A homecoming for Hannah.

CAST: Nero Dollarhyde (hatecuiture@aol.com), Hannah Fein (scalesenpointe@aol.com)
SUMMARY: Nero answers Hannah's question regarding what they're going to name their new home. And a couple of other questions she never asked aloud.
TW: nausea-worthy romance

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[Hannah] A red head cocked to one side as Hannah settled, criss-cross-applesauce, in the middle of the master bedroom's king size bed. The bed itself was a dark, ornate thing with splashes of dramatic purple upholstery that was chosen to suit the werewolf she slept beside in it, no doubt, but its linens were lighter and sweeter florals: evidence that she wasn't just a guest, there. Though a banker's box of things brought from Nero's old residence to their new sat beside her, it was the bedspread that stole her attention for precious seconds before she returned to the seemingly endless work of merging two lives into one home. The empath had been skittish since a late night conversation with gal pal Mackie at Joe's, a week or two ago. Despite Nero's every insistence that she was to make herself at home in the old Victorian-era manor, it didn't feel like home to her, yet. He didn't feel like home to her, yet. Something, some little, white string held her hostage, kept her safe from falling too far, too fast, too hard into the fantasy she'd found her present days part of. She craved and yet couldn't trust things like fantasy; the dichotomy of every reluctant realist, I suppose. Why had she agreed to this? Was it the rush that always came with his boyish smile? Was it the whiskey in his eyes, on his lips that warmed and melted her common sense away? What ever it was, she didn't tell him no, when he'd pulled into the driveway on her birthday, jingling keys before her and using words like 'ours.' An idle thumb traced the lavender plant pattern on the white bedspread as she turned her head, ponytail following with a swing, to look at him when he entered the room. Part of her knew that she'd loved him for quite some time. Part of her knew that she wouldn't have been so eager to simplify his life for him by disappearing, if she didn't. She didn't tell him no. How could she have? The yes just felt... unfinal, somehow. There were only a few feet left for her to fall before the violent smack of no-going-back, of you're-fucked-now, of I-love-you-out-loud and oh-God-it-hurts-so-fucking-beautiful-just-let-me-die-with-you; and she wanted it, but there was that string. The little, white string that held her just shy of being love's fool. Mackie's question lingered. 'Do you think he's your forever sort of person?' The maybe of it terrified her. There she sat, trying to figure out what to do with herself beyond the obvious: Put things away, Hannah. The pale blue tee shirt she wore boasted a fading silhouette of the Beatles and hemmed just over the low rise of black leggings, allowing a sliver of a peek at her flat belly. "Is the safe ready, upstairs?" was the question that came out of her mouth, though it wasn't the one at the forefront of her mind. "I think that some of your first editions are in this box." The one whose lid she had twisted at the waist to lift and set to one side with care as though the banker's box were as precious as its contents.

[Nero] Nero had learned during the course of his lifetime the importance of preservation. Whether it be a first edition from his collection, or a one-of-a-kind item procured through his infinite connections of less than reputable sources. It always proved sound advice to preserve relics from the past. One never knows when such an item may prove useful against whatever force reared its ugly head next. Construction on converting the upstairs game room into a library didn't come at any small expense. He made certain they used the finest cherrywood they could procure upon the installation. Cherrywood cabinet and shelving systems to hold rows and rows of history's finest literary works, some by world-renowned masters of literature in all its facets. Of course, knowing Nero he had another addition in mind, one only Hannah was made privy to on account of her equal fondness for his book collection. Some of which he had found in ruins, but managed to breathe life into them anew with his knowledge of repair and maintenance. Nero understood how to treat the binding, how to adhere pages to the binding, and how to maintain old world leather with a bare minimum of cracking of the hide. The written word had its place in the world, it's what brought stories to life and gave the creative mind a new perspective from which to view life in general. In order to preserve, he arranged for a walk-in safe to be installed into the wall, with the cabinet and shelving system built over as if nothing were even there, but both himself and Hannah knew. That was enough for him. He had just finished inspecting the installation after the security company had concluded. Closely inspecting their handiwork so as to ensure everything at least appeared seamless. Only after he examined every square inch did he finally return to the bedroom they shared. This time it was his turn to wear a heather gray cardigan over his broad shoulders and barreled chest. Nero neglected to button all but two buttons near the bottom hem. A pair of black, cotton brushed slacks worn, with a set of narrow leather suspenders affixed to the front anchor points of his slacks for stability. Underneath was a simple black shirt he printed himself with the phrase Christian Grey Sucks captured in bold across the front. Another glimpse into the more playful side of his warped mind. "It appears as though they were successful. I can honestly say to the untrained eye, it appears seamless with the rest of the cabinet and shelving system. No other ol' geezer will be any the wiser to it's location." Oh, don't think he didn't spy the fleeting exposure of her flat stomach. It may have been brief, but he managed to sneak a peek nonetheless; no matter how short a window it might've been. Gradual strides eventually carried him to the edge of the bed, where he began idly grazing his fingertips across the spines to a couple of books. "Remember now, the safe is meant for priceless artifacts and antiquities. Such as the tomes that came into my possession some months ago. Perhaps such pieces as John Milton's Paradise Lost and Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy may be reserved for the safe." Why yes, even works such as these had somehow found their way into his possession.

[Hannah] She knew, somehow, that he would make a painstakingly thorough assessment of that safe and all its components once the security company left him alone with it. There were very few ways in which she considered Nero a typical man, but there was no denying that when it came to his toys -- his security system, his Rolls Royce, his books, his antiques, his weapons -- he was as twitterpated with them as any other. Everything had to be just so. Hannah had watched him sharpen one of his knives for what must have been hours, recently; the night he brought her home after a high-five from half-demon Tucker sent her flying backward into a knock to the noggin. Well-meaning Ash had bundled her up in his coat and carried her. Quick-acting Jasper had tried to make the trip shorter by utilizing the shadow roads. They'd both done the best they could have with the knowledge and the resources they had, and for them she was grateful, even if exposure to the shadow's freeze had only added to the damage to her cold-blooded system. Nero, of course, had known just what to do with her: the powerful visions afforded him by their spirit bond at work, again. She remembered waking several times during that night to find him exactly as she'd left him; tense jaw and a blade, making hard, rhythmic passes forward over a leather strap and back again. She'd wanted to ask him where his head was, to lay soothing hands on him, but her exhaustion prevented her from doing so. "Good," half a smile broke the thoughtful furrow of her brow as he lowered onto the edge of the bed. That teeshirt of his had given her an amused surprise at breakfast. She'd nearly choked on the strawberry that she'd just bitten into when he came into the kitchen wearing it. "No other ol' geezer, huh? Is that what you are, at twenty-two? An ol' geezer?" Some wise-assed little voice in her head suggested that she get him penny loafers for Christmas. She shooed it away. (He probably already owns a pair, that's her reasoning.) "Yes, thank you, sir librarian," the wise-assed little voice spoke up again, but this time it spoke aloud. "I'm not very well-read; I just don't know what I'd do without your hovering and your correcting mistakes that haven't been made, yet, and..." she sighed dramatically. "Oh, you're my hero. How would I have ever known my dog-eared copy of Twilight from your irreplaceable copy of the Divine Comedy without you?" Hannah does not own a dog-eared copy of Twilight. She doesn't own any kind of a copy of Twilight.

[Nero] "You pose an interesting question." Nero had grown accustomed to her wisecracks and overall smart mouth. A trait he came to find most endearing over the course of time they had shared together. They were just several days removed from the incident that occurred at the coffeehouse. Upon receiving the initial call from Jasper, he made great haste across the old city in order to intercept the motley crew responsible for her. How they landed on the idea to take her to an infirmary was beyond even his understanding. Had she been admitted, the first line of testing administered could've easily given away the fact she wasn't human... or like anything else inhuman at Shepherd University. Fortunately he arrived just in time to spirit her away, determining he could care for her far easier at their not so little, not so humble abode, and sure enough she began to regenerate, growing more into herself the moment he introduced her to the outside garden. "Some questions are better left unanswered for a time. Therein lies the pleasure in extracting such information." About that time, Nero raised his hand to her face and outstretched his arm, so that his hand could come to light against the side of her face. Using his thumb pad to softly graze over her bottom lip in several tender caresses. "I did take it upon myself to purchase for you an item you might find of use." With his other hand, he reached back for a plain white gift box; one that could easily be folded away for another occasion. Nero then casually slid the box into her lap. Once she opened the box, she would find a pair of wool gloves that matched his. Except for the fact that their fingertips were still intact for obvious reasons. Oh yeah, and a pair of elegant leather gloves cleverly disguised underneath.

[Hannah] Perhaps her smart mouth was easier to find endearing than infuriating because the tease in it was always warm and sweet, always inviting; never caustic, never truly insulting. Nero's response elicited the subtle shine in the gradients of color that made up her eyes and the soft laughter that held something in it for him alone. "Let's hope we never have a reason to extract that kind of information," she suggested, bottom lip full against the brush of his thumb. After all, a reason to extract that kind of information would mean that she'd potentially left poor Alighieri to the ravages of company in some other room in the house, and she might never forgive herself for that. Hannah reached for the hand that cradled her face, curling it in on itself so that she could press a cinnamon-scented kiss to tattooed knuckles with great affection. "More gifts? Nero." A scold, in a way, but a resignation in another. It seemed that the man sliding that little gift box into her lap would be giving gifts when and where he saw fit, no matter how she tried to reassure him that she didn't want or need them. She shouldn't have been surprised. Nero did what Nero wanted to do. As long as he knew that her loyalty didn't depend on them, she imagined that she would just have to learn to suffer his gifts with his name a scold on her lips. Still, after she'd released his fist and freed the first pair of gloves from its packaging, her smile grew, assuming that the wool gloves were for her work in the garden. "Thank you. They're perfect." And as she began a scoot forward from the middle of the bed, the second pair of gloves freed themselves, flopping out onto the bedspread in front of her, betraying his ruse. A curious dragon peered down, relocated both pairs of gloves to one side and shook her head before continuing her scoot forward and wrapping the werewolf's neck in an appreciative hug. "And more surprises. Are you always so sneaky?" she accused, nose and mouth warm in their little snuggle against his ear. It didn't need an answer. He liked surprises. She knew that.

[Nero] While it was no real secret he took great satisfaction in showering those he cared dearly for in gifts, he was more often than not a man of practicality. Nero had never once afforded someone a charitable contribution they couldn't somehow put to practical use. Now, he clearly understood Hannah's strict stance on him frivolously spending money on her, but after certain events they were merely a few days removed from, he wasn't about to stand by and do nothing. Naturally, he devised a means by which to establish a safety barrier between her hands and the world in the form of not just one but two pairs of gloves. They were both of differing styles; one was more so for the mundane of everyday life, and the other nearly matched his own sleek pair of driving gloves, they were manufactured from more lavish materials and thus were intended for equally lavish occasions. She would just have to learn to suffer his gifts, whenever he felt so compelled to dote upon her at his whim. Just another example of his unpredictable behavior, he did do what he wanted when he wanted. That's just the way he was programmed, because he had spent a year of his young life dismantling near to all of the knowledge his parents had aimed to instill in him. Ever the rebellious son, he sought to follow his own direction rather than some preestablished one designed by his parents. Who were far too twisted and domineering in their own manner for his tastes. No sooner than she dared to venture closer for a much appreciated embrace, he dared to insinuate her just a hair closer then she probably intended for. "I care too much for you to weave a web of lies, but I was greatly concerned for you and your well-being. While I realize you have no control over your abilities of empathy, but I also realize that by establishing a barrier, it can at least keep them at bay for as long as the barrier withstands. Therein lies the purpose of these gloves. To contain your abilities so that you may at least experience physical contact without the adverse effects. Besides, I'm liable to become jealous if you insist on climbing inside the minds of others." Oh, that last bit was simply meant to be taken with a grain of salt; for he was merely putting her on for a mutual joke they could both enjoy. Nero then leaned in close to softly place a kiss to her cinnamon-scented lips.

[Hannah] Practicality was a thing that Hannah could appreciate. She'd always been practical; always exercised measure in her outward reactions and always exercised good sense in the decisions she made. Well, most of the decisions she made. To suggest that she's never colored outside of the proverbial lines would be false. The emotional state she found herself in, recently, was evidence of that. Nero seemed far less affected by the suddenness of their relationship. Hannah sometimes pondered the reasons why that might be. Maybe he had been ready to make his move for her before circumstances would have allowed it to be appropriate. Maybe he was less fragile, less terrified of attachment and loss, despite that he'd seen his own losses. Maybe it was simpler than either of those things -- maybe, as suggested, he was just... unpredictable. She found the hard headedness with which he marched to the beat of his own drum both maddening and an attractive quality. When brought closer than she'd meant to come, the brute's little ginger acquiesced to his unstated desire without fuss. Her body melted into his. As he spoke, she smoothed his dark hair back over his left ear with the fingertips on her right hand. There was half a smile on her face as she pulled back from snuggling at his ear to look him in the eye. "I know," she said of Nero's reasons for having gifted her with those gloves. The second pair had corrected her misassumption of the intent behind the first. They were gifts meant to protect her from any further harm that might come of her idle hands. "Oh," that soft laugh returned to her. "Jealous? You? I'd never have guessed you had a jealous bone in your body." Humor to meet his in the middle, murmured against a kiss that she gave back and lingered in.

[Nero] "Oh, not at all." Nero shared in soft laughter with her, because even he knew he wasn't immune to that wave of jealousy. It existed within him; even if he sought to maintain a measure of control over that part of his mind. That kiss lingered a moment longer until he reluctantly broke it. Of course, he followed with a tender kiss delivered to the side of her head. Afterwards he climbed off of their bed altogether, but not without turning to hold his hand out in silent invitation. "Come now, luv. Let us go and see the library. I wish to see the look on your face." He said, further motioning with a slight wave for her to slip her hand inside his. If so, he would proceed in running his thumb over her middle knuckle. Half expecting her to try on a pair of gloves first before taking him up on his invitation. Nero wasn't necessarily in any real hurry so he exercised patience while waiting for her. "I rather enjoy your taste in fashion. The Beatles; always a good choice." Obviously he had paid attention to what she was wearing for the evening. How could he not? She was promoting one of Britain's greatest accomplishments in the music industry. "I fancy seeing you in this kind of light. Not that I don't appreciate your love for cardigans, for we share that love equally—as you may have already noticed." Because yes, he was wearing his own cardigan over that brutish physique of his. Assuming she did, in fact, take his hand, he blazed a trail down the corridor from their master bedroom. Out into the atrium they stepped, so that they could climb the staircase into the newly renovated library. Wall-to-wall cabinet and shelving system crafted from the finest cherrywood, it still had a sheet of plastic covering much of the wood, showing that it had been recently installed. It seems mostly blank, except for the layers of plastic covering the floors as well as the cabinets. A beautiful fireplace sat on the far wall, but it still seemed awfully bare unfurnished. Of course, that would all change the moment they could begin decorating the interior to their liking. It was spacious, affording them both him plenty of room in which to file and categorize all manner of literature.

[Hannah] There was something about the way he laughed that made her want to stay in every moment he did it in a little longer than those moments lasted. That would explain the recent return of sass that no one had seen out of her in a couple of years: it made him laugh. He was watched with care as he relocated his kiss to the side of her head, then rose from the bed. Luv. Something in her preferred luv to dear infinitely, even if she knew that he meant l-u-v and not l-o-v-e. When he reached back for her hand, she extended it to him sans glove. There was no need to shield herself from him, and no reason to keep him waiting on her, so soon she was on bare feet by his side. "My taste in fashion?" she mused, not having figured Nero a fan of ponytails, casual band tees and basic leggings. He was so formal. She thought he'd have preferred her to match his detail more often than on the occasional night out. You see, she's very capable of becoming every inch the polished, glamorously attired patron of the arts she has to be when accepting invitations from old friend Gautier, who plays the cello with the London Symphony, and social opportunist instructor Alexei, who insisted on introducing her face to the Royal Ballet's red carpet for her future's sake as early as last year, but layers of taffeta and the sparkle of borrowed jewels is a little much for her daily life. At least they could agree on cardigans. She thought he looked so cozy, in his. For the better part of the day, she'd resisted the urge to wrap him up in her and squeeze him half to death. Her restraint was laudable. "The Beatles are my favorite band." Just in case he wanted to know why they were walking across her chest. Off to the library, she was tugged! Hannah followed where she was lead and paused where he did, ever-aware of her partner's movement. The warmth of cherry wood relaxed her shoulders. As he would learn, if he hadn't already, the empath's environment had a considerable affect on her. "It's beautiful," she smiled, giving his hand a swing. "I can't wait until it's full of books." Old ones. The older the better, as far as she was concerned.

[Nero] Oh, there wasn't any doubt in his mind that she possessed the capability of being every bit as polished, as glamorous as any. There was no denying the measure of grace and elegance displayed by just the manner in which she followed closely by his side. Even in the mundane she possessed a bearing that spoke volumes, whether or not she was wearing the ballet flats she fancied so. Much in the same fashion it was rather easy to make the connection that he was comfortable and at ease in rearranging a rival's facial features. Nero was the next generation to follow in a celebrated history of gratuitous violence. It's what came natural to someone who was practically born to be a predator. The prodigal son to a certifiable madman, it's just too bad his father's fate was sealed for all intensive purposes. If his sisters clever pitfall didn't succeed in the long run, then he was more than willing to step in and deal the killing blow, and at long last lay to rest the would-be tyrant. "As I said, you have a good sense of taste. Whereas I find great pleasure in mocking this godforsaken twat of a literary character." Nero stated plainly, before he threw open his cardigan in hopes of eliciting a laugh from her once again. After this morning's breakfast, she would be hard-pressed to forget such bold words captured on his novelty tee shirt. He literally preened, standing there with his cardigan spread wide open—as if he were Clark Kent on the verge of transforming into Superman. Oh, but he refocused on their surroundings after hearing Hannah remark on how beautiful it all seemed. "Aye. Books as far as the eye can see. All of varying ages and historical importance. Greek tragedies, Shakespearean tragedies, Victorian romance; anything and everything you could possibly think of. They shall all find their place on our shelves. It shall grow to newer and more exciting heights of beauty in due course. But, even then it will pale in comparison to your beauty, Hannah. At the end of the day, they're still just books. I have something far better, I have you." Cheesy much? Quite possibly. It was spoken from the heart at least.

[Hannah] There was just no smothering her peal of laughter at his antics. Who would have been able to keep a straight face? "Be kind," she admonished Nero, though she held no particular fondness for Christian Grey or his author. "And don't judge the world's Godforsaken twats. Everyone likes a spanking every now and again." He'd dropped her hand to throw open his cardigan, which left her free to wander out into the center of the library and have herself a slow three hundred and sixty degrees worth of view after having defended Anastasia Steele's honor, though she held no particular fondness for her, either. In fact, the only thing she could say that she liked about Fifty Shades of Grey at all was the color grey. It's such a soothing color. Like... rainclouds. "You know, the safe really does blend right in. That was a great idea." It had probably been his idea. Hannah would never have thought to install a safe in a home. She didn't own anything worth keeping in a safe, except for one old, leatherbound journal penned by some T. Lyons, recovered from Thistlewaite's in Durham at a ghost's request just before old man Carrington was found dead... and she didn't know that it was worth keeping in a safe. "Don't forget the fables and the fairytales," she murmured. Her murmur echoed throughout the empty room. "Or the poets. Even the American ones." The sick-sweet of what Nero said last put a very quizzical expression on her face as she finished her turn, crossing forearms under modest breasts. "Somehow I doubt that anyone in Alexandria would have agreed with you if you'd suggested that I was either more beautiful or better than books after their library was burnt to the ground."

[Nero] "If only someone had given Alexandria the sound advice to implement a strict policy of no smoking." Was he joking with her? Of course, he was. Nero was more than knowledgeable enough to fully realize the catalyst behind the destruction of the Library of Alexandria. It was civil war, that explanation was basically self-explanatory. It was the same reason why Nazi Germany seized masterpieces in all manner of art during the world war. History was selective in those that resided on its pages. Erase all known evidence and individuals, even entire civilizations were left unrecorded, it was as if they ceased to exist. Their legacies no longer a piece of the fabric that stretched on for generations to come. Nero also understood the reason behind burning books, scrolls, and all other manner of literary arts. One reason is humans as a whole were scared, terrified little creatures who had no taste for change in their lives. The moment someone sabotages their personal beliefs and security, well, they more often than not put to fire what they can't, or refuse to understand. Fear was a prominent motivator for some individuals to commit the most unthinkable acts. It could motivate those to reach beyond their station for greatness, like he once did. Then there were those who went the other direction altogether. Or, there was the classic burn everything so that our would be conquerors don't steal our documented history for their own personal gain. Anyways. "You can stare at me until your eyes lock that way. I can grow accustomed to just explaining to your inquisitive friends that you startled a horse, and well, your eyes serve as a reminder to never approach the animals blindside." Nero smirked slyly. See, he could be every bit as much of a smartass as she. Of course, he reached out and trailed his fingertips across the back of her neck, letting her know he was simply teasing with her. Taking this opportunity in making strides towards where the walk-in safe had been installed. The security company had practically rigged up a hidden door triggered by a switch cleverly hidden on the edge of the bookcase. It would swing open, producing a high tech numerical pad in order for him to punch in the correct number combination. "Ah yes, there we are. Perfection." He said, standing back while obviously having one of his triumphant Eureka moments.

[Hannah] "If only," Hannah mused at the would-be psychiatrist and historian. "I assume you've already given yourself that advice." After all, not only did a lit cigarette pose the risk of housefire, it also discolored and scented precious, centuries old paper pages. The most careful smoker in the world could still do Nero's collection harm with repeated exposure over the years. The ceiling's ornate lighting fixtures commanded her attention. Everything else was background, for the moment, including her meander toward where he was opening up the concealed safe. "What few friends I have will never believe that," she countered idly. "You'd better tell them I got my marbles knocked loose by something bigger and badder than a horse." Curious fingers reached over her head for the seam between actual bookshelf and bookshelf meant to disguise, trailing southward with appreciation for the carpenter's mastery of his craft. Once Archimedes got the safe open, her meandering continued, right on into it. Maybe he'd keep her in there with all of his other valuables. "Have you thought about Nika's... invitation, any?" It may have seemed to come out of nowhere, but in truth she'd been sitting on the question for weeks. "The one she made at tea? You seemed cautiously interested."

[Nero] "I'm certain you would be cautious as well if our roles were reversed. The very bedrock on which my family has built their foundation has been in a state of deterioration for some time now." Nero replied, his own strides carried him inside the large, walk-in safe as well. So he could figuratively stand shoulder to shoulder with her inside a structure he had built for their mutual benefit. "I must admit, my being disowned was a humbling experience to say the least. The experience opened my eyes to the fact that I was no longer untouchable, I could be affected by this in the worst of ways." As he spoke, he neatly folded his arms behind his back, his hands clasped together, his fingers from both hands interweaving together in the process. "It served to remind me that anyone can be left broken, remove their names, remove their entitlements, remove their resources, but it takes a cheeky bastard to never say die. I didn't have a shilling to my name whenever I arrived in London, I dare say I was successful in carving out my own legacy without assistance from any outside sources. Therein lies the dilemma, for my businesses all share the Dollarhyde name. And while it exists in the realm of possibilities to be changed, it would take time and money. After just a little over a year in operation, it would be a questionable business decision on my part." He continued to express his opinion on the matter. After all, she had asked in all of her inquisitive nature. Turning his whiskey golds in her direction, he decided to conclude his point by saying. "I suppose I could retain both names legally. Dollarhyde would strictly be reserved for my reputation and stature as a public figure. While Godwin would be reserved for my personal life, with you and with Nika. We were both robbed of a proper childhood, my goal is to afford her some semblance of a family unit."

[Hannah] He could figuratively try to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, but he might find it difficult given that her natural curiosity had her on her toes reaching out to touch cherry wood shelves finished smooth, traipsing her way from where books would be kept to where precious knick-knacks would be kept to where Nero's collection of rifles would be kept and back again. A smile flickered across her face, first genuine, pleased with the energy that resonated through the natural material Nero had chosen for the safe's interior design. It felt well-sourced, like the other wood in the house did. Grown with love, harvested by honest working men. Trees have memories, you know. She could feel them as easily as she could feel everything else. Then that smile became forced, as he suggested that caution was due in the matter of whether or not to attempt reunification with what was left of the Godwin family. She'd only ever seen his parents once; the same night she saw him for the first time. She'd only ever seen his cousin, Constantine, once; that was a blur of blood and brimstone. Most of her familiarity with the Godwins was gleaned from Nika, and their last cup of tea had been enlightening, to say the least. "I imagine I would be," Hannah agreed. Of course, she was cautious about most things, so it was no great revelation that she'd have probably been cautious about that one, too, if she were standing in his proverbial shoes. With her curiosity about the safe satisfied, she eased a lean back into a shelf behind her. It had been cut low to allow for hanging art. Her palms settled onto its surface and her fingers curled over its edge, lending a bend to both her elbows. She settled a thoughtful gaze on him. "It's not unheard of to hold a 'doing business as' name. You've done well for yourself and I think you'd be wise to maintain the reputation you've built in London by keeping your businesses under the name Dollarhyde." And she was only referring to the legitimate businesses that she knew he ran. If she'd known about his other connections she'd have tried to forbid him from trying to attach Dollarhyde's reputation to Godwin. It would have been too much trouble, required too much explaining in a world that cuts first and asks for explanations later. Sometimes a name and a reputation is all that keeps you safe underground. Mention of providing Nika with some semblance of a family unit softened Hannah's eyes. "I'm glad you feel that way. I thought that the annex on the second floor would make a nice apartment for Nika." It had its own small reception area, a kitchenette, a bedroom and bathroom. It was just perfect for a little bird nest. "Is that what we'll call this place? Godwin House?"

Nero] "I'm uncertain whether or not I can persuade Nika to stay here with us. She never has been much for the congestion associated with living in the city. Then again, Wimbledon is a serene neighborhood clearly separate from all of the hustle and bustle. She may be inclined to accept our invitation." Nero mulled over the idea a moment longer in silence. Imagining how she might react to the prospect of residing with both himself and Hannah. He could see where both Hannah and Nika could benefit from the closeness of one another. They were both emotionally detached from much of the rest of the world. Nero naturally made the assumption they both enjoyed one another's company to some degree. At least that was the conclusion he had drawn after having been invited over for a spot of tea. "That's a smashing idea, luv. I could easily give the contractors a ring and perhaps arrange some extra privacy. Nika does so enjoy her privacy." There came an affirmative nod of his head, and then he was turning his attention in Hannah's direction. Slow, deliberate steps carried him closer to the spot where she had decided to take her lean. Both hands came to anchor themselves against her hips. Taking an extra moment for his gaze to linger upon her for a little longer. Nero reached out to tuck a couple loose strands of fiery red back behind her ear. "Godwin House. I quite fancy the sound of that." Nero said, his smile ever growing into an expression that conveyed warmth and a measure of authenticity not many outside of her had ever witnessed in him before. Contrary to popular belief, he was capable of happiness. Leaning in gradually with the aim of pressing a soft kiss to her lips. It all seemed very innocent, but never be fooled by a wolf in sheep's clothing.

[Hannah] "Even if you only offered it to her for her use while she's in the area," she added, knowing that Nika had a wolfsbane garden and a Carrington that needed her, back in Durham. "It might make coming and going easier on her, and... oh, there are so many rooms in this house, and only two of us. We won't miss the annex." It was true, what he said about Wimbledon. The peace and quiet, punctured only by the occasional bark of a pet and the laughter of one of the neighborhood children playing outdoors, was something that Hannah was still adjusting to. Peace and quiet can be a double-edged sword, at once needed and unwanted, particularly when presented with speculation and worry. It was also true that Hannah and Nika got on well in large part due to both their tendencies toward caution and introversion. Very little conversation was required between them when they visited, thus exhausting neither. The softness in her eyes brightened as Nero granted her wish, a shine he would likely have already come to associate with her gratitude and happiness. Those slow, deliberate steps, though; those got her attention, those were new. What was that all about? She watched him carefully, trying to add them up with anything different in the way he held his jaw and anything different in the way his warm, gold gaze narrowed in on her. Was he up to something? Could she stop the race of the pulse in her throat long enough to figure out what? What she meant to say was 'Godwin House it is.' What came out was a soft exhalation: "I love it when you smile at me like that," just as he began that lean in.

[Nero] "Then I suppose that makes us even, because I love the way you look at me." Nero proceeded to close the short distance between them by leaning further in. He didn't remotely hesitate in stepping forward, engaging her in a deep lip lock. It was a far cry different than the soft peck on the lips he applied earlier while they were still both in the bedroom. No, this one was far more intense than the last, and supercharged with electricity that surged through both of their bodies. It wouldn't have done any good to wear rubber soled shoes, because based on the amount sparks that went flying, he most likely would've adhered in place. And that would've just ruined all the work that had gone into building the safe they were still standing in. Nero was a bit tentative at first; mostly uncertain of how she might react. But there's a reason why Nero was building a betting house. Perhaps he was something of a gambler himself, a risk taker who didn't easily fear any man, or any supernatural creature. Nero was Nero. He took what he wanted and had no regrets whatsoever on his decisions leading to this point. So his hand, the one resting flush against her side, began to slide further upward. Just barely pushing up underneath the hem of her novelty band tee, the warmth resonating from his fingertips could be felt against her rib cage, if she so allowed it. Nero continued to feed that kiss of theirs, gradually applying his tongue by sliding over her bottom lip, pushing further in until he met resistance in the form of hers. Everything was done painfully slow, so as not to present her with too much, too fast at one time. Slow and steady wins the race.

[Hannah] And just as she was about to say something wise-assed about his ego, too. Surprise would have pulled her a step back, if she hadn't already been leaning back into that sturdy shelfwork. It manifested in a quiet half-second hum under the force of this new flavor of his affection. A replay of the previous few moments flashed behind her closing eyes as she tried to figure out what she'd done to tempt him and utterly failed. Was there some segue between talk of names and family units and his stalking toward her like a hungry wolf that she was missing? It wasn't often that even a humble empath missed that kind of thing! Goosebumps chased each other up the back of her spine and over the shape of her ribcage, where his warm hand had settled after inspiring an electric shock that tightened her belly with its slip under her tee shirt. Hannah reached up to smooth fingertips back over Nero's cheekbones, over his jaw, behind his ears, even up into the dark hair at the base of his scalp. Oh, he hadn't kissed her like that since the night he showed up on her temporary rooftop, covered in blood and bad news. She let him. She may have even encouraged him, though it was only in her body's natural reaction to him; pressing closer than close against his hand, belly snug against his hips and lips parting so that her tongue could taste his. Cinnamon. Now they both tasted like it. It occurred to her at some point in the deluge of heat he brought to her that inside a secret safe was an awfully strange place for a man to put the moves on his woman, but she figured they'd done stranger things.

[Nero] Oh, they had definitely done stranger things. Inside a walk-in safe seemed as good a place as any for him to put the moves on her. It was, after all, one of if not the safest place in the house. Clearly privacy was on their side, seeing as the room they were both currently standing in had no windows and only a single door in or out. Therefore he planned on taking full advantage of the situation at hand. Gradually she melted into the kiss, her fingertips lightly danced across his facial features, before they dared to slide through his hair, reaching the base of his scalp. By this time, Nero could honestly care less about the placement of his hair. All he had on his mind was her, and what he planned to do with her. The taste of cinnamon was left to linger upon his pale lips for the duration of their kiss. Nero hadn't planned on releasing her until he had his fill or needed to replenish his oxygen. His left hand raised further along her rib cage, fingertips dancing over her supple flesh. That other hand of his had remained idle much too long for his tastes. Soon enough it too was on the move, reaching around behind her where she had been bracing herself against the sturdy bookcase, his hand rubbing over the back of hers; unless she had taken both hands to the back of his neck, and into his hair. The sensations brought on by their intimate embrace, it just seemingly caused the heat to grow even more between them. His tongue proceeded to graze alongside its counterpart, sizing it up before he started to draw tiny clockwise circles around it. Nero had gone and allowed his eyes shut, so he could just enjoy the moment they were sharing. But he needed a breath of fresh air, and so reluctantly he broke their lip lock. Leaning forward, leaving his forehead to rest against her own. His breath was a bit ragged, but he continued to hold her close in the aftermath.

[Hannah] There's privacy and then there's privacy. The difference between the two was entirely forgotten by the redhead relishing the way Nero's hair felt between her fingers. She'd always wanted to get her hands in it and mess it all up, just to see what he looked like disheveled and imperfect. Her motivation at present went beyond a sweet, playful challenge to his narcissism. She wanted to touch him, to feel things she'd only memorized the color and shape of in her adoring -- hopefully unnoticed -- stares at him. There was still so much they didn't know about each other. She never felt like she had all the information she wanted to have about him, yet she'd seen and felt the very core of him. Whether that was because their relationship was still new, despite their spirit bond, or because he made her insatiable... well, it's up for debate. Maybe that was it; the little white string that held her back. Maybe it was a fear of the depth to which she had to have Nero Godwin. Maybe it was herself she didn't trust, not him. She didn't trust herself not to fuck it all up and send him running like she did everyone else. Hannah wasn't privy to his plans for her, but what ever they were, she clearly hoped they wouldn't take him too far away from her. Both of her hands were in his hair, so when he reached behind her he felt only the surface of the shelf biting into her ass. One of her hands came down, contouring to the muscle in his shoulder, his chest and admiring the tactile suggestion of the raw strength hiding under his cardigan. It continued to fall until it found a comfortable place to sneak under his cardigan and curl into the side seam of his tee shirt. When she finally opened her eyes after the need to breathe forced them apart, she found his closed, and she smiled. "What was that all about?" she whispered between breaths that were no steadier than his. He'd feel her heart pounding behind the ribcage he still palmed.

[Nero] "Oh. I wasn't aware of the fact that I needed a reason to kiss my girlfriend." It was his simple response, but not without affording her another one of those authentic smiles of his. Designed with the intention of making her melt from its brightness. Nero didn't smile much, he never really had any reason to before, but ever since he had chosen to pursue a relationship with her, he just couldn't seem to wipe his smile off. Not like he wanted to in the first place, but it was a new experience for him. Just like it was a new experience for her. Nero hadn't wanted to overload her with so much in such a short amount of time. Perhaps that explains why he held back as much as he did, because he knew exactly how he could be. The potential that his forwardness may actually send her running for the hills, it did cross his mind every once in a while. He was fearful of the relationship his parents had, his mother was manipulated into a situation she couldn't control, and she essentially lost her mind as a result of it. That wasn't the main cause, but Nero suspected it might have factored into it somehow. But that was neither here nor there, he turned his attention back towards her in those following moments. Whiskey golds reflected the multicolored prisms that were her own eyes. They soon drifted further southbound, noticing her hand had insinuated itself inside his cardigan. Her hand contoured to his shoulders first, followed by his chest, before she managed across an anchor point in the side seam of his own novelty tee. Nero kept his hand firmly in place along her rib cage, he could indeed feel her heart hammering away. "I love to steal your breath away, luv. Almost as much as I find enjoyment in just our time spent together. It feels almost as if I have known you my entire life. It's rather peculiar how that works." He said, raising his hand to the side of her face. Softly cradling her in the palm of his hand, his thumb pad brushing over her plump bottom lip. "I wish that I would have known you more intimately at Saint Brigids. It may have changed the direction of my life for the better earlier on. Instead, I was forced to learn the old-fashioned way." Still, he refused to remove his hand from the inside of her shirt. Desiring more of that flesh against flesh contact and the warmth it provided.

[Hannah] His smile extended hers and tightened the curl of the hand that clutched at his tee shirt. "You don't need any reason to kiss me other than wanting to," she promised, flushing a shade of coral proper. The same orange-pink that colored kissed lips rose up into the apples of her cheeks, rendering her a perfect porcelain doll. If he hadn't wanted to overload her with so much in such a short amount of time, explain their current living situation! She was already letting her head second-guess the leap her heart had told her to make; 'too soon,' 'foolish,' 'infatuation.' But maybe it was all just... a defense mechanism. Because no matter what her head said, her heart leapt for joy when he smiled, lay still beside him when he slept and thundered in her chest when he touched her. She missed him when they were apart and she craved him those nights he had to work into the morning, leaving her alone in their bed with only the fantasy of him. It was overwhelming: so much more want and willingness to give than she'd experienced with anyone else. And she'd thought she'd been in love with someone, once, but he was only a shadow in Nero's spotlight, now. That was all he would have ever been, if she'd met Nero, first. The hand left in his hair smoothed down his arm to rest over the hand that cradled her face and she pursed a kiss against the thumb at her bottom lip. "Men like you always learn the hard way," she explained softly. "It's how they become their greatest selves." A hard swallow betrayed the lump in her throat. They'd never spoken so freely, so intimately about their feelings, before. It was quite outside of her comfort zone. "But I would have danced with you at that ridiculous winter formal, there, if you'd have asked. I wish you'd have asked." I wish you'd have noticed me at all, then. I noticed you. She made no move to disturb the hand laying claim to the soft skin under her shirt. It almost felt like it was starting to belong there.