The man gave the impression of a teddy bear that had gotten lost on a highway and was ran over several times. Effort to look nice has been made; clearly fresh out of shower, his dark locks were still moist at the ends and he smelled strongly of apricots. He was drowning in a grey hoodie that could be described as well-loved and soft pink tracksuit trousers. His feet were bare.
“Hello.” Lily tuned down the cheery attitude she brought to her appointments. “I’m Lilith, from Darling Date. Are you R-A-B?” The man nodded mutely. The damp ends of his hair brushed against his sharp jaw. He looked thin, not quite skeletal - but thin enough that it made Lily feel better that he had ordered a dinner to go with the date.
“Yes. …Hello.” He stepped aside, inviting her in.
Lily smiled warmly as she stepped by the man. The poor dear was so shy, she would bet this was the first time he hired a companion. “The waitress gave us a cheesecake on the house,” she stated as a conversation starter. It didn’t elicit more than an aborted anxious fidget. “It looks you’re their favourite regular!”
“I try.” It wasn’t a whisper, but his voice was very quiet.
Much like its owner the flat bore signs of a hasty clean-up. Footwear kicked under the shoe rack and out of sight, a stack of papers swept in a pile to look tidy without being put away, a throw blanket on the couch hastily straightened.
“Kitchen’s,” he pointed deeper in the flat timidly.
Deciding it was up to her to take charge for now, Lily set the takeout on the kitchen counter, and started unpacking the bag. “Do you want to eat from plates of are the boxes okay?” The cabinets had glass doors and so it was fairly easy to locate cups. There were dark grey mugs she recognised as from IKEA, but most of the collection were decidedly gifts. It would appear Mister R.A.B. liked cats.
Snap.
“Um, box is fine. We could eat on the couch?” His fingers played with bracelets hidden under his sleeves as his voice lifted in question. Snap.From the sound of it, some of those bracelets were rubber bands.
“The couch is fine by me.” She found the cutlery. “Would you like to watch some telly?”
She carried their food to the living room. It felt bare despite the warm colour palette, the soft rugs, the personal possessions set down on the bookshelves and hanging on the walls. She could not explain it, the loneliness oozing from the walls. If she peeled back the wallpapers she would find scratch marks the man left there trying to escape his own skin. In the centre of the room was the seating area, as downhearted in atmosphere as the rest of the flat.
In a corner by one of the large windows was a furniture piece draped all over with black lace. Displayed on it were framed pictures of one of those naked cats Lily personally thought were really ugly.
“Kreacher,”
She looked to her host, who was holding an ornate tea set with an air of awkwardness. “My cat,” he said, “Kreacher. He passed away.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lily said gently.
He shrugged, a doleful roll of a shoulder, and came to sit on the opposite end of the couch. He placed the tray on the small table. Retracted his hands to his lap where he tugged and snapsnapsnapped at the rubber bracelets on his wrists.
“I - completely understand if it’s not something you’re comfortable with and if you’d rather leave. I’ll pay for the whole night as per the contract, in every case.” He glanced at her nervously.
Smiling, Lily prepared herself for a request that lied outside of services she or the agency offered. Her left hand found her phone, thumb resting on the emergency call button. She did not expect him to become violent upon rejection; the customer screening was rather thorough. Still, the safety protocols were enforced for a reason. She wouldn’t be working with Darling Date if it made her unsafe.
“Could you - hold onto these for the night?”
Cautiously, she took the pill container. If it were recreational drugs, she’d have to leave; even alcohol consumption was evaluated as potential danger to the escorts and required qualifications Lily didn’t have. She turned the bottle around to read the label.
Snap.
It was anti-anxiety medication. The short term, instant relief, addictive kind her mother started taking after granny passed away.
Snap.
It showed a great deal of self-awareness and self-control that he recognised he wasn’t in a good mindset to be alone, and that he sought out help. She felt he was far more likely to hurt himself than her; and that her presence was a precaution to that.
Snap.
His wrist had to be bruised pink. She’d read once that snapping hair ties or rubber bands against one’s wrist was sometimes an alternative to self-harm.
Snap.
“Okay, I can do that,” she smiled and tucked the pills away in her purse. “What do you want to watch?”
Slumped in relief, his fingers on the bracelets stilled.
“Pride and Prejudice?” he suggested, hope lacing his voice. “You can pick. I have adaptations.”
He did have adaptations. The 1995 BBC one that doomed Colin Firth to portraying romantic love interests, the one with Keira Knightley - Lily saw that one with Mary, it was a bit too romcom-y for her taste; “Brideand Prejudice?” she read out loud, pulling the DVD from the shelf to take a proper look.
“Bollywood version,” he said, “I haven’t watched it yet. I just own it.”
Bollywood meant flashy singing and dancing, which Lily wasn’t really a fan of. She returned the DVD and moved on to the next one. Oh, that looked more her speed! “Pride and Prejudice and Zombies?”
“That one was surprisingly enjoyable. I expected it to be utter hogwash, but the Wickham plotline was - I figured it out early on, but it was a nice twist. I really enjoyed the portrayal of the Bennet sisters' relationship, giving Liz a knife for the confession scene was inspired, zombie slayer Lady Catherine was phenomenal. I don’t really like their Mister Darcy but, uh, the romance aspect was rather, hm, lacking? In my eyes? As a whole. Overall, if you can make peace with certain choices, such as the zombies just standing there long enough to be noticed before attacking, it’s an engaging and relaxing picture.”
It was lovely to see him focus on something he clearly adored. The fingers on his wrist relaxed and his whole body leaned forward like he could not get close enough.
“Sounds fun,” she declared. Soon enough the film was playing, and they tucked in their take out boxes.
It is universally acknowledged, that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains…