Landis did not think he would be very surprised, but he didn't speak through her confession. He watched her, still and unblinking, as she ran shuddering fingers through her hair and tried not to cry. It had been years, but he still remembered all the steps to this particular dance. There would be no hand on the shoulder, no light touch to the knee; he was not a boy anymore, he had not slunk into the girl's dormitory with the uncanny knack of being present when she couldn't stand to be alone. But apparently, however long it had been, it was a knack he still possessed. How very annoying. How very nostalgic. And he knew he wouldn't disappoint her. It was disgusting to find himself in this way unchanged. Hadn't the vodka been enough of a concession?

He was no one's counselor, but Dolly wouldn't open up like this to anyone else. It was because of this that he had to listen.

"Then change. Once you're out of here, it will be up to you again what you want to do with your life. It would be cowardly to forget the realizations you've come to."

Cowardly, but easy. Even the gift he'd brought would help with that. He'd assumed - until now - that forgetting was exactly what she'd want to do. Drink, drugs, sex - and the latter she had such issues with, apparently, although Landis did not quite understand. Separating the act from the feeling was not something with which he had a problem; he didn't have to love a woman to take her to his bed. Men were like that, perhaps. Dolly's emotional attachments had only made her easier to hurt.

"Oh, I don't know, for an emotionally crippled zombie with the empathetic depth of a teaspoon you can be strangely charming."

"Flatterer," he said, surprised out of his serious mood and into a laugh. He smirked as he plucked a speck of invisible dust from his blazer, pale eyes flashing up to meet her own, tone bordering on a purr, amused, teasing, "You have such a way with words, Dolly. But you needn't worry. We are enjoying the game far too much to spoil it with unwanted affection."

Landis did not for a second believe either himself or Juliette susceptible to such an error. They had made their arrangement, and it worked well for them. He liked having her in his bed - he even liked it when she stayed until the morning. Her sharp tongue suited his own, and he was fond of her. But anything beyond that was unnecessary. He trusted her business acumen would keep her to their decision.