Based off Janis Ian's song, Between the Lines. I own none of these things. Don't sue me. I spent all my money at GenCon. Dedicated to Ishiki, for hanging on my every word and giving me those delicious expectant silences until I wrote more. Oh, and for loving the dragonlady, of course...
There's never much to say between
the moments of our games and repartee
A shaking hand reached for the bottle, fumbling with the cork. Her Ryuzoku strength could get the damned thing out easily... if she could only figure out where it was. Ah, that was right. The top.
Filia Ul Copt, ex-Miko, adoptive mother, shopkeeper, sloshed the expensive wine in the general direction of her glass. Not even opening her eyes to see if she hit, she groped blindly for the glass. A sip... yes, she'd hit with most of the slosh, at any rate.
Young Valteria was out, staying with a friend from the Kaltaart region. Jiras and Grabos were out as well, having been on the receiving end of Filia's subtle as a tonne of falling bricks hint that she wished to be alone this evening. So nobody could see what she'd let herself become, just for tonight.
Damn it.
What was this sipping crap anyway? She tossed back the glass and poured herself another, a little more carefully this time.
This time of year was always like this... damn that idiot namagomi anyway. What did he have to show up for and say those things?! It hadn't been her fault! She was doing her best to make up for it! Anyway, how could HE, of all people, understand ?! He was evil. Evil. Evil...
Another glass. "Say it enough times, 'nd you might believe it, Filia," she chided herself.
That was the whole trouble. She knew it, knew it in her head, but other parts of her kept insisting otherwise.
What did evil mean, anyway?
Sinking lower in her seat, Filia didn't hear the gentle click as someone shut the front door.
There's never much to read between
the lines of what we need
and what we'll take.
The bottle had somehow moved out of her reach. Filia cursed expressively, and reached for it.
"I think you've had enough."
For a moment, she thought she'd imagined his damned know-it-all better-than-all voice. But then a gloved hand covered hers and it actually clicked.
He was here.
Here.
In HER kitchen.
In her godsdamned kitchen.
Letting out an inarticulate cry of rage, she clawed at where his face should be but missed. It wasn't fair, she always missed. He ought to give her at least a fighting chance. Wouldn't he LIKE that? After all, he always won.
"Go to hell," she hissed.
Xelloss smiled that godsawful infuriating smile. "No good. Hell's broken loose since Philbrezo died. Bloody mess of things too. In fact, Hell's minions wandering loose has put us on the brink of a new war. Where HAVE you been?"
"Oh, go fuck yourself," she swore. She was not in a mood for any of his little games. She snatched at the bottle, and he let her take it, resisting only briefly, his gloved fingers brushing hers, sending a shock to her groin. She hated that, hated what he began in her.
"It's been a while, Filia."
"Not long enough, namagomi."
Too long. Too many bad words when they'd left. Too many things he'd said that had dwelled in her mind afterward. Nobody to talk to about them, because she didn't want anyone to know that he kept visiting - against her will of course. But they'd take it the wrong way.
Besides... what if those things he'd said were true?
There's never much to talk about
or say aloud, but say it anyways.
Of holidays, and yesterdays,
and broken dreams that somehow slipped away.
"It can't be fun to drink alone."
She bared her teeth at him, a challenge; a stupid challenge. She knew that he was more than capable of destroying her completely. He'd told her what he'd done to the people of KaRyu, so many years ago. She'd asked, but that didn't mean he should have told her.
"May I drink with you?"
He was being too polite. That made her suspicious already. What did he want from her? Hadn't her fear and hatred been enough to satisfy him? Still, for some reason, she thrust the bottle at him.
Another smile.
Gods, she hated what that smile did to her. Especially after knowing that he smiled the same smile as he said what he did: what she didn't do, what was on her shoulders to make up for.
Now his back was turned as he rummaged through cupboards, - like he belonged there, like he BELONGED there! - turning back with a glass and a smile. "So, Filia, how have you been?"
Did he want her to be miserable that badly? Godsdamned Mazoku. Her race may have been wrong about all sorts of things, but they'd been right about that.
"I'm alive," she said sarcastically. "What do you want, Xelloss. To talk? To tear my heart out and jump on it again? Don't you think I KNOW what the Golds did was wrong? Why do you THINK I gave up being a Miko? Why do you THINK I'm raising Valteria? Why do you THINK I never sought stupid vengeance for what happened to the entire sanctuary at the end?! Asshole."
He was still smiling, but it was looking strained. Good. She'd been miserable enough. Now it was HIS turn. "I just missed you, Filia."
Her heart shattered again, lancing her sides with pain. She wanted to cry. Wanted to feel his hands stroke her hair comfortingly. But she couldn't give him that. Give him anything. "I didn't miss you. Go away."
"Not yet."
Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?! Didn't he know it hurt her to be near him?!
Of course he did.
"My my, namagomi, my hatred must taste good."
"More wine?"
"Yes."
In books and magazines of how to be
and what to see while you are being
Before and after photographs teach
how to pass from reaching to believing
"Filia, had you heard anything I had told you?"
She was feeling more mellow as the alcohol ran through her system, but that still stung. "Noooo, I've only been stewing in it for the last few years..."
"I didn't ask if you listened." His lips were red with drink and his cheeks slightly flushed. Lying eyes had come out of their smile less then an hour ago and were watching her warily, Mazoku eyes. Mazoku eyes. "I asked if you heard."
"Godsdamnit, Xelloss, must everything be a riddle with you?! Just TELL me!" She slammed her glass down , and barely felt the pain as glass shards bit into her.
He had stood, something unreadable in his damned eyes. "Filia, you're bleeding."
She paused, anger draining away, to look at the blood winding around her palm. "Oh." Absently, she began a healing spell.
"Don't be a fool."
Filia glared at him. "I KNOW how to do magic, namagomi! Don't stop me from healing myself!"
"It's not that. It's only that if you heal it with the glass still in it, it will probably get infected."
Her teeth gritted hard enough that she could swear veins must have popped out on her head. "I am NOT going to a doctor just to get a few pieces of glass out and I don't have anything to get it out with. Why don't YOU take care of it, since you know so much?!"
"All right."
All right?! Wait a minute! Her heart clenched as he took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "What th' hell do you think you're doing?!"
His eyes, glittering over her bleeding palm, were amused. "Using suction to get the glass out. It'll cause less damage that way."
"BUT - "
His lips were warm against her palm, almost pleasant as he placed a few kisses over the wounds. She should be fighting. She should be. She wanted to. But...
And pain lanced through her as his lips sucked and the glass tore through her skin on its way out, pulling a harsh cry from her throat.
Xelloss spat the glass into a handkerchief, along with spots of blood, her blood. She snatched her hand back from his one-handed loose grip to clutch it against her chest as he wrapped the glass shards in his handkerchief and dropped it on the table with the other pieces. "There," he smiled. "Damage is done. All's well."
"Asshole," Filia whispered, clutching her hand.
"Sometimes things have to hurt before they can heal."
We live beyond our means
on other people's dream
and that's succeeding.
Between the lines of photographs
I've seen the past - it isn't pleasing.
"Whadya mean, 'did I hear'?" Filia mumbled. They'd moved from the glass-covered kitchen to her bedroom - not without some misgivings on her part, but it was the most relaxing place she could think of to drink, without glass shards causing danger to drink-clumsy bodies. Plus there was a half-hope there that she tried to bury, not to think about. Stupid girl. He was evil...
Xelloss rearranged the pillows on her bed - as if he belonged there! - tucking one in the small of his back. "I mean, you admitted it just now. They were wrong about so many things. You're different. You're determined not to repeat their mistakes. And yet you still model yourself after what they deem is right. What they say should be. Have you ever thought of just being yourself?"
That stung. "I am being myself, stupid namagomi."
"There, right there. So lofty, so proud. Where is that person I've seen before, the one with a heart, the one who can be hurt, the one who can FEEL? You call me garbage just because I'm Mazoku. Knowing what your race has done, couldn't I call you the same thing?"
She sank down, a vain attempt to hide. "Probably. Go ahead. I don't care anymore."
"Except I don't. I allow you to be different from your race. I allow you to be a PERSON, not a 'type'." Xelloss moved suddenly, up close, his fingers caressing her face. "Can't you allow me the same right? To be a person, not just a namagomi Mazoku?"
Filia had no real choice there. Not drunk and wanting and hurting. Later, she might allow herself to change her mind. It was just that now, his fingers brushing her cheek, his reasoning voice sounded so sensible. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into the caress... "All right... Xelloss."
So strike another match
We'll have another cup of wine
and dance until the evening's dead
of too much song and time.
"Another glass?"
"Where?"
"No, do you want one?"
How could he still seem so clear with all that drink in him? SHE was completely fuzzed, to no end. She hadn't even realized she'd said that aloud until he answered. She'd better have said it aloud. If he was some kind of mind-reader... hell, she'd be dead by now, she knew it. Evil...
"My master is fond of her drink. Some would call it a failing but she, and I as well, am used to alcohol so muchly that it no longer clogs her or my judgment." He smiled, slipping sideways against the pillows. "Mulch. I mean, much. I mean..."
Filia pointed unsteadily at him. "You were bullshitting me again, weren't you?"
"Damn straight."
She couldn't help herself. She was laughing. She often wanted to laugh at his behaviour, but instead forced the anger, forced the distain, forced herself to be pure dragon. Surely it wouldn't be so bad not to be pure, even just for now? Evil... but he didn't seem it now, chuckling with her, smiling a slightly-dazed smile, eyes watching her, Mazoku eyes, watching her.
He twisted away slightly, rising unsteadily to his feet and wobbling for a minute, then stretching a hand towards her. "Dance with me, Filia."
It wasn't a request. Normally, she'd be furious at his presumptuousness. This evening was definitely not normal. This evening, she was more than just her race. This evening... he was as well.
She stood, drink making her head spin and causing her to stumble, but he caught her, easing her into his arms. "Easy," he whispered against her ear. "Don't fall over yet. The dance hasn't even begun yet."
Filia smiled against his chest. There was something wrong with this. Yes. Evil. He was evil. His chest was warm. "Stupid. There's no music."
"Who needs music?" His arms were tight around her as he swayed, leading her into a dance step. A slow one, thankfully. She had no balance, not now. It was... nice.
Evil.
No Ryuzoku would ever do this.
None.
Evil.
So warm...
There's never much to speak about
Or read between the lines of what we
dream about when we're apart
and no one's looking on to say
"you're mine"
Xelloss had stopped dancing. It registered in Filia's mind after a moment of standing there, head against his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from him. He was standing there, holding her, holding her. She looked up at him, and he smiled down at her, that smile, the infuriating one, except it wasn't infuriating. His eyes were open. They didn't reflect; she couldn't see herself in them. Dark, cutting shards of amethyst (amethyst) with their slit pupils, Mazoku eyes, Mazoku eyes.
EVIL!
Everything that she remembered, all the things she had been taught, all rushed back at her as he released her with one arm to put his finger under her chin, holding her face up like that, looking at him. EVIL! DEMON OF DEMONS!
Did he smile like this as he bathed in their blood?
Hate him. Never give him anything. Anything. They'd all told her that, her people. Avoid him. He'll kill you without a second thought, priestess, they'd told her, and laugh as he does so. His kind feed on pain, suffering, fear. (Hate. She gave him that, at least.) He would laugh as your blood spatters his face.
His face.
Bending towards her now, warm breath washing over her. Smelled nice. Well, alcoholic, but with the faint traces of mint behind that...
Evil.
They were almost nose to nose now, and he spoke. "Do you mind?" It was barely a whisper, barely that.
And her response, the one that she had to give with the imagined weight of her race's gaze upon her, was even quieter. "Yes. I mind. Let me go."
He did so, releasing her quickly enough that she stumbled, and he spun around, facing away from her.
Her race's gaze.
No, it couldn't be. Her race was dead.
She, however, was alive.
"Xelloss," she hesitated, not knowing what to say, sitting on the bed to relieve knees that no longer wished to hold her weight. "Do you remember when we first met?"
His voice had that mocking tone again, but it seemed self-directed. This time. Evil. Next time it would be at her. "How could I forget?"
It was a good year then
It was a good year then - we all remember
when you threw the looking glass
And seemed a fool - or very clever.
He refused to look at her. That hurt. She hated how it hurt. HATED it. She didn't want it to hurt. Evil. She had to remember that. Evil. And a person. He was a person too. No. Evil...
"How could I forget," he said again, but this time it had a reminiscant quality. "I was surprised to see a Gold Dragon. Surprised but not displeased. It was WAR, Filia. I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't war."
She had to ask, had to question her race's assurances, despite the fact she didn't want to know. He'd said what he'd done, but he never said if - "Did you enjoy it?"
"Of course," Xelloss said matter-of-factly. "I hated the Gold elders then, and it was war. But I wouldn't have done it otherwise. They were beautiful, Filia."
"So you wouldn't have killed them because they were beautiful?" She could hardly believe her ears, even as her heart shattered in her chest with the knowledge that her people had been right.
"No, not that. I was following orders. I'd have killed them anyway. I DID kill them anyway. It was just..." he waved a hand. "They were BEAUTIFUL. All flashing gold scales and sky blue and gold eyes and wrongness. They broke the balance, Filia. Yes, I enjoyed their screams, the thick, beautiful crimson of their blood. But that was war. Things like that happen in war."
Such an easy dismissal. Evil.
Her people had done the same. She'd accepted that. But...
"Do you want to kill me?"
"No." His smile, again, but twisted in a way he'd only seen when she'd called him a namagomi the first time. "No, but I find you beautiful."
It felt like she was choking on her own heart.
Don't spoil it all; I can't recall
A time when you were struck
without an answer.
We'll live a quiet, peaceful time
between the lines, and go together.
"You said we're on the verge of war." Filia was startled she remembered. It was so hard to think, really think, drink fogging her mind. "Will you kill me then?"
He looked at her again, finally facing her, eyes still open, Mazoku eyes. "I won't have to."
"What?"
"I won't have to." That smile, the infuriating one.
She snarled, looking down and toying with a crease in the bedsheets. "I hate the way you do that."
"Hmm?" He hadn't stopped smiling.
"THAT!" She pointed at him, almost keeping her finger from shaking. "Your smartass answers and your stupid smile. The way you always find something to answer. I'm never sure whether you're being an idiot or extremely witty. Or if you're making fun of me." She span around, nose to nose with Xelloss. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Yes."
She hadn't expected that answer, that smile, those dark eyes to almost shine with their own light at her. It set her back a minute. (He was too close) "What?"
"Yes, I was making fun of you."
It was all a joke, then. The warmth of his arms as he held her, the almost-kiss, the fact he asked permission. Just another one of his games. "I hate you."
"Do you?" He passed a hand through her hair and she backed off, burying her face in her hands and tangling her own fingers in her hair, knotting it. "Sometimes. Sometimes I hate you, too. Sometimes I hate me. Sometimes you hate you. It's all so complicated." He pulled her straight, taking her comb from her bedside table, passing it through her hair. "I make fun of everyone, Filia. It's like the hate. Years and years of practice. You've got beautiful hair, you know. I could sit here forever combing it. Does it sparkle in the sun, like your scales?"
It must be the drink that caused her next action. She should be fighting him, screaming at him, cursing him.
She broke into tears.
This is what he wanted, damnit! A voice inside her raged as her sobs shook her body and the brush strokes stopped. He'll be happy because of this! Why?!
The eyes of her people, upon her.
He drew her into his arms, making soothing noises. "Now, what's that for?"
"Why do you do this?" Filia demanded between her sobs. "Why do you alternately torment me and... and then act as if you might actually care?!" Shouldn't have said that. He'll like that. Evil...
His tone was self-mocking again. "But Filia, I'm Mazoku, remember? Mazoku don't - "
"BULLSHIT!" Her tears had almost stopped, and she spun around and slapped him.
And hit for the first time.
I'm striking up the band
We'll play our last hurrah
We'll dance until we've
Killed another evening off.
He blinked, shocked, the palm-print of her hand showing red against his cheek a moment before fading almost instantly, more proof of his Mazoku nature right there. Right there, in her anger, she didn't give a damn. (Funny how she'd never really noticed how pale he was...)
Xelloss's hand traveled slowly up to his cheek, stunned look on his face, touching the spot where she'd hit him, although no doubt he couldn't even feel it any more. "Wh... what?"
"I said bullshit!" She wasn't sure why she was so angry. Was he baiting her? Evil. No, he was too shocked. But he was a good actor, she'd seen that enough times. Damn it, she wanted to stop thinking these things! "You said it yourself! You were allowing me to be me, not just a Ryuzoku! You ASKED me to stop thinking of you as just a Mazoku and start to give you the same right! Well, if you want the right, you have to stop acting like the stereotypical Mazoku! JUST ANSWER MY DAMNED QUESTION!"
He stared at her like she'd suddenly grown a third eye. "But..."
"Fine." She turned away, anger draining away. "I don't care any more. Just... go away, namagomi Mazoku."
Evil. Damn him and his ever-so-tempting lies.
"I..."
There was something in his voice she'd simply never heard before. Uncertainty. Had she NEVER heard him uncertain before? "I act like that... because I..." he trailed off again, and she looked back to see him shaking his head. "I don't know."
She snorted. "Not very helpful, Xelloss."
"Neither are you, Filia. You hate me and hate me and then allow me to hold you and then fight me. Understand yourself before you try to understand me."
But she did that because she...
Evil. No, she didn't want to... evil. The weight of her race's gaze upon her.
But...
"I do understand myself, Xelloss." Evil.
Go away! She screamed at herself in her head, fighting the bindings they'd forged for her almost before she was born. Go away! What do you know?! To you, he is the namagomi Mazoku! To you, he never was a person! JUST GO AWAY!
But he was evil.
What is evil? Just a concept. He was a person, too.
"What do you understand, Filia?"
Evil! Her race screamed. He'll laugh as your blood spatters his face! EVIL!
Her race was dead. She...
Filia leaned forward. "I'd be lying if I said I minded," she mused, and then added, with a hint of anger, at him, at herself, at them, "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't. There are no easy ways, Xelloss. None. I hate that. Sometimes I hate you. Sometimes, I hate me. Do you mind?"
It came out more garbled then she intended, and she didn't know if his response, his semi-shocked, "What?" was due to confusion, or to his being...
Evil.
...Xelloss. So she didn't wait for an answer.
She was alive.
She took hold of his chin and pressed her lips to his, tightly.
Don't think of anyone but me
I'll have no lovers on the side.
Tonight is all we've ever dreamed about
For once, let's get it right.
Was that what it was all about? It wasn't any of the things she'd imagined, really, her lips pressed tightly to his. It was nice, his lips were, well, warm, but it wasn't... she blushed. Not that she even knew if she was doing it right.
Five hundred years as the high priestess didn't teach her this.
Xelloss pulled back, eyes wide, and she cherished that look of startlement. She'd probably never see a look like that again. Perhaps she was smug. So what?
"Well," he said, his voice almost cracking. "I'd be lying if I said I minded, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Have you ever kissed anyone before?"
No. Of course not! "Yes," she lied, trying to contain a blush. Damn him. He always made fun of her. He'd do it again.
"It was a rhetorical question," he chuckled.
Damn him. Damn her response to him. Damn him for making himself so... easily accessible.
Though it was hardly easy.
"All right," she admitted, a bare whisper. She felt woefully inadequate. It was... embarrassing. She hated being embarrassed and began to get angry again. "So? Why? Did I do it badly? And why should I give a damn?! You were the one who asked first!"
He was nose to nose with her, growling angrily. "Damn it, Filia! I should hope you gave a damn! And I only knew because it wasn't an adult kiss! That's all! You don't need to make something of everything I say!!"
"How was I supposed to know there's a difference?!" She had begun to raise her voice. "I hate the way you act like that! I bet you know EVERYTHING about that!" she snorted. "Maybe I'm lucky that I'm not going to let myself be 'just another conquest'."
His eyes were angry, angry. Mazoku eyes. "And what the fuck do you imagine my 'conquests' are?! Damn it, Filia! You're no conquest! ANYWAY, you're different from anything I could ever imagine! Why would I WANT you to be a conquest?"
"I hate you," she whispered to him.
"I hate you too," he whispered back, and captured her lips with his own, sliding his tongue between her lips, invading her.
Invading her!
But it... felt... nice.
She was NOT going to be a conquest! She attacked his tongue with her own, invading him as well. No, she wouldn't give in at all.
She was no conquest.
She was just Filia.
Oh, and it felt... good. Much better then the first kiss. Not that that'd been her fault, she defended herself, as her tongue tangled with his. His fingers tightened in her hair with an almost painful deliberateness, and she nipped at his lower lip in warning. His fingers only tightened more, and he pulled her closer, pushing her body against his. That felt almost distressingly nice, and she tightened her long nails into his back, not sure she approved of exactly HOW nice it felt, but not really wanting to stop. She didn't want to become something merely to be manipulated into pleasure for him, that was for sure. She was no conquest! If anything... she could hardly believe she was thinking it, but... well..
If anything, she'd make him HER conquest.
Moist, those lips, as they teased her, tongue flickering against her own. Warm. He seemed so warm. SHE was warm, now, very, very warm...
He murmured something she couldn't make out against her lips, hands trailing up and down her back, soothingly, soothingly. Her own hands were tight against his back, almost enough to hurt HER, fingernails digging in hard enough that she could feel a warm moistness against her fingertips.
Blood.
How much blood was on him? Not tangible, most of it, of course, but so much blood... her people's blood. She wasn't angry. Not much, not now. Perhaps later.
He whispered the same incomprehensible thing against her lips again, moving his kisses afterwards from her neck to along her jawline, down her throat, as his hands, tugged at her blouse, untucking it, and slipped under to repeat the stroking motions along her back against her skin. That was nice. Her groin and abdomen were filled with a buzzing feeling. That was nice too.
Very nice.
Had her people submitted, in the end? Submitted to his violence and death and the laughter they kept referring to? They had been conquests, not the same sort of conquest, but conquests nonetheless...
If he wished to kill her, she wouldn't go down without fighting. In that, she was no conquest.
In this, she'd be no conquest either! She pushed him away, slightly, looking him up and down, seeing the flush across his cheeks, the other clear signs of arousal. It was difficult to contain a blush, but...
"I need another drink," she said.
I'll go down flying in the end
Throw another bottle between the lines.
I'll go down like a ship of state...
So let's be gracious now
between the lines.
He nodded, and reached to the side for the half-emptied wine bottle. There was something incredibly sensual about that movement, as he leaned slightly, scooping the bottle up, and passing it to her, eyes never leaving her face. His voice was husky as he spoke. "Here."
Filia took a deep swallow from the bottle, barely letting it sit in her mouth, passing the bottle back. He took a similar draught, his lips on the spot where her lips had been.
"I'm no conquest."
"I know." He passed the bottle back.
She didn't want it any more, and put it down. "What had you been saying?"
"Hmm?" He shifted, clearly slightly uncomfortable in his arousal. "When?"
A flush coloured her cheeks. She would never have thought she would be having this conversation. "When you were kissing me."
Of course, there were a lot of things she'd never considered, and they all seemed to be happening now.
"Ah." He smiled at her, the smile she'd once found so infuriating, but she doubted he meant it like that now. Leaning forward, he cupped her chin, tracing her lips with his thumb. "'I want to make love to you.'"
Gods! She was floundering in a sea of emotion. On one hand, she only knew the vaguest details of what to do. On the other hand, she wanted to. But again...
"I am no conquest."
"I know that, Filia."
It must be the drink, loosening her tongue like this, letting her CONSIDER it. "I might be willing to make YOU into MY conquest."
"No, Filia." Xelloss shook his head, still smiling, but as firm in his resolve as she was. "I am no conquest either."
She looked down, flushing despite having expected that answer. "I don't see why," she muttered. "We hate each other, after all."
"Sometimes. And sometimes..." A pause. "You know."
Neither of them would say it, of course. Not now. Possibly never. But that didn't mean it wasn't there, even if they hated each other sometimes. Sometimes, she reminded herself, they hated themselves as well.
"Well, I'm not going to be your conquest!" she declared, knowing that she would never be strong enough to stop him from just taking what he wanted, but never willing to give in, either. "So I guess the answer is no."
"Why?"
Pause. She didn't understand. "What?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and shifting again. "Why do either of us have to be a conquest? Why can't we just be people for tonight? You may be Ryuzoku, but you're also Filia."
Yes. And he was Mazoku, but also... Xelloss. "Just tonight? Will you be leaving in the morning then?" Once you've had me...
His gaze was even. "Perhaps. Will you want me to?"
"Perhaps. Do you care?"
A long, long pause. And then, "Yes. I care."
She didn't want to hear the rest, knew she wouldn't get the rest of the words, because she wouldn't GIVE the words. But...
Evil. Mazoku, will laugh when your blood spatters his face. The weight of her people's gazes upon her. But her people were DEAD.
And he was a person, at least for tonight. Tomorrow... perhaps he would leave. Perhaps he wouldn't. She wasn't sure, yet, which she wanted. Perhaps she'd never be sure.
Perhaps she didn't need to be.
Perhaps in the morning, he'd still be a person.
She moved forward and he met her half-way, enfolding her in a mint-and-alcohol scented embrace. Sometimes she hated him. Sometimes... she wouldn't GIVE the words, of course, because he wouldn't either. But... "I care too."
Perhaps it would be enough... at least for tonight.