Chapter Two, Part Two: You Can Get What At Which Restaurant?Mature

Her eyes are almond-color, he thinks as he makes a show of inhaling her scent, half-circling and walking and pawing around her little castle, re-arranging the furniture with his eyes.                                                          

“Is this the managing desk? I have this card.” Between two fingers, Jack holds up the white business card Benjamin left on his pillow that first time, trying not to think of how he steam cleans it and keeps it under glass between the pages of old books, to preserve the man’s scent. The almond gaze crawls over the stiff paper like a big brown spider, fangs just hidden behind what that icy, sculptured throat dragged in.                                                                           

The card reads, in simple lowercase black:

 

le·lapin·blanc

cnalb·nipal·el ϿϾ le·lapin·blanc 

 

Le Lapin Blanc, and two stylised e’s for the company name, Elegant Egotist. Elegant. 

“Ah, yes- the White Rabbit. One of our best telepaths.” The suet-grey lips curl in a frosty smile; she understands. It’s business as usual, then. “He’s away at the moment. I’ll offer you another, shall I? My name, for convenience, is Prydonia. Sometimes Mister Plombkins calls me… no. You can’t call me that.” 

Jack glares. “Let me guess… Nostalgia?” 

 Her highball, hourglass waist twists like the rotor blades on a boat engine as though she’s about to hook an arm around him and lead him down the garden path for some iced black coffee, but instead, she plucks a card from the white milk glass dish on the legless silver table, this one black with a single blue circle cut by a gold line. Her black-spine eyelashes never fall. They’ve fallen too much already. 

“Try this one; he’s another minimalist. You know how hands-on they can be.”

The End

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