Page 106 of Gunslinger Girl

“Yes. Some business came up back east.”

“I know.” She alighted on the arm of a sofa. “Congratulations, Mr. President. Still, I thought you’d at least say good-bye.”

“You’re right.” Sheridan sat a little straighter. “I’ve been rude. I expected you’d be relieved to be rid of me. No more pretending.”

Tell him whatever you have to. “Who says I was pretending the whole time?” Her gut ached, but Pity made herself look back at Hook with an affected sulk. “Do you think we could have some privacy?”

Hook glowered, but Sheridan waved a hand. “It’s okay. Go on and make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”

The bodyguard reluctantly vanished into one of the adjoining rooms.

Sheridan got to his feet, ice cubes clicking against the side of his glass. “Drink?” He went to the bar and poured her a glass of wine.

“Thank you.” Pity took the glass and sipped, summoning her courage. “I can’t believe you’re leaving so soon. We were just getting to know each other. Then again, as soon as I heard, I thought… well, it’s silly.”

“What is?”

No use dancing around it. She chewed her lip, doing her best to look cautiously excited. “I thought maybe I could come with you.”

“Oh?” Pity searched Sheridan’s face, looking for surprise, interest—anything—but his faint, placid smile remained unchanged. “What about the Theatre? You’ve got quite a following in Cessation. Why give that up?”

Earlier she had searched for the right lie, something that Sheridan would never question, only to settle on the truth instead. “I never meant to end up in Cessation. I wanted to see Columbia and all the cities in the east.” A sick feeling stirred in her gut. “And the Theatre is going to execute Daneko tomorrow night. I don’t want to do it, or any of the Finales. I never did.”

In her mind, she saw the arena. But instead of Daneko, Max stood in the center, lights glinting off his piercings and a glaze of terror in his eyes. A cold sweat broke out on her skin. “You’re going to be the next president of the Confederation of North America. There must be something I can do to help. I mean, I’d make as good a bodyguard as anyone you’d find there.” Her fingers tightened around her glass. “And like you said, us Patriots need to stick together, right?”

Sheridan moved closer, regarding her like she was a novel curiosity. The smile turned into a smirk. “So you want to come with me to Columbia. Be my… bodyguard? Hmm, I didn’t realize you enjoyed our time together so much.”

Pity nodded, not trusting her voice.

He leaned in, until only inches separated their faces. Pity’s hand shook as she tried to set the glass down on a side table, anticipating his response. A yes signed his death warrant. But a no…

“Cut the shit,” Sheridan said. “Why are you really here?”

The glass slipped from her fingers and slid off the table, wine splashing onto the carpet. “What?”

He straightened and moved away. “Did Selene send you?”

“No! I came on my own.”

He retrieved his own drink from the bar. “You’re a bad liar, Pity.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words caught in her throat like chunks of food. “I… only want to come with you.”

“That I believe,” he said. “But I don’t believe for a moment it’s of your own accord. You look like you’re going to be sick.”

The shaking spread, overtaking her. She slid onto the couch, eyes downcast. One foot overlapped the wine stain, a scarlet bruise on the beige carpet. She stared at it, unable to think. Sheridan had seen through her in an instant. He would leave without her, and Selene would make good on her threat.

Max. Her breath hitched.

Sheridan loomed over her. “Selene sent you.”

It wasn’t a question this time. There was no use denying it. “Please,” she said, hating the word immediately, loathing the begging tone in her voice. “Please, you can’t go.”

“There’s no reason for me to stay anymore.”

“A few more days. Talk to Selene, let her try to finish what she started for you. That’s all I’m asking.”

“And if I don’t,” said Sheridan, “what is Selene going to do to you?”