Chapter Text
“Number 28?” says a voice through the intercom.
A tall, blonde woman steps into a room. She sits in a chair facing the voice-activated machine with a camera at the top.
Welcome. The machine scans the woman, verifying her application. Héloïse is the name.
How tall are you?
Um, I am about 5 feet 9 inches.
What is your ethnicity?
French? I was born in Paris.
Are you willing to relocate?
Yes.
An hour later
Carrying a single suitcase, Héloïse enters a townhouse that will be her residence for the remainder of her contract. She takes the elevator upstairs.
In another gray room, a tall brunette woman sits in front of the same machine.
Welcome. The machine does the same scan, verifying the application.
The screen displays “Marianne” as her name.
How tall are you?
5’9.
What is your ethnicity?
Half French and half Italian.
Are you willing to relocate?
Of course.
Marianne enters the same house. She explores the basement, turning on the lights to the house’s pool. She flips through random books in the library. Half an hour later, at the current time, Marianne presses the same “up” button. Unexpectedly, the door opens right away. Marianne steps back a bit as she sees a beautiful, business-casually dressed, blonde woman in front of her. She enters the elevator, offering her hand to Héloïse, introducing herself, “I’m Marianne”.
“I’m Héloïse,” Héloïse says after giving a polite smile.
On the second floor, they enter a well-decorated traditional office. A black velvet box on the desk piques Héloïse’s interest. Similarly, Marianne caresses the right side of the painting behind the desk, admiring it. Suddenly, click, the painting opens to a secret safe. Meanwhile, Héloïse opens the box, revealing a protected bottle of champagne with a note attached to it: “Enjoy your first day of marriage! - double zero” (double zero is the agency). She chuckles and looks over at Marianne, seeing her gaze at the sidearms and rifles inside the safe. She picks up a pistol, examines it, then places it back.
“So… I guess you can call this a warm welcome,” Marianne remarks.
“Yeah.” Héloïse smiles.
“What’s that look supposed to mean?”
Marianne tilts her head.
“What look?” Héloïse is somewhat confused but amused.
“That smile you gave me just now.”
“I just enjoy smiling. Is that not okay?” Héloïse teased.
“Um. No. That’s not what I meant. Of course, it’s okay to smile. You have a pretty smile anyway.”
Marianne looks away and scratches the back of her head.
“Okay then.” Héloïse shakes her head and grins.
2 hours later
Héloïse and Marianne are in their rooms. Héloïse is reading a book while Marianne is on her phone, “researching” Héloïse. Marianne looks at the clock. It is currently 6:20 p.m. She gets up from the bed. Walking up to Héloïse’s room, her fists bang eagerly against the door. “Hey, are you hungry?”
“Hi. I am starving,” Héloïse replies and stretches.
“I’m not a bad cook if you want to relax more.”
“Hmm… Offering to cook after we have only known each other for a few hours is bold.” Héloïse smirks behind the door. She gets up still dressed in a tank top and dress pants from earlier.
“I promise I am not trying to hit on you. Our relationship is supposed to be and will be merely professional.”
She opens the door as Marianne is leaning on the doorframe. Marianne is startled by the sudden opening of the door and gasps. She hastily backs away and fixes her messy hair. Héloïse giggles while looking at her.
“I believe you. I was only teasing.” Héloïse playfully hits Marianne’s arm.
“Ow. You joke too much for such a serious job.”
“Please tell me that that did not seriously hurt.”
“What if it did? Will you make it up to me?
“No way.” Héloïse starts laughing. “And you say I joke too much. Whatever you say.”
“Sorry, I just had to. Come on, let's go.”
Marianne grabs Héloïse’s hand and leads her downstairs into the kitchen.
“What’s with this hand holding?”
“I don’t know. Sorry.” Marianne lets go once they are at the bottom of the stairs.
“No no. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Héloïse looks away and blushes slightly. She heads into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “We don’t have much to work with.”
“We?”
“I’m helping whether you like it or not. I can't let you make me a meal all by yourself.”
“Works for me. What do we have?”
Héloïse lists various meats and vegetables.
“What do you think about classic spaghetti and meatballs?” Marianne asks while looking through the cabinets, trying to find spices and cookware.
Héloïse taps her index finger on her chin, thinking.
“I don’t see why not.”
At this time, Marianne finally discovers the cabinet with the pots and pans. “Finally!” she exclaims. She swiftly takes out a pot and skillet. Héloïse gazes at Marianne. Her eyes lower to her lips that hang in a smile. She catches herself in the act and quickly looks back at her eyes.
What am I doing? Like she said, our relationship is supposed to be and will be merely professional. Get a hold of yourself Héloïse.
Marianne places the pot and skillet on the stovetop. “Where’s the spaghetti?” She catches Héloïse staring. She smiles.
“Uh- sorry. I was just in my thoughts. They are here.” Héloïse hands Marianne the box of spaghetti. Her fingers accidentally (or is it intentional?) graze Mariannes. She gasps. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay. Marianne smiles softly. “You know you don’t need to apologize for little things like this, right? Plus, I have already held your hand. I know what your hand feels like.”
Héloïse reddens vaguely.
“Is that a blush?”
“No…?” Héloïse looks away and walks to the fridge, anxiously taking out ingredients for the dish.
“Okay,” Marianne says doubtfully.
The extensively stocked fridge with all kinds of meats, vegetables, condiments, and dairy items distracts Héloïse. Marianne saunters towards her. She subconsciously puts her left hand on Héloïse’s shoulder and looks into the fridge. Héloïse flinches her touch.
“You okay?” Marianne expresses concern. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, certainly not. I think I am still getting used to having another person around.” Héloïse chuckles dryly.
“Oh, I see. If you’d prefer me to hang back while you cook, just ask. I can give you space if needed,” Marianne offers.
“Thank you,” Héloïse tilts her head up to give Marianne a sincere and appreciative smile.
I have never had a friend, let alone a stranger, be so considerate of me. My body’s warming. I kind of want more. Wait. More? What are your intentions, Héloïse? Héloïse sighs. I need some air. She gets up, smiles at Marianne once more, then walks towards their patio, which is conveniently opposite the kitchen.
Marianne contemplates. Her arm involuntarily rises, as if she’s reaching for her, but she lets her go. She sighs and stands up with the pasta ingredients in hand. She finely chops two yellow onions, four cloves of garlic, fresh parsley and cilantro, and some ginger. Some of those chopped ingredients go into the meatball batter she’s mixing up. The rest will be used in the sauce. She finishes shaping the meatballs. Just when Marianne places the tray of meatballs into the preheated oven, Héloïse returns. She doesn't look in Marianne’s direction at all. She gets comfortable on the L-shaped couch and watches Brooklyn Nine-Nine while Marianne cooks.
The oven’s set to 30 minutes. During this time, Marianne sautés the remaining onions and garlic. Then, she adds some tomato puree. After the sauce is ready, she strains the perfectly cooked spaghetti and mixes it in.
The oven dings.
Marianne hurries over. She places the well-done meatballs on the marble island. Her eyes move to Héloïse. Héloïse doesn’t seem to be moving much. Marianne walks towards her. Heloise is sideways on the couch, her eyes completely shut. Marianne smiles at the sight of a vulnerable and cute Héloïse. She seemed to have her guard up the entire day. It’s nice to see her relaxed. Marianne cautiously walks closer. She lays a cozy blanket on top of Héloïse, tucking her in. Marianne sets the plates up on the coffee table before the couch. She kneels on the carpet. Tapping Héloïse’s covered shoulder a couple of times woke her up.
“Hi… how long was I out for?” Héloïse says groggily.
“I’m guessing about 20 minutes? I’m not sure. I was too focused on cooking. On top of that, I did not want to disturb your peace. The food is ready and here.” Héloïse’s eyes trace Marianne’s delicate but calloused fingers to the table in front of them, revealing two steaming plates of spaghetti and meatballs. “You can stay put. I hope it’s up to your standards.” After rubbing her hands together in excitement, Marianne gently holds Héloïse’s shoulders, helping her sit up. She hands Héloïse a plate.
“Here.”
Surprisingly to Heloise, Marianne's touch barely affects her this time. It is not easy for me to become comfortable around others this quickly, but with her it feels so natural… Why is that? Her mind is not clear enough for her to continue analyzing these responses to Marianne. The heavy-eyed Héloïse, purely driven by hunger, takes the plate. She looks deeply into Marianne’s eyes for at least a minute. Héloïse blurts out, “Your eyes are so pretty.” Did I say that out loud?
Marianne looks down. “Ha- thanks,” her face flushes. “Now, please eat before the food gets cold.” She takes her plate and sits next to Héloïse. She presses play on the remote.
“Oh- I did not mean to say that out loud. You’re welcome.” Héloïse glances at Marianne, but Marianne is already looking at her. She whips her head back at the TV, attempting to hide the smile tugging at her lips. Marianne notices. She can’t help but smile as well. It seems that Héloïse makes her smile quite easily.
An hour later
The two women work in harmony as they towel off the rest of the dishes.
The wooden stairs reverberate throughout the townhouse, blending with the footsteps of Héloïse and Marianne.
“So this is goodnight then?” Marianne asks.
“Yes. Thank you for the wonderful meal. Your cooking is as good as you said.”
“It’s my pleasure. I am glad you enjoyed it.”
They walk towards Héloïse’s door. Marianne steals an opportunity to take care of the noticeably exhausted Héloïse, opening the door for her and standing off to the side.
“Here we are.”
“You didn’t need to do that, but I appreciate it.”
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Marianne.”
As the door shuts, Héloïse slumps down her door, sitting in thought. Outside, a fist rises to knock but drops before it makes contact with the door.
They sleep peacefully into the early morning.