(( rped live with Helena. Thanks for the play!))

The sky wanted to rip itself into two. He could feel it, even if it wasn't looking ominous. He didn't leave the museum often, but he went to the marketplace in search of more light. That was only slightly ironic since the displays were all about the invention of fire. Once in the market, he made his way towards the general store. Some people that passed him recognized him from his appearance or because he was an image that was starting to stand out. Lately, all he could feel was edgy. His breath was short in anticipation of... what? Was it Menace? He would have said yes except it wasn't entirely concern that welled up within.

The corners of the pages of the air began to separate a little. Droplets eased from the sky and, just as quickly, stopped. It was in time for him as he stepped into the general store.

The opening and shutting of the door never drew her attention. The comings and goings of the people of this place were insignificant, made more insignificant by her being without natural predators. This time she looked up, smoothly. Her eyes shifting from the bottle she was examining. She said nothing, though. Merely watched him. He looked haunted once again. Preoccupied. More ghosts than those the pair had turned to ash. Unfortunate, but it always made Robert Brohkun's life interesting to her. And made her a useful friend. She stood there like a statue, waiting. Watching. Listening.

It comes to him like an additional weight. The feeling that something became more tangible yet elusive. One of the plastic baskets was drawn up after he stepped in through the doors. He was caught in his thoughts and moving while also staying still. It was an illusion that peeled off of the demon, seemingly without thought, of the image of him continuing to walk through the store as the real version of him stood, checking his list of items for information.

The weight persisted to the point that it became a purr.

Finally, his gaze came upon hers and the illusion of him walking through the aisles faded gradually like the lights overhead had evaporated the image. The corner of his lips caught in a small smile. She didn't have to move, he was reeled in beside her and the company of the bottle, "Helena of Troy." The name felt a little different, now. Maybe more honest.

The bottle was held between two hands, now at waist level. "Robert Brohkun." Her voice carried the amusement that showed in her eyes. Though she never smiled. "What troubles you?" They were beyond the small talk of two unfamiliars. One hand left the bottle to rest on his cheek, holding his eyes with hers. Searching. The problem with Helena was that she did not ask for what she wanted. She took it. It was evident in the way she held his gaze.

"I'm not sure." The plastic basket was switched over entirely to his opposite hand so that the one closest to her rose up and rested gently at her lower back. Robert might have done better in life if he gave polite answers instead of letting the truth crawl out of his mouth. The plastic basket felt large and weird when it was empty, the same way he imagined children felt right before an Easter Egg hunt. His thumb made a small stroke against her back, "I needed more light." His eyes adjusted from her face to the bottle in her hands. His brows came together in a gentle knitting question of what she was there for.

"Lavender. To soothe the most troubled mind." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, holding it there as she slid the brown glass bottle into his basket. Only then did she release this kiss. "And you do not get off so easy." Her hand slid from him and, just like that, she was now holding the basket. "You will find my patience is excessive." A twinkle in her eyes for the jest and a slow blink at him to boot.

Her affection still feels unexpected. Robert didn't ask for it and had little sense of entitlement when she leaned into him. A weight slipped into the basket, causing it to seesaw to one side. He noticed the shift a fraction before he felt her mouth on his. The pause between them left him with a momentary smile that had his eyes following the way she turned and redirected where they would walk. He twisted to look down the aisle and spoke, "I came for more illumination." Excessive patience would be a requirement, no doubt.

"To illuminate what?" Outside, the soft rumble of oncoming thunder. She was deaf to it, her ears only open to the rumble of his voice. She moved smoothly, beautiful. The pair looked comfortable together and quite exclusive. Not available for interruption.

"The museum." It seemed as though the museum's world was going dark. They could have been mistaken for posh funeral directors for the way they looked. Dated but with a sharpness that spoke of a modern competence. They didn't used smiles as everyone else and tended to linger over conversations with statements they calculated at length. Yes, they had the gravity of undertakers and no one would really know what to make of their strange affections. "I miss the old light bulbs. They felt and acted more like fire than the new ones."

"Your eye for detail is charming. Do continue." Her mouth hooked in a smirk, eyes shifting to him beside her. Was that truly the extent of his preoccupation? This was a test of wills.

While they moved, Helena did not browse. She had eyes for the path ahead and for him. Nothing else mattered.

It was a feeling that others had given him ever since the term 'Boss' was applied to him in the cheesy knock-off Motel California in Seattle. Robert had the very distinct, very clear impression that everyone else saw his potential. It must have been written on him like a name tag and if only he would look down, he would see it. The juxtaposition of the mundane with the extraordinary was a beautiful nightmare. When the Original demon Mahis smoked a cigarette from his buffalo head, Robert was never able to tell how much of the moment was real.

The would-be Hades of Nola moved down the grocery lane with Helena, trying to find more lightbulbs. Trying to bring more light to his world. Certainly, Robert was meant for more than that.

"The LED is how it has to be now," his fingertips pinched at the plastic casing at the top of a six pack of 45 watt bulbs. When he pulled it closer he examined the type of light. The daylight blubs had an eerie blue quality to them that he found to feel not at all like sunlight. "They're more efficient." The packet was dropped into the red, plastic basket. His hand returned to her lower back as they continued to move down the aisle.

This was, she secretly hoped, the beauty of their friendship. Helena was one who was willfully ignorant of expectations. She did as she wanted all of the time. Furthermore, the only expectation she had of Robert Brohkun was his honest candor. A fine pair of ghouls they were.

She watched his deliberation over the light bulbs mildly. "But are they appropriate for the exhibit?" Not asked with any indication between right or wrong. She was and would be unaffected by the outcome of his decision.
His hand was welcome. And in response, her mouth brushed his shoulder before she looked forward again.

"More than the other. Less UV damage, apparently." He didn't say it as though he doubted what UV damage was, but that it was another perk to the changes in technology. More efficient. Less damaging. Sometimes Robert wondered if a little bit of damage was necessary for something to be good. To feel good.

Their two person funeral procession ended in front of a small, five-foot-wide produce section built into the wall. He leaned forward, selecting an apple and then side stepping further along, a thick cut of cheese also dropped into the bin.

She watched him work his way through this contemporary world. Always the bitter undertone of one being blackmailed into accepting a new, unwelcome reality. "Robert, it is not as though you have been cryogenically frozen for a century and suddenly awaken in a brave new world. The chip on your shoulder is disconcerting." She chided him with more amusement. Merely trying to learn more from the demon without learning more in her usual, interrogative style.

"I don't like very many things," he admitted to her, though her chiding had the effect of causing a small smile to catch the corner of his mouth. He didn't want to encourage her by smiling, so he never let the expression entirely bloom on his features. Robert lifted his head up by the chin, proud of the little, stubborn nuance he still retained, "The things I like I don't want to change. I liked the light bulbs." Apparently, he would be one of those that kept a case of the old style to screw in and enjoy in case of emergency nostalgia.

She smirked once again. The little defiant raise of his chin and the most definite this-is-my-final-word way he spoke was too much for words. She turned her attention to where he was shopping. "Understood. Perhaps they are available elsewhere?" An encouraging thought. Speaking of change, Helena loathed to settle.

"Not for the museum. Perhaps my desk lamp. But... yes, some still sell them as novelty. The way they sell candy they would make back in the 1950's." He stopped at the wine aisle, drawing up one bottle of red and the other white and dropping it into the basket.

"Then tell me about what happens when I am not there. What is the status of your contract?" She did not glance at what he loaded into the basket. As long as it was not an interruption to their time together, it didn't matter. Eyes return to him, his profile.

"When you're not there?" He said the words curiously and stopped at the end of the aisle, looking at her. There was a pause and then his lips pressed together as if holding the thought in his mouth, letting it ripen before he spoke, "It's the same. The contract is... mostly consistent. It's more about whether or not I'm near Roach that I feel any change." That the whole world seemed to warp and bend a little when they drew too close to one another.

(( rped live with Helena. Thanks for the play!))

"In short, you do not know." If he knew she liked the truth to be sharp, then best use it for its intended purpose: to cut through the minutiae. "But you want women, and she wants men. In a physical sense, perhaps but no less the intensity of such longing. There is just one problem." She stepped closer to him, never breaking eye contact. "The contract that binds you does not allow for you the world. The terms do not give you cake, and allow for you to eat it, too." She narrowed her eyes just slightly and tilted her head. "Unless... unless it is that you are exhausting your pleasures now, well aware that soon it must end." It was not accusatory the way she delivered it, for that which oozed from her lips may not yet even be known to him.

"She wants men and women." It was a minor clarification, but if they were going to put all the details on the table then it should at least be as accurate as he could manage. When Helena stepped nearer to him he adjusted the grocery bag, letting it settle at the notch of his right hip as he looked at her. The shift of the items allowed for her nearness, however much of it she wanted.

"I do not know the terms, I've only found some places where information is written and then I have my own experience, which has not prohibited me." He did not add the word 'yet' because he did not know if it would apply. Perhaps, if the contracts were fulfilled and he assumed the role of Hades he would forsake all others. It would become an undetermined amount of time with his options being Roach or nothing else... Or perhaps it was all something figurative, something meant as a symbol and both of them would go about their life business, being the "couple" that wasn't. The terms that Robert felt certain of caused an uncomfortable pulse of wanting running through him. He supposed it was a device the contract used to ensure its requirements were met. It was effective, like a scalpel. It had been only by a narrow margin that he hadn't flayed his wrist open with it.

Her eyes narrowed, her head turned and she was nearer to him, talking of exhausted pleasures in a way that made the velvet rub of her voice hard to ignore. "Exhausting my pleasure is for mental relief... and maybe for an uncertain future. Sometimes you need to be selfish to survive."

Her eyes remained narrowed, fixed on him. Her mind was working, piecing together a complicated thing that was, likely, not all that complicated. "New Orleans." The corner of her mouth curled into a smirk. "Are we ready to move on from here, Robert Brohkun?" Perhaps there was more command than question in her tone. "Can you manage the package?" An indication to it via a slight of hand.

"I'm not sure what you mean." Though he felt that he should have as they spoke. Robert had, as usual, over thought the entire moment. He had heard a long symphony of metaphors and then, stopping, he realized how very direct and literal she was being. All he could think of for a moment was the package Kate had shoved into the museum closet. Of moving on from Rhy'Din to New Orleans, or moving on with life even with the contract or... here being... moving on together, or another direction. He had constructed five different worlds around what was said, stopping only to stumble over the obvious answer. Grocery shopping was over, it was time to do more than just stand there.

"Yes," he tried to cover how lost and tangled he had allowed himself to get and repeated, "I'm ready to continue." The splotches of brown and green that made his gaze turned towards the direction of the museum. His steps followed the path he usually took, space for her at his side for them to continue.

She slid her hand inside of his arm, continuing their procession towards the museum. "Your consideration of this alleged role in New Orleans is unexpected. What do you hope to accomplish with such power?" Eyes stayed forward towards their destination. His regroup had not gone unnoticed. She saw that he paused, considered, and continued. Perhaps she was making this rather difficult for him. But such a great decision should not be made without great thought.

"I had disliked the thought of it, at first," his voice had a rift in it, one that showed he was disconcerted but why. His gaze, like hers, was ahead. Subtle stories in her expression was lost as he continued, "But I have had fewer and fewer reasons to not say yes. My life has been subject to the whims of those more greedy and more influential than myself. I'd be lying if I said that the idea of influencing my will wasn't appealing." It was said that Hades was a reclusive god, if there was ever a god?s lime light to compare to him, it would have been that one.

Robert had not said that there were no reasons, only that they were few. One wrapped her arm around his arm and walked with him to the museum, now, though he didn't think that the shift of his life role would be of too much consequence to The Witch other than to cause the corner of her lips to twist up in amusement.

"And then, when you accept your fate?" Their distance had closed by half by this time. She could understand the attractiveness of what was promised to him. But she did not have a complete picture of this contract. Who wrote it? Who stands to gain? Why must there be a condition precedent for Robert to attain the position offered him?

The answer dangled in front of her. It didn't matter what Robert did to those who made the offer. Robert didn't matter at all.

Despite these thoughts, she continued forward without betraying anything.

"I have no idea," his usual, rueful smile to counter what she said. All her thoughts on the contract were fair. It came from a human sort of mythology, with ill-defined borders and the potential to be one of the best or worst happenings that he could have. Contracts always had a winner, didn't they? That was all beside the point, though, and it was likely Robert had come to decide that he didn't care.

On the horizon waited a world of unknowns. When they turned a corner, he reached into his jacket pocket, drawing out his circle of keys. Absently, his hand toyed with their little metal shapes. He could feel the cold, crisp weight of it in his hand and the slight pressure of Helena?s fingers wrapped around his arm.

She released his arm when they arrived, and moved from his grasp the parcels he was carrying. "This will be first sight of your new exhibit." Assuming it was prepared. She watched him with all the passive ease of a midsummer meadow. No expectation. Merely in the moment.

"It's still the same fire one Osvaldo had done in my absence," he admitted to her. Had there been something done, he would have told her about it. As it was, he had been distracted, occupied with everything else. The bag eased from his arm when she took it and he tuned, fitting the key into the open mouth of the museum lock. With a twist, it clicked open and he pocketed the keys. Stepping in, he held the door open wide for her. Beyond the front room and desk was the hall, the kitchen being the last door on the right.

And so to the kitchen she moved. She did not wait for him to shut the door and follow. He would be there soon enough. She unpacked the purchased items and folded up the bags; Robert seemed the type to save the bags used for grocery shopping.

Robert was the type to save a lot of things, grocery bags included. She was not wrong in her assumption that he was not long behind her. He joined her there, filling up the doorway, watching her arrangement of the purchased goods. He didn't say anything for a change. He just observed the odd and still smooth way The Witch moved around the museum kitchen.

The Witch rested the wine on its side and slid them into a nearby wine rack. The meat and cheese he collected was appropriately stocked into his refrigerator. Her lotion was nowhere to be seen. It had been spirited away to a place of her convenience. When finished, she turns to him and leaned a hip against the counter. "Next." Her eyes widened softly on the word and then returned to normal. She looked nowhere but into his eyes. Her unearthly storms meeting his earthy eyes. And waited.

"That is the sum total of my evening plans." There was a pause, a final correction, "I was going to read a book." Maybe in the closet, alone with one light to cheer him along. Robert's response was dry but not harsh. It might have even been a joke since it was likely that those were the demon's past times. Nothing like a few hours alone reading to make one feel in touch with the world.

She approached him, coming off of her lean with grace. As he stood, she slid a hand along his slender chest, the other coming to his cheek. Her mouth met his again, eyes closing slowly at the touching of mouths commenced. When finished, she withdrew, eyes opening. "Thank you for allowing me to accompany you." A pause here. "Enjoy your book." Her hands lingered on him as she pulled away, making way in her unhurried way towards the door.

His breath came in, small and sharp, when she neared him and then touched. The calculated intent of it was far from cold. He reached for her when their lips connected, his hands landing on that place parallel to her belly button where he squeezed until the point she broke away. Biting the inside of his cheek to center his thoughts, he lingered a few steps behind her, an unasked escort of her to the door.

The door opened to admit her so she never broke her stride. Outside, the sky churned a silent symphony of nature. Gathered clouds and vomiting lightning bolts in far off places. No rain yet - it was still dry. She did not pause in her egress, taking the stairs and returning towards the direction from whence they came.

Robert stayed in the doorway as he watched her departure, half expecting that she would melt into the air itself. Her appearance was still stark upon the world and it was only once she was beyond his sight that he sighed, stepping back, and closed the museum door.