Reunion

She accepted the steaming mug with murmur of thanks.

"So..."

She blew gentle ripples across the surface of the tea and shrugged, one eyebrow raised. "So?"



She repeated in a soft, almost dismissive way. It was as if nothing he had to say could possibly interest her more than the mug clutched between her small hands.

"You show up after fifteen years--"

"Has it been so long?" She interrupted. The  snowflakes caught on her eyelashes finally worked up the courage to melt, making her eyes appear wet and sparkly. Dante pursed his lips and waited, just in case she had more to add. After a few seconds, he continued as if she had never interrupted him.

"Fifteen years. You never called. You never wrote. And yet, here you are. Wearing that," he gestured vaguely to her slinky velvet dress and ridiculous mink boa. The dress might have been appropriate to combat the cold if it had not been tailored to reveal her remarkable bust. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't like it?" She baited the hook with an injured tone, her eyes large and dark in the low light. Dante did not bite.

"That's not the point and you know it," he rumbled back at her. Immediately, she began to pout. She sipped her tea and waited for an apology that they both knew would never come. Dante watched her, his face pinched with a sour scowl. The silence between them quickly went stale.

Shiva looked through the thin haze of steam and settled her gaze on him. Her eyes danced in amusement and it was like she had never been pouting, like they had not been sitting in expectant silence.

"I thought you would be happy to see me,"she purred. She leaned forward to delicately trap a sugar cube between her thumb and forefinger. While Dante waited for her to go on, she pressed it to her lips and slowly sucked at the grains at dissolved.

"You still have not answered the question, Shiva," Dante sighed. He rubbed his temples. Already, the banter was giving him a headache.

"You still have not asked one," she mused. "You have made vague insinuations and hinted, but that is a terrible  habit to get yourself in, Dante." The sugar cube disappeared and she flashed her pointy teeth at him. She was polite enough to wait in silence while he recounted their conversation to check that he had not, in fact, asked her a question. She made a great show of being remarkably casual by licking her fingertips clean.

Dante poured himself a cup of tea and leveled a withering glare at her. It tended to cow everything but her, but a long history of failures did not keep him from trying again. She smiled back, reminiscent of a patient nun. It was infuriating.

"Fair enough. Why," he put a lot of emphasis on the word, daring her to discount his tone, "are you here?"

She leaned in for another sugar cube and paused there, giving him, should he desire it, the time to admire her sleek curves soft breasts. His eyes never left hers. When she deemed his chance to be up, she resumed moving as if she had not attempted to tempt him. "Now that is a story..." she began. It was only when Dante resigned himself to crooked answers that she would freely offer a straight one.