Emerita
It was a sunny and unassuming day in Briar Ridge. Spring has come into its own, generously scattering bright and patchy wildflowers on every tuft of grass it could find. Soft pollen tickled his nose pleasantly, the sun fell full upon his eyes; Lewis squinted, baring his teeth and covering his eyes with the back of his hand. It was the time of year when his grumpiness shriveled a little, allowing him to enjoy life a little better than usual. In general, he considered life to be a sort of a swamp: usually you are wet and uncomfortable, but if you want to find something good, you need to dive deeper. The sun made the necessary diving a little more bearable. 

He dug his keys into the keyhole, the surrounding metal of which was covered in scratches from all the times he came home in a state much worse than today. Now he was whistling, kicking the door open. The door invitingly opened, revealing before him the home-sweet-home.

Lewis sighed loudly, running the hand through his hair. He dragged the coat off his shoulders and threw it on the hook. With hands in his pockets, he reached the entrance to the room he decided was the living room; and then he stopped.

On his dusty couch, basked in the sunlight, laid none other than Dimitra Anthea Florakis. With her luscious curly hair scattered around her like a dark halo, and her legs in boots gracefully thrown over the couch's arm, she looked carelessly precious. 

"Oh me oh my," Lewis drawled out, his fingers climbing up the door jamb, "Who did the cat drag in."

With his steps deliberately slow, swaying in his feet, he approached Dimitra, staring her down with a half-smile. If he was surprised to see her, he surely did not show it at all.

"How's the book going?" He asked graciously, "Finally managed to get though the first chapter?"

||
Blanche
She barely looked up from the book as the door swung open, and she only did so when Lewis approached her side at the couch. She lifted her eyes from the pages and observed him, the corner of her mouth quirking up in something similar to amusement. 

"Mm." She made a noise in the back of her throat and dog-eared the page before closing the book with a resounding thud. "Maybe if I hadn't left it here, I would've been finished already. Least you could've done was return it to me," She huffed, swinging her legs off the arm of the couch and taking a stand. 

"You really should keep your windows locked. Might let all kinds of riff-raff in." She stuck her hand into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a candy; it looked like it might've been a lemon sour. She popped it in her mouth and rolled it around, jamming the wax paper back into her pocket for safekeeping. "I come here with a proposition," She said, and paused. "Not *That* Kind of proposition." 

She prodded his chest with a finger. "You've gotten into the shine business yourself now, haven't you, Lewis? How's that going these days?" She raised an eyebrow curiously. "The Coopers are doing well for themselves still, despite... Everything." She dropped her hand. "I was curious... Are you keeping up?"
Emerita
Return the book? Lewis almost scoffed to himself. What a joke. Why would he run around, trying to locate the owner of her possession, when she was more than capable of barging in herself?

"Who am to deprive a lady of a reason to visit me again?" He replied nicely, "Especially, a lady so impatient. You must have been dying," Lewis breathed out, "To see me."

Regardless of what came out of his mouth, he was always glad to see Dimitra. Her pretty face, her lack of manners, and of course, her adventurousness always brightened up his day. Lewis had women break into his room before, but none of them treated it so nonchalantly. He enjoyed that.

"*Riff-raff?*" Lewis parodied, Dimitra's accent rolling inside of his mouth, vibrating on his tongue, just like Dimitra rolled around her little candy. Lewis withheld himself from involuntarily licking his lips, trying to forget the need to refresh the taste of lemon from his mind. Now wasn't the time. Seduction was supposed to be his weapon, not hers, "Now-now, Dimitra, you shouldn't think of yourself this poorly. Show some self-respect." He smiled, the ambiguity of the sentence gleaming in his eyes. He unhastily dragged his gaze on the length of her arm, settling on the pretty finger resting on his chest. Flirty fox, always at her best when she knew how tightly Lewis was wrapped around her finger. He would go if she called, and it didn't really matter, where. 

The proposition, huh. Not that kind, of course – and all Dimitra's propositions included basking on other people's couches and petting their chests. *"Are you sure?"* His quizzical gaze asked. A sly smile touched the corners of Lewis' slightly parted lips.

"I'd say I'm well." He said, the tone distracted, as if his position in the town's ecosystem wasn't something on his mind, "You might have heard Alma brag about me here and there. Me being irreplaceable, the start of the team and all that. No big deal".

Not a chance, of course. In Lewis' opinion, Alma Cooper would rather eat her signature apron than speak to him in a tone more amiable than lukewarm.

||
Blanche
"Dying to see you... Is a way to describe it," Dimitra said, quirking an eyebrow. "I use *Riff-raff* With the utmost affection, sweetheart. I don't think there's a single thing wrong with being a riff-raff, a rapscallion, a nuisance..." Dimitra danced her fingers across his arm lightly, mischief in her eyes as she turned away to plop herself down on the couch once more. She crossed one leg over the other, but her arms splayed the back of the couch - like *She* Owned the world. 

Her own smirk stretched and she rolled her eyes. Was she sure she wasn't making *That* Kind of proposition? Yes, she was quite sure. But... That didn't mean she couldn't still use just an ounce of her appeal to try and make a case for herself. "I'm very sure, Lewis," She chuckled, uncrossing her legs to recross them in the other direction. Dimitra was also very aware that Lewis was much like a peacock; he liked the strut about, talking a *Lot* Of big game... But he usually couldn't meet up to all those high expectations, could he? 

"Really now?" Dimitra raised an eyebrow. "Alma said all that? Last time I checked, Alma isn't usually so complimentary, but..." She tilted her head and looked him up and down, real slow-like. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, Lewis?" Her smile was a lot more cat-like now. "I didn't come to talk about books or Alma Cooper, Lewis. I came to talk business." She stretched her leg out and tapped his ankle lightly. "So get your mind out of the gutter, would you?"
Emerita
Lewis nodded rapidly, mocking praise playing out on his face. "Good job, Dimitra! So many smart words," He offered, "And you learned them all by yourself? Now you deserve my attention. What do you want?"

Lewis could barely catch himself, following Dimitra's shameless movements with his eyes. Pushing him off, and then spreading her legs before him on *His* Couch. What a minx. Lewis felt his pulse quicken. He enjoyed her game, enjoyed her pushes and pulls flowing into each other with such rapid succession they made his head spin. A grin was plastered on his face. God, what a woman!

"Reading my mind again, aren't you?" He asked with a joking and gentle chide, looking her in the face, despite his gaze threatening to slide down any moment, "So insightful. I thought I was hiding it well". Mocking was such a thin persistent layer on top of his words, it might as well have been pollen from the street stuck to the honey he always added to his sentences. The window was still open, and Lewis had no intention of closing it. The weather was nice, after all; and the idea of lightly defying Dimitra was even nicer.

Nevertheless, he couldn't deny he was genuinely curious. Jumping through his window frame wasn't out of left field for Dimitra, but a business proposal? She was good with counting money and spending it, yet earning it, as it looked for Lewis, wasn't her stronghold. Dimitra Florakis, a businesswoman? That, Lewis just had to see.

He even attempted to make himself presentable, to play his part better in whatever performance Dimitra had in her hand, dancing around his room in anticipation. Hands by his sides, as simple and honest as a meadow lamb. Almost. Close enough.

"Wouldn't lie to you," He agreed, looking Dimitra straight in the eyes, "All here. All yours. I'm listening".

||
Blanche
It was the few months that Dimitra had spent in Lewis' favor, his bed, his arms— those few months had conditioned her to become quite used to Lewis' condescension. She rolled her eyes; she'd let him feel so smart, would let him croon on and on... But she was aware which of them had the control of the situation. She was smart, after all. 

"Try to keep up, Lewis, I know you're easily distracted by pretty things, but pay attention." She dropped her arms off the back of the couch, crossing them over her chest. Her many bangles and sparkly things clattered with the movements, and she tilted her head. 

"I'm buying up Maldorano's old courier shop," She told him. "I've been saving up for something big. And this is it." Dimitra had big dreams and an even bigger attitude. She was going to make it, through sheer willpower and determination... And a wad of cash she kept hidden in her underwear drawer. 

"But I'm not interested in just transporting anymore. I'm done just being a bootlegger." She took a stand so she could park her butt on the arm of the couch instead. "I want to be a proper moonshiner, Lewis. Do you understand where I'm going with this?"
Emerita
Truly, this woman never failed to impress him. Whenever he let her lose, she came back with something akin to a gunshot right next to his ear.

"Abandoning Mama Cooper behind her back and striking her over the head." Lewis rocked his head in mock condemnation, almost sadness, "Tsk-tsk, Dimitra. How scandalous!" And so bold. Damn him if it wasn't bold even by her standards. It was a risk even a version of him he showed to the outside world would sincerely hesitate to take, "But I must say, I'm curious. You should try to persuade me and see where it goes."

Lewis couldn't deny: he was flattered. This made it easier for his surprise to start (under a certain light) looking like respect. This was already on the level of planning he had never heard from Dimitra. Not only that, but she understood his worth well enough to ask for his help in something that she was willing to risk his livelihood on. He doubted that Alma would look kindly to one of her most rebellious babies leaving the nest to brew the shine elsewhere. And so, under this threat, she ran to him. Only him.

Or was it "Only"? Of course, he would be the main course, but did Dimitra have some second choices prepared? It was a dangerous question: asking it would be exposing at least some degree of his interest, which would tilt the playing field to her side, open Lewis to her merciless revelation. There was no way she wouldn't catch up on him if he said it. And yet, the curiosity was dancing in his stomach. The thought was biting him under his tongue, like a small fish with very sharp teeth.

"Who else have you asked?" He enquired quickly, hungrily, unable to hide the trace of anticipation in his voice.

||
Blanche
A bright laugh peeled past her lips and she scoffed a little, tossing her head back and letting her curls go flying with the motion. "I'm not betraying anyone!" She jabbed at his chest again, tilting her head. "They've got plenty of bootleggers, they can spare me." Though, Dimitra was good at her trade. She was slippery, she was seductive, and she was ruthless underneath all the pretty skirts and bangles. She carried a gun on her thigh, a knife up her sleeve, and god knows what else down her shirt where very few men dared to reach without permission (for fear of losing a finger). 

"Persuade you?" Her smile stretched, and she squinted at him. "I think you're mistaken, Lewis," She chuckled to herself. "I'm not here to persuade you. Consider it... A warning." She said. "Because if you don't choose to join forces with me... Well, there's only room for so many moonshiners in Briar Ridge. The Coopers... Well, they're the classics. They'll be around as long as these hills are standing. But the rest of us... It's sink or swim, Lewis. You can either roll with the tide or drown." 

She couldn't help but laugh again, and her grin was stretched so wide now, it could almost ache. "Aren't you nosey? I haven't asked anybody else," She assured him. "So you should feel *Very* Special. Aside from Lily, but don't worry... She's a business partner from ages ago. She'll be part of my transport team."
Emerita
There were very few sounds more beautiful in the world to Lewis' ears than the laughter coming from the mouth of a pretty woman. And even then, most of the other sounds in his list were made by women anyway. Making a joke that landed meant making a woman soften up, get her on his side, get her when he wanted her. And he was correct, seeing as Dimitra's hand went back to resting on his chest. Someone told him once, when he was younger, that women love with their ears, and after that, hearing a woman laugh was akin to hearing a metal trap close with a loud clanking. *Mine now. And you don't even know it.*

Dimitra was lying, of course, when she said the Coopers wouldn't miss her. If Lewis was the brains, Dimitra was the engine of their moonshine operation. The things she would get up to, in the middle of the night no less, made Lewis' skin crawl when he heard about them after. She strolled near the Guerrero cabin like it was a swing in the park. She could hide a bottle of moonshine in the eye of a needle and fight off two angry drunks with a fork. Without her, Coopers would be forced to take many fewer risks, and in a business as illegal, this meant the sales plummeting. The type of news someone low-ranking and completely unrelated to the problem would be punished for.

And of course, it would be much harder to imagine what would they be doing without *Him*.

Dimitra wasn't lying when she said that there was room for so many moonshiners in Briar Ridge; but amongst them, there was only one Lewis. There was no one else who, through much elbow grease and much more coaxing, managed to at some point find his polished shoes standing on every step of the moonshining process. The only part left unavailable to him were the very tops, but outside of it, he could, - if he wanted, - be a one-man moonshine operation. He delivered, he boiled, he handled the people and the checks. He worked with the clients, and his smile worked for two.

He was paid reasonably for what he could wring from Briar Ridge; but wasn't he always meant for something more?

Dimitra was right. He felt very special, - he didn't feel the need to hide it, smiling openly with his head cocked, letting her know he appreciated the praise, - but he also *Was* Special, and for that, just praise wasn't enough. Special people deserved special treatment, didn't they?

His smile grew just a tad bit colder.

"Tell you what, Dimitra, this is a bold move, bold and risky." Lewis said, more serious, appreciative, "But we both know, in this business, that's exactly what makes the money. You know what you're doing enough to threaten me, and you know how much I love that. You were always one of the wheels on Coopers' wagon, but on your own? That's where you need the support. And you came to me. That is the right choice."

He clasped his hands together, looking at her with narrowed eyes, as if he was preparing to deliver a verdict. As if he needed to come up with the words to say.

"When it comes to delivery, no one in Briar Ridge is better than Dimitra Florakis, of course." Lewis made his voice sound slightly humble, but not too much, as if saying it wasn't easy for him, as if it wasn't convenient, "Everyone knows that. You aren't bad at getting deals either, when you let your clients go with all their limbs intact." He allowed himself a short laugh, "But the finances, the management, the organization? Now that's just not you, Dimitra!" He opened his arms, his smile shining the way it always did when he tried to sell something; this "Something" Only partially involved moonshine,

"Wouldn't you like someone more experienced in managing leading the operation? Someone you know well, of course, so the money would be shared fairly, and you always stayed relevant. Maybe even more than relevant, - of course, you're good enough for higher roles. You'd make a great right-hand woman." – *Just not a boss, Dimitra, oh, not the head. A hand. A hand with a knife in it. A hand for my hand.*

||
Blanche
Lewis really thought himself so smart, didn't he? He thought he could spin pretty words and she'd just fall right at his feet, head nodding, pliant and easy. Clearly, Lewis was living inside a bubble; his head was in the clouds. Had he forgotten so quickly what kind of woman she was? She wasn't a woman who needed a man to open a door for her, to carry her things. She was not fragile, she was not weak, and she *Certainly* Was not *Stupid.* 

As he spoke, her face darkened slightly, and she took two steps to jab his chest again, jaw set firmly, a fire in her eyes. "You don't get to make me the *Right-hand woman* Of my own operation," She spat the words, a fury in her. This right here had been a key in the implosion of their relationship. He was pompous and full of himself. She was stubborn and could get hotheaded when she wanted to be; Lewis seemed to pull that from her with ease. 

"I swear to hell, if you know what's good for you, Lewis Ashworth, I'd rethink the way you're speaking to me right now," She snapped, dropping her hand and scowling at him with a fierceness. 

"I knew I should've asked someone else," She pinched the bridge of her nose, already shaking her head and turning to pick up the book from the couch, holding it with white knuckles from how tense she was. "I should've known you, of all people, couldn't handle a job like this." Dimitra tossed her curls over one shoulder and leveled Lewis with a glare that could raise the dead. 

"I'll give you ten seconds to rethink what you said, and then *Apologize*, because if you think for even one second that you get to run the business I've put my time, money, and effort into... You've got another thing coming." She wanted to throttle him... Just a little. But she knew physical violence wasn't about to get her anywhere.
Emerita
Lewis wasn't bothered much by her threats: she could leave, and she could come back, and she could try the operation on her own, - trying to predict the whims of a woman's character was outside of his jurisdiction. Of course, Dimitra could've went and tried to find some other *Riff-raff* To help her lead the ship, which would inevitably sink (because no one within the borders of briar Ridge could have been a worthy replacement). And Lewis would have to sign loudly and roll his eyes from his comfortable, padded, sure spot within the Coopers. And he would have to see Dimitra fail. And that he didn't like at all; seeing Dimitra fail was like seeing a mouse yank and twitch in its trap, firmly impaled on the thick needle. Because she never gave up, looking at her sand castle of a goal falling apart in her hands, seeing her riled up grabbing on every single grain of sand, left the taste on the inside of his mouth so bitter Lewis couldn't scrub it off for weeks. He didn't want that.

And yet, it was his fault that the conversation ended there, with Dimitra riling herself up more and more with a single breath she took, a single new though she came up with, each one more enraging than the next. He should've known, that Dimitra in her core was a pile of drywood, an entangled heap of golden hay: a single spark was enough to lit her ablaze. It was Lewis' responsibility to make sure not a single spark came by.

He must've went overboard with "The right hand woman". It slipped in involuntarily: the image was too tempting, the image of Dimitra, - in a business sense, - by his hand. The things they could've achieved if she was directly under him in the chain of command. The gossip they would've saved for each other's work breaks. The days would've rolled by as pleasantly as two lovebirds rolling in hay.

"Dimitra..." He sighed melancholically, "Did I upset you? Was it something I said? I only wanted to help you."

He took a step back from her, to give her space to cool down. It definitely was a good idea to keep the window open: maybe the wind would slightly extinguish her flame.

"Of course, I never meant to take your business from you." Lewis' voice was consolatory, "I value your time and money as much as you do. You are taking so many risks with this idea, and, because you came to me, I wanted to take some of it from your shoulders. Nothing else."

He opened his arms, showing himself vulnerable as ever, trying to make her empathize with his perspective.

"I am putting myself at risk as well, talking to you about it. You know the Coopers love you, and are going to forgive you for this small back-stabbing much easier than they would forgive me. And yet, I am here, trying to help you build your future. Why would an action like that deserve your anger?"

He left long, deliberate pauses between the chunks of his speech, just long enough to take deep, calming breaths. Someone certainly needed that. And his own heart was still throwing itself around like a caged bird. Walking on the knife's edge was intoxicating.

"You talked about the money." Lewis tried again, "Of course, I would've added my money to yours. If you let me in, it would be our plan: I would share your risks, and I would do anything to make it succeed. Of course I would've added my coin to the pot. I have some nice savings that would help us stay afloat through the first months." Soothing, calming, he carefully put his hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eyes, "I wouldn't let you out to dry. I've got you, Dimitra."

||
Blanche
Did he *Upset* Her? Was that even a question? Clearly she was upset, and he was being a jackass about it! She had half a mind to stick her foot up his ass, but she knew that getting bent out of shape would only go to try and prove his point. He thought she couldn't handle it— that she *Needed* Him to make this thing survive. He thought himself the secret ingredient to the recipe, but she knew better. Dimitra narrowed her eyes, sucked her teeth, and took another seat on the arm of the couch. 

"I think if you weren't so pretty, you'd have gotten your ass kicked by someone by now," Dimitra commented, choosing to talk about something else for a brief moment, just so she could take a breath. She crossed one leg over the other and narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him. This was like a grand game of chess. She'd never been good at chess, but she always liked playing with her brothers when she was little. When she grew bored of it, she'd flip the board over, sending pieces flying, while she darted off to find mischief. 

It was time to flip the board on Lewis Ashworth. "I don't need your money," She said, tilting her head. "And besides... I've already had a long, long talk with Mama Cooper about my personal departure. She's behind me, one hundred percent." A smirk slid onto her face. "So long as I act within the Coopers' best interest, she's got no problems with me." 

Dimitra stood now, wandering around the living room, picking up odds and ends and fiddling with them. "I think us being business partners would end up just about the same as us being lovers, don't you think?" She raised an eyebrow. "We're like a house fire, Lewis. We run hot until there's nothing left to burn up."
Emerita
Lewis could handle Dimitra angry, and sad, and rebelling; sometimes, he would prefer her when she burned. The only thing we couldn't deal with was her being right. And right now, he had nothing to counter her swab she was saving for all that time he was twisting her around. Straight to his heart, as the poets say.

With Alma on her side, her influence in the business, the Coopers' money, and their best practice, Lewis had no pressure points to apply to her. He could not compete with the same foundation the haunted house of Briar Ridge was built on. There was nothing Dimitra could get from him that she couldn't get from Alma. Ashworth had a fleeting thought of questioning if she might be lying to him, but realized the lie would be too bold. The part of him that wanted her to be lying was the same part that couldn't accept that she outplayed him. She flipped the script on its head.

Indeed, what a woman.

Lewis swallowed. Thoughts churned in his head like the heavy, dark green waves of the ocean. 

"You're right." He said after a very, very long pause, "And I mean it. It's not you who needs me. It's... The opposite."

He lowered his gaze, to the dusty floor he always walked with his shoes on, with the specks of sand like sugar under the sun.

"Don't say "We"," Lewis' lips curled down, words flowing out softly and low, "I know it's me. I am the one who ignites you, and when you burn me, I only get closer. You are right: we got charred to a crisp, but I never regretted it. The pain was worth knowing you. It still is."

Lewis looked at her, like a curious bird, his head tilted; except there was only acceptance and powdery ache in his eyes.

"Look at you." He breathed out, "You're smarter now. I... Might be the same, but I would still never harm your livelihood. Even on our worst days, we kept it out of our work. If we try this, I cannot imagine it ending as badly as you trying to love me. And me... Being me."

The sharp exhale got stuck in between his teeth.

"You are my best chance at becoming something. You were it before, and I fucked it up. I won't fuck it up again."

He smiled quietly.

"And I'm glad you still think me pretty."

||
Blanche
It truly was a rare sight, to see Lewis so honest and *Vulnerable* As he was now. She bit her tongue, arms crossed, as she watched him a moment. She was still deciding if this sudden, softer stance was his way of worming his way back into her favor; Dimitra decided that Lewis Ashworth must be telling the truth, because the man was too proud to admit defeat unless it was honest. Checkmate. 

"We had a good run, didn't we, Lewis?" She said, a slight amusement in the way the corner of her mouth quirked up. "Don't look so down about it." Dimitra put her hand on his arm and squeezed, trying to provide some semblance of comfort.

"Now, I think we've come to an understanding, right?" Dimitra raised an eyebrow, lips pursed, expectant. "If you want to work for me, help me build this business... I'm still more than willing to work with you. But I'm still the one in charge. I'll be the one calling the shots. However..." She drawled, her pursed lips becoming a small smile, mischief hiding behind her teeth. "I think you and I can make some beautiful moonshine together." 

She smacked him on the shoulder, like they were two drinking friends getting along well at the bar, and flashed her signature grin. "Of course you're pretty, Lewis, it makes up for that terrible attitude of yours!" Dimitra laughed, tossed her head back, and turned to pick up her book from the couch. "Think about my offer, would you?" She raised an eyebrow.
Emerita
Lewis listened patiently to Dimitra's offer. It turned out, admitting defeat led to partial winning more often than he would have imagined before. He still had a lot to learn. And he didn't mind learning in the slightest, if all his lessons came from a beautiful woman showing him his place. Life would be too boring, if he wasn't lightly shaken on his pedestal from time to time. 

"Of course, my queen," Lewis agreed, smirking at Dimitra's shameless handouts of orders. Whatever Lewis agreed on now, he could surely slip his way out later. Despite his voice being both honey and poison, honey took the largest part. 

Dimitra looked damn proud of herself, almost shining, and Lewis couldn't stop himself from admiring the way it suited her. The mischief that stuck between her teeth like a bird in a fox's mouth made his heart flutter. Smiling widely, Lewis scooped her and lifted her up, hands crossed tightly under the highest part of her thighs. It felt really good, to be forgiven by a person close to him, - even if he didn't think he did all that much wrong. He didn't seek out forgiveness quite often, believing "Moving on" To be more effortless and painless way to live his life; and yet, just this time, it felt good. It felt like the sun came out of the clouds to shine for him. 

"I'll think about it," He dragged, wrinkling his nose, more playful than anything else. "Yes" Was written on his face as clearly as if it was ink. He would've looked even stupider then, although Dimitra probably wouldn't mind it. She seemed to enjoy it when he was embarrassed.

He looked up at her, admiring her face, and quirked his eyebrow. *Terrible attitude*, she said. "Takes one to know one, Dimitra".

||
Blanche
Dimitra squealed when she was suddenly lifted up off her feet, and she whacked gently at his chest as she looked down at him. Her hands landed on his shoulder to keep herself steady and from tipping this way or that. This reminded her very much of those two months they'd spent (mostly in bed) together, and she flicked his nose gently with her middle finger. 

"Who said you could pick me up?" She laughed, and she did kick her legs a little bit, a fluttering thing, like she might lift off the ground even further and fly straight through the roof. In all fairness, if anyone in this world could up and learn how to fly on a dime, it would be Dimitra Florakis. 

"You'll think about it," She repeated the words, rolling her eyes as her mouth stretched into a wide smile. "I think you and I both know exactly how you'll answer. But if you must think about it, try to do it when you're not lying in bed." Dimitra snickered to herself and smacked him on the chest again, light, not even hard enough to sting. "And let me down. I'm not your girl to manhandle anymore, remember? I've got a preacher waiting for me to cook dinner later." 

She squirmed, wanting to be put down on her own two feet. "My attitude might be bad, but yours is even worse!" She laughed aloud.
Emerita
Dimitra wasn't alone in her off-hand flight fantasies: holding her like this, this close, this tightly, for a second Lewis felt like she was an air balloon, bright and powerful, not bothered by the strong gushes of wind trying to throw her off-course; and he was the fool trying to hold the ropes to her in his arms. A deep fear, that never fully left him, resurfaced: one day Dimitra will leave Briar Ridge, fly off it in her prettiest dress and a hat with a shiny ribbon, in the company of someone who understands how much more she deserves; and never look back. And be happy outside of it with someone else. Leave before Lewis has a chance to.

Could he have held her like this forever? Yes, - even if to bother her for a moment longer, to waver in her mind a little bit more. Lewis had no illusions about her: as soon as he got out of her sight, her mind followed suit with throwing him out. Dimitra was too unrepeatable to hold memories as sticky as him.

Besides, his arms started getting tired. 

So, with a slight hesitation, but not enough gentleness to make her think he cared, Lewis set Dimitra on the floorboards. The *"Asking me for favors again, don't you remember how it went last time?"* Joke was left unspoken. He always realized they had something and suddenly became uneasy about breaking it, when Dimitra was all but one foot out of his door.

"How's the preacher treating you?" A piece of childish gossip popped up in Lewis' head, and he was giddy to bring it up, scrunching his nose up as if just having smelled something gross, "Does he still taste like bugs when you kiss?"

||
Blanche
She was grateful to be put down, and she straightened out her rumpled skirts and gave her captor a look for a moment. Lewis wasn't all bad these days - there was always good and bad with him, wasn't there? Beyond the pompous attitude and the cocky streak that ran a mile wide, he could be undeniably charming. One might even argue that Lewis could even be *Funny* On occasion. 

"You stop that," Dimitra swatted him with her book, smacking the flat side of the cover against his arm. This time, with a little more emphasis - she meant business. "I don't know who started that awful rumor, but my future husband doesn't eat *Spiders*." She laughed a little. How ridiculous could that be? "He won't even squish a spider. He picks them up and takes them outside when he sees them." 

She spoke with such a fondness, perhaps unseen before by Lewis. Her eyes were so warm, her smile softened to something so delicate and girlish, it was almost unlike her. Dimitra was properly in love; and she bit down on her lip as she gathered her shawl, which was draped across the back of the couch as haphazardly as she had been when he had arrived. 

"He treats me like a princess." She said. "He's the sweetest man. Underneath all of that... Coldness, underneath that brooding look? He loves me more than anything in this world." Her cheeks burned. "And I love him just as much. Maybe even more." Dimitra wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and made her way to the door. "And like I said - I've got a preacher to cook dinner for. He really works up an appetite, talking to God all day." She winked a little, laughing right after. "I'll see myself out."
Emerita
"And no one knows what happens to the spiders once they're outside..." Lewis mumbled, quiet enough so that Dimitra would certainly hear it, "Or where they go". However, he wasn't the one to argue, especially with the warning smack she gave him after the first part of the joke. If he said a thing nasty enough, Dimitra could probably gauge out his eye. 

"I am so happy for you." He said, empathizing the fact he was not, in fact, happy, but not enough to make her upset. It was hard to not be happy at least a little when Dimitra was like this, soft and glad and dreamy. Even if Lewis firmly believed that Dimitra could do so much better, and also because the thing making her happy was a pale weirdo priest. But there were worse hobbies for sure. Some people ate bugs, for example.

His eyes silently followed Dimitra's hand with a book in it drifting away from him. Her fingers were wrapped around it pretty loosely, - now, that the threats subsided, she held it like it was an appropriate, expected thing to do. Lewis didn't agree with that. For a second, he though about snatching the book from her hands and demanding to leave it where it was, if she wasn't staying and never would stay. But of course, it was only a thought.

"Safe travels!" He called out after Dimitra, "Don't trip and fall over your love for God!"

And then Lewis shut the door.