Clio

[Clio Jones]

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[Clio Jones]

S M U G

It was an unusually dull night in the Excelsior Hotel, and Clio, for one, was thankful for it. She'd spoken to Sal briefly, and then decided to go have a drink at the bar in order to distract herself from the obvious problems at hand. They were in the middle of some of the darkest times she had seen. As many lives as she had lived, she had never once experienced the death of an immortal creature quite like that of a Phoenix. Despite the resurrection, the damage had been done. The amount of power unleashed had created something like a magical sinkhole; the explosion of energy went out, and then rushed back inward. She knew, better than anyone, the days to come would be worse.

And yet, she felt little on the inside in regards to it all. Maybe it was because she'd seen it all before in some form or fashion - she didn't know. She'd long since stopped wondering the why of her feelings as time crept by, but she supposed desensitization was the best she could hope for in this endless cycle. Lucifer had refused to be of any help, unsurprisingly, and now he was riding around in the body of someone who her father had once called a friend, which made everything even stranger. She rolled her eyes and tipped back the glass in her hand, the ice clicking against her teeth. Better not to reflect on that mess for a while. She was still reeling from the revelation.

"Mind some company?"

Eli's voice broke her from her momentary thoughts, and she gestured to the seat across from her with the ice-filled glass. He sat, and his arrival was soon followed by a waiter with fresh drinks for them both. Eli took a sip of his own, and they remained in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he spoke.

"How's things?" he asked. He meant, of course, how was the state of affairs at the hotel, and were there any clientele within that he should be aware of.

"Things are under control," Clio said, and she meant it. "Wards are safe, ghosts at bay as usual, and aside from the errant encounter with someone thinking that we're running some sort of magical brothel, there's no change to the daily state of affairs." When she saw he raised his eyebrows at her remark about magical brothel, she chuckled. "Hm, poor choice of words. There's this idea going around that we're like the Cantina from Star Wars. The new Concierge has it under control, though," she added.

"Yeah, I saw him when I came in - Clio, you know that's a Fae, right?" he asked, still somewhat surprised that Sal hired a Fae so close to Clio, whose disdain for them was centuries-old and rarely hidden.

"Unfortunately. A Brownie, to be more precise."

"Brownie?" he parroted. He made a face. "Aren't those supposed to be like, little round fat house fairies?"

"Well, he's neither little nor round, but he's absolutely a house fairy, if you think about it," she said, tipping her glass at him with a grim smile. "And anyways, he's unaligned. Or, rather, he is aligned, but it's to Sal. I don't know how he does it," she marveled. "He's like Cleopatra and all of these creatures are various men throwing themselves at him."

Eli snorted. "If you could never, ever refer to the man we consider our father as that again, it would still be too soon." He made a sour face and then kicked his drink back, already his other hand up to signal for more.

"I don't think you came just to check in," Clio said, the accusation more like a statement of fact than anything else. She sat up a little. "You could have called for that. So what's the deal, brother dear?" she teased.

He set his jaw as he regarded her, but he wasn't mad about being called out. On the contrary, if anyone could read him, it would be the people he considered his family. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, realizing he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say. He shut it, and then just said, "Hm," and put his chin in his hand, trying to find the words. Finally, he settled on, "House is empty. Thought I could use the company."

"Ah," Clio said, at once understanding the reason for his stoicism. "You know, she was never going to stay, Eli. You know that," she said, gently reminding him that the Reaper was not meant to stay corporeal forever. "There's no point in being sad about it."

"I'm not sad," he said defensively, holding his hand up. "I'm just - I feel like, I got used to having someone around, and now I'm in that transition period back to getting used to being alone."

"But you don't want to get used to being alone," she said. It wasn't a question - she knew the feeling well enough that she didn't feel like forcing him to articulate it. "I get it, Eli. But nobody is forcing you to be alone," she reminded him. "That's your choice."

He sat back in his chair, the look on his face plainly saying that he didn't agree. "I mean, typically it's a dead husband or a dead... death that's getting in the way, but sure, I get what you mean."

"No, those are both your fault," Clio said matter-of-factly. Sure, Sal might not come straight at Eli like that, but Clio had zero issue hitting him sideways with the facts. "You knew Harvey was alive, because you'd have seen if he wasn't, and you know it. And Claudia, I mean - come on," she said, scoffing. "You knew that was bound to fail."

"I didn't come here to be attacked, Clio - and, speaking of, you don't get to throw stones from that big-ass glass castle you're in, either. Hm? The goddamn boogeyman?"

She wasn't the least bit fazed by his response. "Yeah, my cycle that repeats, and will repeat, until I can get out of the cycle. This time, he's a boogeyman. The time before, a farmer. Sometimes he doesn't even have the ability to walk, but you know what? I made my choice, and I live with it, and I don't get all mopey when it's over, I just - "

"You kill yourself and start it again, yeah, I know. I don't have that morbid option," he interjected.

She made a face. "I just cope, and I know it'll come back around. Don't be a child, I haven't killed myself in at least a few hundred years," she countered. "And besides, you're just deflecting. If you'd stop being such a grouch, maybe you'd see that there's some blonde slip of a thing out there for you somewhere," she said with a shrug.

He nearly spit his drink out at that. "Excuse me, it'll be a cold day in hell before I try to talk to a blonde slip of anything, ever again," he said coldly. Claudia was a fresh wound, but Heather was the more painful, by far. Unfortunately, Clio was right on both accounts - he knew, somewhere very far inside of himself, that if Harvey had really been dead, he'd have seen him. He found it hard to believe the spirit of the man wouldn't have gone to check on his family at least once, and knowing what he knew of Harvey before - and now - the truth was, there wasn't a chance in hell he wouldn't have. Claudia... that was just a bad idea all around, but it was a rebound, and it ended up going on for far too long.

"How about a brunette, then?" she said.

"Clio, can I just - be mopey and enjoy a drink with my bratty sister?" he demanded, starting to get irritated. But she wasn't looking at him, she was looking past him. He wasn't willing to turn around and there be nothing there, but he was still curious all the same. "Not a blonde, not a brunette, not a redhead. Why?"

He finally did give in and turn his head, though, when she lifted her chin and indicated that he needed to. He could see someone talking to the Concierge, but he couldn't readily identify anything about them - medium height, female (or maybe just a very slim man in a very lovely dark green coat and dress, it could be possible). She, presumably, had mousey brown hair that held a slight wave, and it was moving as she shook her head. He looked back at Clio, both hands up.

"Okay, so?" he said. "Congratulations, you made me look at a random stranger."

"Okay, Eli. You win. I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back. Then we can commiserate together and drink and not talk about how tragic our love lives are," she said, a twinge of humour in her voice. She was serious about dropping the subject, at least, if the firm clasp on his arm as she left was any indication.

He sat there a while longer, finally feeling the curiosity build back up. When he looked again, there was nobody there, and the Concierge was talking to Clio. So much for going to the bathroom. She'd gone over there to meddle, he was sure of it. "God damnit, Clio," he hissed. He stood up, still focused on his "sibling" and trying to find exactly the right words to use to make her feel bad, knowing in the end they wouldn't work anyways, and as he made his way towards her. Before he got there, however, he ran - physically - into the woman in the green coat.

"Shit," he said, trying to side-step. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention - "

"No, it's my fault, this place is so dim - "

He was aware that they had an audience, but he was still kind of stunned that he'd actually almost plowed right into the person Clio had him spying on that he didn't know what to say. Finally, he offered a sheepish smile. "Yeah, the lighting is always like this. If you're going to the bar, there's a step right when you get in. It's sunken a little. Real ankle breaker if you're not careful," he said. He had no idea why he was telling her this, but he felt the impulse not to be an asshole for once in his life.

"Sure, I'll remember that," she said, nodding. "Thanks. Have a good night," she said, flashing him an appreciative smile.

He stood there for a second, then looked back at Clio, who stared at him smugly, her arms folded. She looked satisfied, somehow, and said something to the Concierge that he didn't hear, but he was positive he'd attempt to argue. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, holding his arms out at her when he was sure that the woman was out of earshot.

Clio grinned. "That, brother dear, was just a well-timed coincidence, as much as I'd love to pretend I have divine ability. Don't worry, I won't harass you anymore. Now, I really do need to go to the bathroom." She turned and walked towards the bathroom area, and left Eli standing in the lobby with the Concierge.

"What the fuck," he whispered, running his hand through his hair.

"I'm sure I don't know, Master Eli," the Concierge said dryly, before spinning on his heel and walking away.