Cordelia crosses her arms, the file pressed against her chest. She attempting to center herself—her heart pulses wildly. Her breaths quicken, but it wasn’t noticeable between her barely parted lips. Goosebumps travel up her bare arms—she regrets not wearing a sweater. The perpetrator’s back is upright, his posture relaxed. He wears the same leather jacket he sported before. Scruff lines the edges of his jawline—his smile white as his warm violet eyes settle on hers. His jet-black hair is wilder than she remembers, the ends of his bangs half in curls.

She breathes in deeply. Her freedom is moments away—cooperation is the only prerequisite. Not even his good looks could put her at ease.

His gaze becomes too much. <Would you stop staring?>

The perpetrator scrunches up his face as he looks to the side. He mutters, <I’m not.>

<You are, and it’s creeping me out.> Cordelia’s mindful of her volume. She doesn’t want to piss him off—sure Phoebe mentioned his behaviour was appropriate, but she didn’t want to take any needless chances.

<I don’t see how I’m creepy. I’m respecting your space.>

<As you should be since you’re on trial.> He wasn’t, but he didn’t have to know that.

<Since when?>

<Since you broke into my house—Since you held a gun to my father’s head.>

The enjoyment melts from the perpetrator's face. <I’m sorry I scared you. I’m not a trigger-happy guy, but, it’s instinct at this point.>

<Instinct?> Phoebe said he was involved in a shooting—but she also said this man died. It didn’t register that this is the man she was talking about.

<You learn a thing or two when you’re raised on the streets…>

Was that supposed to make her feel sorry for him? Cordelia, focus.

<Even so, you still threatened my father based on some dimension story.>

<See, now that’s why I’m surprised you showed up. You say I’m lying, yet here you are questioning me. Either deep down, you believe what I’m saying. Or, Aleck’s got you whipped.> He pauses, his smile growing wider. <No, he’s bribing you.>

<He’s not.> She’s lying.

<Why are you here then?> His smile challenges her.

Cordelia swiftly changes the subject. <We should have had you locked up by the authorities—so thank my father for believing your ridiculous tale.>

<What’s stopping you, Cordelia?> He raises his wrists in front of him. <Cuff me yourself.>

She sharply inhales as her gut twinges. He had the audacity to flirt with her? ‘Course he did. She admits; it helps with the intimidation factor.

<Put your hands down!>

<Why? I’m nothing but a common criminal.> His grin widens as he lowers his hands. <If you’re going to interrogate me, you’ll have to do better than that.>

He’s taunting her—bastard.

<Fine. Why did you request me?>

<Because I’m not interested in talking to married women.> He’s referring to Phoebe—right? She’s the only one here who can speak Antillan in this building ...as far as she knows.

<Who says I’m not married? Not everyone wears a ring.>

<No one wears a dress like that without trying to attract attention.> He gently scans her with his gaze. <You’ll be happy to know it worked.> Yeah—thanks to him she didn’t go out that night. Sadie refused to drive her to Hidden Treasures after that.

Cordelia rolls her eyes. <Cute, but that’s not it. Give me the real answer.>

He sighs, <Fine. Aleck doesn’t have a daughter in my reality. He has a son named Fitz. I was curious to know what the two of you have in common.>

<Uh huh.> Cordelia crosses her arms. <He’s your friend I take it?>

The perpetrator nods.

<How did you become friends with a Firthe?> Cordelia doesn’t believe him, but it’ll be interesting to hear what he comes up with.

<We met at the University of Thermidor, two years ago. Fitz wanted to get away from Glade Bay—the paparazzi was hounding him and St. Antilla became his safe-haven.> Cordelia could relate—but that didn‘t mean the perpetrator‘s story was true. If the perpetrator attended her school, she’d have noticed a face like his in the crowd. His eyes alone made him distinguishable.

<What’s your major?>

<Business—it was one of the few courses offered in the pilot program I’m a part of.>

<There are no pilot programs in business—I’d know.>

<I see…> He scratches his chin. <So there’s no such thing here.>

Cordelia groans. <This isn’t helping your case.>

The perpetrator leans back, a grin of satisfaction crosses his face. <I can see you’re nothing like Fitz—he’s got an open mind.>

<Are you kidding? I’m open to plenty of things—that aren’t make believe.> Cordelia can understand the research going on here at Willa Corp—they’re scientists. Their job is to figure out what’s possible, and impossible. But, to travel dimensions—realities? That’s a stretch she can’t cross. <You’re asking me to believe something you can‘t even prove.>

He stands up, Cordelia cranes her neck to look at him. He looks at her hands.<I want you to that file of yours.>

<It’s only pictures of the watch you’re so obsessed with.> She hands the folder to him, taking a few steps back to keep her distance. He opens it, staring at the image carefully.

<This isn’t it…>

<What do you mean? My dad showed you the pictures on his phone—you said this was the watch.>

<That was, but this one isn’t. It’s the wrong colour—the orb inside this one isn‘t blue. It’s red.>

<Maybe that’s another model?> Cordelia shrugs.

He closes the file, letting out a sigh. <I doubt they’re trying to trick me—especially If Willa Corp let you in. They really must not know what they’re doing…>

<Did you think they were?>

<At first, but…> He closes his eyes. <What did they want you to ask me?>

<Look, they threw me in here to see what you’d tell me. I don’t have a list of questions! So just tell me whatever science words will make them tick, and I’ll leave you alone.>

<You think I’m just going to tell you?> He chuckles. <What do I get?>

<Your freedom.> Cordelia stresses. She doesn’t know for sure, but she figures Willa Corp can’t hold him up in this room forever.

<Who’s saying they will let me leave? I need something better than an empty promise.> His stare is hot—he doesn’t mean… <I want to see you in that black dress again.>

Her face burns. <What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?> God, is that all she can say? This shouldn’t make her flustered—she should be enraged!

<There's nothing wrong with your clothes—I love the red shirt. But, I’ve always had a thing for tight black dresses. I know it might seem odd for you to wear that dress here, so why don’t we go out for a meal—you ask me anything you want, and I have to tell you the truth. If it goes well, I might tell you everything.> His purr hints that he wants more than food.

<I don't know what you read in those trashy articles, but it's not that easy to score with me.>

<I figured—let's say I'm playing my hand.> He leans in, Cordelia refuses to budge. She recognizes he’s harmless now—she knew exactly how to communicate with men like him.

<Are you now?> Cordelia grins. <You think you can take advantage of me?>

<I wasn’t implying—>

<You were—I’m many things, but helpless is not one of them. If I get you out of this room, it’ll be on my terms—and mine alone. Not yours.>

<And what terms are those?> He stares at her, inches away from her lips. His smug grin makes her want to both smack, and kiss him. God, what's wrong with her?

Regardless, she has to keep in mind Phoebe is nearby. <I’ll let you know.> Cordelia steps back, grabbing the file from his hands. <If you’re lucky, you’ll hear from me again.> She closes the door behind her, speed walking down the hall.

What the hell was that? She wasn't sure what to think—uncomfortable emotions swirled within her. It's like this confusing ball of intimidation and excitement, rolled into one emotion! Cordelia calms down when she sees Phoebe near the exit.

“Are you alright? You look flushed.” Her brown eyes harden. “Did the informant threaten you?”

“No, but it’s clear he’s not going to talk—unless—he goes on a date with me."

Phoebe rolls her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. “I shouldn’t have listened to him, he’s just going to string us along until we’ve got nothing left.” Phoebe sighs. “I’m sorry I got you wrapped up in this. It must have been nervewracking.”

“It was at first, but I’ve dealt with much worse than him.” Cordelia assures her.

"I assume you're calling it quits then?" Cordelia's not sure what she should do. If sex wasn't the issue for her ...then what was it?

"I don't know."

"Listen, we'll give you a loaner. You can call me directly and let me know what you want to do. No pressure either way, I want this to be your decision." Phoebe smiles. "No judgements here."

"Thanks." Cordelia nods.

"Your dad will be waiting in the lobby." Cordelia follows Phoebe to the elevator.

She's not sure what to tell him.