Page 90 of Gunslinger Girl

“About time.”

Pity froze.

Adora lounged on the love seat, Pity’s revolver in hand. “I’d begun to wonder exactly how much you were dedicating yourself to your assignment.”

“Put that down.”

Adora’s eyes went wide with false innocence. “I was only looking.” She held up the gun, not quite pointing it at Pity but not putting it down, either. “Very pretty.”

“Put. It. Down.” Pity gauged the distance between her and the weapon’s twin, still in its holster.

Too slowly, Adora’s arm lowered. She deposited the gun next to her on the couch. “You’re wound awfully tight, you know. I unloaded it first. I’m not stupid.”

Pity crossed the room and snatched the revolver away. She checked the chambers. They were empty. “What do you want?”

“Everything.” Adora sat forward so that her elbows rested on her thighs, her chin cupped in her hands. “What you ate, what you talked about—spill.”

Of course. Not only did Selene want Pity to pretend with Sheridan; she wanted her to inform on him as well. Did she see Sheridan as anything more than a game piece, being moved around on a board of her own devising? Or Pity, for that matter?

Who cares? she told herself. So long as Selene kept her promise about the Finales, she was welcome to the information. Pity returned the gun to the holster beside its mate, making sure to remain between them and Adora, just in case.

Then she began to talk.

CHAPTER 29

The dining room at midmorning was a jolting clockwork of bodies. Some were winding down after a long night, others gearing up for the new day. Pity felt stuck somewhere in the middle. Even after Adora left, her thoughts had kept her awake. An early morning practice, rescheduled to accommodate her new responsibilities, had left her in a state of exhaustion rivaled only by her hunger. The night before, she’d been too unnerved to do more than pick at her food.

As she looked for somewhere to sit, she spotted Max and the others, along with Chloe and Carine, two of the Rousseau girls. She stopped, wondering if it was too late to turn around. But Luster had already seen her and was beckoning.

You can’t put this off forever. “Mornin’.”

She took the seat between Garland and Duchess, who eyed her as she sat. Across the table, Max looked up long enough to give her a half smile that fell somewhere between polite and unsure, then returned to the paper before him, filled with swirls and patterns. When Chloe tapped decisively at one of the designs, he discarded the paper for a fresh piece and started re-creating it.

“Really? That’s all we get?” Duchess said. “Half of a ‘Good morning’?”

“What were you expecting?” Pity buried her nose in her coffee mug, the last shred of hope that last night’s events would be overlooked gone.

“I don’t know, maybe something about how cozy you suddenly seem to be with Patrick Sheridan.”

When Max looked up sharply, Pity’s stomach tightened. Apparently, he wasn’t caught up on Casimir’s latest gossip. Remember what Selene said: play your part well. “There’s not much to say. He asked me to dinner. I said yes.”

“Leave her be,” said Luster. “It’s none of our business if Pity wants to share a meal with a patron. Especially Mr. Sheridan. He seems like a real gentleman.”

“He seems,” Max grumbled, “like a politician.”

The vinegar edge to his voice cast a pall over the table. On either side of him, the near-mirror images of Chloe and Carine traded a glance and got to their feet, departing with only the sounds of rustling cutlery. The others looked as if they were considering doing the same.

“I thought he was done with Cessation,” Max continued. “Or does he still think Selene can make him president?”

“No,” Pity lied, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “He’s here blowing off steam because his campaign isn’t doing well.”

“Is that the only reason? Does he want to see you again?”

The air seemed to thicken around them. Pity ached to blurt out the truth. At the same time, his flagrant disapproval grated on her. Luster was right. It wasn’t anyone else’s business who she spent her time with. Especially Max’s. So what did the truth matter?

“As a matter of fact, yes.” She fought to keep her voice calm. “He’s invited me to dinner again tonight. And he wants to see the city. We’re going on a tour of it tomorrow.” She prodded her food with her fork. “He’s not so bad, y’know. You might even like him.”

“I doubt it.”