The Result of Chaos

"Sir are you aware of how fast you were going?"

Officer Dickson, whom Castor had just internally renamed Officer Dick, stood outside of the dark red Tesla Roadster with a small device in his hand, which he read and typed on as he conversed with Castor. The driver, a rather handsome man, had a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, genuinely amused by the events taking place next to him.

"Don't you already know, Officer? I mean, you pulled me over so I assume you used one of the many devices in your arsenal to determine my speed and whether or not I should be pulled over." Ever the smart-ass, Castor offered the man a humorous smile and waited for his reply.

The police officer was not amused. Not even a little. "Of course I know. I just wanted to give you an opportunity to take some responsibility. Rich people fly through here at all hours of the day like you haven't a care in the world. Don't care about who you could hurt if you lost control, or tore through a residential neighborhood with small children running about."

Again Castor grinned. "I assure you, Officer, that I wouldn't need a car to hurt someone." The officer began to retort, preparing to raise his voice sharply as he too a deep breath, only to find his sails deflated when he noticed that the driver was no-longer sitting there. He appeared behind the cop, a few feet out, and when the officer turned, he found himself staring into the most enchanting pair of eyes he'd ever seen.

"What!? What are you-?"

"Sssh, raising your voice like that will wake the dead, Officer Dickson." Castor took a step toward him, his eyes never wavering. "Now here is what you must do. You will get back into your car and drive away, having not given out any citation to anyone matching me or my vehicle. You'll immediately forget my face, my name, and everything about me. If anyone asks, it was an uneventful evening entirely."

Castor waved his hand toward the officer's car. His lights faded for just a moment, then returned to normal. Harmless in appearance, he had destroyed any evidence that he existed from the dashboard cam. "You will go about your night with a smile on your face, and tomorrow you will return to your normal self."

A short time later, Castor arrived at the Arturian Amphitheater just as people were beginning to ascend the steps to enter. A valet took his spot at the helm after he exited the Roadster and whisked his car away for safe keeping. Castor himself entered the main hall, had his ticket stamped, and took his seat in the very of the second tier, which he proclaimed to be the best seat in the house. He was excited to see this show, as it had received excellent reviews, and recent attempts to attend had all met with failure for one reason or another.

The lights began to fade, signaling that the show was about to begin.

The end begins here. Every inch of my body paralyzed, while all traces of light vanish. One by one each of my senses begin to fade out, leaving me with a mixture of fear and helplessness. And then, unexpectedly, it all comes rushing back.


With a jolt Bexley sat upright in bed, her lavender locks sticking up messily in every direction, seeming to defy gravity. Her pale hues darted around her room as if she expected there to be something lurking just beyond her field of vision, hiding in the shadows. Seeing nothing the young woman sighed and ran her fingers through her tangled hair, letting herself fall back onto her pillows. In only a few hours she would be on stage (above it) flinging herself dangerously over a crowd of people with no safety net or harness. How was it that a dream got her heart racing more than the thought of near death?

Lying on the bed for a few moments more, she flung the covers from her body and meandered into her bathroom, footsteps padding softly across the wooden floor.

About thirty minutes later she emerged from her bathroom, dressed and refreshed; Bexley checked her clock to make sure she had enough time to stop for a coffee on her way to the Theatre, even though it was already two in the afternoon. The streets weren't too crowded, as most were at work, and the trip was easy.

"Hey Bex!" An older man, with a kind smile, leaned out of a food truck greeting the young woman. "Another show tonight?"

"Yep. Last week was supposed to be the end, but it got requested for a few more weeks. We are sold out, but I could get a seat or two for ya~" She winked, handing over a couple of crumpled dollar bills.

"Oh no. I ain't sitting there seeing my favorite caffeine addict dance with death." The elder man replied with a laugh, handing out a cup of hot coffee.

"I'm not dancing with death, I'm flying above him." Bexley laughed and started walking backwards away from the stand. "No worries. I'll see you after the show."

Inside the Theatre it didn't take long to get her ready for the start of the show. When the lights dimmed Bexley was high above the seats hidden in the darkness, her hand on a dark maroon curtain. Once it was completely dark, and an eerie silence settled, she took a breath and flung herself from the rafters, plummetting towards the patrons, unaware below her. A spot light appeared on her as she was nearly on top of the audience, but at the last second, she stopped. Her hands wound in the maroon curtain, she hovered upside down in front of the man in the very center seat. Bexley stared hard at him, a smile on her face, the strands of her hair moving as he breathed; they were so close, all she had to do was lean forward, and she could kiss him. He looked familiar, almost as if she knew him from somewhere...

"Let the show begin."

Bexley winked, flipped herself up, and wound herself, delicately and flawlessly, back into the darkness, pushing aside the familiarity that settled within her. And the show began.

Completely unaware of the woman diving toward him, Castor squinted forward, trying to find something in the darkness on the stage. If it hadn't been for the sharp gasp of someone three rows behind him, he might have jumped when she appeared in front of him, her face veiled in shadow but somehow clear at the very same time. He could feel her breath against his lips; they were close enough for him to count each and every eyelash above her eyes if he were so inclined. Their eyes met, and something clicked in the back of his mind, a long-forgotten familiarity that he simply could not place. He was certain that he hadn't seen her face before that night, except perhaps on posters or other advertisements. But this was a deeper connection, something that went much further than an aerial acrobatics show could ever hope to achieve.

Castor didn't hear what she said to him at first, but once she had left his presence, climbing back up the crimson silk she'd been gripping, he began to process exactly what she had said. It was as if her words were calling to him, daring to do... something. But what? What could it have been?

For the rest of the show, he could watch no one but her. The subtlety in her movements, the seductive way she positioned her body, the way her chest suddenly rose just before a terrifying maneuver, all of it drew him in and kept him there. During the intermission, Castor received a glass of wine, a dark red that tempted drinkers with just the faintest hint of sweetness that could only be detected if one knew to look for it. He sipped from his glass while he researched the acrobat who caught his attention from the very beginning, reading everything he could get his hands on.

The show continued again, and his focus went back to the girl with the lavender hair, his eyes never once leaving her, not even for a moment.

The show continued on as it always had, Bexley revelling in the terror felt by the audience every time a dangerous move was made. By the time the show was over, Bexley had all but forgotten the strange man whose eyes were seared into her mind. Until she spotted him when the lights came back up.. His eyes were locked on her. For a moment everything around her stopped and that familiar feeling welled inside her chest.

"Bex!"

Startled, she whipped around, staring at one of the other girls. "Yo."

"We're going for drinks, c'mon!" Ariella called from the left wing prompting Bexley to move off the stage.

"I'm coming, wait up!" She chased the girl back to the dressing rooms and changed her clothes back to casual wear, but no matter what, her thoughts drifted back to that guy. Why was he staring so hard at her? Who was he?

"Which bar?" Ariella nudged Bex in the side. "There's, like, six of us going, and we've all picked."

"You don't want me to pick. I like Chaos." Bexley finished brushing her hair and turned to look at the others, who all seemed to groan in chorus. "What? I like it there."

"We are, like, so not going there." Barbie incarnate said. She looked like a bitch, and was a total idiot, but she was a sweetheart underneath her hard, plastic like exterior.

"Suit yourselves." Bexley rolled her eyes and stood up. "Pick a place and text me. I have to go see my coffee man." With a wave, she threw her bag on her shoulder and exited the building via side entrance. It let out into an alleyway that diverted her path around any loiterers outside the building. It was convenient and quiet, two things she loved. But her mind was anything but silent. That man kept circling her mind, and it had been so dark she couldn't be certain she'd be able to identify him again.

When the show ended, Castor could do nothing but think. Who was this girl? Why was she so familiar yet so foreign? Most importantly, why could he not get her out of his head? He was a popular figure, and had flings here and there, even falling in love once, many years ago. But this Bexley figure... she was overriding his daily thought, and it troubled and excited him. He wanted to know more about her, but was concerned about the pull he felt to seek her out.

When finally he regained control over his own legs, Castor pushed away from his seat and made his way through the main doors. The moving air felt good on his face; a slight breeze had started up, though it was not a cold one. Still, he could practically smell Bexley on the wind, as if they had actually been close enough for him to memorize the way she smelled. But as odd as it sounded, he knew immediately that it was her, and it was intoxicating and terrifying.

Trying once again to banish her from his thoughts, Castor made his way to a coffee wagon not far from the theater. The smell of freshly ground beans began to fill the air around him, which comforted Castor immensely. If he could bathe his senses in that fragrance, perhaps he would forget...

"Bexley," he suddenly blurted out as he rounded the corner, his eyes resting on the very girl he had been trying to forget. Again the feeling of familiarity poured over him like rain, drenching his soul in mystery and intrigue. He tried to play it off, as if it was not him that said it. Maybe she would assume that she just heard her name randomly, as he sometimes did, or that someone else may have been calling to her. Either way, he broke off I contact, turning to the side and pretending like he did not notice her.

"I evaded death again Marty, no need to worry." Bexley laughed as she cupped her coffee, inhaling the rich aroma.

"Knew ya would, just don't want to see it. My luck you'd fall on my head." Marty laughed leaning out the window.

"But I'd have you to cushion my fall." She winked, smiling big. Marty started to speak, but she didn't hear it, her attention drifting when she heard her name. After a quick glance around she frowned, confused but shrugged it off as hearing things. She did, however, spot a man nearby and it looked like he was waiting to get coffee. "Oh, sorry! I'm taking up all the space, geez, just say something." She shifted to the side.

"Anyway, Bex, if you're not going out with them tonight try to get home safe. Weirdos come out late y'know." Marty warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine. They don't want to go to Chaos so I'm gonna blow em off." She shrugged and leaned against the side of his cart, fingering sipping the scalding liquid. "You know, the weirdest thing happened tonight. There was this guy.." Bexley continued on to tell her friend about the weird connection she felt with the patron during her act, while he stood nearby, unbeknownst to her.

The longer the two spoke, the larger Castor's hidden grin became. At first he was almost disappointed that she didn't know it was him standing there, but quickly it turned into happiness. Not only did she feel the same connection, it was strong enough for her to speak about it to her friends, and real enough that she spoke... vaguely fondly of the experience, not with disgust or anger.

By the time she had finished, or come to what Castor believed was the end of her story, he decided it was time to introduce himself. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a few bills to give the coffee merchant, put on a genuine smile, and leaned forward.

"Large coffee, black with a little sugar please." He didn't suppose that Bexley would know his voice, as she had never heard him speak, so he maneuvered himself nonchalantly so that she would be able to see his face without looking like that was his aim.

He then turned to face her, the same smile still etched into his lips. "He's right, you know. I don't mean to eavesdrop, but there are some really creepy people out tonight. If you need a ride, i'd be happy to get you a cab. Anonymously, of course."

Bexley hummed softly as she drank her warm coffee. "Nah, I'll be alright, I live just around the-" She finally looked up from her cup, and a cold dread stopped her in her tracks. That was the guy! "-corner.." She finished, feeling her face grow hot. For a moment she turned her face away from him. "Fuck." He was right there the entire time?! Ugh! Now she felt like a absolute ass, and he was there the whole time, probably heard her, thought she was a weirdo, or some creep.. Bexley was utterly mortified. She wanted to crawl into Marty's coffee truck and hide.

"A-anyway.." She cleared her throat, and quickly hid her face behind her coffee cup to take another drink.

"What is wrong with you? This gentleman is offering you a cab. And you don't live around the corner. Its six blocks from here." Marty looked confused for a moment before he realized why she was acting that way. Then he laughed and went to make the man's coffee. "Geez, girl, you are something else."

"Don't go blabbing about where I live to strangers! He could be one of the weirdos you were just warning me about." Bexley chided half joking. "No offense, I'm sure you're a great dude."

"Here you are, sir." Marty handed over the coffee, then looked back at Bexley. "Its dark out. You ain't walkin home alone. You either accept this nice man's offer, or I'm following you in my truck."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try and stop me."

Castor couldn't help but chuckle as Bexley's cheeks turned bright red. It was cute, the way she blushed, but again there was an unshakable feeling of familiarity. Whatever it was, it was strong, and she felt it too. That gave Castor a huge sense of relief, as it meant that he was not crazy. Or, at least, he was not the only crazy person in that group. Whomever she was, he had to know more about her.

"Now who's the creeper here? He wants to follow you in his ice cream truck, little girl." Castor winked and chuckled as he spoke so that it would be clear that he was joking. His humor was usually well understood, but you could never be too careful around new people. "I wouldn't risk it. Better let me get you home safely."

As much as he wanted to offer her a ride in his own car, he knew that would definitely give off the wrong signal, and Castor simply could not risk that. He would not risk tuning her off the concept of talking entirely. "Now, there's lot of taxi's in this city, or I can call you an Uber. I'd offer my car but... that'd probably be weird."

"I'm Castor, by the way." Marty passed over his coffee, which Castor accepted gratefully with a sincere smile and word of thanks.

"Bexley." She responded politely before shooting a glare at Marty, who just laughed. "And you can call a cab, or Uber, that would be fine, but you don't have to pay for it. I'm more than capable-"

"Just accept the man's offer, Bex. Its not a crime to let someone be kind." Marty interjected, a smug grin on his face as he leaned on the counter. Bexley opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. "Its not charity. Its probably because he heard your story and you creeped him out. Now he wants you far, far away." He laughed again as her cheeks brightened again.

"Marty!" She cried in embarrassment. "Can you just-.. Fine." Sighing, she leaned against the truck and put her free hand against her forehead to hide her reddened cheeks. Castor had to think she was mental. If he had overheard their conversation there was no way that he wouldn't have known she was talking about him. To speak so fondly of how it had made her feel, hanging upside down mere inches from his face.. He probably thought she was a lunatic.

"If you really want to I won't stop you, but I am perfectly capable of just walking."

"I know you are. Anyone that can hang upside-down, drop down from the ceiling, and end up so close to someone's face that you could kiss them without having to really lean forward is perfectly capable of doing a lot of things. But it's not about capability. It's about trust, and I don't trust the unwashed masses." Castor was putting on the smooth talk, yes, but it wasn't because he wanted to get in her pants. He legitimately did not trust random strangers. They were devious and greedy and believed that their lives were the only ones that mattered. They had no idea what their death would bring, and he, being Anubis, delighted in showing them just what their hubris had earned them.

"I tell you what. Walk back to the theater with me and we'll get someone to drive you home. There aren't any alleys, there's people everywhere, and then I don't have to walk back by myself. Deal?" Assuming she would accept his offer, Castor immediately started walking in that direction. He did, however, stop and turned to Marty, whose shit-eating grin could not have been more apparent. "Thanks for your help Marty. You're a good man."

In truth he was a pretty good man. The day he died would not be a sad occasion for him. His judgement would go well.

"Well c'mon then, star-of-the-show. Your chariot awaits."

"Yeah, yeah." Bexley rolled her eyes and began to walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow before the show, Marty." She called back with a wave. He watched the two walk away and shook his head with a laugh before servicing the next customer that walked up.

"Not all of the 'unwashed masses' are like that, you know. I used to be one." She said absently, sipping on her coffee as they walked. Bex didn't hold his comment against him (how would he know, they just met), but she figured with his clean, professional look that he hadn't known what it felt like to be homeless, to struggle just to eat or stay warm. It wasn't his fault, anyway. Everyone was born under different circumstances, raised in different areas; some built themselves up from nothing, some were born into it, some never struggled but never had to because of their own ambitions. Whatever category he fell into, Bexley wasn't bitter or hateful. Everyone was different.

"Did you enjoy the show?" Changing the subject as they neared the theatre, Bexley glanced up at him. Of course she had seen him up close and personal upon their first encounter, but now she gazed at him to try and determine where the familiarity had come from. It made no sense. If he was a famous person, or even well recognized, she wouldn't know. Not a watcher of news or a reader of tabloids a lot was lost on her about the public and state of the world. So why did she feel like she had known him?

Slightly embarrassed by his statement, Castor backed up just a little. She had given him the benefit of the doubt, but still he felt the need to clarify what he meant. "Sorry, I didn't mean unwashed like poor. I was actually commenting on their souls. Greedy people have dirty spirits, you know? Bloody and cruel ones. When you're poor, you're trying to survive. When you're greedy, your taking survival away from others, and I just find that idea revolting."

The subject change, however, was welcome, as Castor wasn't really sure if he was making his case any better or if he was just digging a deeper hole, so he decided to run with the conversation and hope for the best. "I really did, actually. I've seen a lot of similar acts, but nothing as daring as yours. You're constantly pushing the envelope, and I think that can really captivate an audience. You swayed my attention, after all." He smiled slyly, delivering a jab to her prior statements and goading her embarrassment. It was all in good fun, of course.

"Seriously though, i'm not sure why you aren't headlining that show. No matter what else was going on I was only interested in watching you. How come it's not your name on the ads?"

"No worries, Mate, you don't need to explain." Bexley brushed him off with a smile, quite enjoying her walk with a stranger. Her smile quickly faded, however, and her cheeks once again turned a bright red hue. "You were only enamored by me because I startled you. I'm not any better than the rest of them." That was not entirely true. While the others had all gotten formal training, Bexley trained herself and took gymnastics classes to increase flexibility and balance, but her dancing was all self taught. Bexley trained more than they did because she had a history of being overweight and to maintain it she had to constantly watch herself.

With her training and dedication she was far superior to the others, but would never admit it. "I'm not in the headlines because I'm not the headliner. And I would rather not be in the spotlight." Bexley had no interest in becoming head lady or whatever. If the press followed her they might find out her secret, and if they found out her secret, there would be hell on earth. And she would be the cause. "Its better just to keep things the way they are. I am content this way."

"What about you? Its awkward to only talk about me, mysterious Mr. Castor." She grinned.

"Yeah, like that's the only reason," he said casually and sarcastically. She was not wrong in that he was enamored by her, but it wasn't because she startled him. He was beginning to crave her, not just physically but completely. He wanted to know everything about her. The sense that they knew each other from before was starting to become overwhelming. "Trust me, it was more than that."

The pair rounded the corner, bringing the theater into view, though they were still a ways away. People were still waiting in front of the theater for their cars or their rides away, and everyone was focused on that goal. They wouldn't have noticed Bexley or Castor if they were doing naked jumping jacks.

"Me, eh there's not much to tell really. Came from very little, started a few companies here and there. I'm pretty boring really. The most adventurous thing i've done in the last year, probably, was eating ice cream for breakfast." Absently Castor rubbed the side of his head where his hair was short.

He slowed down a little, thinking to himself for a moment. "Well that's not true. This has been an adventure all by itself, really. Talking to a stranger, convincing her to walk with me. I could be a nice guy or a serial killer. You don't know!" Castor laughed a little more, trying to keep things loose while simultaneously not letting on that he was attracted to her.

Choosing to ignore the indication of a deper reason behind his eyes only on her duting the show, Bexley chose instead to focus on what came after. "Wow, that is pretty boring then. Maybe you should get out more. I eat ice cream for breakfast everyday." She winked playfully. "Though if you're a serial killer I have to say you're not very good at it. Didn't pick a good candidate, didn't go about any protocol properly." Bex grinned, tossing her now empty coffee cup in a nearby can.

"You know there's movies and books about the proper way to be a serial killer." She teased. "We passed by dark areas, we were alone until just a minute ago." Giving him a sideways glance she folded her hands behind her back, lacing her fingers together. "Unless you're one of those stalker types."

What he didn't know, and she was sure he was joking, was that if he wanted to kill her, he wpuld be the one to end up dead. He was just a businessman and entrepreneur, while she was... Something else entirely.

"Just so you know, every nights show is different, and we're staying open a few more weeks. If, you know, you want to be enamored by me again." Another wink followed.

"Well maybe i'm a patient killer, just biding my time and luring you into a false sense of security before I pounce, taking you completely by surprise. Ever think of that? Hmm?" Of course the whole idea was totally ridiculous; if he wanted to kill someone, they'd have no warning. A brief fright and then... poof! He chuckled at the idea. "Perhaps i'll poison your ice cream then."

As they strolled back to the theater, the people gathered out front starting to disperse, one by one into their cars, Castor came to a stop, whirling around quickly to his newest companion. "Well, unfortunately for me, the show is completely booked, so I won't get to see that shining face fall from the sky again until you're in town again."

"Ah, so youre the type to lure your prey in, woo them, then unsuspectingly end them with no hesitation? Interesting." Bexley laughed and stopped walking once in front of the theatre. It was time for them to part, go their separate ways, and possibly never see each other again. Fortunately Bexley was not the kind to let things go, and the familiarity she felt with him made her want to keep him around. It was a nagging feeling, urging her to do what she could to see his face again.

"That may be true, but not necessarily." Inclining her head to the right a bit, she smiled. "It is a sold out show, yes, but not every seat is filled. As a.. Member of the show I was given several tickets to provide to friends, family.. Anyone I see fit, really." Folding her hands behind her back, she laced her fingers, lookibg out at the dispersing crowd. "I only have my mum, and she's currently on holiday in America. I would hate for my tickets to go unused, but I don't seem to have anyone to give them to." Bex was subtly trying to invite him as a guest to the shows, whether for her own attraction to him or the familiar pull she felt, even she was unsure.

"Do you know anyone who might want them?"

"You know I think I just might. I know a guy who loves the show and would very much love to see it again. Seems he fancies a girl he met there. I'm sure he would appreciate a ticket very much." Of course he was referring to himself, evidenced by the exaggeration in his voice. He wondered if he went to far by using the word "fancies", but eh, what harm could it do. She was attractive, and he found himself appreciating her company more and more, so why not just admit that he was starting to like her? What's the worst that would happen?

"I'll tell him to be here for tomorrow night's showing, and to be here early. Just put my name on the ticket and he'll know what to do." He winked at Bexley, a smile still spread across his lips. He, too, felt a strong sensation that they should stick together, that he shouldn't let her go, but why that was he still wasn't positive. Could she be another like him, or maybe just someone he passed years ago. He hoped it was not one of the girls that threw herself at him when he first starting hitting the club scene in his "youth."

"Hey, you know we probably should have called a cab before we got here so you wouldn't have to wait. Can I just give you a lift home?" It wasn't part of his original plan, but he did feel that the oversight gave him an opportunity to get to know her a little more before having to part for the evening.

Bexley laughed. "I hope your friend enjoys the show as much as you did. Who knows, maybe the girl he fancies feels just the same." She returned his look, grinning knowingly. This was fun. It had been a long time since she found someone she could banter with, and tease. Her friends occasionally would bicker with her back and forth in a joking manner, but it wasn't the same as this. Castor felt like an old friend she hadn't seen in a long time, or a former lover she had missed. It was weird since Bexley was almost certain she had never met him before.  He didn't look familiar in the sense that she could easily recall in her memories, and she remembered every lover, and every friend. It was different with him.

"I suppose you're right." Bexley glanced around and noticed that there were no cabs in sight, and the whole point was so she didn't have to be alone in the dark. "It would be a shame to have to wait in the dark when such a handsome gentleman is offering me a ride home. How could I refuse?" What could it hurt to accept a ride from him? Its not like she was in any danger, or even feared there being danger. It wasn't that she was a naive girl, or too trusting, or ignorant of the dangers the world posed. She was Eris; the world should fear her.

"My place isn't too far away, and traffics not too bad this late. If you wouldn't mind?" She grinned, gazing up at him.

"I'm sure he'd love to know that... if she does, anyway. He'd be pretty happy if she does." Castor was somewhat flirty by nature, but flirting with Bexley was a whole new experience. It wasn't a passing fling, or a random hookup. Flirting with her felt natural and not at all forced. It was refreshing and exciting, and he was very glad when she accepted his offer to drive her home so he could keep stoking the fire between them.

He waved to the valet, who dispatched someone to bring his vehicle back. "Well who could let a pretty girl like you wait around all night for someone to come pick you up when they could just take you home and..." Castor winked, letting her mind run with that thought in whatever direction she liked. Again, he was flirting, but it was just innocent enough to not be insulting but not so innocent as to look like he wasn't interested in her.

The young man showed up a few moments later, the aggressive-looking vehicle pulling up to the curb as it if rode on the air instead of the asphalt. He opened the passenger door for her and offer her his hand, as any gentleman would. "Your chariot awaits."

"Why thank you, sir." The young woman grabbed his hand and let him help her into his vehicle, a smile on her face. How odd was it that they could speak so easily? The flirting was smooth and fun, conversation flowed flawlessly. Who was this guy? Bexley would have to intensely research him when she got a chance, find out all she could. The need to keep him nearby was nearly overwhelming and she hadn't the faintest idea why. No matter. She would figure it out soon enough.

What struck her as the most odd in their situation was how well they got on. Normally Bex would bicker with Marty until she agreed to get a cab, bid him goodnight, and be on her way. She would have never considered getting into a vehicle with a man she just met. A man she felt an undeniable familiarity with, the man she nearly (purposefully) fell into during their show. Bexley had done that show nearly one hundred times and not once did she want to fet to know the person in that seat. Not once. But Castor... She had to know him.

"So, Mr. I don't do anything adventurous, what drew you to our show?" That was what she said. What she meant was 'what drew you to me?'