"Mannik!" she sprung to her feet, relief unconcealed. For a moment, her body shifted forward, betraying the urge to run to the man. But she stopped herself, weight of rationality chaining her feet. Not only there was a wall between them, one that he was trying to enforce again (Miss Wislawa, he had said, tonight), one that was needed. And yet, when thought of anyone else touching her made her stomach churn, she wished even slightest brush of comfort from him; the man she should fear, for no glimpse of softness erased the fact he was a soldier, a survivor, someone who had said he would do the very thing she had nearly experienced tonight.

Unconsciously, her hand rubbed away at the sore spots on her wrists as Adelmar approached him in far more mild manner than she wished. She was determined to hide the real cause of attack and lethal self-defense, if it was in her power. The shame was too great, would he believe it ended before any true harm could have been done? And even that aside, to say something like that aloud, the words would be like acid on her tongue.

But why, why was he not asking why she did this? Did Mannik truly believe her when she said it was self-defense or did he view her as cold-blooded murderer? Why did he accept death of a servant so simply from her hand? Was it yet another proof to him that she was just another noble?

This feeling only worsened at his explanation at future course of action, as they met in the middle of the room. "Someone will take the fall for my crime?" Adel's voice betrayed how unconvinced she felt.

"Why would anyone do that for me? After all, he...." she stopped before saying 'one of yours', realizing it was time for her to stop dividing humans into 'those people' and 'her people'. After all, her allegiance would officially be shifting soon. The pause only lasted fraction of second, though, and she continued: "Came from Below, originally."

Her gaze darkened some then. "Although I suspect he was working for Hadars and the one who bugged the house." The man had essentially told her so, along with saying she should let him have some, since she was little w***e already, sleeping with Below's men. She lowered her eyes at the thought, hoping the hair would fall more over her face and neck, hide away any edges of marks that her torn dress and jacket she had hurriedly put on could not. (Though she sincerely hoped they did.)

When the conversation shifted to him asking what he could do for her, she stared up at him with a shadow of a smile. "You have already done so much, more than I could ever ask or wish for. Yet again, you saved me from injustices done within this house." Hug me, she wanted to say. Soothe away the chill of the dead man's touch, his implications. All about tonight. But instead of that, she addressed her other concern: "But please believe me, I merely pushed him away. I did not mean for this to happen."

This building truly must have held resentment towards her and now, blood of two men who had hurt her had been spilled here. At her and Mannik's hand. Adelmar feared when the shock would retreat and give way to tainted relief. Would it end in tears again, fueled by thought that she was a murderer? But, no, he had been a criminal. And would there not be so much more blood on her hands in the future, although more indirectly? How could she feel disgusted, distraught and yet somehow proud and indignant all at the same time? Yet, she did.

---

She accepted the gift more easily than he had anticipated, much to Zenon's relief. As much as he was willing to bother her into accepting it, it would have left a bitter taste in his mouth, instead of this pained warmth spreading through him when he watched her admire the necklace. He could be so much more giddy, he knew. He should be, in fact. And yet there was bitterness of reality. This could as well be the last gift he could give her. The last she would accept. The chances that in future, he could surprise Sarah like this often and see her tear up over something beautiful, just for her, on birthdays or anniversaries was so slim...

"Anything for you," he told her sincerely, with a gentle, warm smile. When she turned to give him access to place the necklace on her, in all honesty he was surprised again. With the earlier interruption, Zen had not thought she would let him within arm's reach or be moved as she was. But oh, he was not complaining. Carefully, he put the necklace on her and secured the clasp. His fingers lingered on her skin and the man gave into urge to press a gentle, reverent kiss to back of her neck, as if sealing the unsaid wish, promise he held in his heart. Again, a sense of domesticity, or rather longing for it, hit him, as he pulled back.

Zenon did not know where it would go from here, would she truly stand up and rush away from him, from this night, and the thought of Adelmar in trouble was also present, yet he wanted to exist in this bubble just for a moment longer, before it burst. And to get her into the bad, as much any living soul would suspect, was truly not the goal of it. So, if she would face him again, there would be soft longing on his face, mixed with happiness. "It suits you," he would say, both meaning the look of lady and the necklace. "Beautiful."