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You press your lips together and sit quickly. You cross your legs. The chair is still warm, and Madrigal pushes the tin across the table. "He's standing," you say by explanation, and examine the pears. They're pale, like skin, and shellacked-looking. Madrigal's gaze is hot on you, so you pick one up between two fingers and bite in.
The tension dissipates nearly as fast as the pear: you don't know if it was the canning or the seawater or its unknown age, or your saliva, but you end up swallowing a sweet particulate mush. It might or might not taste of pear. Madrigal, relaxed, leans back in her chair. "Well, it's still some shit. I'd tell you to get it operated on, but I don't think— I don't think Ellery was all that pleased with his results, honestly. So maybe lesser evils. I dunno."
Lesser evils. "Yeah," you say, and wish you had a mug or a fork of your own. Something to twiddle.
"Well, anyways. I figure I'll go kick the shit out of Ellery a little later, since I think I— think Pat's gotta wake up for that. Or Earl, I can't remember. Or both? <span class="mu-i">Someone's</span> been in his head before, so they've got the— the combo, or whatever it—"
"I've been in there," you say defensively.
"What? Really? ...When?"
Did you tell her about it? You can't remember, so you guess you're glad she can't either. "Back at the start. After you first contracted me to—"
"Sheesh." Madrigal taps on the edge of the table. You swallow another pear, your stomach tightening.
"Your words, Charlie," Richard says.
You hate him. "So I should— I should go. See Ellery. Since I've been there, and I did <span class="mu-i">all</span> the work, and before you say I didn't do any work I'll have you <span class="mu-i">know</span> that serendipity is a, a, a time-honored skill of heroines everywhere, and I masterfully utilized it to uncover—"
"Okay. Slow your fucking roll." Madrigal places her hands flat on the table. "It's <span class="mu-i">my</span> boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend."
"I don't want to <span class="mu-i">court</span> him," you mutter. "I just want to see you punch him in the eyeball."
"Oh." She frowns. "You're not going to fuck with it?"
With <span class="mu-i">what?</span> "No."
"...If you're not going to fuck with it, I guess you can <span class="mu-i">watch.</span> Serves him fucking right, having an audience." She folds her arms. "But I call the shots, got it? It's <span class="mu-i">my</span> boy... ex-boyfriend."
This means that you have to talk to Ellery less, so according to Richard it's probably good for your blood pressure. "Fine. Sure."
"...Great! Well, I guess we—"
(2/3)
