Bloody hell!" Evey murmured under her breath when her flat bell rang that Friday evening. "What now?!"
She'd been hurrying about, grabbing clothing, toiletries, cosmetics, etc., for a full weekend away. Well, a weekend below, actually. Down in the Shadow Gallery. She'd managed only a few such extended visits over the last months, each time spinning a story to her friends that she would be out of London and probably out of communication for a few days. This time, a visit to an old acquaintance from her years in the rehabilitation center was her easily believed cover. So now she wanted to maximize the opportunity.
Visitors, at this precise moment, were not entirely welcome.
Admittedly, she probably pulled the door open with a bit more impatience than needed, but she halted quickly when she realized who it was. ... ... "Adrian?"
For months, she'd seen him only briefly, and only in passing within the various governmental buildings. His career had progressed quite far, and he had become quite a star in the Department of Counter Intelligence. It kept their paths from crossing *too* often.
Three conversations it had required initially, to convince him that there was really nothing more to be had between the two of them. Even then, the glances he'd continued to cast her remained tinged with regret for quite some time; their brief words of communication always poorly veiling the hope he'd clung to.
Yes, it played on her sympathies. Even her anger over his suggestion of negotiating amnesty with the rebels had begun to fall against such sympathies. V would have done whatever was necessary to achieve her rescue. How could she then claim it purely offensive for Adrian to have followed the same rationale?
She hadn't really led him on, had she? That first year after the revolution? She'd known all along that he could never be a replacement, no matter how desperately that small, whimsical part of her wished for a miracle. Sure, there were moments where she'd enjoyed being immersed in his expressions of admiration. The biggest problem, of course, is that receiving flattery does not automatically lead to offering love. And Adrian's many flatteries did nothing to end the love she had still sent to her masked man ... even when she hadn't known he was actually alive to receive it. In that sense, she and Adrian had been at crossed purposes from the very beginning.
Every time he'd pushed for more ... or even attempted to coax or corner her into more ... she'd gracefully side-stepped him. That hadn't been so wrong, had it? Even if she felt sympathy for his inability to understand in the end.
"Hi Evey," he greeted, then added nervously, "Surprised to see me?"
Evey glanced around with a matching awkwardness, then stepped back to bid him entrance. "A little. Come in. Please."
The man strolled in casually, glancing about the room, noting the changes since he'd been there last.
"I'm sorry if I'm interrupting something," he remarked, scanning her up and down briefly. "You're probably on your way out."
She glanced down at the burgundy dress she wore. ... "Just ... getting ready for a bit of a trip. I'm off on a short holiday this weekend."
Adrian nodded, accepting the answer easily. "Well, it's always good to get away from the government rush. Lord knows I could use a few more holidays myself."
Evey just smiled briefly, avoiding any further conversation on the topic just in case he was fishing for an invitation to accompany her. "I'm really kind of pressed for time, actually. Is this a social visit, or ...?"
The man's head bowed knowingly. "Look, Evey, I wish you didn't have to feel so awkward around me. I'm not still 'stewing' or anything." He pronounced the word with humorous exaggeration, just to emphasize how pointless he found such activities to be. "I know you've moved on, and I have no quarrel with that. In fact, in a way, I find myself suddenly pleased, in a round-about sort of way."
