never mind, I don’t have any money for that.
I’m hungry. You should really consider restoring the kitchen.
Aren’t you hungry?
I’ll go buy us something.
“You really love listening to yourself talk, don’t you?”
A simple shrug.
Celine returned to her work. Her wrist had gotten tired from waving him off; she settled on ignoring his sighs and channeled all of her attention into the gown she was preparing for the next day. There were only six contestants left now, and tomorrow, they had to present Monsieur Baudelaire with a full look that they had sketched, sewn,anddecorated in one night.
Celine, unfortunately, had only one afternoon. And even that was stretching thin.
“Ugh,” Bastien complained for the thousandth time. “You are boring all braincells out of me.”
“Leave then,” Celine replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I’m just stitching the final details. You can try it on tomorrow before the showing.”
She followed him from the corner of her eye as he walked around the room once, twice, then seeing as he had already exhausted all forms of entertainment an hour ago, settled by her side again.
“I want to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because, baby vamp,” Bastien said as he trailed a finger across her shoulders. “I find your company utterly addicting. Plus, who will feed you when I’m gone?”
Celine resisted rolling her eyes, for the sheer fact that that part was true—he had gone out at one point and returned with a little hop in his step, carrying parcels from a nearby restaurant. She also resisted mentioning how he had eaten most of it himself. “If that’s the case,” she said, handing him the gown. “Here, put it on. I want to check the stitching on the neckline.”
Bastien took it without complaint, to her utter surprise. Then started unbuttoning his shirt in front of her.
“For the love of God.” Celine threw her head back. “We talked about this.” She pointed at an old folding screen that was peppered with moth holes. She had cleared it away from a lockedroom a few days prior, after Bastien had started getting too comfortable (and too naked) around her station. “Go.”
“Are you sure?” he teased. “According to those scandal columns, young ladies are begging to see my flesh.”
“GO!”
Grinning, he went behind the screen. She followed his silhouette mindlessly as he lifted off his shirt. Then an eye appeared in one of the holes. “Stop peeping,” Bastien chided.
“Please,” Celine scoffed. But she turned around nonetheless, a faint pink spreading across her cheeks.
When Bastien came out, she dragged a small stool to his side and stepped on it to reach his height, then started fretting with the neckline. The ruffles looked all wrong. They were supposed to be small, subtle folds, hardly noticeable. Instead, they drooped like heavy petals. Celine snipped off the knot and tugged at the thread, removing the collar altogether. Bastien stood still as she worked.
“I ought to get you a treat for being a good boy,” she teased. “You are so compliant today.”
Bastien glanced at her sideways, lips pulling with a smirk. “That’s because I like you touching me.”
“You just lost the treat,” Celine stated, and returned her attention on the task at hand, using a few pin needles to fix a strip of gossamer around the neckline, letting it drape over his shoulder like a thin scarf. “What’s the real reason you’re staying?”
“Clearly, you need me.”
“Oh, and you care so much about me?”
A second passed. “I’m killing time,” he admitted.
That didn’t surprise her.
