Charmed or Possession

Chapter 11: Ineluctable Desires

Resting her forehead against the oak-panelled wall, Svenna closes her eyelids as she replays the mortifying scene in her head.

Stop freaking out. It was an accident. He knows that, which is why you're still standing here, breathing.

"I wish I wasn't breathing and that his deadly stare would have done the job," she groans into the wall. Scrunching her eyes, she rebels against the inner voice, "I'd rather be dead than standing here, outside the men's washroom, anxiously waiting for him to come out from behind this goddamn door!"

She brings her hands on each side of her head, pressing her palms against the wall before withdrawing her head and thrusting it forward lightly. Her forehead bangs the wood with a soft thud just as the door swings open and a paunchy man with a balding scalp emerges from it. She jerks her eyelids open, turning her head in his direction without lifting her forehead. The muscles in her eyes relax, answering the man's quizzical look with a sigh of relief.

"Don't worry. I'm not a perv or anything. I'm not here to sneak a peek at your ding dong," she says impassively. The man's eyes widen further, prompting her to quickly amend her declaration. "Or anyone else's for that matter."

"Right. Well, you have a good evening," Paunchy Man nods awkwardly before walking away. After a few steps, he stops and turns around. "You didn't drive here by any chance, did you?" he frowns, scrutinising her vulnerable stance.

Jerking her head backwards, she flicks it to the left, returning her gaze back to the man's face. "No. Why?"

"Good. Make sure you get home safe. If the bus takes too long or navigating by tube is too hard on you tonight, call a cab or an uber. Just don't take the risk."

Svenna quirks a brow uncomprehendingly, confused by his unsolicited advice.

He scratches the back of his neck, discomfited by her perplexed stare. "I have a daughter. I wouldn't want her to be in a... compromising situation after a night out, drinking."

Lifting both palms off the wall, she straightens her back, fully turning her frame towards him. "I'm not drunk," she says firmly, her voice clearer and louder than that of her previous replies.

The door near them creaks, diverting their gaze sideways and onto a man wearing a stained blue sweater.

"Don't worry, mate. She's not drunk. How can she be when her drink is all over my shirt?" Emeric gestures to the folded shirt in his hand, blotches of pink tainting the crisp white. He then lowers the garment, sweeping one hand across his chest.

Paunchy Man lowers his gaze to the purple coloured streaks on Emeric's sweater. A look of comprehension dawns across his features, accompanied by a twitching of the muscles in his cheeks. "I see. Well, you two have a pleasant rest of the evening then," he nods to each of them, excusing himself. "Poor chap. Pity the girl, though. Hope they can still salvage the night," he mutters as he resumes his return to the bar.

The man's remark came in a low voice, but it wasn't too faint to not be heard by its objects. It summons the rush of blood to Svenna's already mortified face, painting her cheeks with the same colour as the stain on the shirt in Emeric's hand. She turns away from him, letting her hair cover half of her face, concealing the embarrassed flush.

This night couldn't get any worse, can it?

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to spill the wine on you," she begins to ramble, "Y-you startled me, and... and... well, I forgot that I was holding a drink and I spun around at your voice really quickly... and well, that happened. It's completely my fault. I'm sorry." Raising one hand towards the partially soaked garment, she offers, "I'll get it dry-cleaned or if you have a favourite cleaner already, I'll pay for it. Erm, for both of them – your sweater too. Whatever it takes to get the stain out."