Albert's curses were muffled by the rain. They were mostly inaudible to human ears-Nothing besides a string of incoherent words under the man's breath-but Luc could hear them through the cushioned walls of his coach. Loud and clear.

Even the storm in him couldn't quiet them.

Luc tried to block Albert's worries and frustration out as he had always done with every chirp, cry, and bark of this filthy city. Albert had never been a man of eloquence, but he had never been this worked up either.

Luc exhaled and watched his frosty breath float up to the cabin's ceiling. He had been well aware of the connection between these two humans. They were among the few who haunted his life and head constantly.

Their mutual, nonverbal understanding had been the foundation behind Luc's decision to dump the girl on Albert's lap.

But should he?

The coach finally stopped. Luc lifted the curtain. In the night, the house took on the same shade as the trees, the road, and the sky. Muddy charcoal blue. Luc had never been too fond of its sunny coat anyway.

He stepped out of the coach and fixed his top hat. His eyes were glued to the dark windows on the upper level.

"You can go ahead, Albert," Luc said. "The air feels quite nice... I shall stay here for a bit and, uhm, smoke."

"Whatever ye said. Ye dinnae even have th' pipe on ye..." Albert grumbled as he walked past Luc.

Luc glared at the man's hurried silhouette. Albert flew to the front entrance-for lack of a better word-then slammed the door behind him.

Luc leaned against the coach's side and checked his inner pocket. Albert was right. He didn't have his pipe.

An unexplainable agony crept up in Luc's gut. The lump of muscles in his ribcage pumped so fast that it seemed to vibrate. Everything dulled away, but not nearly enough.

Luc stared at the steps in front of the house. He could have raced Albert-still could-but the very thought made him grimace. Luc didn't know he could hate himself a little more than usual.

When the cold air seeped into his wet coat, turning it to ice along with the small puddles on the road, Luc couldn't help but sigh again. He had listened to the horses grow more and more restless while staring up at the stars.

The rain had stopped. Everything seemed so high and clear now. Heaven was, of course, out of his reach.

What on Earth was he doing here?

What was wrong with him?

Albert had been inside for so long. The man was supposed to take the animals back to the stable a while ago. Damn Albert.

With the newfound justification to get upset, Luc stomped to the front entrance and yanked it open.

"Albert!" He called out. "The horses are freezing to death! You need to take them back to the stabl-"

Luc's complaint died as a pearl of soft laughter emitted from the living room. It poured into his soul like ice water, rattling him. It filled Luc with the thought that everything would be right in his world, and at the same time, nothing would.

Luc peeked his head into the living room. Albert was kneeling on the floor, making some puppets dance on the tea table to his rough folk tune. The man resembled a bear with his brown coat. Meanwhile, in front of Albert, the girl watched the performance attentively with her puffy eyes.

Her mouth curved up like a small crescent moon-much like the one Luc had seen briefly outside before the clouds shielded it away. She hugged her legs tightly and rested her head on her knees. Her copper hair fell on her shoulders, tangled.

The sight of her sitting on an armchair, in the middle of the living room was as bizarre as it sounded. Luc didn't know how Albert could do that-convincing her-but he did. The man had once again done something that Luc couldn't.

Albert reached a new crescendo. Luc glared at the man. He had never sung unless he drank himself into a stupor.

And since when had he carried puppets around?

The two humans in his living room were enjoying each other's company-so much so that they didn't even notice Luc was standing right there. He swallowed bile at the back of his throat and thought about announcing himself, but in the end, Luc didn't.

The two humans' perfect communication while speaking completely different languages or nothing, as of now, was something he could never have.

Luc dug his fingers into the door frame, feeling the wood break away, little by little.

Albert turned around at the noise and stood up. He didn't seem startled by Luc's gloomy expression, or guilty. "Th' lassie has eaten," he smiled at her, "A wee bowl o' pea brose wi' some bread. Thank th' lord, I still have it on th' range. I would say she did well 'n' will recover in na time... Tis late now, I should gang. " Albert tapped on Luc's shoulder as he walked past him to the door. While putting on his bowler hat, Albert winked, "Tak' care o' th' lassie. Keep her warm."

Luc gritted his teeth, "Lock the door behind you. Good night."

That must have amused Albert somehow because the man guffawed before closing the door.

Luc didn't want to see the girl's face fall as if someone killed her firstborn whenever Albert left. He turned to the stairs while ripping his wet coat and top hat off. By the time Luc reached the top of the stairs, he was shirtless with no shoes on.

Everything was wrong. Everything was out of order. He was a damn fool, and they both mocked him.

He should punish them. Break their bones. Break their spirits.

Do you really want to do that?

Are you afraid?

What are you afraid of?

Luc stared at his reflection in the mirror. Questions swirled in his head. He opened the hot tap and watched the steam swell up, higher and higher, swallowing everything in its way. Luc tore the rest of his clothes off and threw them on the floor. The scalding water sloshed about as he lowered himself into the bathtub. Luc grabbed a wooden brush and started scrubbing.

He wanted to feel something, anything so badly. Pain usually worked fine. This shell was a lie, and so was he. He meant nothing. To no one.

Luc scrubbed and scrubbed. Red, raw streaks appeared, then disappeared on his skin over and over again. The wooden brush eventually fell out of his hand as his fingers locked. Useless mortal form. Luc ran his hands through his wet hair and exhaled before leaning back in the bathtub.

He opened his hearing and tuned out everything in the city to zone into a small area right below where he was. Silly girl, how long will she intend to stay like that? Luc knew Albert had left the puppets for her, but they were not very exciting. Definitely not worth staying there all night staring at them.

He needed his pipe and whiskey. Now.

If she gets worse and dies, that will not be my fault.

Luc stared at a tiny dot on the opposite wall. A trance would ease the burden in his mind. He could feel it coming. So close...

Luc jumped at the sound of small footsteps stopping right behind him. He whipped his head around to see a pair of amber eyes-the same ones he had tried so hard to avoid all day- staring at him.

To be exact, they were staring at his back with such intensity as if Luc was a creature of the zoo. Humans admiring his form was not new. It had never been a problem either, but in that moment, Luc felt a strong desire to cower away and hide under endless layers.

"Do you need to wash up?" He asked without looking at her. "I'm almost done here..."

The girl didn't reply, but she took one step closer. Then two.

That was new.

An idea came to his mind. Luc slowly stood up and turned around with a smirk. He stepped out of the bathtub. Water dripped down the length of his body, covering every perfect inch in tiny droplets before raining down on the hardwood floor.

Every step was calculated. Every step was an invitation.

A dare.

Luc didn't have a towel in hand. They were all on the rack.

"Like what you see?" He asked, brushing against the girl's thin gown. "You are welcome to join me anytime."

Luc was satisfied with the way she flinched. He winked and walked to where the towels were. Luc grabbed the first one and carefully dried himself, not without stretching his ears to register every sound.

He had expected the girl to react in some usual feral ways or simply stomp out, but that didn't happen. Instead, she whispered.

"You are disgusting", in a very small and raspy voice.

Luc turned around at the same time the door slammed shut. The girl was gone. Evaporated from the spot she had stood. She was retreating with haste to her room, judging by the direction of her footsteps.

She spoke. To him directly.

Everything in Luc stirred as his muscles recoiled. He lurched to grab the door handle before stopping himself mid-action.

She spoke.

He would get it, one day. One way or another. He was certain of that. He would be patient. Albert was not better...

The thought startled Luc.

He grabbed his smoking robe and put it on. The steam rolled into the empty hallway as he opened the door.

Luc strode to his desk, which was around the corner, and flopped down on the chair behind it. He reached for his half-empty decanter and poured himself a glass of whiskey. Filled to the brim, just how he liked it. The liquor washed away his doubts and gave him a momentary boost before Luc yearned for the second glass.