scotch tape and glue

“Exactly,” he gushes in undertone like it’s an overeager secret, leaning over the back of the chair until the back legs pull off the ground, eyes glittering like polished sea glass. “It leaves an impression! And people can’t lie half as well when they’re on the back foot, you know. Masks, facades…not so easy to keep on when you’re startled in your small-clothes.” Enzo winks, one dimple popping cheekily at the brief memory of Sohalia’s that he’d seen.  Laughing at her slyness, Enzo rocks backward, the wood legs of the chair thumping against the floor. “You’ll have to find it first,” he taunts. And if she takes it as a challenge, all the better - it just means a pretty young woman in his bedroom, all because she found him interesting enough to hunt down. “And I’m not much of an actor, so what you see here? Is what you’d get.” Enzo pauses for what is admittedly dramatic effect, lifting a hand to pop another button on his shirt below the open collar, shrugging with a sigh as if it’s loose enough to shrug off his shoulders (“grandma, it’s me, Anastasia”). “Maybe less clothing, but that would just make us even!” But for all his teasing and inherent mischief, Enzo isn’t cruel or truly disinterested, so his eyes follow hers easily to the maps and figures on the wall. Right, she was a Breaker wasn’t she? Used to be leader, he thinks, though he’s learned so many scattered facts from Flora concerning half a thousand people that it’s hard to keep it straight sometimes. Precisely why it’s of such benefit to meet those people, to put names to faces and stories to skin.  “Crisis will do that to you,” he hums, more than understanding given such a crisis had been his literal death. “But one crisis will always lead to another, days or years down the road. Then it’s suddenly your whole identity!” He spreads his hands wide, imparting wisdom with enough levity to make it palatable - and to ensure he doesn’t seem like anything more than a lackadaisical fool. “Take it from a dead man, sweetheart - if you don’t find time to be Sohalia in all this Stormbreak business, you’ll end up in Mort’s realm wondering where all those days went when you could’ve been her instead.” And maybe he’s reading too far into this given she doesn’t seem too sad around the eyes (more tired, though exhaustion conceals much) but from what he’s heard of the Luminary she isn’t lacking in melancholy or unfortunate fates.  Standing with a jaunty swing, Enzo strides to the wall with all its pinned pages and traces th hand drawn lines of one appraisingly, turning to Sohalia over his shoulder with a winsome smile. “So, not to take you further by storm, but how about you teach me today? Let’s grab some paper and go find something to draw! Er, map. Whatever.” An idea lights up his face with nearly manic glee, and he spins fully back toward her. “Maybe we can map some of these rooms by breaking into more of them! And if we get chased out, we can go draw the grounds. What do you say?” Jauntily extending a hand, full of whirlwind energy and purpose now that the dog has found its bone for the day, Enzo beams encouragingly and wiggles his fingers to try and coax Sohalia into agreement. enzo enzo