My Pleasure, Darling

2: Felix Bruge

The thrumming of the engine stops under me, and it legitimately takes me a moment to notice. I don't know what I had been looking at – I guess my eyes were just on screen saver mode. In front of us is a long stretch of road, in seemingly the middle of nowhere. But right now, we are parked, inconspicuously, at the edge of a gas station. The sun is on the horizon, the road already bright. I turn to Felix. He is sitting back, eyes closed.

"I need a rest."

I almost protest. If I can get Alexandria to Metran fast enough, I might get back in time to do something. To help somebody. To help anybody. But before I can say the words, they go cold in my throat. It's been hours. The mountain is probably already under siege. It doesn't matter how fast I work. It takes more than a day to get to Metran when there aren't regime changes going on via bloody coup. By then, there won't be anybody left to save.

Felix is tired. I hadn't noticed before, but there are dark circles under his eyes. He looks weary, hair tousled, shoulders sagging. I think his jaw is clenched. His eyes are still closed. When I turn in the car, beautiful brown eyes stare back at me.

She saw it. Don't ask me how I know. It's there, in those wide eyes. She saw what happened to her family. She was a witness to murder and slaughter. She is an orphan. And while I don't know the details, the trauma on her psyche will require years of work to heal.

"Good morning, Alexandria."

She blinks at me. Felix turns back as well, as if suddenly remembering there is a tiny royal child in the back.

"Do you remember me? My name is Lois."

She rubs her eyes, but nods.

"This is Felix. He's a friend."

Felix looks at me when I say it. Probably thinking, since when are we friends, we've barely sneezed in each other's presence? But I'm not about to tell a six-year-old that. She doesn't need to know.

"Do you need to use the bathroom?"

She looks up, uncomfortable, and nods quickly. She doesn't speak. It's awkward, but hell, who can blame her? I wouldn't be talkative, either.

I unplug my seatbelt. "Right, we're going to go in to the ladies' room and grab a snack."

Felix tugs a little on the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable. "Hey, uh, don't suppose you could get me any Babs while you're in?"

There's a bottle of them in my bag. The one the Headmaster gave me. I hand it over. "Water's in the back."

"Oh, you're a gem."

I help Alexandria out of her seatbelt, and she hops out of the car with some ease, and then recoils, just a little, looking around her. The world's not a comforting place under most circumstances for a kid that age. I offer her my hand.

"If you like, I can hold your hand. That way, we won't get lost from each other."

I don't know if that's how you talk to children. Up until now, I've taken the stance that children are typically very loud, sticky things, and I'm not a fan of loud or sticky. But it doesn't seem to matter much to her, because she takes my hand complacently.

The bathrooms are clearly marked outside the building, directing visitors to the back of the building. It's a hole in a cement wall of a bathroom – but not, by far, the worst gas station restroom I've ever seen. A little grimy in the corners, some explicit graffiti I don't think a six-year-old would understand, and the toilet paper from hell. You know, the extremely thin stuff, of which you need half a roll just to wipe your butt?