Cutie and the Crazed

~{-| 7.2 |-}~

Clement continued down the hallway towards Chrissy's voice. She may have hinted at ulterior motives, but at least he knew there would be bread there – and at least he would have some company. He couldn't have been in the manor for long, perhaps a day at the most, but he couldn't wait to shake off the silence that had clung to him in the empty halls.

In front of him, an open door led to a cavernous carpeted dining hall, where Chrissy sat at the head of a long table set for two, her face still hidden behind her now familiar mask. He entered the room, scanning for any obvious physical traps, like the ones he had read about in books – quicksand, tree sap, hunting traps – and found none. It must have been a mental trap then, perhaps a contract of sorts. Clement had no fear of these – as a child, he had always been a sharp reader, and he felt that he would be quick enough to never fall for any sort of trick Chrissy could present.

"Sit. Have some bread," Chrissy said, something in her tone shocking him enough to take a seat across from her at the other end of the table, where a round bun had been placed in a plate, accompanied by a variety of fruits and cheeses. Could the bread be poisoned? Perhaps. He put aside his hunger for the moment and watched Chrissy instead.  

Chrissy didn't eat either; rather, she began whispering to the clay water pitcher next to her, too quietly for Clement to hear any of her words. He watched as she glanced between him and the pitcher. They must have been discussing him – well, discussing him as well as a lady and a piece of pottery could. She seemed nervous – imagine that – as if she was the one afraid of him. Chrissy looked up at Clement, and her gaze steeled. She paused for a moment, and then she spoke.

"Ms. Pitch suggests I attempt to have a discussion with you. She has provided me with a list of appropriate topics, such as but not limited to the weather. How do you feel about this weather?"

"I would much rather be experiencing the weather from the outside of this house, but it does sound like fine weather indeed – at least, I do not hear any storm. Do you suppose there are any windows in the house so that I can see this elusive weather?" he replied.

"I haven't seen any windows in a while – the house keeps changing things, though. It hasn't let me see the light of day for a few weeks now... or maybe months; it does get hard to keep track of time in here," she said merrily.

 Clement debated whether to bring up his experiences in the library– the note in the book earlier had suggested that curiosity was not welcome, and discussing it would be admitting he had done some exploration. Still, he felt the need to address it – if she had written it, he would know by her response, and the mystery of the letter's addressee could be solved.

"This is a beautiful house – I saw a door to the library in my room, so I paid it a visit."

He watched her for any sort of reaction to his adventure, but couldn't detect any emotion under the mask.

"I found an interesting note tucked in a book there."

Her eyes sharpened.

"What kind of note?" she asked.

"I'm not sure who it was meant for, but it warned me not to explore. It said that the most curious of people always happen to...die. Did you write it?"

Chrissy seemed to pale, as if the life was trickling out of her.

"Of... of course not," she stammered. She took a moment, as if searching for something to tell him, and stood from her seat. Her voice took on a sense of urgency.

"What book was this?"

"It was a children's book. Blue Bear."

Chrissy froze. Her next words seemed to seep out of her mouth, a mixture of wonder and terror barely loud enough for Clement to hear.

"Xavier... he's back."

She paused, staring down at the pleated folds of her voluminous skirt. Clement heard a light clinking, like metal chimes, before Chrissy stepped forward to the side of the table and laid down a short dagger at the center, pointing the hilt towards Clement.

"Keep this with you. To cut your bread."

She then turned towards the door.

"Try not to hurt yourself. This carpet was rather expensive, and I'd rather not have you running around and staining it with blood."

With this attempt to seem composed, she hurried out the door, leaving Clement alone with the food, a water pitcher, a boatload of questions, and, with the weapon Chrissy had left him, a little more courage. Courage enough, even, to begin to wonder what exactly Chrissy was hiding from him.