17 Little London Court, Dolly's Penthouse
around 2:30 pm

Another day, another blank page to stare at longingly wishing that her well of words had not dried up so bitterly. This was Dolly's life now, when not out with Cam or doting on him and playing house. She say in her plush office overlooking the city, typewriter in front of her as she contemplated the next steps for her characters to take. She had realized several months ago just how much she had relied on her life with Eli to give her a sense of firm direction with the novels. Some of the things people loved best about her work sprang up from conversations or suggestions from him. That was the true nature of the writer/editor relationship. People thought it was all about finding coma splices and correct grammar but it wasn't. They were an integral part of the creative process, the conversation an author simply couldn't have with him/her self. She was finding it was not a conversation she could have with just anyone. Beyond the strain in her relationship with Dazmond, the replacement editors they had sent her in droves (everyone wanted a chance to work on the last Slither Girls book) had all been dismissed.

No one seemed to understand why she needed to talk about the book, about the characters, about where they would go from here. Odette deserved a proper ending even if Dolly wasn't going to get one herself. Yet, maybe that was the proper ending in and of itself, to have suffered so much loss and made so many mistakes but still be standing? Would that be the ending befitting the heroine that Dolly had created out of a shadow of the self she'd once been? Thinking so much before five and while sober hurt her head. Of course it beat going over again and again in her mind the previous days conversation with Daz and Nora. While it had been positive for the most part, it felt as though she were trying to close a chapter on her life and they were dog-earing the pages to come back to it at a later date. She was with Cam now... sort of, and Dom was getting arrested with Niobe for harassing muggles (because they were both childish idiots). Lighting a cigarette with the tip of her wand she poured herself a vodka tonic (it was happy hour somewhere after all) when her house elf Dotters opened the door and poked her funny little head in.

"Missy Dolly Ma'am, someone here to see you. Trolls send'im"

Dolly looked at the creature, lips pursed to one side remembering that her agent had told her he had a birthday surprise for her. She'd been hoping for diamonds...or well aged scotch. Of course he wouldn't get her anything useful, probably another over eager fresh faced editor she'd have to crush the dreams of. Oh goodie, and right before her birthday too. Sighing, she couldn't help but notice that there might have been a spark of bedeviled glee in the elf's squiggy eyes. Dolly almost blamed it on being drunk, but she hadn't even taken a sip yet. Clearing her throat she perched on the edged of her desk and crossed her legs, "Alright, Dotters, show them i-" before she could finish her sentence it was as though all the oxygen had left her body. How could he look so...good, more over how could he look so calm. It was one of the few times the vivacious author was actually struck dumb, her lips parting but no sound coming forth as the house elf skipped away and Elliot Griffin stood in her bloody doorway looking sinfully fine. Without a single thought to ladyline decorum or her liver she downed the vodka only to find she still couldn't speak more than a breathless, "Son of a Squib".

How did I get here, he asked himself wearily, looking up at the posh building the company had given him.  He really had given it his best go when Dolly failed him for the final time.  In Paris, it was easier to ignore her presence.  She became nothing more than magically animated photographs and life-size models that he occasionally ran into around the office or on the street corner.  It was strange at first, the flash of her smile out of the corner of his eye was enough to make his breath catch and his heart skip a beat.  It took time but eventually he realized that it was all just surface image and magical deception, exactly like Dolly's public persona.  That part of her was easy to hate when it was all you saw and in Paris, that's all he really had to burden himself with.

At least, that's all he thought he would have to deal with until the fateful day she'd come sweeping into the office.  Watching her check in and chat with the office personnel, it was easy to convince himself that the surface image was the real Dolly.  She laughed and simpered and made everyone love her and want to be her at the same time.  He'd been able to steel himself against her charms watching that performance.  Her first attempts, all fairly superficial, had bee ridiculously easy to say no to, he didn't even feel guilty about doing it. But there had been a moment where she became very quiet, looked at him solemnly, and told him that she couldn't do it without him.  Elliot sighed at the memory and readjusted his sweaty grip on his briefcase.  It was a bit nippy out in November and still  he was sweating but at this point, it was more with nervous anticipation than actual warmth.  He could do this, really.  He went inside.

Dolly St. James was nothing if not selfishly persistent.  She had a history of getting her way and pushing on the right people to make it happen.  He didn't find out later that she'd placed a few inspired sighs and off-handed comments in front of his partners.  They'd come to him one by one, asking him about the St. James project until, finally, they'd taken him into a board meeting and all but ordered him to London to ensure the timely completion of the final book in the Slither Girls series.  Someone had to do it.  She turned away editor after editor after editor and they all came back with their tails tucked between their legs and stories that they kept to themselves for unknown reasons of fear or jealously. 

When he arrived at Dolly's Penthouse, he was greeted by her house elf, Dotters.  You can do this, he told himself as he asked the elf if he could see Dolly.  He heard her voice before he saw her, strong and aristocratic.  When he stepped through the door though, whatever confidence she'd had was wiped away when she down an entire glass of whatever alcoholic beverage.  He wanted to chide her for drinking so early, but really, it wasn't his concern anymore.  He just had to get her through this last book and get back to Paris.  His head tilted back and he lifted his eyebrows.  "Didn't they tell you I was coming? I'm here to help you with your last book."

He could do this.  He could.  He just needed to stay calm, distant and professional, that's all. 

Much like the night Dominik had shown up drunk in her bed without an invitation or desire for him to be there she found herself pinching the soft pale flesh of her forearm. She had to be dreaming. This could not be real, this could not be her life right now. She wouldn't stand for it. She had begged him, genuinely begged him to come back and help her with the last book. She had admitted defeat. She had told him she couldn't do it without him, that it wasn't possible, she wasn't capable. Yes, it had started off as the cloying Dolly that everyone around the office seemed to eat up but... by the end it was real. She had wanted to cry when he gave her the final no. It had taken ever single ounce of self respect she had left (there was not a lot of that left in her at that point) to make it back to the family house and her large overly lavish bedroom before falling completely to pieces and taking to bed with a few bottles of wine. She had stayed there for two days, hardly eating, burning old love letters and photographs...

His voice brought her back to Earth, to her office, to the moment they were standing in and she just shook her head, "No one told me anything. Higgs said he had a birthday surprise for me, I'd rather hoped it involved precious jewels," she tired to keep her voice light as though her heart wasn't beating out of her chest and she desperately wanted to throw up. Months ago she had thought this was what she needed, what she wanted even... maybe it had been her vain attempt to rectify the wrong turns she had taken in her life when it became obvious Dominik wasn't going to man up. She knew better than anyone she had no right to ask Elliot Griffin for a damn thing. She had failed him in so many ways - but she had been just selfish and foolish enough to think she could make it up to him all those months ago. When he had said no she realized there was no going back and the most she could make in amends was respecting his wishes not to be burdened with her anymore. Perhaps that was why Dominik's refusal to let her go was so infuriating, because when you really cared for someone... it didn't matter that you still wanted or needed them.

When you really loved someone you respected them enough to let go when they needed you to - no matter how much it hurt. He would never believe it had hurt, but it had. Saying goodbye to him that day, thinking it was the last time she would see him in that context, sitting behind that desk looking powerful and delicious and... so like the man she had genuinely fallen in love with - she had to stop herself. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and shook her head. She couldn't think about it. She didn't know how she was going to manage to not think about it as he stood in her doorway looking fit but unhappy to see her. When she spoke her voice was softer, all of the posturing gone as she rolled the now empty glass between her hands, "When you told me no in Paris I let the idea go. You had obviously made up your mind and despite what everyone would like to believe about me I am not so self centered that I would deny you the right to declare it all over". Tucking a dark curl behind her ear she sighed and moved to sit in the overstuffed desk chair, gesturing toward the open liquor cabinet, "Pour yourself something, you look like you need a good spirit".

She watched him with half lidded eyes before taking up her cigarette again and inhaling deeply, the burn in her lungs only mildly comforting as she chewed on the bottom corner of her lip and exhaled slowly, "We need to be perfectly clear, this comes from somewhere higher up than even I have reach. I will admit that I have dismissed editors... but not in the hopes of forcing you to work with me. If you were going to be on the last book I wanted it to be because you wanted to be here. We can't move forward if you're being held hostage against your will". She felt so antsy now, her knee nervously bouncing as she flicked away a bit of ash into a silver tray. She had wanted him to be happy about working with her. He didn't look happy, he looked resigned. He looked like a man that had accepted he was being led to teh gallows and there would be no last minute pardon to save him from hanging. She didn't know what to do with him now, standing there... it was as if her mind was on autopilot when she asked, "The trip in alright? How's your family"? Really Dolly? How's your family? Merlin you're a twit.

Elliot sighed and ducked his head.  He rubbed the tired creases in his forehead and then looked up at Dolly from under his eyelashes.  She was clearly confused and upset, perhaps even a little peeved about the situation.  She tried to keep things light, making a joke about her birthday present,  but her eyes gave her away.  They were tight and had a matte look about them, dull and distant.  This would take time for them both, he realized.  They would need time to learn how to be around one another again after what they'd been to each other and all the time spent apart since they'd stopped being that.  It wouldn't be easy.

He didn't particularly want to be here in London, in Dolly's flat, but damn if the view wasn't one of the best he'd seen in a long time, and he wasn't talking about the bits of city visible out of the large wall of windows.  Dolly was dressed in a tight black dress, patterned faintly.  It only came down to just above her knees but the line of her knees and calves ended in tall black heels.  Simple and classy, he liked that.  He jerked his head to the side in order to tear his eyes away from her body.  He liked it too much.  The fire in the pit of his stomach returned with a vengeance, like it had never been gone at all.  But she was hurting, he could tell in a way that probably very few people could.  Drinking at 2:30 in the afternoon was never a good sign.

Walking over to her, he pushed up the sleeves of his sweater and reached out.  He leaned in close, his face turned up so he could look directly into her eyes as he reached out and plucked the cigarette from her hand, just as she raised it to her red, red lips.  He held it up in front of her face with it smoldering gently.  "These are bad for you," he said finally.  He stood up straight before dropping the butt into her empty liquor glass and picking the whole thing up with his fingertips on the rim.  "You're too smart and beautiful to be smoking and drinking at home, alone, at two o'clock in the afternoon."  He felt like he was back there again taking care of Dolly and trying in vain to encourage her to be more, to drop the facade and begin living life for herself instead of everyone else, even Odette.  Especially Odette.  He gave her a tired look that told her she ought to know better. 

He turned away and strode over to her liquor cabinet, placing the glass down on the shelf.  He stood there, staring at it.  "I know-" he started.  He closed his eyes and picked his head up again before turning around and looking at her.  He put his hands in his pockets and leaned his hips back against the cabinet.  "I know you didn't orchestrate this.  I wasn't even forced into this, not really.  I was... encouraged to consider how successful your books are.  But I didn't come because of them."  He rubbed his forehead again just before considering his shoes.  "I'm here because... I want you to finish the book and if you need my help to do it then so be it.  I'll help."

He regarded her quietly when she awkwardly asked about his trip.  Then he ducked his head and grinned.  "Do you really want to know about my family?" he asked gently. 

He was looking at her, she hated when he looked at her like that. Why couldn't everyone just let her be silly and self destructive, why did they have to think she was capable of so much more? What if she wasn't? What if this was just the person she was? What if the mask had become the reality and everything else was a lie? These were not questions she allowed herself to consider often, she focused on living moment to moment. She went from one miniature disaster to the next, counting time in cigarettes and strong drinks. She was trying with Cameron, she really was... but deep down she knew even that was more of a distraction. It was a body to keep the bed warm, neither of them could ever really belong to one another because he was too consumed with work and she... well she was just bad a love. Sometimes she felt defective, but she worked to not let it show, to fight the stigma that what every Witch should want was a husband and brood of witchlings.

And then he was in her space, and her lungs stopped functioning for a moment. She almost started stammering but managed to pull herself together long enough to arch an amused eyebrow, leaning in a little closer she gave a one shouldered shrug, "Everything I want is bad for me," a slight uptick to the corners of her mouth. There would be a battle of wills, between them - just as there always had been for control. She let him take the glass and the soggy cigarette but she also just reached for another. She didn't light it, simple held it between her fingers as she watched him move across the room. Far too smart and beautiful, she almost scoffed. Beauty had nothing to do with it, and the being smart seemed to be what got her in the most trouble. Maybe she was those things, maybe she wasn't, at the end of the day cigarettes and alcohol had been far more steady companions than any human she'd yet to meet. That wasn't completely fair to Elliot given the fact she'd driven him away, but somehow that just cemented the idea as fact in her head.

She stared at her shoes as he talked, thumb flicking the filter of her unlit cigarette. She tried to slow her breathing, focusing on each of his words for any hidden meaning. She couldn't find it, but maybe that was because she didn't know him anymore. Of course it could also have been the fact that Eli was plain spoken, you almost always knew exactly where you stood with him. He both was and wasn't here against his will, the paradox was not lost on her but she understood it. Life was easier for him when he didn't have to see her, the same way it was easier for her when she didn't see Dominik. In general if you could block out the painful things, like a blissful blackout, it was easier to live with yourself. Working together in any context, but especially in the context of this novel would mean confronting old wounds... and sometimes pouring salt in them. They would have to talk about their relationship, where things went wrong (even though she had a fairly good idea) to find how it would translate into the novel, how the ending would come together.

She looked up when he asked if she really wanted to know about his family, "Well, I obviously don't want to know if they all still think I'm a wanton whore who broke their precious boy's heart...but I did love them too, you know". She regretted the wording of it almost as soon as it left her lips, that too being all too telling. How were they ever going to interact with one another without that issue, that word, cropping up and making the whole situation painfully awkward? She reached for her wand and placed the cigarette between her lips, blue eyes shifted at him, "I won't pour myself another drink but Merlin help you if you try to take this away from me. I need at least one vice to occupy me while I figure out how in bloody hell we're going to go about doing this without killing one another or me crying. I loathe crying," she inhaled the smoke, blue eyes daring him to just try and stop her before she exhaled in a slow curling stream, "besides, what else are we supposed to talk about? Hey Dolls, I hear you're shagging the Head of the DoMLE now. Good on ya, I picked up a frigid French girl who doesn't bathe but wears loads of perfume! Might as well put a wand to my head because I am not drunk enough for that one, Darling".

"Everything I want is bad for me," Dolly said. 

"Tell me about it," Elliot sighed, crossing his arms over his chest.  "I know all about wanting things you shouldn't have but sometimes you just have to resist the impulse in everyone's best interest."  He regarded her carefully and the cigarette she was playing with between two manicured fingers.  That damn stick and all of the alcohol were ostensibly the topic of their conversation but there had always been more subtext between the two of them than should ever be between a couple getting married.  His eyes, no doubt, revealed what he really meant because he'd never been much good at Slytherin games.    He still wanted Dolly and probably had never really stopped.  That's why he hadn't wanted to come back here to help with the book.  He knew that being around her once again would be so incredibly difficult."

"If you insist on turning your mouth into an ashtray, it's certainly none of my business any more," he continued, pushing off of the cabinet and walking towards her.  He sat down in an empty chair for guests and tilted his head to the side.  "You know I never cared about what my parents thought about you, but Melly misses you terribly.  She misses being spoiled now you're gone.  I think even Bridgette misses you, though she'd never say it out loud."  He got irritated when Dolly began to talk about herself like some sort of whore.  She was better than that... or at least she had been when they had been dating.  If it wasn't for Dom, maybe she'd still be his, maybe she wouldn't have sunk into this mire of self-loathing.  But the past was past and as long as Dolly continued to drop everything for him then that's probably the way she would continue on in life.  There was nothing he could do except keep himself from getting caught up in the drama again.

He rubbed his forehead.  "I couldn't care less who you sleep with, honestly.  That's your business; and who I sleep with is my business.  "I'm here to help you with your book, so let's talk about that.  What's wrong? What's holding you up?"

Dolly sighed and rubbed her thumb across her forehead, this was going to be difficult, maybe more difficult than shutting Dom out had been. She didn't owe Elliot anything, but she hated the way that he looked at her. She hated that the look said so much more than his words ever could. She hated that she could tell he thought she was talking about Dom and that her life was some down trodden fiasco. Yes, admittedly, with her birthday looming so close she had given herself permission to be a bit freer with drinks than she had since April... but a drink before five was a rarity these days. People wouldn't believe it of course, it wasn't as interesting as her gossip used to be. Chewing on her thumbnail she shifted in her chair before stubbing out the cigarette - the words mouth and ashtray were wholly unappealing.

"Not just sleeping with, seeing," she corrected him - even though she had been the one to use the word shagging. It was a defense, it was what the papers wanted to know. They had never had the whole story beyond St. James and Wiedman - best mates for life. There were four people who knew Devlin's real identity and two of them were sitting in her office. "I've gone and landed myself half a proper relationship," her laugh was dry - almost bitter. It wasn't Cam's fault. It was like she had told Nora and Daz the afternoon before, he was good for her. He was safe, there was no risk of getting her heart broken because she knew the score. He was twenty years older than she was, he'd been married three times, and his work consumed his life. He hated the press, but he liked having her around and for the time being she liked being around. There would be no shattered hearts on either side when it was all said and done, and maybe that wasn't the life she used to want but the lack of theatrics was appealing.

She waved the whole thing off as he got down to the nitty gritty of why he was there, "I don't know how to end it. I don't know how to start it frankly. They've got me on the hook for one last story and... I don't know how it ends. Devlin doesn't deserve Odette, Odette doesn't deserve Rhys. Having her wind up alone - while the most logical ending is so terribly depressing and would get me lynched by the fans but I can't write lies. I can't just make up how Devlin suddenly got his head out of his arse. The final book should bring closure  - for everyone," she looked up at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, "but there is no closure. If I write the truth the story goes on and on, she has to almost die, twice, her relationship with Lilith being beyond strained and possibly irreparably broken..." she trailed off and shook her head, "the basis of the books, the idea that love - in all its forms will see you through is a lie. And yes, I realize people read it for the smut, but it's always been my truth".

Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes, "Daz and Dom aren't...Daz is trying to be a part of my life but the trust between us is broken. Dom is off doing whatever it is he does when he's not crying to me about his life. He's with a reporter, when I told him to leave his key and he didn't... I changed the locks. I told Dianora yesterday that I can't just wait around anymore. She took it shockingly well which means she's planning something. These are not the things my readers want. They want the happy ending, they want the fairytale, equal parts want Devlin or Rhys to come sweeping back in to be with her and I can't write that because it's not how life works - and I could have Odette ride off into her own sunset but how does she get there? I don't want to write an entire novel about the death of a dream and how it makes you stronger - because it doesn't. You just learn to live without, and that reality hasn't existed in the books. There has always been hope, and there isn't anymore, and writing like there is...frankly repulses me".

Once she began talking about her book, it all came tumbling out of her like a deluge of heartbreak and angst.  With Dolly it had never just been about writing a story.  She put so much of herself into it, the self that very few people ever got the chance to see.  That was why she had and had always had so much difficulty with her editors.  Not just anyone could walk in off the street and earn the trust she required to share her life story and in turn the life story of her characters.  In on the ground floor, from the very beginning, Elliot had been there through every trying step and kept pushing her back onto the right track, moving forward in a bright and erratic way. 

His biggest mistake had been falling in love with her.  Dolly was vibrant and fun and had a way of making people fall in love with her.  He was no different, although it had taken him longer to get there.  In some way, Elliot thought that had meant something.  He'd thought that because he knew the real Dolly and worked so hard to get through the quagmire of parties and masks that he somehow had a love more real than the others.  Vice versa, that Dolly's love for him was more real than the love she professed for some of her admirers.  In the end, whatever love they had for one another hadn't been enough, real or  not. 

He held up a finger, pausing her speech.  He pushed himself up out of his chair and walked calmly to the cabinet once more to pull a bottle of brandy off the shelf.  He charmed a few ice cubes into two clean tumblers and filled them up with the brown liquid fortitude.  He walked over and put one down on her desk and took a long sip on the second as he collapsed back into his chair.  He needed a drink for this, time of day be damned. 

"You've always walked the line between reality and fiction, Dolly," he reminded her gently.  "But reality isn't fiction.  Just because you're own life hasn't reached some happy-ending conclusion, doesn't mean that's where you book has to end."  He leaned forward and frowned into the ice cubes, uncertain how Dolly would take his next advice.  It was different from her usual method of writing but she'd come to him specifically to hear what he had to say, as her closest friend and confidant.  He took a deep and steadying breath.  "You know your characters by now Dolly.  What if, instead of writing them to mirror your life as it is, you use your characters to try a couple of things out.  Maybe the way the characters behave will inspire something in your own life."

It dawned on her (as he went to fix them both a drink), that she had been able to tell him more in fifteen minutes than she'd been able to tell Dominik in a year. Moreover, as he handed the glass to her, she realized that he was listening - really listening. She didn't deserve anything from him, not really. She was used to getting what she wanted but in the case of Elliot it seemed unfair, even to her selfish nature, that he was there stepping into the middle of this. She was his Dominik and it made her a little sick inside thinking about it. She'd never meant to hurt anybody, and whatever people would believe she had loved Elliot. She just hadn't known how to do it in the right way. Until the moment he walked into her life all she had really known about love was the one sided wanting of Dominik. Her whole world had been so wrapped up in him, her past and the future. Even her sense of family, she had never belonged to her own parents the same way she had belonged to Dianora. Merlin her life was a mess.

It wasn't exactly as if this were news to her, her life had always been some varying degree of messy. It came with leaping before you looked, barreling through life - really just biding one's time until Dominik woke up from whatever nightmare he was living and they took their rightful spot at the alter. She hated thinking about it (the parts she could remember at least). Everything had gotten so far away from her, she'd started to care more and more about the people around her. Everyone had expectations of her, of the person she was supposed to be and she tried so hard to live up to every image cast in her likeness. She needed the Wizarding World to love her, to adore her, it was a sickness really. Nothing ever felt real because she won it so easily - that was what had kept her holding on so hard to Dom. Beyond the sense of duty and history, he was one of the few things she'd had slip through her fingers. She'd had him and then he was gone... never to be captured again apparently.

That logic might have applied to why she'd fallen for Elliot, except that he'd driven her crazy. He worked so hard to see her and she tried so hard to hide - but he didn't give up... his voice brought her back to the room, to the moment, blue eyes stinging with tears she refused to cry. She bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath before slowing exhaling, "What if it isn't any good El? What if the only reason anyone thinks I have any talent at all is because my life is made up of so many absurd moments that reality was better than fiction until I grew a spine"? Dolly didn't admit fear or defeat to anyone, not even Dazmond really. She would acknowledge distant apprehension occasionally but she never dared to share the idea that she might not be good enough as she was, that her talent came from her ability to charm and flutter eyelashes rather than the ability to write compelling prose. Everyone always wanted her to be so much more but more than what? A stress headache was starting in the center of her forehead as her facial muscles tightened; she finally allowed herself a more than healthy swallow of the burning brown liquid. 

Elliot had come prepared, even if he'd come somewhat unwillingly at first.  Tucked away inside is briefcase were several thin vials of potion to eradicate headaches, several vials of Pepper-Up, and a several vials to enhance concentration.  Elliot put his glass down on her desk and went back to his chair to retrieve the black case.  He put it down next to the glass and opened it up.  The vials of potion were snugged safely and neatly in a row on the upper half of the case.  He pulled out the one on the far left and uncorked it as he walked around the edge of the desk.  It was a mild strength headache potion so the alcohol Dolly drank wouldn't interfere with it and create horrible side-effects.  He gave her the vial and waited patiently for her to drink it.  This had never really been part of his responsibility as her editor but he'd picked it up over the years and been patiently supplying her with the things she needed, the moment she needed them, because he was just plain good at it.

He leaned his hips back against the edge of her desk so he was half-sitting beside her on the desktop.  He crossed his arms of his chest and stared out the window for a moment, considering her words.  "I'm going to tell you something I've never told you before but I don't want you take it the wrong way."  He looked down into her eyes with calm seriousness.  "It doesn't take any great talent to come up with the plot of a romantic drama.  The characters are generally formulaic and the whole thing follows a basic premise of witch meets wizard, falls in love, has trouble, ends up happily ever after.  The talent generally displayed in this genre is shown in the depth of the characters and the deftness of explaining emotional motivations.  This is always what you've excelled at, Dolly."

Elliot grinned  bit wryly.  "The absurdity of your life might have had something to do with it once, but I have every confidence that you can break away from this pseudo-nonfictional representation of your own romantic quagmire and allow the characters to take the final step.  You have the ability to investigate their emotional states, that's what's going to get you through this, not necessarily a real-life resolution between you and Dom or you and me.  Does any of that even make sense?"  The question he asked was mostly to himself.  He ducked his head and rubbed his forehead. 

Dolly looked up at him as he handed her the vial and waited for her to drink, a frown tugged at the corners of her lips, "Stop doing that thing," she pointed a finger at him before he could even pretend to not have a clue what she was talking about, "That thing where you know what I need before I know I need it. It's always been mildly creepy, Darling". She sighed the took the potion without another word of encouragement however because she knew she'd feel better after she did - or at least the stinging pain between her eyes would dull. Sinking back in her chair she looked up at him, blue eyes lazy as she gave a low sigh. Why were all the men in her life so handsome? It was categorically unfair to be surrounded by good looking men when she was trying to be in a relationship that didn't involve more than one other person. He did look good though, much better than she wanted to admit to herself. She had hoped France would make him fat and unappealing, but alas that was another hope dashed against the streets of life.

Setting her glass and the vial aside she shifted in the chair, tucking her legs beneath her as she leaned against the armrest, eyeing him, "We're going to have to talk about it eventually you know," it was a statement not a suggestion. "We're going to have to figure out how to work together, and while your pretty little face is terribly stoic and I don't deserve much from you; I think I deserve to know the real reason you changed your mind - and don't tell me it's because you give a flopping flobberworm about what the bosses at Trollhouse tell you to do. You've made it far up enough in rank you can pick and choose your assignments at will. I know how the game is played," she gave him a pointed look before turning a finger toward herself and added "More than just a nice mug remember"? Dolly relied a lot on her looks, it was the flash and dazzle that distracted people; like the silly antics and the endless gossip. Very few people realized she actually had a brain above the nice rack and brilliant blue eyes.

She was, for better or worse, good at figuring people out - even if she didn't see it as a particular talent. Motivation wasn't hard to find with most people, she'd wager most things in life were done for money or sex. It was cynical of her but the person who had believed in the power of love to save a person from the world they were surrounded by had died a slow painful death over the last year. She couldn't love Dominik well, she couldn't be the kind of person that Tappy wanted her to be, she'd had to break Dianora's heart (though the elder witch was still probably in denial which was why she'd taken it all so well). She'd been psychologically sucker punched by her best friend in the world, the sad fact was the only person on the planet Dolly remotely trusted anymore was Landis bloody Morgan; for all their professed distaste for one another... he was the one who was always there. It was a world too strange for Dolly to fathom... which was why she needed to know what Elliot was really doing there. Toying with her ring she waited, head tilted to one side, "Come on then, I gave you the vastly abridged version of my suffering. Turnabouts fair play, Love".

"I can't help it if I'm good at my job," he responded coolly, standing up and moving away.  Knowing what Dolly needed wasn't just a part of his job.  It was, of a sorts, but not to such an extent.  He could anticipate the general needs of his authors since Dolly but he'd never become as attuned to them.  It was different.  Dolly was different and she always had been.  Elliot knew that Dolly could see right through his excuse but he didn't take it back.  A part of him needed it because... He closed his eyes against the thought.  It was almost painful.

Why had he decided to come back to help Dolly?  The answer was clear and simple but the implications were not.  I came back because I never stopped loving you.  It rang like a bell in his mind, echoing.  He couldn't say it though.  He couldn't bring himself to admit to her, out loud, that he was still wrapped around her finger after a year spent completely separate without so much as an owled letter.  Instead, he looked over his shoulder briefly and then down at his hands.  "I was hurt, Dolly," he admitted, "but I never stopped wanting you to be happy."

He turned back fully and looked at her intently.  "I know what you are," he said quietly.  He knew the intelligence that lurked behind her pretty eyes, it was sharp and capable like the woman herself. It's why he'd decided not to come back and help her.  Selfishly, he hadn't wanted to put himself into the position of being at Dolly's beck and call again, but a little more than that, he'd wanted to give Dolly the opportunity to finish her novel on her own so that, at the end of it, she would have something to look on and be proud of.  "It's because I know who and what you are that I tried to give you space for this, to decide how you wanted your life to go, so you could be happy.  But I also know that if you're ever going to be happy, you need to finish this book."  He held out his hands in a half shrug and shook his head.  It almost felt like he'd been defeated in some way, although he'd not been in any battles that he was aware of.  "If having me here is the only way you can finish this novel, then I'll be here for you as long as you need me."

Until the book is finished.  He said that in his head but once again he didn't say what he was thinking and this time it was because he'd never lied to Dolly before and he wasn't going to start now.  He really would stay for however long Dolly needed him, to the end of this book and beyond if that's how she wanted it.

Dolly listened carefully, trying to pinpoint the half truths, an outright lie, she knew there was more but she also knew that he was being honest. He did want her to be happy, everyone wanted her to be happy. It was the most frustrating thing in the world to not be able to give people what they wanted. Sometimes she doubted that she knew how to be happy anymore, maybe she never had. Maybe it had all been potions and drinking, misadventures, numbing herself to the world in which she lived. Maybe numb could feel like a kind of happy, a euphoric relief from all the suffering (however self-induced). She sighed and shook her head, "It's selfish of me. I know that, to need you here to finish it... maybe that's not even the reason I really need you here".

As soon as the words left her mouth she wanted to take them back. She should not have been saying things like that to him. She didn't have any right. Rubbing the bridge of her nose she closed her eyes and let out a long breath, "Everything is such a mess Eli. I flounce and smile, I give witty interviews and the cameras follow wherever I go... but it feels like such a lie. The night I threw Dominik out it was like the insanity of it all just hit me. I've been doing the same damn thing since I was sixteen years old in some variation, boasting about empowering witches to be in control of their sexuality, of the directions their lives went... and the whole time I was waiting to marry a person that didn't even exist anymore".

She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw for a moment before finally making herself look at him, "But I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know," she gave a small sniffle and flicked away a budding tear from the corner of her eye, before she gave him a weak smile, "I miss you Ell, it's selfish and wrong, but I miss my friend. I miss the person I could tell the secrets to. You deserved so much more than I was, maybe than I ever can be," she paused chewing her bottom lip for a moment, "but I need you to know it was real. I was confused and I was wrong, about so many things. I didn't... I don't know the right ways to love people. I didn't know how to be part of a couple, I didn't know that loving someone could be more than a parasitic relationship that killed little pieces of you".

Dolly's view of love had been tainted from an early age, party because her own parents' marriage lacked love but also because of the romanticized view that love should be an all consuming brightly burning flame. It should have been obvious that those relationships would never be sustainable, but she had been young and stupid and by the time Elliot came into her life it was out of habit as much as anything else. Chewing her bottom lip she slowly unfolded herself from her chair and closed the small distance between them, her posture as awkward as any third year trying to figure out what to do next with a boy, her voice was soft as she shifted from one foot to the other, "I'm so sorry I hurt you... and I'm even more sorry that I'm too selfish to just stay away".

Dolly St. James a selfish little socialite who careened through life cutting a swath of broken-hearted wizards and self-empowered witches.  With an up-close and personal viewpoint, Elliot knew that better than anyone.  He'd swept up after her antics for quite awhile before they grew close enough to have a romantic relationship.  Even then, a good portion of his time was spent catering to Dolly and her needs. 

The thing was, she felt things so powerfully, her emotions ran so deep.  Elliot's bleeding heart didn't really have to hear much of her troubles at all before he began to cave.  So much of his life had been dedicated to feeding in to her emotional drama that it was too easy to fall back into it.  Flawlessly, without thought for his own mental well-being, Elliot could be whatever she needed him to be.  Not because he lacked sense for self preservation, but because he understood Dolly's nuances and the faded remembrance of one could get him through the turmoil of another.  At this moment, remembering Dolly as she had been when she was happy, clenched at his heart and forced him into action.  The guilt that caused a shine of unshed tears in her eyes could be replaced by the glitter of wicked joy.  He'd been able to do that for her, once upon a time.  He could do it again. Couldn't he?

He darted in before his rational side could remind him why he'd left Dolly in the first place.  He simply reacted in the first way that came to mind, the way he'd always managed to derail her pity-party bemoaning of fate in the past.  He kissed her.  Her kissed her firmly, chastely, and for a few long seconds before pulling away, with his strong fingers holding onto her jaw, keeping her in place and steady.  When he pulled away, his eyelids fluttered open.  He cleared his throat nervously and said, "There was fault on both sides, Dolly." 

This, right here, being a good example of my own fault, his wicked inner voice groused.  Unable to go on without at least trying to appease that part of himself, he added, "We have both been indulging your behavior for quite a long time.  If you're truly interested in changing your direction, then I can help.  We can work on it together."  It was something that, in some way, he'd been trying to do all along but the hundredth time's the charm, he supposed.  Perhaps, if Dolly truly lamented where her life had ended up, it would be a bit more productive.

It took a lot to catch Dolly St. James off guard and kissing wasn't usually on the list, however, when Elliot's mouth touched hers there was this sudden wave of panic. How was it she kept ended up getting kissed when she was trying to offer an olive branch, to accept her mistakes and right them? She hadn't meant for him to kiss her and  she certainly didn't mean to kiss him back but it was instinctual, at least for a moment. When he pulled back she looked at him with stunned eyes, her heart pounding in her ears, "Wait, wait," she backed away from him shaking her head, expression pained. She didn't know where exactly to start with this whole thing. She didn't want to hurt or embarrass him further but she was with Cam and she was turning over a new leaf.

"I think... signals got crossed Ell. I mean," she chewed her bottom lip and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "when you told me you wouldn't help me, that you didn't want to be a part of my life anymore I accepted that. And then, after the fight with Dominik and changing my locks, I..." she trailed off giving him a helpless look as she twisted her ring around her finger, "I started seeing Cameron Rosier... and I can't be with him and let you kiss me like that. I care about you so much but we can't get caught up like that again. That's the old Dolly, leaping before she looked, hurting innocent people. I love you too much to subject you or Cam to those kinds of games". Merlin she needed a drink, this felt like one of those terrible Wireless melodramas her mother was so fond of.

Turning back toward the desk she took quick steps back to her drink and a generous gulp before looking back at him, brows knitted together, "I want us to work together, I want us to be friends if we can. if you want that. I understand if you can't, but if I let this go any further I would be being the exact same person I was the first time I hurt you. I don't ever want to be that person again," she chewed the inside of her cheek as she rested her hip against the desk. God this was going to be a mess. She felt as though she would forever be tangoing with the worst parts of her nature. It was painful knowing when he looked at her he saw her selfishness most of all. Sighing she gave a slight shake of her head, "I'm trying to be a better person Ell. I can't change the past but I can keep my cynicism from rubbing off on anyone else".