Archive of Our Own

 Saturday

In the Lang translation of Homer's Hymn to Hermes, the god after being born is described as a robber, a captain of raiders, and a thief of the gates.

Everything Hermes thieves, he later sacrifices to the gods.

Nancy arrives in Greece on a Saturday. Of course, the first show is on Friday, Melina having insisted that she have enough time to help her out around the museum in preparation for the big event, a joint opening night of sorts for both the play and the exhibit. And then… things changed a bit.

Checking in with the Hardy boys, she's quick to fill them both in on what she knows so far: that a veritable treasure trove of art mysteriously disappeared from the museum… and then, of course, the fact that she has another mystery on her hands. Sure, the boys joke about her penchant for attracting trouble wherever she goes-- like some sort of terrible bad-luck charm dooming all in her path just in time for her to rescue them again-- but Nancy has to admit that she's excited. There's an undeniably thrill to every good mystery, she's found-- the real, tangible ones exciting her just as much as the ones that she's discovered upon opening a book.

She also learns fairly quickly upon her arrival that Xenia is a strikingly good actress, something she has to admit worries her somewhat. When there's a mystery to be solved, everyone's a suspect. It just makes it somewhat hard to become friends with people, especially where trust is involved.

"Hey, you seem pretty together, but can I give you some advice?"

"Sure."

"Be careful around the boys. Especially Thanos."

Xenia goes on to explain that he's a bit intense, whatever that means-- she's met all kinds of characters over her years of travel, after all, plenty of them intense-- before the two of them part ways, Nancy recalling Melina's note to her about needing to check into the office upon her arrival. There's plenty of work to be done, after all, and she has all week to meet the troupe.

She meets Grigor later in the day, rather obviously fiddling with light and sound cues from the looks of it. She's tempted to just let him keep working, but then he catches sight of her and stops regardless, Nancy stepping up with a smile.

"Hi, I'm Nancy. You must be--"

"Hermes, god of charisma and handsomeness," he smiles, gesturing through as though in mock-performance. 'But the mortals call me Grigor."

"Nice to meet you."

"The same. What's your role?"

Nancy can't help but smile, picturing herself alongside the rest of the troupe, all of whom are likely far more talented than she is-- she knows fully well just how good she is at lying, after all. "I guess I'm playing the role of the museum assistant."

He doesn't seem to miss a beat, Nancy wondering if he does this sort of thing often, if his charm and that of Hermes aren't one and the same. "Then why don't we become friends?"

"I'm open to that."

"More than friends?"

That catches her off guard, Nancy cocking her head. Most guys-- even the ones that like her-- are never quite that forward. "I take it this is a question you ask often."

"Believe it or not, I actually do not. Usually don't have reason to."

Nancy falters. She's not normally caught off balance by anyone, and the need to re-establish firm footing in a far more predictable conversation-- the kind she's familiar with-- is strong, Nancy willing herself to ignore the fact that he's undeniably easy on the eyes and forcing herself back into detective mode.

"What's your role in the production?"

"Too many things." He seems to stiffen as he says it, his brows drawing together in obvious tension-- if it's because she evaded his question or because of the stress he would clearly seem to be under remains to be seen.

"Is that usual?"

Just as soon as the tension appeared, it seems to dissipate again, as though it never existed in the first place. "Yes," he slowly nods. "But things are a little more intense this time."

"Because there are so few of you?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He barely moves as he says it, and for a moment she wonders if Xenia didn't get it wrong and that Grigor is actually the intense one of the two boys.

"Why don't you have a larger support crew?"

He softens again. "Generally we do. But because the background checks were really extensive, we didn't have time to worry about anyone other than ourselves. To answer your question, I work the lights and the stage cues. I make sure we've got the right scripts, then I do my best to keep us from killing each other."

She's starting to feel almost as though she's talking to two different people, Nancy mentally filing it away as definitively suspicious behavior. She’ll have to look into that later, but for now, with Grigor excusing himself and heading downstairs, she instead zeroes in on the tablet.

For the first section, Stage Notes, Nancy finds that she's lucky enough to have open access to his entries, even if the second section, Personal Notes, finds her not quite so lucky.

Hermes presents Persephone in Winter, starring Hermes

Why does Thanos keep having his lines cut? At this point I'm carrying the show! This isn't Hermes' story... what gives? Maybe Xenia can explain.

The wings don't actually DO anything, Xenia

Look into automation of light cues. Xenia keeps adding to Hermes' role. At this point I can barely make the cues between scenes.

Lights and Cues

All light cue changes and fly system weight settings originate with Xenia in script notes. Cues will be signed off on by Xenia and Grigor.

What she does end up gleaning from what she reads-- she makes a mental note to find the password to the second section sooner rather than later-- is that he is really as stressed as he seems. Well, that, and that he appears to have a good sense of humor, even despite being overworked. At the same time, it's quite likely that someone like Grigor uses humor as a coping mechanism. 

If Nancy were to later ask, she would find that Grigor very much took notice of Nancy's little side-step of his question.

She doesn’t, of course.

He's been telling himself not to think about it for a solid half hour or so by now, occasionally trying to remind himself that she could have avoided the question for any number of reasons, even if none of them seem particularly appealing to him right now.

There's just something about her, Grigor finding himself unable to put his finger on it.

She's pretty, that much is for certain, but there are plenty of pretty girls around-- it is Greece, after all-- and he doesn't fall into a self-propelled inadequacy spiral because of any of them. It doesn't necessarily have to do with proximity either. Nancy just got here, after all, and he's been around Xenia and Niobe for what feels like far too long by now, the weeks stretching on like eons in his mind as he thinks back to the last time he felt free, roaming the streets of New York at night, poor but definitely happy. He shouldn't have taken the job, that's really all there is to it.

But then, there's a nagging voice at the back of his mind that sees Nancy and then sees nothing but potential. Potential for trouble, definitely-- if not for them and their plans, then definitely for him.

So what's so different about her?

He sees her walking out on the stage a few hours after their initial introductions and sees the way her blonde hair, caught out in the light, looks almost gold-- gold with copper undertones, maybe, but gold nonetheless.

Okay, so she's distractingly pretty, but that same thing could be said about Xenia.

Then again, Xenia is fucking insane.

Shaking his head to himself, Grigor turns to get back to work.

She catches him off guard-- tapping on his shoulder to get his attention-- about half an hour later, Grigor taking in a deep breath to cover for the complete and utter panic that rises in his gut in response. He was never good with jump-scares as a child, and clearly nothing has changed. What has changed, however, is how calm and composed he manages to pretend to be in the face of having just lived through a near-death experience.

It's gotten worse, though, since you got here, hasn't it? the small voice adds unhelpfully.

"Do you know anything about the stolen art?"

His eyes widen as he shakes his head, holding his hand out as though eager to ward her off from the topic as much as possible. Maybe he is. "Too much."

"Why's that?"

"When it went missing, the police had a long talk with all of us."

"That's news to me."

He almost laughs at the way she says it, so matter-of-factly, as though she would know everything there is to know about the museum or the stolen art for that matter. Frankly, he'd really prefer it if she didn't. The last thing he wants is for someone completely innocent to end up as collateral damage. "We didn't want it to become a bigger deal than it needed to be. We all agreed to answer their questions." No, you pushed them to comply and just answer the questions. "Melina turned over the tapes, and we turned over our keys, and let them search our hotels and cars."

"So if you're all here, it's safe to assume they didn't find anything?"

"I got the sense that it was just a formality, searching us."

He's grateful when she drops it, even if he's not quite as grateful when she excuses herself again, Grigor left wondering who on earth wears heels with jeans. Not that he's complaining, mind-- her ass clearly looks fantastic because of it-- just that it seems a bit out of place.

He finds himself tilting his head somewhat as he stares before he catches himself again, inwardly cursing himself. He has lines to memorize. Basically fifty pages of lines, considering that he's carrying the whole show at this point. At the same time, he also has to set up light and sound cues. He doesn't exactly have time to be staring at anyone's ass, let alone the new girl, who is clearly supposed to be internally screaming nothing but I'M A LIABILITY at him every time he sees her. And with only a week left to rehearse, memorize, and prepare, at that. And yet…

Oh, fantastic. She's fucking with the fly system. Now he's almost grateful he was watching her.

"Stay away from that, it'll kill you."

"What exactly am I staying away from?"

"That's the fly system. It controls the scenery and the curtains and it'll kill you." The rising sing-song intonation is something he's particularly proud of.

"I'll be careful, then."

She won't be, Grigor knows at least that much. But then, he's always been a decent judge of human character.

It's not particularly surprising, then, when the fly system mysteriously breaks, Grigor looking up as he sees Nancy returning to the scene of the crime.

"I need your help fixing the fly system, since you broke it." Straight to the point.

"Reasonable. How do I do that?"

"Just check the tablet." He recognizes even as he says it that he's practically inviting her to go snoop through his thoughts and then promptly finds he doesn't really care.

At the same time, he has to admit, he hadn't expected their exchange to go quite so well. No muss, no fuss… seamless. She just goes and does it. He's almost tempted to ask her where all the women like her have been all his life, and why on earth she has to pick now to show up, of all the inconvenient times in the world, right before he's pretty sure he's about to die.

No time like the present, right?

"Grigor," snaps Xenia, looking rather close to breathing fire, her eyes narrowing darkly almost immediately upon his entrance, "where the fuck have you been?!"

"I'm playing Godot!"

"This. Isn't. Waiting for Godot," she grinds out through barely-clenched teeth.

"... except in this telling, he's late with Starbucks."

"The nearest Starbucks is in Thessaloniki!"

"Oh, so you checked, too? Glad to hear it." Xenia looks wholly unamused at his attempt at humor. Under normal circumstances, he might be offended. "Jeez, would you relax a little? Obviously I went to Nuevo. They just happened to have a really long line, and I was already late, so I figured I might as well make it worth everyone's while." Grigor shrugs.

"You are half an hour late. You have kept everyone here waiting. Even including Nancy, who is supposed to be keeping a voice-recording of our rehearsals, has plenty of better things she could be doing right now, and doesn't deserve to be treated to any of your irresponsible bullshit."

"Then I guess it's a good thing I brought everyone coffee, huh?" He grins, producing a small container as he slowly descends the steps, stopping occasionally to make a rather Hermes-appropriate delivery.

"Triple espresso for Xenia..."

"Fine. You get to live this time. But only because I could really use the caffeine."

"... black coffee, no cream, no sugar for Thanos…"

Nancy watches absently as Thanos seems to have some kind of internal meltdown. "How do you know my coffee order. Why. There is no reason for you to know this."

Either Grigor didn't hear him, or preferred not to.

"... nutmeg latte with extra milk and sugar for Niobe… half-caff caramel flat white for me, extra hot… and a decaf latte for Nancy."

She'll be honest. She hadn't expected to be part of this… coffee-gifting endeavor. So being included is an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. Besides. A part of her can't deny liking the attention from Grigor. She has no idea how he figured out her coffee order, but she's not exactly complaining about that, either. Free coffee is free coffee, after all.

"Just... " she sighs, clearly exasperated. "Get on the stage and let's get on with it, shall we? From the top."

He bounds up onto the stage and grins.

"You wanna know a secret?"

&

Grigor, as it turns out, is an astonishingly good actor. He looks and sounds practiced on the stage as though he lives it and breathes it every day of his life, theater innately running through his blood.

The problem, of course, with that level of comfort and talent is that he knows he's good enough to do it backwards in his sleep. Which leads to… well, a bit of fucking around. It's been a strikingly long morning of rehearsals already, and it's pretty obvious to Nancy that he's bored by now, if nothing else, desperately looking for ways to entertain himself. Then again, he has the luxury not to take it entirely seriously. Niobe clearly doesn't.

"She's gawn, Demeter! You knew the day was approachin' fer her to leave you fer her husband!"

Nancy can't help it. She literally bursts out laughing, doing her best to stifle it all the while. She's struggling, though, that much is obvious.

"Let's take a pause."

"Okay."

"Cowboy."

"Cow…?"

"Rein it in. We don't need a cowboy voice. We are… we are not in the Wild West..."

"I'm not doing a cowboy voice… that wasn't a cowboy voice..."

"All I see is a nice cowboy hat, and a little sheriff star..." Xenia gestures ahead of herself at his front, Grigor staunchly shaking his head.

"No, no-- I'm sorry you're hallucinating or whatever's going on with you..."

"Well…! Even Nancy thought it was ridiculous! You heard her, right? Because I'm pretty sure everyone in Gonnoi heard her!"

"Hey, don't bring her into this! Nancy was just laughing because she recognizes that I'm an amazing actor who lives to amuse! I wasn't doing cowboy anything."

"Let's just… let's just start over. Take those notes..."

"Absolutely."

"And go with it."

"She's gone, Demeter! You knew the day was approaching for her to leave you for her husband!"

Niobe clears her throat, quickly setting down her coffee cup before hurrying back onto the center of the stage. "I will not lose her to the Land of the Dead!"

"Ah'm afraid to say she's oolready loost."

Another barely-stifled-- oh, whom is she kidding-- laugh erupts from Nancy before she catches sight of Grigor grinning at her from the stage.

Oh. So this showing off is for her benefit. She knows she should feel guilty for making them take longer during rehearsal than they might have without her, but… the attention is nice. So she… decides not to. Besides. She does have to stay to record the audio…

"Oh my god." Xenia looks about ready to erupt in sheer, concentrated anger.

"I'm sorry." He clears his throat. "I'm afraid to say she's already lost. I'm afraid to say she's already lost. Sorry."

"That's great!"

"She has not been lost. She's been betrayed."

Niobe… clearly needs work, Grigor stepping back as she fights her way through her lines with Xenia there to micromanage what she gets wrong-- too quiet, too loud, not enough emotion, too much emotion… Thanos is getting antsy, too, judging by the way he keeps piping up to make his displeasure known. Eventually, Grigor just leans against the edge of the stage, his eyes finding Nancy's again with a small smile. He seems to be gesturing something, but…

She squints.

Pointing at the top of his wrist… okay, so that would have to be a watch, so possibly time? Pointing at her… then himself… then backstage… wait, does he want her to time him? Perhaps his monologues?

She cocks her head, still squinting.

He seems to decide to try again, pointing first at her, then him, then backstage.

Nancy's eyes widen. Right now? Pointing straight down to the ground in an attempt at a question in return, it would appear that it's his turn to be confused before he finally shakes his head, trying to gesture his head to the right several times, before--

"Are you two enjoying yourselves enough yet? Yeah? Good! Because I sure hope it'll be worth it for when I drag you both down into the underworld myself for ruining my life."

"That's… really dramatic, Xenia," Grigor laughs, stepping back to the center of the stage to rejoin Niobe. "I doubt there's any need to take it quite that seriously. We still have a whole five days!"

"And if we spend them all like this--" She stands abruptly, her chair scraping as it slides back, Xenia making her way-- stomping, more like, looking every bit the very picture of a fury-- toward the stage. "Then Friday will be a colossal disaster. I don't need to remind you how much weighs on Friday going well, do I? Because if this fails, we are all in the shitter."

"Okay, okay!" He holds his hands out in front of him in obvious defense, a soft laugh leaving him. There it is again. Humor as a coping mechanism. She wonders where it comes from. "Relax, will you?"

"Why am I here if there is nothing for me to do?"

The growl from Thanos is unexpected enough on Nancy's part that she almost jumps from the surprise, but ultimately doesn't, just glancing over at him, staring darkly up at the stage.

"My god, if you'll just shut up and be patient for one minute--"

He rises abruptly, expression darkening, if it's even possible.

"No one tells me what to do."

"Thanos--" There's definitely no way to convince someone like him otherwise, that's for sure, Nancy watching him turn and just walk out of the amphitheater as Xenia takes in a deep breath and nearly screams. It comes out stifled, but-- it's still there all the same before she takes in another deep breath, straightening again.

"Great! That's just great! Exactly what we needed! And now we can't even rehearse the next scene-- oh, this is just fantastic. All right, you know what, I can't do this. Niobe, feel free to… go back to work while I try to smooth my own feathers, and then see if I have the patience left to smooth someone else's."

Blinking as she sees the two of them file out, Nancy shuts off the recording. Well… if all their rehearsals have been going like this, she can't possibly imagine why Xenia would be stressed…

"So, uh, since it's just us… and since I was going to ask you to do this with me later anyway… any chance you would be willing to run lines with me instead? I really do need to get some of these down, and we're supposed to be totally off-script by tomorrow. Which is definitely not happening if Xenia keeps having her diva moments."

"Sure. What do I need to do?"

"Well, first, you'll want to come up here… and come sit in the chair the ladies were kind enough to provide us with."

"All right. What's next?"

"Next you take my script from me, which I will… reluctantly part with… and whenever I slip up, you tell me and we start over."

"Okay. I can do that."

"Never thought you couldn't."

Grigor slips off of the stage, taking a deep breath. Normally he doesn't even bother… getting into character, just doesn't need to, but it would seem that with Nancy, there's actually someone to impress. So he takes a moment to center himself, find Hermes… lose the accents, sad as it makes him, especially considering how delighted he was to see Nancy's barely-suppressed laughter-- focus--

Turning around, he slips up the stairs and onto the stage, careful to conduct himself quietly before he moves to bow deep in front of her chair-- now a throne.

And, just as the script dictates, she ignores him. But a part of him-- the part that's doing this with Nancy and not just for the sake of Xenia and her performance-- feels the wrench in his gut that Hermes would have likely felt in his place. It's good, this-- ability to tap into the character all the deeper. He just wonders why he couldn't do it opposite Xenia, especially considering that Nancy hasn't even said a word and yet somehow managed to draw out more emotion than Xenia has in several weeks now.

"Don't leave a supplicant hanging, my Queen," his words slip out softer than he's used to hearing from out of his mouth, more pleading and desperate, even as he decides on a whim to take her hand, Nancy finally turning to look at him. He knows fully what's at stake here. Death awaits in either direction. It's unpleasant either way.

"I'm nobody's queen." Earnest. Then again, he's not sure he's heard her say anything in any other way.

"If that's true… you're in the wrong chair." He halts, pulls back a bit, reluctantly releasing her hand to stand, slowly rounding her throne. "Chained to the wrong chair, I see."

"Have you come to mock me?"

"I come… bearing a gift." He reaches for her hand again, softly-- the right this time (he wonders why he never thought to incorporate these things in rehearsal with Xenia)-- and makes up for the lack of Thanos in the picture by simply reaching to his right to draw a perfectly plump, ripe, red pomegranate out of the air to hand to her. "From your mother."

"This is too sickly. Her hand never touched this fruit."

She speaks with such plainly-stated conviction. Matter-of-fact. He has to admit, it would be a bit much for Persephone's character-- there's a need for more grief there… but it's quite possible she'd do better as Demeter. He's not even sure why he's mentally casting her all of a sudden. There's absolutely no point.

"All right…" he cocks his head, shrugging noncommittally as he leans his forearm onto the back of her improvised throne. "I lied."

"You did come to mock me."

He was right about her potential to play Demeter. If there's one thing she can do, if not necessarily grief… it's certainly vitriol, the one thing Niobe seems to be missing above all else. He almost feels genuinely bad about having lied all of a sudden, even if it's just in the shoes of a fictional character. It's strange. He's only ever felt this way with one other person in his life. But he doesn't have time to think about that. For now, he has to explain himself.

"You've… put me in quite a terrible position." He keeps her hand in his as he crouches down beside her, eager, in a desperate attempt at penance, to place himself beneath her once more. "If you stay, your mother will destroy all living things. And if you leave, Hades will raise an army..." And he doesn't even want to think about what that would entail, Grigor suppressing a shudder at the thought of Thanos raising an army. Terrifying.

Nancy seems to falter, pausing for a moment as she glances up at him and back down to the script.

"So... wait. How exactly does Persephone feel about eating the seeds?"

Grigor smiles, gesturing for her to continue and answer her own question. "You tell me."

"I imagine conflicted for one thing… guilty for leaving her mother behind, seeing as it's pretty obvious that they're rather close and that her mother cares terribly about her. But I also can't imagine a girl like her wanting to stay with her mother forever. Did she want to get married?"

"It's hard to say. The myths are vague as to her feelings and clear as to Demeter's. And then there's the matter of the two stories… unfortunately, this one is the far darker telling of the myth. In the other, Persephone comes to love her husband and eats the seeds of her own will, happy with the arrival of each fall as it means that she will get to return to him."

"That does sound nicer. Why isn't that the story that we're telling here?"

"Don't ask me. I didn't write it. It's Xenia's script, and I guess she wanted a tragedy, even though she keeps blabbing on about how she's kind of regretting that decision now…" Letting out a sigh, he shakes his head. Xenia makes more sense to him than the others, but even he can't tell if she's just pretending here. "Whatever. I don't ask the questions around here. It never ends well, anyway."

"Well… even in this version of the story, I can't imagine that Persephone would have wanted to… stay the little girl that her mother imagines her as."

"What are you getting at?"

She's not looking directly at him, her thoughts having seemingly captured her elsewhere. "I'd say that would be another reason for her guilt. A part of her wants to become a woman. Between the pomegranate, the flowers she picks… there are plenty of things that seem to represent the... maturation of the female body."

He swallows. Tries to stop thinking about the implications. Struggles.

"So I think she feels guilty for wanting that. There's a sort of… push and pull from both sides. There are obvious benefits to childhood that are hard to let go of, and she obviously loves her mother, but it seems as though her curiosity for what's… below, in the underworld, would be just a little bit greater than all those societal pressures she feels from above, from her mother. So it's really no wonder she just… gives in and eats the seeds."

"You know, you're really starting to make me wish we had more time. You'd make a far better Demeter than Niobe has in… weeks of trying, honestly. Not just saying that, either. If we had the time to catch you up to speed and get you memorized in time, I'd actually consider suggesting it, but… I also know you came here to do an actual job, not just to… dick around on stage with me."

"I'm starting to think that you're just trying to avoid practicing."

"All right, all right, let's get back to it." He nods, taking a deep breath as he shakes off their conversation, returning to the moment. Right. Her hand in his, crouching… "Right, uh-- where did we leave off?"

"It starts with… you've put me in quite a terrible position--"

"Okay, right, right, thank you. Okay." Clears his throat. "You've… put me in quite a terrible position. If you stay, your mother will destroy all living things. And if you leave, Hades will raise an army."

Still bad, the thought of Thanos raising an army.

"If all is lost, let me die above."

"But..." He stands again, reaching for the imaginary pomegranate once more to hand to her, his free hand lingering on her shoulder. "All is not lost..."

There's definitely a stage direction there, he knows, and he totally remembers it, too, he just needs to actually do so--

"It says you're supposed to whisper in my ear."

"Oh, well," he chuckles somewhat, reaching up to nervously reach for his own ear as his gaze meets the ground, "but that's not anything the audience hears, it's just… played out."

"Sounds an awful lot like an excuse to me."

"Oh, well, if you put it that way..." Grigor has never known himself to back down from a challenge. Especially not ones from girls he's trying to impress. So he takes a steadying breath and, hand still on her shoulder, the other finding her hand, he leans in close, closer, until his breath is hot against her ear, his lips just barely touching the skin.

"How do you feel about ice cream, my queen?"

Xenia eventually makes her way back, dragging a very reluctant, unhappy Niobe with her, just to workshop their characters a bit, Grigor suddenly overflowing with ideas, and Nancy is more than happy to take that moment to slip backstage.

She feels just a tinge of guilt about it, really, but certainly not enough guilt not to go snooping through his things. He might have left her weak in the knees-- something that's saying a lot, considering that she was seated the whole time-- but that only gives her all the more reasons for why she ought to snoop in the first place. If they're going to go out on… whatever they're calling it… for ice cream, she'd much rather know right now if he's a crazed psychopath. So she decides to put the things she gleaned from Xenia's script of Act I while she was gone to some good use. Evidently Xenia has been breaking into Grigor's personal notes fairly regularly herself. Admittedly, that could be dangerous information.

When she does manage to unlock it to read through the four entries amassed thus far… she starts to understand why they were locked away at all.

Watching the detectives

Just spent a few hours with the detectives. They're talking to each of us about the missing artwork. I convinced the team it will all go faster if we give the okay to search our vehicles, hotels, and homes. Hopefully we can get the show back on the road as soon as possible. I don't like talking to the police.

Niobe rules

Need to drop in to make sure Niobe is following all of the rules IRT replica work. We will require the correct documentation.

His discussion of the police's search of their spaces... a mention of Melina leaving… and--

Be the coffee cup

All cleared, obviously. All of our timecards and entry and exits are accounted for, and obviously the searches of our personal spaces yielded nothing. Thanos was angry just the same, but I don't care. Looks like we're back to our schedule. Melina has left to go track down the pieces. Supposedly we'll be getting a new liaison. We'll deal with that as needed.

They'll… deal with it? With her? She does not like the sound of that, Nancy glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one's come looking for her.

Next entry.

Demeter, I hardly even know her

Preparation for my role continues, but now I need to manage Niobe too. She's barely hanging on. I know we need her, but still... she's getting pushed further and further into the shadows. Xenia's wrong about hiring someone that fragile. Dead wrong. I'll do what I can to make it work, but if she can't perform, we've got bigger problems than embarrassment to worry about.

Niobe really seems to present quite the weak link, and suddenly Nancy understands why he said he wished they could just cast her. She just has to wonder what bigger problems than embarrassment entail, exactly.

Next entry.

What's in a name?

Plutus casting sheet prepared. Even if they rip the red stitching in my bag, no one will ever suspect the truth behind the sheet and read between those lines.

Wait. Glancing up, she makes a notice of his bag, still sitting there on his chair, looking perfectly innocent. Red stitching. If it's there, she'll find it.

Soon. Just one more entry left.

You name your kid Thanos, that's what you get

Xenia doubled my lines and cut Thanos' lines again. Why does she always want me on stage and never him? What is going on? I'm beginning to doubt my role here.

Interesting. Well, if nothing else, she certainly has to agree with him. It seems extremely odd. The story is supposed to be about Persephone and Hades, isn't it?

Setting his tablet aside, she checks to make sure that the crew is still in the midst of either rehearsing or arguing or both before making a beeline for his bag. The majority of it is pretty standard bag-stuff. Pens, notepad, a spare copy of the script… and then there's that red stitching.

He'll know she was here, but there's really no graceful way around it, Nancy taking a deep breath before just tearing it to pull the paper out. Plutus? He's not part of the Persephone myth, is he? But then… why would Grigor have access to the casting sheet when casting was Xenia's domain? And why any mention of reading between the lines at all?

Hastily taking a picture before slipping it back in and closing his bag, she does her best to leave unnoticed. The only problem she encounters as she's making her way out of the amphitheater is not one of anyone suspecting foul play on her part… but rather the fact that Grigor is running lines with Xenia again… the same scene she just ran with him not even an hour before. So Nancy lingers for a moment, just… watching. The way he moves around the chair, around her, leaning into her, taking her hand…

Promptly turning away, she speeds up her stride somewhat on her way back to the museum. She's not jealous, no. That would be unreasonable. They're playing as fictional characters, after all.

And yet...

And yet she can't help but think that there was more to it than that when he was practicing with her. She can still feel the shiver running down her spine from when she felt the ghost of his lips brush up against the shell of her ear. Would he do that with Xenia, too? What would he whisper in her ear?

Fueled by a new wind beneath her proverbial wings that is definitely not jealousy, she takes a seat outside of the museum with a soft if somewhat heavy sigh before calling the Hardys.

"Hey, Nance. What's going on on your end?"

Nancy mentally files away all of the things that have been going on that they really don't need to know, Grigor's breath against her ear at the top of that particular list. "I… found an odd list in the bag belonging to one of my suspects."

"What's it say?"

"It's a list of names. I actually took a picture-- here, hold on, let me send it to you..."

"We'll look into it."

"Any chance you could also look into everyone at the museum?"

"Consider it done! Call us back in a bit and we'll have everything you need to know."

If there's one thing she knows about the Hardys it's that they're reliable and trustworthy, Nancy breathing a small sigh of relief. She'd feel a whole lot better about ice cream with Grigor if they managed to more or less clear him of suspicion. She just doubts it'll happen. No one is ever completely innocent.

Moreover, she can't exactly take any chances. As much as she wishes she could just call this one good and hope for the best, she's on a case, and finding a suspect attractive is never a good reason to clear them of suspicion.

After a few hours of work in Melina's office and around the museum-- ones largely spent feeling guilty over her irrational desire for him to be innocent in all of this in spite of all of the suspicious material she already has on him-- she's headed back to the amphitheater, finding that her resolve seems to have only hardened. Where she might have wavered before, her conscience has compensated for its previous weakness by buckling down twice as hard on her convictions. Deep down inside, however, she realizes that this line of thinking could all too easily lead her down a wrong path as she tries to compensate. A balancing act, then.

She doesn't want to have to treat him like a suspect, but he's given her no choice.

Marching backstage, he turns to look at her upon her entrance, looking only… well, mildly annoyed.

"Do you like what you found in my bag?"

And… just like that, her resolve seems to fizzle a bit. She's normally so firm-- even in the face of her blatant rule-breaking and convenience-theft.

"... sorry if that was intrusive, but I'm here to keep tabs on the museum."

Even as she says it, she knows it's a lame excuse.

"Oh," he almost sounds amused, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, just staring at her in seeming disbelief, "well then let me help you. The museum is on the exterior of the bag. The interior of the bag is not the museum. Museum…" he points, "... not museum." More pointing.

She winces. He's evidently good at chiding people. "You've made your point."

"See that I have."

There's just something about him. Maybe it's that he reminds her so very much of herself. He can be charming as much as he can be firm. That quality again-- as though she's talking to two different people. Only, in this instance, both are attractive in their own way.

"Why do you think Xenia keeps making your role bigger?"

He… pauses. Takes a very deep breath. He looks… annoyed, which is understandable, and like he's not altogether surprised, which isn't. "Would you stay out of my things?"

"Okay, okay."

That’s a lie.

"I have no idea, honestly."

"Maybe she just likes keeping you busy."

Judging by the look on his face, her words must have set off about a million alarm bells in his head. "I have to go."

Now that she hadn't expected, Nancy suddenly left to wonder if they're still going to get ice cream.

He's back in his usual spot backstage when she returns half an hour later with two coffee cups.

"Half-caff caramel flat white, extra hot, right?"

He clearly didn't expect her to talk to him again so soon, his eyes wide as he considers the cups in her hands. But he nods, just sort of… considering her for a moment, as though in a whole new light. Maybe he is. Either way, he accepts the cup with what looks like it can only be a sort of stunned sense of gratitude.

"You... really didn't have to get me coffee."

"Didn't I upset you earlier?"

"What? No, no--" He shakes his head, his hands accompanying the action to jointly reassure her. "The show is starting to rest on my shoulders more and more. I needed to catch my breath."

Nancy nods, even though the need to catch one's breath from a conversation seems strange. Moving to take a seat beside him atop one of the assorted backstage trunks, she takes a slow sip from her own coffee.

"So... caffeine addict?"

"Completely. Hopelessly."

"How did you figure out my coffee order, anyway?"

He laughs. "Lucky guess. You look like a decaf kinda gal."

"Uh... thank you?" She doesn't know whether to take that as an insult or something else entirely, Nancy cocking her head at him half-curious, half-wary.

He shakes his head, the same smile from before playing on his features. "It's not a bad thing. It's certainly better than Xenia, who is going to die of a heart attack before she's thirty if she keeps up whatever she’s doing."

It's unsettling to him just how nice the mere act of… sitting here and drinking coffee with her is. And that doesn't even compare to how much more enjoyable running lines with her was than his usual experiences of late. So he's not exactly happy she found the list. If she doesn't take his advice, doesn't keep her fingers off of his things… he doesn't even want to think about that, though even he can't deny that it would spell trouble. He's coming to enjoy her company. She's sweet if a little bit on the weird side… undeniably beautiful… and entirely innocent. He likes her. The last thing he wants is for her to get wrapped up in all of this.

"Why were you casting the role of Plutus?"

Her words catapult him out of his thoughts and straight into the exact pit he'd been hoping to avoid. Great. Now he gets to sound like an asshole.

"I kneeew I hadn't made my point." He might sound exasperated-- he certainly hopes he does-- but on the inside, he might as well be screaming. She's too curious for her own good. Too smart. He's not sure anyone's ever been able to keep her away from anything she wanted to get at-- and if they did, it didn't take. At least not for very long.

At the same time… there's got to be some way to keep her hands off this. But he's an actor. He's practically built to lie, his primary function in life, Grigor himself having been trained from the ground up to be an expert. He should be able to at least do something.

"I don't recall Plutus ever being in the Persephone myth."

"Well, actually, now that you ask, Plutus is technically Persephone's half-brother; he's Demeter's son. But… no, Xenia had a sequence in mind where Demeter petitions all the gods. But it was too boring, too expensive, and... did I mention too boring?"

That doesn't sound at all convincing. It's a terrible story. It doesn't make any sense. So he decides to add in a small jab at Xenia for added believability.

"I mean, you saw rehearsal. It's not exactly Shakespeare she's got going here, let alone Ibsen. Her play-writing skills… leave a lot to be desired. Just ask Niobe; I know she certainly feels the same way."

Nancy moves to stand, dropping her empty coffee cup into the trash before going to inspect the light board. He can't deny it. He really appreciates the view. Watching her bend over in those jeans… "Can you show me how to run the light board?"

He almost laughs, instead settling for throwing her a look. "I'd love to! But I really don't have the time. You'll find a book on it somewhere." And with any luck, figuring that out would keep her occupied long enough to avoid any major pitfalls.

"About that Plutus casting sheet I found in your bag..."

… well, so much for that theory.

"Which, let's remember, isn't part of the museum..."

"Something about it seems odd. Why would you be casting this late in the game?"

He shrugs. "I like working with undiscovered talent." That's not a lie.

"Wouldn't Xenia be casting? Wouldn't there be some reference to Plutus in the script somewhere?"

He stares at her for a long moment, just… blinking. He can't keep playing mental gymnastics like this with her, not when he's not prepared to counter her arguments. She's undeniably sharp, a formidable opponent.

"You're unbelievable."

And she is. He's not sure he's ever met anyone quite this doggedly insistent upon getting herself into trouble, so annoyingly persistent on each and every possible point just waiting to be picked apart. She might have no tact whatsoever, might have absolutely no respect for anybody's privacy, but evidently it works for her. He's just worried that it'll work a little too well this time. He hopes she knows how to get out of a cage as well as she knows how to get into one.

"It's a trait you and I share, apparently."

Touché. And she's right. They really are oddly similar. It's unsettling when it isn't fucking terrifying because it could legitimately get her killed in this instance.

"I didn't lie," yes he did, "and don't you dare call anyone on that list."

He knows even as the words tumble out of his mouth that it's not going to matter. She'll do it. If she hasn't already, she will now; stubbornly, staunchly against anyone telling her what to do. A bit like Thanos, but smaller and slightly less terrifying.

"My contacts are already on it."

He feels his blood run cold. FUCK.

"Nancy... you have no idea what you just did."

"Explain it to me." So damn condescending, too.

Time to think on his feet. The role of a lifetime. He was all but made for this.

"With pleasure. For the last five years, FIVE years, I've been researching angel investors. You know what those are?"

"Yeah, they invest in new businesses when no one else will."

"Those are my angel investors-- or were-- for a theater I want to get off the ground. It took years to get those names. They were coming to opening night, Nancy! And now... they're gone. I promise it. Your 'contacts,' asking about me like I'm a crook?"

Except that he is a crook. Sometimes he doesn't even see the difference between him and Thanos as anything particularly noteworthy. They're both the same types of men. Sure, motivations are undeniably different, but the end result is still the same.

"If you had nothing to hide, then you have nothing to worry about."

She's not wrong about that. It doesn't make it any easier. She says it so casually, as though she really doesn't have a single regret in the world over doing this. But he's worried. She's getting in too deep, and it's only day two. He has no idea what havoc she could possibly wreak in a week. Doesn't want to know. Doesn't want to know what she would look like, neck broken and bent out of shape, limbs twisted as blood pools under her body. Thanos' handiwork.

He can feel his resolve harden beneath the overwhelming panic. He's an actor. He can channel anger instead of fear any day. He's done it before. It's just a bit more personal this time, the stakes higher.

"Leave me alone. Now! Go, and don't come back!"

Admittedly, Nancy is… conflicted.

Part of her wants to feel triumphant as always-- like she's somehow won this particular exchange of theirs-- but the bigger part of her-- and this makes her feel decidedly uncomfortable, because it's not a particularly familiar feeling for her-- feels undeniably guilty. Or, at any rate… worried that maybe she should feel guilty. Maybe if he had just told her about his investors at first and hadn't tried to make up an excuse… but no, she called Frank and Joe long before she actually went and confronted Grigor about it.

So… maybe she shouldn't have done that.

The guilt settles in her gut uncomfortably, a strange, foreign, heavy sort of feeling, Nancy heading back up into the museum courtyard for some privacy to call Frank and Joe back.

"Hey Nancy, what's going on?"

She takes a deep breath, running her hand down her face as she moves to take a seat on one of the many benches littering the courtyard. Where was that confidence from before? That triumphant feeling? "Any word on the names I gave you?"

Frank is quick to respond. She's not sure if she's grateful for that or not, her heart seeming to sink at his words. "Actually, yes. It's a list of very wealthy individuals. Many of whom have extensive art collections." If they care about art, it's not a stretch to believe them to care about theater...

"Rich as Plutus, you could say," Joe cuts in. "He was the god of being rich, which is a pretty top-shelf way to go through life, if you ask me."

"What did you make of the rest of the list?"

"I think it might be a code," Frank quickly supplies, which doesn't surprise her. Frank's always been good with codes, and she'd been suspecting the same thing. Well… she had, until Grigor trampled all over her suspicion and confidence with his feelings. She's a detective. She's not supposed to care about ruining the lives of liars and thieves. But… if he's innocent...

"Me too, just not sure what it means yet."

"So... in short, you might want to talk to the guy."

"Well… actually…" She swallows thickly. "I already asked him about it."

"And?"

"He didn't deny what you said, but... he claimed they were going to invest in a theater he was hoping to start." And now can't anymore. God, Nancy, way to go.

"Do you think that's true?"

There's a long pause.

"I... really hope not."

"Why?"

"If that's true," she takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her gut, "I just trampled on his biggest dream."

"I hope for your sake he's crooked."

Another long pause. On the one hand… yeah, it would be great for him to have been lying. Then she wouldn't have to feel so guilty about all of this. But… another part of her wants him to be innocent too, as awful as that would make her feel for acting like a fucking bitch. Maybe she could always try to call the investors back, plead with them to reconsider funding…

"I guess... I do too?"

No she doesn't. It's more than evident in her voice. Which really means that she's in trouble. Rule numero uno of detective work has always been to not get involved with suspects. And while she's certainly not involved yet… the potential seems to hang heavy at the forefront of her mind.

Xenia, slavedriver that she is, recruits him to clean up the amphitheater. There are some plastic bottles and cans scattered here and there, and obviously it's important that the place look professional for opening night, so he cleans up, slowly working his way up the seats.

When he hears her voice from behind the wall surrounding the top of the theater, he freezes. He knows he probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but with Xenia for once gone from her cushy post under that gazebo tent of hers… he can't resist.

"Well… actually… I already asked him about it."

Okay, either she's talking about him, or he's become extremely conceited since he last checked. Well, that, or a part of him wants her talking about him. Not just for the sake of evidence, but the knowledge of what she knows so far and how he can best counteract it. For her sake as much as anyone else’s, more specifically her continued safety.

"He didn't deny what you said, but... he claimed they were going to invest in a theater he was hoping to start."

Definitely talking about him. Good, good. Not super conceited just yet, not that there isn't still time for that.

"I... really hope not."

Grigor feels himself stop breathing in a desperate effort to not miss a single thing she says.

"If that's true, I just trampled on his biggest dream."

His heart in his throat, his throat inexplicably tight, he can feel his stomach seize up. If he was feeling guilty before… it doesn't even remotely compare to what he's feeling right about now.

"I guess... I do too?"

He would give anything to know what was said on the other line just then. He can conjecture, of course, but there's no way to confirm. All he does know is that she sounded damn uncertain just then. So if they told her that they hope that it wasn't actually his dream, that wouldn't really make a lot of sense.

Which means that they could have said just about anything.

Either way, he does know that the awful, guilty sensation in his gut would seem to be mutual sentiment. The only problem being that he's the liar here, and that his lies just made her feel worse than she really deserved to feel under any circumstance.

But he also knows that he can't tell her. In the interest of keeping her safe, the less she knows, the better.

He'll have to make it up to her somehow without letting on to the fact that his anger from before wasn't genuine.

Only one thing for it, then.

She's been trying to match the correct symbols to correspond with each Greek god or goddess for about half an hour now. The Greek mythology book-- which is slowly starting to feel even less comprehensive than she imagines a regular encyclopedia might have-- sits heavy in one hand while the other tries out new combinations when not flipping back and forth between pages. Honestly, who thought it was a good idea to have four different kinds of birds represented in this particular puzzle? It's insane.

"You're going to want to switch those two."

Nancy almost jumps out of her skin at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide as she turns to look at him. "Grigor!"

Coming up behind her, he gently takes her hand-- the one with the dolphin in it-- and guides it over to allow him to pick up her incorrectly-placed dove, her hand still in his. He has… larger hands than one might at first expect from him. Soft and unassuming, but… containing an undeniable dexterity within them nevertheless. His fingers are long, and she wouldn't be surprised if she came to learn that he knows how to play the piano, and play it well.

"I know it's tempting to assume that they'd be kind enough to include Hermes in this particular collection, but… sadly, he gave up his lyre to Apollo, the woman-stealing monster. The dove, meanwhile..." He doesn't need her hand for this anymore, her piece already discarded, but he doesn't let it go, either, instead just continuing to guide it. "... goes here. With Aphrodite. Whose beauty couldn't even compare to Persephone in Hermes' eyes."

The box pops open, Nancy wordlessly taking the key inside of it before shutting the small drawer and turning to face him. She expected him to be standing closer. She's disappointed when he isn't.

"I'm sorry I blew up at you like that earlier. It was… uncalled for. You couldn't have known. If I'd been honest with you from the start, it wouldn't have happened, so, really, this one's on me."

Is it, though? It's not as though he had a reason to volunteer the information, so honesty is hardly part of this. She sighs, deciding to sidestep that bit of logic in favor of conflict resolution. "Still, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed like that."

He shakes his head, adamant. "I expected you to assume. It's an awful quality, but that doesn't mean that it's one you can just pretend away. You have good reason to be wary of the people around here. It's no good to take everything at face value. But… I'd advise maybe… easing up on the ride or die attitude. It's… a bit risky."

"Is that what you came here to tell me? To be less of an intrusive snitch?"

He laughs. "No, but now I kind of wish that had been it. I am Hermes, after all, messenger of all that is uncalled for and unwanted. But… no. I figured you could use a break. I did promise you ice cream after all, and… it's as good a time as any to take a tour of the city. Gonnoi isn't too large, so you don't have to be worried that I'll take up your whole night, or anything."

She isn't. She'd prefer it, even if she makes a mental note to stow that unprofessional attitude far, far away from her work. Then again… going out for ice cream is hardly work. The fact that it's with a suspect… can be overlooked. For now.

"All right. But I have to warn you, I don't have a car. I've just been walking back and forth to my hotel. It's not that far from here." And more than that, she's used to walking.

"Then I guess it's a good thing I do." He holds out his bent arm to her with a smile entirely too charming for its own good. "Shall we, my queen?" 

The actors' hotels and rental cars would seem to have been part of the troupe's package deal, if only because Nancy doubts that all of this would have been easy to afford for several weeks of rehearsal. Still, she isn't complaining. The rental is nice enough, even if it's lacking any personal touches, and she finds herself watching his hand on the stick more than once during the relatively short drive toward the city center, his fingers seeming to draw her attention even more than his ability to drive a stick shift.

With the car parked, they start walking, Nancy smiling at the realization that they might get to watch the sunset this way.

"I know some of these houses look pretty run-down, but… the people seem really happy all the same. I mean… I know it doesn't have the glamour of New York, or anything, but I like the sort of small town feel that I get from this place. It's intimate. We're surrounded by mountains and fields and beautiful foliage amongst only about two-thousand or so people." He's quiet for a moment, Nancy watching him. "I never liked New York much, honestly. It's too… busy, too willing to swallow you whole the first chance it gets. There's no relaxing in a city like that. Here… it feels like that's all anyone should be doing. Of course, then I spend any time at all around Xenia, and she reminds me that relaxing is absolutely out of the question."

Nancy laughs. It's uncomfortably easy to laugh around Grigor, she finds, and as their hands bump into each other, she can't help wishing he would take hers. So she doesn't move it, leaving it to occasionally inadvertently touch on his.

"What drew you to ancient Greece?"

He smiles. "Greece cultivated the thoughts and ideas that shaped the western world, which Rome then... conveniently sold door to door at the pointy end of a spear. Still... I love the gods, though. Imagine living in their shadows. So much drama took place on Olympus. I guess the pantheon was the first theater troupe in a way."

"Greece certainly has a very impressive cultural history..."

His face seems to light up all at once, something Nancy doesn't expect to feel in the pit of her stomach, but does anyway. "I know! I haven't even gotten to the music or the food!"

"You're telling me," she laughs. "I'll probably gain a few pounds during my visit here."

"Only a few? On the behalf of the people of Greece, I'm insulted." He grins, the two of them coming up on what must be the ice cream shop he had been referring to, Grigor holding the door open for her. It would seem that he's keen on helping her put on some of that extra weight right now. "If I had a big Greek family, I'd invite you for food and arguments... and singing at the end."

"That would be nice."

"Wouldn't it?" He smiles, warmer and more open than she had anticipated from him, usually so caught up in his need to please and entertain those around him. "I'll make it happen one day. You'll see."

As he orders his own ice cream, Nancy can't help but be struck by a hint of unexpected jealousy. Not just of Xenia now, but… apparently… all Grecian women? Maybe he just meant the concept of a Greek family. Large, loud, happy. She wonders if she'd fit into that picture, and then promptly wonders if she's lost her mind.

"... aaaand for the lady…?"

"Strawberry." Right. Ice cream. "What are you getting?"

"Coffee."

"Figures."

"Well, I'm always torn between that or peach," he says, gratefully accepting their two cones and handing one to her.

"Those are two very different flavors."

"Aren't they? It's really inconvenient, because they don't really go together. So while most people can just ask for two differently-flavored scoops in their cone, I tragically am denied this option."

The two of them slowly make their way outside, the sun starting to visibly set on the horizon as Grigor easily lifts himself up onto a stone wall behind him. Nancy struggles for just a moment before he reaches down his hand and easily lifts her up onto the ledge overlooking an olive plantation. She never noticed before just how unbelievably defined his arm muscles are, but now that she's looking-- now that she was the grateful recipient of their assistance-- she can't seem to stop noticing.

He has really nice arms.

"This ice cream is really good."

"Isn't it? Admittedly, they don't have the biggest selection… I tend to go kind of overboard when I'm in a place that goes beyond the basics. My usual go-to flavor is macadamia nut cheesecake."

"That's--"

"With bacon."

"-- very unique."

"I try to be. Unfortunately, that's… not normally a request they can fill. Most ice cream shops don't carry bacon."

"I don't imagine they would."

"Had it once, though. Maple bacon crunch. They serve it at this little shop back home. Amazing."

"Where's home?"

"Oh," he half-scoffs, half-laughs, shaking his head. "Anywhere and everywhere these days. The… story's not worth spoiling this sunset."

He's right about one thing-- the sunset is beautiful. These sort of colors just don't show up in the sky in River Heights, whether at sunrise or sunset. Here, it seems to be painted on-- gorgeous shades of reds, oranges, and pinks…

With her cone finished, Nancy sets her hand down beside her, sidled up against her left thigh, not expecting to find his hand already there and so close that at least some of her fingers are undeniably touching his. But he doesn't move, and Nancy doesn't dare spoil the moment.

They stay like that for a long while, just watching the colors meld and change, time seeming to carry on right before their eyes. A part of Nancy wants to just stop in this moment, enjoy the colors-- and the company-- for as long as possible. She doesn't want to end up disillusioned, and she's afraid that's exactly what's going to happen. She can't believe she's actually afraid of calling the Hardy boys tomorrow.

At the same time… she can't quite put her finger on it. His expression, the reticence in his voice at certain moments… it almost seems as though there's an invisible weight bearing down on him, as though he is less Hermes than he is Atlas at times. A part of her wants to ask, but she also doesn't want to cut through the peaceful sense of quiet between them.

Thankfully, it's Grigor and not her that eventually breaks the silence as the colors slowly fade to be replaced with darkness, the lights around the city seeming to come on all at once. That, too, is nice. Possibly even as romantic as the sunset.

"Say…" he moves his hand away, reaching for his ear instead to nervously tug at it for a moment, Nancy feeling the disappointment in her bones. "Just a shot in the dark, but... you've got an agenda here."

Tread lightly, Drew.

"You could say that."

He's quiet for a long moment, just smiling softly as he turns to look at her. "You know what I do all day?"

"Try to figure out what your ankle wings are for?"

He seems unable to hold back the laughter at that, a warm feeling rising up in her stomach. "... yeees."

"Okay, and what else?"

"I study people and I study characters, not that the difference is all that big."

"I suppose this is leading to some insight you have about me?"

"Wooow. Conceited!"

"Oh… I'm sorry--" Nancy laughs, half-sputtering, "you're toying with me, aren't you?"

"You and I--" she likes the way he says that too much, "-- ask the same type of questions. And yes, I am."

Her smile widens as she lightly shrugs. "I like figuring people out."

His expression darkens somewhat at that, his face falling as his brow furrows. "I don't just like to. I need to."

"As an actor?"

"And in life."

She's not sure what to make of that, but before she can ask, Grigor takes that moment to hop down from the wall.

"Need some help getting down?"

"I… think I got it."

"Here--" Reaching up, he takes her hand again to help ease her back down onto the ground. When he lets go, she wishes he hadn't again, the two of them back on the path through town.

"Hey, um… back at the museum, can you help me get down into the rest of the sets?"

It's an undeniably awkward, but necessary question. Thanos took her remote. She can't just let that slide.

"Why?"

"I'm here to help Melina. I need to be able to go everywhere."

Grigor laughs, humorlessly, his eyes wide as he firmly shakes his head. "It is far too dangerous down there."

She resists the urge to pout. "But not for Thanos?"

"Definitely for Thanos. He just doesn't listen."

After that, she's quiet for a long while, just enjoying the walk beside him even if her mind is elsewhere, shrouded in the mystery of the stolen art.

"I can't decide if I like it better after dark or before."

Grigor chuckles at that, slowly nodding. "I know that feeling. There's definitely a certain… magic to the lights around the city, the streets empty, the soft hum of music still heard in the distance… it's peaceful. Besides… dressed like this, I prefer for fewer people to see me out and about."

Nancy laughs, but the feeling from before seems to linger. Even on their way back to his car, the night's arrival having brought with it a slight chill in the air, the two of them quiet, appreciating each other's company perhaps more than the scenery, she can't shake the feeling that there's something troubling him, Grigor appearing lost in thought more than a few times when she steals a few glances over at him.

"Are you all right? You seem to be awfully deep in thought."

"Mm?" Grigor looks up at that, as though surprised to hear her voice for a moment before he finds his character again and smiles, shaking his head. "Oh, no, I'm fine. Just going over lines in my head. Still need to get that monologue down pat tonight in my hotel room. I guess it's just… preoccupying my thoughts somewhat."

Unlocking the car upon their approach, he takes the time to open the door for her, Nancy feeling the flush that comes over her cheeks as she gets in and buckles up, waiting for Grigor to join her.

"All right… lead the way, my queen."

A rooster crowed as you spoke, though I knew it was far from morning, so far from morning... as you whispered: “Come.”

Little wings flapped impatiently on your head, daring your father for wind.

"Well, clearly exactly no one is off book, so let's just… take it from the top… "

Nancy is back in the audience with her recorder, leaning back, smile on her face as she watches another disaster slowly unfold. This time, it seems that it's Grigor's time to be roasted by Xenia.

"I just-- I've been struggling with Hermes as a character, you know-- so, what I'm going to do is, I'm just going to try... whatever, and then you... you just tell me when I've gone too far… And you want... you, you like this? Or you want something else?"

Nancy starts laughing again at his Russian accent, Grigor shooting her a grin.

"Zeus, Zeus! Ya not as wise ta make me wait! You may rule dese men over here, and women, in dis brief moment o' life...!"

"Oh, okay," Xenia laughs in near-disbelief as Nancy fights to stifle her laughter, "let's just... take it back a little bit. Where are you from, Brooklyn? No, no--"

"Well, well... we're just... I'm, I'm trying lots of different things..."

"Okay..."

"Oh see, it starts, okay, page three, here we go… Are th' seats packed with th' dead?"

Nancy bursts out laughing.

"NO to that one!"

"Alright, well, you know, I'm... I'm trying... you know, I figure it's, it's... he's Hermes. He's the messenger, so he like, he spends, you know, a month and a half or something in... in Greece…

"All right, just... just go on..."

"Should ah line you up an' punt you down to th' Land o' the Dead?"

'Okay...!"

"We-e-ell... D'you wanna know a secret?"

"Okay, we're gonna stick to traditional! Alright? We're going to stay out of America. We're going for a true..."

"We're going to stay out of Amer-- well there, stay out of America. I can stay out of America. That's not a problem. Then we'll go, I mean, okay, let me... let me... let me start again." Clears his throat. "Do you want to knoo a secret? Ahh the seats... packed? With the dead?"

If nothing else, Nancy has to admit that he'd make an excellent Shakespearean actor.

"We're getting closer, but how about just read it, no accent...?"

"You want to know a secret?" His voice resounds, suddenly flat and devoid of all emotion, Nancy biting down on her tongue at this point. "Are the seats packed with the dead? Should I--"

"Y'know, we're gonna get the feeling down, and then we'll just add it in a little bit later..."

"I just don't feel... if I don't, if I don't do something, there's no character. I mean, if you want a character, I need to do something… Curse for all the gods... Look, I'm-- this is driving me insane. Curse for all the gods. I've gone and broken the fourth wall. See, he's... it's a character! But I mean, there's no character, so... so there's nothing to come out of... because there's nothing going on-- I'm just going to read it! Curses for all the gods, I've gone and broken the fourth wall. But no bother! Your beloved real world is--"

"I think--"

"ITSELF, THEATER…!"

"I think you are--"

"YOU USED TO PRETEND!"

"You are, hrrrgh!"

"You're used to believing that you want to believe!"

Xenia about explodes. "You are sassing me right now!"

"I'm not sassing you!"

"Yes, you are! Okay, you know what I think this is?" she turns to look at Nancy. "Bring me that recorder. I'm taking care of it from now on. You have work to do as it is and he's clearly just trying to amuse you--"

"I'm just trying to figure out what this is!"

Nancy sighs, handing the recorder off to Xenia with a sigh as she catches a glimpse of Grigor's expression. Even she has to admit that he might have been sassing her a bit… but she also kind of secretly hopes that it was more than just trying to amuse her, and that he was secretly trying to impress her, too.

"I'm sure that with you gone and doing your actual job, things will go much more smoothly now, don't you?"

Xenia turns out to be painfully wrong, and with the troupe in more (painful) rehearsals for most of the rest of the morning, Nancy actually has a chance to get some work done around the museum. There certainly seem to be some issues with provenance-- at least one of the invoices can't possibly be correct-- and at one point she catches Niobe entering what is, quite undeniably, a hidden passageway. She knows if only because of her long-time experience with them herself, that there's no way she imagined it, and it doesn't take her all that long to figure out the mechanism, all too pleased with herself when she manages to recover the remote Thanos had taken from her the day prior.

She knows she's been stalling. A part of her wanted to just call the Hardys right away upon her arrival at the museum that morning, but they wouldn't have been awake yet by then, and so the prospect of putting it off has become increasingly appealing as the day has gone on.

So when Grigor enlists her to help him finalize his setup with the light cues-- what colors go with which scenes and which lights-- Grigor having already figured out how to automate it in order to take at least some weight off of his shoulders during the show-- she's quick to jump at the chance to help in whatever way she can while he keeps working to automate the soundboard beside her.

The only problem comes in when the power goes off, the lighting backstage flickering out of existence.

"Oh, shoot-- I'm going to need to reset the breaker--"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I'm honestly not surprised-- the hydraulics have been running hot for days now; I keep telling the stagecraft company guys to fix it, but little good that's done… here, I'll come with you."

They're lucky it's still light outside, but even so, it's far darker backstage now than she's accustomed to, her eyes still adjusting as she walks over to the top of the stairs. "What, you don't trust me to manage by myself?"

"Ha, no. I know you're perfectly capable. I just think two sets of eyes are better than one… especially when we're dealing with near-total darkness down there. Besides. I know for a fact that that floor can be pretty slippery when it wants to be."

He's not wrong, Nancy letting him go first just in case before slowly following. The basement is more or less pitch black, he was certainly right about that, something she's realizing is getting increasingly worse as they further descend the stairs. Taking each step down incredibly carefully, Nancy feels out her path along the handrail on her way.

When she is fairly certain she's hit solid ground again, she relaxes considerably, following Grigor as she takes a few confident strides toward where she's pretty sure the breaker is.

It's a hubristic mistake, Nancy's shoes encountering one of those undeniably slick parts of the damp floor and promptly sending her falling forward, her foot sliding out from underneath her. She braces herself for a crash that never comes, Nancy's body instead having collided with Grigor's front, his arms quick to steady her against him.

"Told you it was slippery."

His words are playful, teasing, but his tone isn't. He doesn't normally speak softly, but this time it was just barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear while far too close to his face. Slowly, he eases her back onto her own two feet, Nancy straightening herself out somewhat.

"Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life telling you what not to do before I get to watch you do it anyway?"

I hope so.

"Yes."

"Good. I was worried things were going to get boring around here." Grigor opens the box and effortlessly pulls down the lever, and Nancy finds herself almost disappointed when the lights come back on.

"You gonna be okay to walk on your own from now on?"

"Very funny..."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for your own good… you never know!"

She's disappointed when she has to leave the backstage area after Grigor orders everyone lunch, the whole gang-- minus Thanos, mysteriously missing-- getting together to take a break. It’s not just because she enjoys spending her time with Grigor, but also because the end of their (late) lunch leaves her with no more excuses about calling the Hardys. Going to sit on one of the courtyard benches again as she dials, Nancy absently watches the pigeons here and there as her phone rings, nerves fluttering in her stomach that really shouldn't be there for all intents and purposes.

"Hey Nance! What's up?" 

"Hey guys… Have you been able to look into the entire cast?"

"Yeah…" Frank is quick to respond. "You're dealing with something really serious here."

She can feel her stomach drop even as she reminds herself to hold it together. "Tell me more."

"That's the thing. We're not sure."

"First red flag is the staff."

Okay, so Grigor is at least not at the top of the seriously dangerous list, Nancy breathing a decidedly unprofessional sigh of relief. "As in, where is everyone?"

"We reached out to the Network to see if we could track down any of the workers who left."

She frowns, picking at a loose thread at the seam at the side of her pants."No one would talk?"

"No one could be found."

A beat. "Oh." Like they were made up? But then… with whom was Melina even working?

"Keep quiet on that until we figure out what's happening."

Done and done, which wouldn't always be the case necessarily, but as much as she hates to admit it, there's more at stake here than missing pieces of art.

"We can fill you in on everyone at the museum, but these are dangerous people. You have to tread lightly."

"Tread lightly? She's so bad at that!"

She laughs, but it's almost forced, Nancy pretty sure that she's stopped breathing somewhere in there. "Thanks, Joe."

"Sorry. Just be careful. Something big is happening."

We can fill you in on everyone at the museum, but these are dangerous people. She can't even imagine Grigor being dangerous-- especially not in regard to her. Why would he have been acting so nice toward her? Has he been buttering her up for some… future purpose?

"Did you find out anything about Grigor Karakinos?" Proooobably shouldn't have sounded quite so eager...

"Did you notice anything about his Greek accent?"

Wait, what?

"What Greek accent?"

"Right, he's an American and Grigor is not his name."

There's that feeling of her stomach dropping down into her pants again. "Really?"

"Really."

"So who is he?"

"He may be an actor, like he says. We can't figure out why he changed his name."

"But we did find out a bit about his past," Joe adds, Nancy holding her breath for a long moment.

"What's his story?"

"Pretty sad, actually. He's an only child, his parents died when he was really young."

"He grew up completely alone."

"In and out of foster care until he aged out of the system."

"That may explain the assumed name."

"Right…" Nancy swallows, realizing after a moment of just listening to them talk that she's actually part of this conversation, and not just a creepy, voyeuristic spectator into his life. In normal terms, that would make her a stalker. Then again, they're talking about the case and her continued safety here. She does, after all, really enjoy being alive. It's worked out pretty well for her so far. Still. It makes her heart hurt, the things they found out-- she can't deny that. "Maybe... the name has some meaning."

"Right, it could be a stage name."

"Like a nom de plume... but for actors."

"Joe, there's already a word for that. It's a nom de theatre. But it could also be something more serious."

"Like a nom de guerre!"

That's what she's worried about.

"Unlikely. Either way we'll look into it."

Frank might as well have read her mind, Nancy breathing a long sigh of relief. "Thanks, guys, I appreciate it." A beat. "Did you find out anything about Xenia Doukas?"

Their conversation takes a while, with Nancy checking in with Melina afterward, the boys' information still simmering at the forefront of her mind.

And when she asks Thanos later about his opinion of Grigor, she doesn't particularly like the answer. Threatening her is one thing-- she's not so easily threatened… or hurt, for that matter-- but she's not sure how well Grigor would do opposite Thanos.

She wonders, suddenly, if Thanos has Grigor pinned under his thumb, and that the weight on his shoulders is related to that. Judging from her conversation with Frank and Joe, he has every reason to be terrified of Thanos and what he could do to him. She wonders what that sort of threat hanging over his shoulders could make him do against his own wishes.

Of course, when she ends up asking Xenia the same question, her answer is not one she was expecting, especially not after the-- extremely trying-- rehearsal earlier that morning.

"What can you tell me about Grigor?" 

"I like him…" she smiles, cocking her head somewhat in a way that makes Nancy's stomach seem to curdle the milk she'd had earlier. "I know he's the type to flatter. I know it's self-serving to listen to him when he tells me I'm gorgeous and brilliant. But you know what? I can use the emotional junk food some days."

Nancy can't blame her. She just has to wonder if that's what happens when she's not around. That he tells Xenia things like that… and then turns around and takes Nancy out for ice cream.

More than friends?

He doesn't seem the type to just… have an endless string of one-night-stands, but now she's seriously left wondering if Grigor and Xenia are sleeping together, the thought making her more than a little uncomfortable for a whole host of reasons, not one of them strictly professional.

He comes up behind her later just as she's trying to take a picture of the statue of the Nemean lion, his hands closing in on her shoulders, Nancy inhaling sharply at the sudden contact.

"You'd make a… far better subject than he could ever hope to be."

Lowering her camera, Nancy turns to look at him, Grigor politely stepping back as she does so. "That is the second time that you've sneaked up on me now."

"Maybe you should get better at realizing that someone is sneaking up behind you."

It sounds like a warning. Is it?

"If you're looking for beautiful things to behold and photograph, though, I know a way better place. You wanna?"

"Only if we can order takeout first."

Grigor laughs, seeming to light up her insides as he does so. "Deal."

They end up, where it's possible, sliding the majority of the things on Melina's desk off to the side, the remaining pieces ending up on the floor or on the cabinets, at least for the time being. It's… completely unprofessional, but she wasn't told not to do it, Nancy taking the time to take a few pictures of the previous setup as… insurance for when the time comes that she gets to put everything back in its proper place. Evidently… Grigor is good at encouraging rule-breaking, not that she minds, the two of them sitting cross-legged on the table as they eat their food. It's a big table. You would have never known just from looking at it before they underwent their little experiment, Nancy fishing a noodle out of her carton to happily munch on.

"I have a… somewhat… potentially… rude... question for you."

Rude questions are her bread and butter. "Okay, what's up?"

"Why are you here?"

Nancy laughs. "I was invited."

"Are you an... art expert?"

"No… but I've worked in a museum before… and I've got a pretty long list of character references by now. Of course, there's always the fact that I'm willing to work for free."

"Unusual, but, yeah, okay, that's probably it."

She waits to finish chewing and swallowing her bite before starting to talk again. "I saw Niobe using a hidden door earlier today."

He shrugs. Okay, so, definitely not the reaction she was expecting. "That's your only reaction?"

"We're in a theater. Theaters are built for sneaking around in."

"It wasn't in the theater, it was in the museum."

Abruptly, the tone shifts, Grigor's gaze dropping as he reaches up to-- scratch? tug?-- at one of his ears. "Oh, that's just... to let the staff move without having to wade through the crowd." Aaand he's recovered. "I know it seems exciting, but hidden passages are only exciting the first time you see them. Then they're just... poorly advertised doors." He laughs.

"You touch your ears when you're nervous."

"What?"

Nancy shrugs. "You touch your ears when you're nervous. Usually just one, and usually not for long, but it's an interesting tic. I figured, as an actor, you'd want to be aware of the fact that you were doing it."

Grigor stares at her for a long moment. Nancy can't figure out his expression, though, shoveling in for another bite of her food. "Mm?"

"Oh, uh-- nothing. It's nothing."

He ends up driving them up a small, but fairly well-known street he found not too long into his time here, taking them a short ways up the mountain so they might reach the perfect spot. Turning into the overlook to park, he kills the engine, leaning back in his seat.

"We're here. Best view in all of Gonnoi."

"Thank you. This place feels… really special."

"It is! It's my favorite place to go think when I've got a lot on my mind."

"Is that why we're here now?"

He wants to explain to her that that's not entirely true, but it's not untrue, either. He wants, more than anything, to just tell her the truth. But that's… definitely out of the question.

"No, we're just here to talk."

"You do seem like you've had a lot on your mind lately."

"Yeah, phew, Xenia's really been taking it out on me and Niobe lately, probably because Thanos is typically missing in action..."

"That's not what I meant."

He's quiet, his face seeming to shed its mask just like that, Grigor turning to Nancy with a small, if somewhat sad smile. "I know."

She doesn't ask for specifics, though, something he's grateful for, and the two of them just sit like that for a long moment, happy to enjoy the quiet. Even just being in her presence is somehow enjoyable. He's not even sure why.

"How old are you?"

He surprises even himself in asking the question, but when it's out, it's out, Grigor careful to keep his expression level.

"Eighteen. Why?"

He feels a little part of him shrivel up and die inside.

Then again, if he's going to be dying at the end of this anyway-- well, that or never able to look Nancy in the eyes ever again without feeling utterly unworthy, as though that would change anything from the current status quo-- he might as well be a little bit bad, right? Right?

For a moment, the silence seeming to stretch on between them for eons, he thinks, very seriously, about just kissing her. She might have subtly turned him down in the beginning, but… she also never outright rejected him. He's starting to have unfortunate flashbacks to high school, Jenny Carpenter absolutely refusing to go to the dance with him despite all of the time they'd spent pretending to kiss on stage for the play, the way his heart had felt like it was at the tip of his tongue, right there, ripe for the plucking by her. As though, if he could only give his heart to one, singular, worthy person in this lifetime and have them keep it safe… he could die happily.

But he doesn't kiss her. Doesn't dare take the chance.

Sometimes, he hates his conscience.

"You know, you look really out of place."

Nancy laughs at the comment, Grigor unable to keep himself from smiling at the sound of it. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"Hey now, just because I belong on Mount Olympus in this getup doesn't mean that I don't fit in better than you do."

"... fair enough. Unfortunately, last I checked my closet, I was fresh out of togas."

"I'm sure Niobe could probably use a break from all that pottery."

"Somehow, I doubt Xenia would let her get away with that considering how much work she has to do. I mean, you should have seen her the other day when I just tried to talk to her for a couple of minutes. Although…"

"Yeeees…?"

"Did you know Niobe has a history as an art forger?"

He almost laughs. She's always so... earnest. "I did, and that's a very dramatic way of putting it."

"Explain the difference to me."

He cocks his head considering it. "It's the difference between... cheating off a friend and robbing a bank."

"Still, she did commit art forgery."

He shakes his head. "She hid behind her friend because she was timid. If you ask me, her so-called friend is the real criminal here. Making millions while Niobe scrapes by."

"Is that something you're particularly familiar with?"

This time he does actually laugh, though it's far more out of surprise at just how shameless she is than it is borne from humor. "Not… in that way, no. Not even a little. You really are unbelievable, you know that, right?"

"I try."

"No, I mean it. I looked up everything I could about you. You're not the average teenager."

It physically pains him to say the word.

"And?"

"I noticed that you seem to find trouble. And when you're not searching it out... someone puts you directly in trouble's path." His voice may have come out a bit… firmer than he had originally intended. But then, he really is worried.

"Sure, but you could say the same thing about a lot of people."

He's quiet at that. One could say that, but not even close to the way it relates to Nancy. Nancy is… undeniably special. And, as it would seem, other people have noticed this about her, too. Melina hired her, sure, but not because of what she knows about art. She hired her because she's a detective with almost countless won cases to her name. Never charging for a single one of them. Her credentials are more than impressive, Grigor ending up with endless amounts of search results featuring articles about teen sleuth this and teen sleuth that. One time she solves a cold case murder. Another time she discovers not only Marie Antoinette's long-lost diary, but also a priceless diamond. It's case after case of Nancy seeming to do the impossible over and over again. Apprehending culprits left and right.

In one particular case-- she did say she'd worked in a museum before-- she literally nabs a guy that had been stealing priceless pieces of Mayan art. It's… unsettling. Too close to home.

His hands find the steering wheel to wrap around, just… staring ahead of himself for a long moment. "Is… something bad going to happen here?"

"I don't think so."

Oh, good. She doesn't think so. He's quiet for a bit before he turns to her, dead serious now. "If there is any danger, at all... please let me know. I mean it." I care about your safety and well-being far more than I care about my own rotten hide.

If she got hurt because of this crap, and it was somehow his fault that she got involved at all, he'd never forgive himself.

Hey, so, Nancy, you know the reason why Melina was forced to leave and why you're probably employed here in the first place? Yeah, that. There's an art heist going down on Friday, and Thanos is probably going to kill me if I don't go through with it, and probably going to kill me even if I do, so… Whatever this is between us, we should probably get on it now and make the most of the time I have left on this beautiful planet we call Earth.

"Come on." Subtly nodding his head toward the door of his car, he opens it to step out, walking around to the front to settle against the hood of it. Nancy follows closely after, Grigor hearing the whoosh of the car door as she pushes it closed. Her flats make the grass crunch pleasantly underfoot as she joins him at the overlook.

"It's beautiful."

Turning to look at her, a curious smile plays on his features. "Isn't it."

She doesn't notice where his gaze is fixed, doesn't catch his meaning, and he figures they're both probably better off that way, anyway.

"Is it just me," she finally breaks through the silence a bit later, "or is Niobe a bit afraid of going on stage?"

He laughs somewhat wryly, shaking his head to himself. It's starting to get colder, and he wishes suddenly that this costume had pockets. This must be what women feel like all the time. An awful, pocket-less existence. How do they wear dresses, anyway? "I wish it was just you. It isn't."

"Then why be an actor?"

He shrugs. "Some people aren't easily explained. Actually-- revise that. Most people aren't easily explained." Including him, apparently.

"It seems like she'd be happier in a studio by herself."

He ducks his head as a smile comes over him. They're too similar. "I've said the same thing to her."

In a lot of ways, he feels like he could be around her all the time and never get bored, if only because she seems to be an awful lot like him, but without all of the shortcomings he hates about himself... just all of the good parts.

"What did she say?"

He laughs, but it's not the kind that seeks to imply humor. "She's broke."

Nancy shivers, something Grigor catches out of the corner of his eye before inwardly cursing himself for not having brought a jacket to wear with this outfit. It gets too hot during the day to even consider it, but at night--

"Here, come on. Let's get you back to your hotel."

Admittedly, he's both doing too little thinking and too much when he writes it.

The previous night was… too everything. Too comfortable, too good, too tempting. In part, he's writing it to remind himself that he's ten years her senior and that it would be absolutely insane to keep going down this road. Besides. He's basically a dead man walking at this point.

The kid's alright.

The Nancy girl seems to know what she's doing. I might make use of that if things get too overwhelming.

When Nancy inevitably stumbles across the tablet entry-- she's never been too great at keeping her hands off of other people's stuff, after all-- she has to suppress the tinge of… what? She's not even sure what this feeling is. All she really knows is that, of all people, the last person she thought would consider her a kid is Grigor. Then it hits her.

Insult.

She's insulted.

At least, that's the one she's trying to tell herself is the dominant feeling in all of this. It's by far the more comfortable one, that's for certain. She just can't seem to wrap her mind around it-- it was filed under stage notes, not locked away under personal notes, and he knows by now that she goes through his stuff, so he must have known she'd see it--

"What is this?"

"Good morning to you, too."

One moment he's staring at the light board in obvious despair at its inability to cooperate with him, the next he's staring down at the blue cover of… ah, yes, that would be his tablet.

He straightens.

"I thought I told you to stay out of my things."

"I... have a tendency to be bad at that."

"So I've noticed."

He's being colder than he expected himself to be toward her, but there it is, Grigor doing his best to protect himself from the outside world, which, in this instance, would seem to include her, too. Either it's humor, character, or whatever this is, but it's starting to work less and less around Nancy, something he's also noticed alongside her obvious penchant for extreme nosiness, the likes of which even he had never seen before, including in himself-- and he used to stalk his foster families in all possible ways before ever even meeting them… and then continue to rummage through their belongings once actually in their house to figure out exactly what it was they wanted him to be.

Birds of a feather, as it were.

"Is that really all you're going to say?"

"Have you gotten to Chione yet?" he asks, nodding to Niobe's book on mythology in her arm.

"I don't know that this is quite that comprehensive."

"She was a... mortal. Daedalion's daughter was said to be so beautiful that she was the object of a thousand men's desire... and not just mortals, no. Hermes himself was almost instantly taken with her."

"What happened?"

"Ah… well, admittedly, it's not the happiest ending. But that's not the point. The point is that I assume you're referring to the entry about you."

"Since when am I a kid, exactly?"

"You did actually read the entry, right?"

"I'm less concerned about that."

"Well, to be fair, you do exhibit some-- don't look at me like that, you haven't even heard the whole story yet; who are you, Xenia?-- childish tendencies, like… breaking the fly system, rummaging through other people's things indiscriminately, asking some fairly intrusive questions...."

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't quite believe that that's your reason."

"Well, hold on, will you? That being said... you also have some very adult characteristics. Like your ability to take criticism well, to take matters into your own hands at a moment's notice, your independence… I have a lot of respect for that because I see a lot of myself in you."

Not like that. Except also like that. But this is definitely not the time.

"And..."

"And… I might have been compensating for the fact that I'm a decade older than you."

"Thank you."

"I'm honestly not sure what it is that you're thanking me for. Look--" he takes in a deep breath, momentarily feeling himself slip out of character. "I need to… talk to you about something. And it isn't what you think. I mean-- it probably isn't what you think. At least I hope it isn't."

"Right… you've said as much before."

"Right, and I'm hoping for Act Two of this particular production to be more successful than Act One was."

Every time he thinks he's getting close to being able to tell her, it… doesn't happen. He's tried for two nights now. Perhaps the third time will be the charm.

On the one hand… he should probably be honest with her… sooner. It's getting more and more awkward as they get closer and closer. Aaaand on the other… he doesn't want her to stop… trusting him because of this. He can't believe he's literally choosing to be too selfish to tell her all of this just because he doesn't want her to stop liking him, but if this is going to end in his death, he at least wants to make the most of what little time he does have left, and if that doesn't warrant being even a little selfish, then he honestly doesn't know what would.

Of course, all Grigor ever wanted, childhood onward, was to be liked. It's understandable in a… really sad, depressing sort of way.

"Well, all right."

"Good." He smiles. "What does the rest of your day look like?"

"I'll be helping Niobe out with vase painting later today, so I'm going to get to use her studio later if you want to drop by."

"You know, I just might. It's nice of you to help her out. I know we should be getting the final iterations of our costumes tomorrow, so I know she's pretty swamped. That, and she still needs to put together Xenia's Queen of the Underworld dress. I've heard good things."

"In that case, I'll look forward to seeing it! And I'll expect to see you in the studio later!"

He watches her leave for longer than is wholly appropriate before finally just… letting out a long breath. Yeeeep. He's definitely in trouble.

Niobe had yapped on and on about some woman named Anaxandra that she supposedly resembled before leaving her with nothing but some stamps and paint brushes to accompany a seemingly endless sea of clay pots littering the shelves. It doesn't help that there's only room for one pot in the kiln at a time, but she's been making it work... if only because she takes just about that long to paint each of the vases in the first place.

"Hey, you."

She'd heard the door open and close-- hadn't been sure of who it was-- but the sound of his voice is a dead give-away, Nancy turning to smile at Grigor from her spot on the floor, vase situated between her feet.

"Looks like you've got the situation pretty under control..."

"Yeah, well," Nancy reaches up to wipe her hair out of her forehead with the back of her wrist, the rest of her hands pretty well-covered in paint by now, "in this instance, looks are definitely deceiving."

Crouching down beside her to watch, it only takes another minute or so before he decides to just sit down with her instead, the position evidently proving uncomfortable.

"I don't know… I might not trust you to decorate my home just yet, but you certainly seem to be getting there."

"Very funny..."

"Seriously, though, I got a glance at that Queen of the Underworld dress she's putting together for Xenia, and, I gotta tell you... you would make a stunning Greek goddess. Perfect for a spot up on Olympus."

"Oh, so I'm not stunning all the time? Hmm?"

"Pfff, please. Of course you are. In the words of the great Nancy Drew… have you looked in the mirror lately?"

She laughs, doing her best to keep her focus on the vase between her legs and finding herself utterly failing in the process.

"You know… Xenia did say you were the type to flatter."

"Oh, did she? What exactly did she say?"

"Oh, just that you constantly tell her about how she's brilliant! and gorgeous!" Okaaaay, so she might have sounded a bit too mocking as she says it, Nancy not daring to lift her gaze from the clay pot before her.

"Well, let's see here…" he starts, ticking roles off on his fingers. "Director, casting director, castmate, professional thorn-in-side… something tells me I might have ulterior motives for all the flattery..."

He's not wrong. Still… the feeling in her gut is practically demanding she come up with reasons to dislike him, to push him away, if only because he's getting far, far too close as it is.

"So what ulterior motives do you have when you tell me these things?"

He... hasn't told her those things. At least not so far. He just said she would look stunning if it were her wearing that dress. Nancy knows that. It's making her second-guess her wardrobe choices a little bit, but… well. More insistent people have tried to get her to switch those up... and failed.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question completely blindsides her from out of left field, Nancy fighting to keep her eyes from belying her surprise.

"... that depends on why you're asking."

"Oh, it does, does it? If he exists, you should probably tell him that…" He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, watching her curiously. It's not often that Nancy doesn't feel like she has the upper hand, but this is definitely one of those times. "I just think he'd mind all the pandering I'm apparently doing to your ego, that's all."

And vice versa.

Nancy looks up at him.

"Pandering?"

"Mm-hmm. Pandering."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

She realizes her mistake the moment she says it, Grigor laughing. The very last thing she needs is for him to continue to call her a kid. "I don't know, you tell-- ppplllff."

It's another mistake, but one Nancy realizes she doesn't care about, having picked up her paintbrush, held the bristles down and back toward her, and let go only to watch him get showered in a sprinkling of black paint.

"You know," he says slowly, looking more dangerous by the second as Nancy hastily moves away the still-in-progress vase before scooting back from him just a bit, "you are very lucky--" he dips his forefingers into the paint-- "-- that tomorrow is the day we're getting our final costumes, or Xenia would be out for blood for what you just did."

A beat.

"It's why I don't feel even a little bit bad for doing this."

Nancy tries to duck, but ultimately fails to avoid the dreaded painted hand coming toward her, Grigor grinning as he smears it down her cheek.

"Grigor!"

Hey, I was only returning the favor--"

Grabbing the brush as they both stand, Nancy decides not to bother playing nice anymore, managing to get in a few well-coordinated swipes across his front as he tries to dodge her swipes (she didn't learn ichi-do for nothing, after all), finally finding himself a ruler to arm himself with amidst their laughter.

"En garde!"

What she doesn't expect is for him to stop caring about her brush and the damage she might be able to inflict on him, instead just lifting her up to throw her over his shoulder with a squeal from her.

"Did you just plant a black handprint onto my jeans?!"

"You must understand, my dear, it's all for the greater good!"

He lets her down, but when he does it's all the way onto the floor, skillfully managing to trap her squirming legs with his in the process. The opportunity presented is too good to resist: Nancy manages to get her fingers into the paint bucket to smear his face with, Grigor sputtering before dipping all ten of his own fingertips in before flicking them all to make black paint shower her font this time as she laughs.

"No-- no-- I need to get at the bucket--!"

She doesn't expect him to tickle her when he does-- he keeps surprising her-- Nancy squealing even as she gets her left hand dipped in again, smearing paint down his left arm. There's more of it running down the back of her hand than ended up on him, but she doesn't even remotely care, Grigor grinning as he finally captures her wrist to pin above her head.

"Ha--!"

They're both grinning and laughing one moment, and the next… there seems to be a mutual realization of just how close the other is, Nancy wondering all of a sudden if he might kiss her.

But he doesn't.

Instead, Grigor offers a nervous bit of laughter as he sits up, his paint-covered hand instinctively reaching for his ear and leaving behind proof of his undeniably adorable habit.

"So, uh… Niobe is going to kill us."

Sitting up, Nancy takes a slow look around. They somehow, miraculously, managed not to spill the can of paint, but… it is considerably emptier now than it was before, and… yeah. There is very little to say about the rest of the studio that would speak of cleanliness.

"Don't worry," he grins, offering her his hand to lift her off the floor and back up onto her feet. "I'm more than happy to help put all this back in order. After all, I did help with making the mess."

When everything is actually put back in place, the floor cleaned in some very specific places, Nancy relaxes considerably, their attention inevitably turning to themselves. There are some spots that will be undeniably impossible to clean at least until they get back to their hotel rooms later that night, but… until then, they at the very least take the time to wash off their arms, hands, and faces. There isn't a whole lot that they can do about their clothes-- or their hair, for that matter-- but it will have to do, at least for now. Even so, Nancy is left silently hoping that no one else notices, points it out, or starts conjecturing, even just to themselves.

And, in part to avoid just that, they split up from there, Grigor making his way back up to the stage via the underworld sets while Nancy returns to the museum, doing her best to strategically place her… hand… or her bag… over the handprint just under her ass along the way. She's on her way back to the office when she calls to check in first with Melina and then the guys, who seem increasingly worried about Thanos. She's not so worried, but she decides to watch herself more carefully regardless, making a mental note to follow up on what they said and talk to him later.

It's seven o'clock when, Nancy bent over the filing cabinet in Melina's office as she pours over the employee time sheets again, she feels two hands come up from behind to cover her eyes.

"Guess who."

His words are soft, spoken warmly against the shell of her ear, Nancy shivering a bit even as she smiles.

"Hi, Grigor."

She feels him pull his hands away again and finds herself promptly missing his touch, mindful of not letting it show as she returns the folder with the time sheets into the filing cabinet and turns around to look at him.

"No offense, but you look like a mess."

"Thanks, Grigor..."

"Been burning the midnight oil at both ends…?"

More like she fell into a paint bucket alongside him, but sure.

"Something like that."

"Well seeing as you're still here past seven p.m… I imagine that you need a break."

"Grigor--"

"No, revise that," he shakes his head. "You don't just need a break. You deserve a break."

She offers him a weak smile. She ought to keep working. The more she keeps looking into this mess, the deeper the mystery seems to go. She can't just stop now.

"I don't know..."

"There's always tomorrow. "

Nancy runs her hands over her face. She knows she looks haggard even beyond the paint, but there isn't a whole lot to be done about it.

"No, there isn't always tomorrow… this isn't exactly work that can just be postponed, you know." The longer it takes her to solve this mystery… the closer the culprit is to getting away with it. This much, she knows for certain.

What she doesn't expect is for Grigor to gently take her hands in his and look at her so damn earnestly.

"Please? For me?"

He might as well be a puppy dog in his current state. She's pretty sure he knows of this talent of his. It's unfair.

"The fair maiden in this particular story deserves to get whisked away as much as any other... would it really hurt her to take the rest of the night off?"

It might not hurt her, but it would definitely hurt the case. Still, the longer she stares into those mesmerizing blue eyes of his, the more she can feel her resolve waver.

Bad, Nancy! What if he's the culprit?

She's extremely quick to brush that particularly unpleasant thought under the carpet.

"Look, Nancy. You need some time off. If you're too stressed to think straight, you won't be of much use to Melina, anyway. Now. I can promise you that I can help you relax. You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him?

The longer he looks at her, the longer her hands are in his, the more her brain seems to scream yes!! at her, if only out of a sort of sick desperation that has nothing to do with professionalism in any way, shape, or form.

"I trust you."

This time when she gets in the car with him, it's just to park at his hotel, the two of them walking the rest of the way to the restaurant. It's an undeniably idyllic-looking little place that Nancy noticed on their walk a couple of days ago.

"There are only a few good restaurants in Gonnoi," he'd explained while they were still on the road, absently switching gears, "and the people overseeing our troupe have been nice enough to pay for our food, hotel, and gas expenditures while we're here. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure we all would have just starved."

The restaurant is small, partway open to the outdoors, and appears to be privately owned from the look of things.

This night is warmer than the last few have been, and Nancy is all too happy to sit out on the veranda, most of it covered by a wooden patio roof, the slats of it surrounded in ivy and small string lights. It's not quite thick enough to keep the moonlight from shining through.

It's… romantic.

"Sorry if this is a bit... much," Grigor mutters under his breath as they move to take their seats in one of the booths. "Just figured we might as well make use of the luxury while we can still eat on the board's dime, right?"

"That part's all right. I just can't help feeling a little… underdressed for the occasion."

"What? No, no, of course not! What, because of the paint stain? Nooo..."

"You mean the handprint?"

He chuckles. "Yeees."

"No, I've actually, surprisingly come to terms with the paint… unless there's something that I don't yet know about that you're not telling me…?"

"Just… the paint in your hair, maybe."

Nancy sighs. "Greeeat. No, what I meant was the fact that I'm in jeans."

"So? I'm in jeans!"

"At least yours don't have a big black handprint right under your behind."

"Oh, so you do care now! What should I have done, exactly-- worn my paint-stained costume here?"

"You do look pre-tty un-Hermes-esque right now… one might even say that you look like a mortal."

"Well, some girl decided it was a good idea to shower me with paint…" he says with a shrug, grinning. "Nothing I could do..."

"Oh, so this is all my fault, is it?"

"Ah, I figured we'd take turns sharing the responsibility..."

Their conversation is interrupted with the waiter's arrival to hand them their menus, Nancy taking a moment to peruse before looking back up at Grigor and waiting a beat for him to notice.

"Xenia was right, you know."

"No good sentence has ever started that way before."

"There was definitely some sassing going on this morning."

"From moi?" He gasps, hand to his chest, doing his best to look mock-affronted. "M'lady, I would nevah!" Nancy grins. "Okay, yes, maybe I was sassing her a little. But she wasn't letting me have any fun with it! I needed some… actorly elbow-room."

"Uh-huh, suuure, whatever you need to tell yourself..."

Grigor grins, nodding down to their menus. "Ya like wine?"

"Hm? Well, yeah, sure. Dad likes to crack open a good vintage every now and again when he's won a big case."

"Good. Then I already know what we're getting."

"Grigor!"

"Will you relax? I'm not deliberately trying to get you under the influence here, I just think it might be nice to unwind with a bit of wine!"

"I have work in the morning."

"So do I!" He shakes his head. "We're hardly taking shots here, Nancy. I think you'll survive one or two glasses of wine. Besides; it's not like it's my money or anything. And you, m'lady, are in desperate need of some R&R."

A half-heaved sigh leaves her. "Fine. As much as I hate to admit it, you might be right."

"Oh, as much as you hate to admit it, huh? Someone's very prideful..."

"And stubborn," Nancy is quick to add as the waiter comes back to their table to take their orders before departing once more. "A glass or two of wine might be just what the doctor ordered."

"I agree!" Grigor nods emphatically, leaning in somewhat for emphasis. "You have to remember, I do actually have your best interest at heart."

"And why is that?"

"Because I like you." Nancy's heart seems to rise in her chest… "You're my friend." … and plummet again.

"Your friend, huh?"

"Hey," he says, holding up his hands mock-defensively as he smiles, "don't look at me! I remember you being the one that tried to weasel her way out of the alternative..."

"Ah-ha. I see. And if I were to… rescind my… weaseling?"

"Well, that might change things… but you'd have to actually do it, you know."

Their wine arrives and Nancy, over a couple of thoughtful sips, realizes that he's right. She'd have to commit to wanting to be more than just friends with him. Would have to definitively tell him that she is interested.

But she can't. He's still a suspect. Getting emotionally involved with a suspect is basically the worst idea she can think of. Even if that annoying little voice in her head is quick to point out that she's just using that as a convenient excuse, which might be true, but which she also doesn't really want to think about, either.

The rest of dinner doesn't carry with it an easy solution to her little dilemma even in spite of the wine, Nancy finding herself trying hard to juggle guilt and temptation simultaneously-- there's an obvious answer here, she just doesn't want to admit it-- as she and Grigor set off on their walk back to her hotel. She's just barely this side of tipsy, but he wasn't wrong about that either, and it turns out that it's relaxing to get to stop thinking so damn hard all the time.

(She also realizes that if he were the culprit, all of this... romancing her would probably be by far the most effective method by which to bring her guard down and get away with it too.

She doesn't like thinking about it that way though, and she hates that she has to consider it through that lens-- that of this being a ruse-- at all in the first place.)

Still, when he ends up taking her hand amidst the silence enshrouding their walk back to her hotel, she can't deny the way her heart starts to race a little faster even in spite of her best efforts not to give in to these feelings, the sensation of his thumb caressing the skin on the back of her hand catching her off guard.

The action draws Nancy's attention, her gaze invariably drifting to their joined hands as she worries her lower lip. She ought to look away-- he's bound to notice her staring eventually-- ought to let go and bury these feelings where they belong, deep, deep underground, but she doesn't end up doing any of those things.

"Is holding my hand really that disgusting?"

His words jolt her, though, and her gaze meets his for a split second before she shakes her head. He's so goddamn earnest that, if he really is playing her, he deserves a fucking Oscar for the performance of a lifetime.

She also can't help it; the last thing she wants is for him to think that she'd consider his hand-- or any part of him, for that matter-- disgusting. That would be the opposite of what she wants. Even if what she does want is… decidedly unprofessional.

"No, that's not it. I'm just… wondering if this is a good idea."

She's an awful detective, and she's pretty sure Frank and Joe would never let themselves become emotionally involved with a suspect. But then… they have each other to keep them in check. So maybe she has a bit of an excuse on her side.

That, and she has been pretty firm about the label of amateur detective. This is, after all, a hobby and not a career, not a paycheck. Of course, now it probably won't ever be that, considering the fact that she's been weighing her feelings opposite priceless Greek artifacts, but… if her intuition is really quite that awful, then she probably deserves at least that much.

He shrugs. "Ehhh, probably isn't." Well, he's not wrong. "But I really wanted to do it anyway."

So he just did it. She can't imagine what that sort of freedom must feel like, how comfortable his conscience must be.

"You always get whatever you want?"

"Sometimes… if what I want wants me back." He grins and her, just this side of cheeky, and she feels her heart skip a beat. "C'mon. It's just hand-holding."

"I guess you're right. Hand-holding is pretty harmless."

Who knows. Maybe she's blowing this all massively out of proportion. Certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"I don't know… if you want, we can always go back to me calling you 'kid'..." He's still grinning, though, clearly just intending to tease even when Nancy shoots him a dirty look.

"I'm guessing this is your hotel?"

"Yup… sure is." Now she's disappointed that they only had this far to walk, Nancy having spent the majority of the time with her hand in his thinking about what an awful person and detective it must make her to be enjoying this. Clearly the wine wasn't nearly effective enough to help her relax and take her out of her head. She takes a deep breath, sighing as she nods.

He lets go of her hand, and Nancy starts to wonder why she ever questioned it at all before promptly kicking herself. "Then I guess this is goodnight, m'lady."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Grigor."

 “But where are we going?” I asked as we raced through grey flowers, you flying, as I sacrificed the balls of my feet in hopes of a safe journey— one perhaps I had made countless times before, carrying pregnant sacks of saffron over my head, my palms forever yellow like sunlight.

"Nancy!"

She had been heading his way anyway, but the sound of his voice stops her momentarily in her tracks. His voice is far more hushed-- quiet and… oddly desperate?-- than she's used to, Nancy hurrying the rest of the way to where he is backstage, rather… clearly… trapped in the new iteration of his outfit. His arms are up, the whole ensemble seeming to have encased the entire upper half of his torso in the hard shell case of the costume, the… skirt of sorts still covering the majority of his body as though acting like some kind of curtain.

"Oh."

"That is you, right? Please tell me that's you and not Thanos."

"No, no, it's… definitely me."

"Could… really use your help here."

"... right. What exactly happened? Didn't Niobe help you put it on?"

"Oh, no, she absolutely did. Practically sewed me into it. Fits like a glove. Almost too well, actually. I think the issue is the casing? Like… there's a new latch mechanism at the side there I forgot to unhook before I tried to shimmy out of it. Didn't exactly… work too well."

"I can see that." A beat. "What can I do to help?"

"Uh-- reach under the… fabric… and just-- maybe-- try and push it up and off of me? I know that's probably asking a lot… considering how long I've been trying to manage to do it, but, y'know, hope springs eternal, and all that..."

"Right." She… hesitates. Hovers in front of him. And takes a deep breath, realizing for a moment that she's about to see him… pret-ty naked. Well, almost. At least she thinks almost. So long as he's wearing underwear of some sort, at least.

The thought makes her shiver.

Slowly reaching for the fabric to lift it, slowly, slowly, almost squinting as if bracing herself for something terrifying… she breathes a sigh of relief when she finds that he's definitely wearing boxer-briefs, if nothing else.

Of course, this also means that she's staring right at his package.

Realizing that she's definitely just staring by now, Nancy swallows, instead letting her hands slip under the surprisingly soft fabric, up along his body, careful not to touch, almost as though he were himself a priceless work of Greek art, sculpted from marble by the masters. Still… she can't help looking at the body that she is uncovering, bit by bit, seeming to be all lean, defined muscles…

Considering his six-pack, he practically looks photoshopped, Nancy fighting to focus on the task at hand.

"Making… any progress down there?"

"Trying… not really sure where I'm supposed to go from here..."

"Up? Up would be great! Like… it would be amazing if you could go up, seeing as I'm starting to lose feeling in my arms..."

"Okay, um--"

He's really encased pretty tightly, Nancy slowly starting to realize where his issue originated in the first place. Not wanting to hurt him, she decides to just abandon that particular route as she moves to his side instead to find the latch. It's far higher up than she can comfortably reach though, and she bites down on her tongue as she tries to get it to work… somehow… despite that particular drawback.

"Okay, now just… exhale as much air out of your lungs as you can."

"Okay, not a problem, can definitely do that--"

"Hrngh--"

She's really straining here, but there's nothing to it, Nancy finally just grabbing his torso to gently guide him closer to one of the trunks sitting in the corner.

"Can-- can I-- inhale-- again--"

"Oh-- yes. Sorry-- hold on, just needed to get onto some higher ground..."

Moving to stand on the trunk, she finds the latch-- no, latches-- far more accessible this time around, Nancy nodding before she realize that he can't see her.

"Okay, exhale again."

Hearing him breathe out, she does her best to pinch the material together and get it unlatched, which it subsequently does as a massive sigh of relief resounds from within the costume.

"Okay, now, just one more time..."

Unhooking the second latch, he groans in what must feel like sweet, sweet relief, the sound going straight into her stomach and then her gut as Nancy finally pulls the costume off of him.

Right. Now he's really just… wearing nothing but boxer briefs.

"Uh-- sorry, just-- trying to get blood back into my poor, poor arms-- thank you, by the way-- my limbs are extremely grateful--"

Watching him momentarily stretch out his limbs before starting to get dressed in his old costume, Nancy starts to feel a bit flushed herself. Even despite her trusty flats, she ends up just this side of unsteady as she steps back down from the trunk.

Without her heels, though, he's considerably taller than her, Nancy more or less face-to-face with his surprisingly sculpted upper back, his trapezoids, the curve where shoulder meets neck, all of which is honestly just as pretty as the rest of him. It's almost unfair, Nancy finding herself wishing desperately that he were just... somehow... not a suspect in all of this.

Grigor chuckles, adjusting his costume a bit as he turns to glance at her somewhat sheepishly. "I realize now that… this... is probably embarrassing for you, right? Sorry, that didn't even occur to me... us actors are constantly changing in front of each other, so I really wasn't thinking..." He reaches for his shoes, bending over in the process and giving her a fairly amazing view in the process.

"Thaaat's all right... it's not like you're going to irreparably damage my innocence, or something..."

"Well," he says with a laugh, sounding more nervous than he likely intended to as he finally straightens, smoothing down the whole getup, "you never know..."

"I'm eighteen, not five."

"You'd be surprised by just how many people wouldn't hear a great difference there…"

"Hey!"

"I didn't say I was one of them, did I? Sheesh, so defensive…" Still, he's smiling, something she's come to find is a bit infectious. "Anyway, have you eaten?"

"I… have not. I was a biiit busy trying to wash some of the remaining paint out of my hair this morning because of some guy who just happens to be this terrible influence…"

"Oh," he says with a grin, "now it's all on me, huh? So much for not corrupting your precious innocence, huh?"

"You did say we'd be sharing that particular bit of guilt..."

"Eh, yeah, well..."

Nancy fights the urge to punch him-- playfully-- in the arm, instead just moving to seat herself on the chair beside his bag.

"What were you thinking for food?"

That's a safe topic, right?

"Eh, you know. Delivery. Hey, actually-- I found something that you might want to at least take a look at. See... the first dress Niobe put together for Xenia ended up being vetoed, and not just because it was too small for her, but also because it supposedly didn't fit the look she was going for with Persephone, so it was going to just end up in the trash… but I figured that would be a shame to just throw it out if it actually fit you." He opens one of the trunks-- what would appear to be a costume trunk from the looks of it-- and fishes out what looks to be a gorgeous silk dress. Xenia-- or Joe, for that matter-- certainly wasn't lying about Niobe's talent, that much is for certain. "Do you want me to call in our order while you go change? Might help the whole… handprint… issue… too."

She flushes a deeper shade of red than she really wants to, Nancy slowly nodding, all the while wishing that hotels had washing machines. Maybe she can ask about dry cleaning tonight, provided that she makes it back early enough. "All right. But no peeking!"

He holds up his hand, the other on his heart with a smile. "Scout's honor."

Okay, so he lied. He's definitely been peeking just a little.

The call didn't last too terribly long, and by the time he returns backstage, he's greeted with the rather wonderful sight of Nancy slipping out of said handprint-stained pants behind the fold-away changing screen, the material just thin enough to let the extremely convenient lighting above and behind her cast her silhouette onto the screen, every single curve clear as day in ways those shirts or those jeans of hers never really allowed.

Which, as it turns out, is mesmerizing and extremely difficult to avoid looking at.

"You're still not peeking, right...?

"Wouldn't dream of it..."

It's a gorgeous dress, certainly, covering just one shoulder even as the rest of the fabric reaches the floor for an undeniable sense of balance, only an-- admittedly modest-- slit in the front exposing the slightest bit of leg as she walks, the rest of her draped beautifully in white silk. The decorative soft green border to match the belt at her waist seems to be the only accent.

And yet, even the intricacies of another Niobe masterpiece notwithstanding, all Grigor can seem to focus on is the silhouette of Nancy reaching to her sides to tug her shirt over her head to set aside, in the process joining both the dress and her jeans draped over the top of the screen.

"I'm going to need to grab some different shoes from my suitcase back at the hotel to wear with this… otherwise this is not going to match at all."

"I'm sure it can't be nearly as bad as you're making it out to seem."

Grigor smiles to himself, moving to sit atop one of the trunks leaned up against the wall, lifting one leg to set atop it, and for once not feeling guilty for not letting Xenia's proverbial whip decide his schedule for him. If he's going to die after Friday night… he at least wants to maximize the happiness of the last few days, which… at this point would seem to demand that he spend time with Nancy.

Not that he sees anything wrong with that. Quite on the contrary.

"Almost done?"

"Uh-huh… I just might need your help… with this last part... "

Oh, he definitely won't complain about that.

He's up on his feet in a second, his grin practically painted onto his features as he hovers beside the screen.

"Is it… safe for me to peek now?"

"I think so."

Seeing him turn the corner, Nancy moves to face away from him, just holding the front half of her dress up to her chest with a vague nod over her shoulder.

"I just need you to help with the latch… and the belt."

"Happy to," he hears himself say all while smiling to himself and taking a moment to just… appreciate the sight of her bare back. It's completely gorgeous, of course, not that there was any doubt in his mind. Now he's just trying extremely hard not to picture what the front of that bra strap he's seeing would look like. "Any chance you could… lift your hair up for me?"

"Hm? -- oh, sure."

There's a brief moment of indecision where she seems to struggle to figure out how to best lift it up with just one hand whilst also keeping her chest covered up with the other, but she manages regardless, Grigor getting a pretty generous view of her neck, her upper back…

He has to bite back the urge to tell her that she's beautiful, instead just doing as he's been asked and fastening the clasp before taking the time to tie her belt around her waist. He's just about finished when he catches a subtle whiff of what he imagines must be her shampoo. Strawberries.

"There. All done. Looks like it was practically made for you."

"That might be a bit deceiving... it's a bit big, but the belt helps with that."

Stepping back from her as Nancy turns, shaking her hair loose once more-- most days she wears it up in a ponytail, but he has to admit, he prefers this, seeing her this wild and free and comfortable around him-- he has to fight the urge to stare, taking in a deep breath just before he hears a honk. "Oh, that would be-- that would be the food! Stay there, don't move--"

Rushing up the steps of the amphitheater, he goes to grab their lunch cartons before promptly heading back down to hand one of them to her and leaving one for himself. In the time he was gone, Nancy seems to have already parked herself on his chair-- not that he's complaining, Grigor deciding to lean against the balustrade while using one of the trunks for a table.

"Mm-- you do look much more appropriately dressed now--"

"Thank you. I'd been wondering about that..." He's not sure if that's really what she had been wondering about, but decides not to say anything, the two of them just eating in silence for a bit before Nancy unexpectedly decides to cut into it once more. "If... it's okay for me to say so... it seems like you had a bit of a rough time growing up."

Wow, okay. Left field. Grigor takes a deep breath, adjusts his seat, and shrugs softly. She's in luck. He's spent so long thinking and talking about this that it almost comes easily now. Almost. "We chose to put on a Greek tragedy, but when your parents die young, it's Dickens or nothing." 

"I'm sorry to hear that."

He shakes his head, his brow furrowing. He's felt sorry for himself for long enough by far. "The hard days are over. Growing up alone had its perks. It taught me how to study people. When you don't have much power, you have to know how to read people in your life."

"So... it was something of a survival strategy?"

He takes another bite, waiting to finish swallowing before he shrugs again. "You could say that. Each time they put me in a new home, I'd do my research. I'd listen, watch people, feel them out. Every once in a while, I'd strike gold and find a diary."

He's honestly not even sure why he's telling her this, but there it is.

"Why?"

Another shrug. Noncommittal. Safe. "If I liked the family, I'd do my best to be what they wanted." Like you've been wanting to do with Nancy and completely and utterly failing in the process?

Then again... he's not even sure he knows what kind of guy she'd want him to be in the first place.

"You didn't want to be yourself?"

He laughs somewhat bitterly, Grigor rather intentionally not looking at her.

"I didn't think I'd be okay if I did. I figured… if you're taking in a kid, there must be something you want. I'd try to be... whatever or whoever was missing from their home until they realized that never works." He's quiet for a beat or two. "Not a great way to grow up... but an actor couldn't ask for finer training."

"How did you get into acting?"

He almost laughs, but fights the urge. She has such a way about her, such a talent for always asking just the right-- most intrusive-- questions. He's intensely worried that one of these times, she'll ask the wrong one, and he'll have no choice but to lie to her or risk putting her in serious danger. Maybe that's why he's been so open with her. Making sure she focuses on something other than the stolen art and the about-to-become stolen art.

"It's not a proud story."

"Are you okay telling me?"

"For you, dear, I'd do anything," he smiles up at her, his expression warmer than he was expecting. For just a moment, he pictures them in a too-small house in the suburbs with a couple of kids and more on the way. He calls her dear every day and forgets what it ever felt like to be alone and unwanted. But then he's back in Greece, eating lunch backstage opposite a beautiful young woman that is definitely not his wife and would probably never want to be if she knew about what they were planning here or the kind of person he really is. "I was discovered in the costume department."

"Nothing embarrassing about that."

"... stealing a warm jacket."

"Got it."

"It was just my luck that the director of the theater needed some extras he couldn't afford. So for my first gig I was paid in not going to juvenile lockup."

But then, she's not running yet, either, which is a warm, if unexpected surprise.

"A few key words to leave off the resume..."

He shrugs.

"Speaking of resumes…" He doesn't really like where this is going, but Nancy forges on. "I ran your background check."

Yep. Doesn't like where it arrived, either. Grigor takes in a deep breath and exaggeratedly rolls his eyes as he responds. "Now why would you go and do a thing like that? It's already been done." Then again, he should probably have known better by now. Should have known her better by now.

"My friends have access to some pre-tty powerful resources. I have some bad news to report."

Grigor fights the urge to chuckle. She's so serious all the time. It makes him want to break down every single one of the walls he knows she has up. "Should I sit down?"

"Maybe. According to my sources, you're not who you say you are."

This ought to be good.

"Oh. I should probably be wearing something else then."

"I know your background. My question is... why did you use a false name?"

Ah. He'd been wondering when this would come up. "Not false. I changed it legally. I slipped a little--" he clears his throat, "not enough--" --clearly, Grigor's hand moving instinctively to his ear-- "money into the envelope to keep the records sealed."

"Is there a significance to the name you're using?"

This time he does smile, Grigor slowly nodding. "There is. All the significance in the world. Grigor is the man who caught me stealing. He ran the theater."

"Is he a hero of yours?"

"Mentor, I guess. He said I was a natural on the stage, but hopeless at life. 'My boy, you're the only student I've ever had to teach how to stop acting.' With each show and rehearsal he gave me a... space to get to really be myself for the first time."

She's a welcome reminder of what that's like.

"He sounds very special."

"The truth might just be that he was an average man who found an unfortunate kid. To me, he was great."

"What are your plans after the show?"

"Well, like I said… one day I'd really like to open up a theater of my own, maybe give back the gifts I was given." That part wasn't a lie, but the reminder of the parts that were sting a little, like a painful reminder from his conscience to just fucking fess up already.

Not here. Definitely not here.

"I think that's a nice idea."

"And I'd put Grigor's name on the marquee," he gestures, his smile widening a bit. "Like I said, I'm just borrowing the name. I've been keeping it safe until I can put it where it belongs."

Nancy smiles. "I was wondering why I couldn't find any records of your previous performances..."

"Ah… so you've been stalking me online, hm?" That's nice for the ol' ego, he has to admit.

"No, no, it's not like that--"

"Hey, don't worry about it. I did it, too. Anyway, to answer your question, people don't really... consider what we do to have much artistic merit. It's more like... historical reenactments. No one reviews those. But what about you? You seem to have lived a more interesting life in the last few years than I have in all of my twenty-eight."

Nancy shrugs. "It's just… amateur detective work."

"Nah, I think it's more than that judging by how highly some people seem to speak of you. Not letting people pay you-- which I cannot understand at all, bu the way-- doesn't mean that you're not a professional."

"I don't really… need the money. My dad's a good lawyer. There isn't exactly a lot that I need… and beyond that I don't really want for anything. I might not have a mom anymore, but sometimes I think that my dad tries to make up for it by spoiling me."

Grigor frowns. "What happened to your mother?"

"You know... I'm usually the one who asks that question."

"Didn't I tell you that you and I ask the same kind of questions? But yes, I would imagine that you would have more cause to do so under normal circumstances. Well. Normal for you."

"You know, I'll tell you, but only because you've been so honest with me." Ouch. That stings. He almost wonders if it was intentional. "I thought that she died in a car accident for a… really long time. And then… very recently, I found out that that wasn't true. She was a reporter, but she'd also worked for another organization in the past that happened to need her help again later to prevent a disaster."

"What kind of disaster are we talking, here?"

"Like… end-of-days…"

"Gotcha. So the women in your lineage have always been badasses, is that it?"

Nancy tinges pink, Grigor feeling a bit coyly triumphant at that as he watches her.

"Something like that. Well, in preventing it, she got herself killed. She gave her life for everyone else's safety so that I could have the chance to grow up in a better world. My dad got us a housekeeper, and it's only been us since then."

"You have a housekeeper."

"I know, I know, I grew up with a bit of a silver spoon in my mouth, but, you know... who hasn't at one point or another in their life...?"

"Uh, me? Yeah, definitely. Me. I haven't. That has never happened."

"Oh, come on, that can't be true."

Placing his hand on his heart, the other up in the air, bent at the elbow, he shakes his head. "Swear to god. Always been as broke as a joke's disappointing brother." What he wouldn't have given to have grown up like her. One parent shy of a whole bunch, maybe, but… that would have been easy compared to losing everything in life all at once.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Grigor shrugs. "Honestly, I'm kind of glad that this is one area where you can't relate to my experience. I wouldn't want anyone to know what it was like to grow up like that. Least of all you."

Nancy throws him a smile.

She gets a good bit more work done before Grigor catches her in the courtyard, Nancy giving the guys a somewhat hasty goodbye before hanging up.

"I wasn't… interrupting anything, was I? You really didn't have to hang up on your friends. I could have waited; I'm really not that important."

"Oh no, it's fine," she nods, tucking her phone into her bag. "I'll just call them back later. They'll understand."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, if you… didn't mind."

"Oh? And what is that?"

He clears his throat as though hoping to do justice to an introduction, not to someone else but to himself. One of his hands on his stomach, the other gestures dramatically up into the air before he gracefully bows low.

"Hermes…!" he rises again, smile still on as he regards her, "god of tricksters and thieves, cunning wit, and excellent taste. As a thief himself, he requests the permission to steal away Ms. Nancy Drew to Nei Pori for something she is sure to enjoy."

"Grigor..."

He moves one long judgmental digit back and forth to stop her words dead in their tracks, shaking his head chidingly as he tsks at her.

"Hermes. And I already know what you're going to say. But I insist. And… as a mortal, however lovely you may be, you really ought not to turn down a God."

"I promised Melina I would look into the provenance of a few pieces."

Now that's just a blatant lie.

"Look, Nancy. I don't know if this sort of thing just… happens to you all the time, connecting with someone like this, but it doesn't for me. And I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, you can be damn sure that I want to make the most of the time that I do get to spend with you. So you can work tonight, if you really think it's that necessary. Or you can come to the beach with me and go sailing tonight. I'm obviously not going to force you to come out with me, but..."

"I'd be far more comfortable saying yes if I knew for sure that you were telling me the truth."

"Sure, maybe." Grigor shrugs. "But you can't know for sure. So I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Grigor…"

"Please? I promise you'll just be coming to have some fun with me."

She hesitates. She knows he's not lying to her, but she also doesn't know what he's not telling her. Then again, there's very little she can think of that she'd rather spend her evening doing than going to the beach with him. Not to mention the sheer amount of self-loathing she'd feel if she turned him down, the rest of the night at work spent... not so much working as it would be spent thinking about what she just missed out on by being an uptight fuddy-duddy.

"And here I thought I'd be going with Hermes, god of thieves."

Grigor smiles, unexpected and genuine, looking very much like she just gave him the world. Nancy's chest seems seems to light up at the sight.

If this is all it takes to make him happy, just the chance to spend his time with her, then she wants to do it every day.

He remembers what it was like all too clearly. There's no forgetting that kind of loneliness, that kind of cold, that kind of hope, but Nancy seems to magnify the memories, unexpectedly causing him to relive them one way or another.

In a lot of ways, he feels like the same lost orphan boy from years ago. Only this time, there's a happy ending in sight. Granted, that happy ending might come to an abrupt end Friday night, but as far as he's concerned, that's fine. If nothing else, then at least he got to long for it, see it, and maybe even have it for just a little while 'til death do them part.

Being with Nancy feels like coming home to a warm hearth after a long, hard winter, as though his life has been nothing but a lifetime of pomegranate seeds keeping him shackled in hell.

If there is a god, he's got a rotten sense of humor.

He almost prefers the idea of the Greek gods, deciding their fate based on whims and flights of fancy, their moods that particular day, or whomever they're trying to backstab at any given moment. They're flawed and realistic, painting a picture of humanity that so much more clearly reflects the man he sees when he looks into the mirror each morning.

In the end, it's just easier not to believe. Easier not to get his hopes up.

There's an archway a little ways down the beach from where they're walking now, Grigor and Nancy having both long ditched their shoes back in his rental, their toes squishing delightfully into the slightly damp but undeniably warm sand. Just down the beach, two people are getting married, the chairs already set up for the ceremony.

They're Greek, or at least he imagines they must be: as beautiful as the beach in Nei Pori is, judging by the amount of people around them, it doesn't strike him as much of a tourist trap.

There seem to be several dozen chairs, and for a moment, Grigor lets his mind wander. It's a dangerous thing he doesn't let himself do too often, at least not in this particular direction, but the sight a few yards ahead of them is enough to momentarily wrest him away from his self-control, much like Nancy herself has, too.

He wants a big family-- has always wanted a big family. Something to make up for the hole in his heart left by the loss of his parents, something to fill the empty void he considers to be the word, the concept of family.

In some distant, alternate universe where he didn't make all the wrong decisions, maybe he could still have been just as lucky to meet Nancy, and she could have loved him-- easily, because he would have been a Good Man. He would propose, and she might even say yes, and even though there would be no one to sit on his side of the aisle on their wedding day, she wouldn't care. Instead, she’d promise to fill both sides with the family and friends that would soon become his too upon her I do. He would take her name, and he would get to feel whole again.

He pictures them honeymooning in a small, colorful, seaside villa in Greece, Nancy leaning on the balcony to appreciate the view before he comes to join her, his arms wrapping around her from behind. He could kiss her anytime he wanted and wouldn’t have to be ashamed anymore.

"Have I mentioned yet that you look gorgeous in that? Because you really do."

His words come out sounding foreign to him, but they're no less true because of it. Throwing Nancy a small smile, he smoothly-- he hopes-- reaches over to take her hand again.

"That sounds just like something one might expect to hear from the Greek god Hermes."

"Maybe. But this time he means it."

He stops them for a moment, just turning to look at her for a long moment before his finger finds her cheek. Letting his finger trace along the side of her face, he gently brushes some of her hair aside as though desperate to get to see all of her at once. And he is: his gaze flitters over her features, eager to memorize every last bit of her.

"I already know what you're going to say."

"You do?"

"Yes. And I'm asking you right now-- no, revise that-- begging you right now to put it on hold."

"Grigor…" she sighs, her gaze falling from his. "I can't trust you if you won't tell me what's going on."

"I know."

"Why? Why can't you just tell me?"

"Have I given you a reason not to trust me so far? Been anything but a gentleman?"

"Grigor, I need to know what you're not telling me."

He's quiet for a long moment, just closing his eyes as he tries to ignore the sick feeling in his gut. Once he tells her, the magic will be gone. No turning back.

"I just--" he takes a deep breath, "I can't. Not yet. Please, let's just..." his hand moves to cup her cheek, gentle as ever, "let's just not talk about that now. I promise you we'll talk about it, but… I just want this night to be about us having fun and kicking back one last time before the storm hits."

It's Nancy's turn to stare at him, but then she finally nods with an expression on her face that he can't quite make out as being explicitly annoyed or resigned, and he's not quite sure which one he likes better.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, letting his fingers brush over her cheek one last time, wondering if his reticence to be honest with her in the first place won't come to hurt him just as much as he knows the truth will.

Grigor, as it turns out, does not know how to sail, which certainly makes his plan to take her sailing a good bit more amusing than it might have been otherwise. He's certainly been trying-- pulling on the ropes here and there to desperately attempt to regain control of the mainsail, only for the mainsail to continue controlling him. He insisted that she lean back and enjoy, but after watching him struggle for a good fifteen minutes-- the majority of which Nancy spends trying to stifle her laughter under her breath-- she decides to take over.

"I know you wanted to take me sailing, but I think it's time that you let me take you sailing… at least for a little bit. So sit back, relax, and let me handle it." Nancy throws him a smile, calling back all of her father's instructions from when she was younger and he took her out onto the lake with their boat.

He's looking at her like he's in love. She's not sure if she finds that unsettling.

No, she does. But it's not for the reason that even she might think.

"You're here to investigate the stolen art, aren't you?"

She doesn't expect the question, Nancy's eyes widening somewhat as she stares at him. She thought he didn't want to talk about this yet, but-- she's also not about to complain.

"... I'm here to help Melina." It's not a lie.

"How do you know Melina?" 

"She needed help, and I was available." Also not a lie. But then-- why is she trying to tip-toe around his questions at all?

"You've got an American accent, and you just happened to be in Greece?"

"... says the guy with the American accent. I like to travel. Why the curiosity?"

He chuckles, his gaze falling momentarily. She's not sure whether the fact that he can read her like a damn book should make her feel more uneasy than it does. "I'll help you if I can, but don't expect much from anyone else."

She doesn't. Never does. She learned that long ago. He's a welcome-- if distinctly disquieting-- exception to the rule. 

"Thanks. I need all the help I can get."

Grigor smiles, Nancy feeling her stomach flip. It's just this side of uncomfortable. "I'll give all the help I can."

What's worse is, she already knows he will. The question is just how far that is going to take her in this particular case. So she decides to push her luck. She knows she said that she would let it go for now, but she didn't make any explicit promises. And, well, he was the one that started this line of inquiry.

"Why are you making copies of the art?"

He appears to stiffen, Grigor shrugging somewhat. "That's really... Niobe's domain."

"I just have to wonder… there are some very valuable artifacts at the museum. Especially because it's got so many pieces on loan."

"Yes.” He slowly nods. "Priceless."

"Doesn't it seem like there should be more security than there is?"

"Oh," he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. "Let me tell you a secret. The security you can see isn't really security. We got a series of marching orders from the museum about how to behave, and, more importantly, how not to trip some of the alarms accidentally."

"Yeah, I saw Niobe's list of rules. Just so happens that she hasn't exactly been following them."

"Nancy..."

"I know. Not the time." Tying the mainsail down, she's about to sit back when she sees him gesture to beside him.

"Come here."

Scooching up to beside where he's reclined back in the hull, Nancy settles into the crook of his arm, just watching the sky with him for a long while. With the exception of the splash of the waves and the occasional seagulls, there's nothing but peace and quiet out here, and Nancy slowly begins to understand why he wanted to go sailing in the first place.

"How long until we have to give the boat back?"

"I don't want to think about that just yet… let's just say that, no matter how long the rental, it definitely won't be long enough."

"What, you'd be okay just getting on a boat and sailing off into the great unknown?"

"With you?" He chuckles. "Absolutely. Would be contingent upon that, though. If I had to give you up, I'd go back to the drawing board and look at alternatives."

"I can't possibly be that important. You're supposed to be a god, remember? You can have anyone you want."

"Did you know," he accentuates pointedly, a coy smile on his face as he turns to look at her, propping himself up on his elbow, "that in the Olympian telling of the story, Hermes tried to woo Persephone? He was unsuccessful, though. Demeter didn't consider him suitable. Or Apollo or Ares, for that matter. Not that I can really blame her for those last two... not exactly the most promising husband material."

"I… want to ask if I'm Persephone in this story, but I don't want to come off sounding conceited again."

He smiles. "No, you are. Way better than Xenia at it, too, though that could probably be chalked up to the fact that, no matter how connected you feel to a character, a good director never casts herself, let alone as the lead. Just… don't tell her I said that."

Nancy laughs. "Don't worry, I won't."

"So how does the story end?" he asks, the words inevitably drawing her attention.

"Which story?"

"The one in which Hermes tries to woo Persephone, and Demeter isn't around to stop him."

"I..." She can feel herself sinking into his eyes even as they try to search hers for some kind of answer, anything to allow him the permission to let go. "I think he's successful."

Her words are soft, but he hears them all the same, his expression softening somehow. And when his eyes stop grazing her features and catch hers, she knows to lean up and into the kiss he gives her, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek this time. His kisses, it turns out, are just like him-- soft, gentle, and yet, somehow, filled with nothing but passion and longing, Nancy feeling just how easy it would be to get lost in them.

They stay out on the ocean for longer than the rental technically allows, Grigor paying the overtime fee when they return to the harbor, but neither of them seems to particularly care. Grigor's hand is still in hers as they walk back to the car side by side, the sand under their toes a pleasant reminder of their journey there and how much seems to have changed between then and now.

On the one hand, it was just one kiss, but from there, one kiss turned into two, and then Grigor found it hard to stop himself from just continuing to steal kisses from her.

It's one of the reasons he put it off at all-- the knowledge that, once started, he'd find it hard to still his addiction to her and the soft touch of her lips. He was undeniably right in his assumption, and yet he can't bring himself to regret it even for a minute.

One thing is for certain, though. He can't hold her back from the dangers she's facing any longer, can't hold her back from the answers she's been vying for for days now. And if he can't stop her, he has to at least try to stop them.

A part of him is almost certain it'll be fruitless, but he has to at least try. If not to save his own hide, then at least to give Nancy a chance to run before she puts the last pieces of the puzzle together.

He loves her. It would be pointless to deny it at this point. More than anything, he has to keep her safe. Her needs come before his now. It almost frightens him how little that thought terrifies him. It feels comfortable, as if he knew all along and just didn't realize it.

Much as Demeter had hoped to appeal to the gods when Persephone was taken from her and into the Underworld, so too does he hope to appeal to his fellow castmates.

It's not easy.

"I don't know if this is a good idea anymore," he whispers to Niobe in the workshop, her back tensing over a vase she's painting, stilling for just a moment before she turns to look at him, her voice dangerously low.

"You may have the option to go without the money, but I do not! There are men after me who will break my legs or worse if I don't go through with this. And I will not throw everything I've done here away just because you're getting cold feet!"

"Look, I'm not asking you to join me in calling it off, or anything--"

"Then don't," she snaps, her face tense as she turns back to the vase. "Perhaps it is time that you talk to Xenia. Then she can tell you the same thing she tells me-- to do your job."

The only thing that Thanos tells him when he tries the same tactic with him is, "I suggest you reconsider."

It unnerves him more than he cares to admit. Then again, the scariest person to talk to about it is the one he saved for last.

"Grigor, what the fuck?! Have you lost your mind?!"

"No, no, I just… I've been thinking, and I think--"

"What, you-- you think-- you think that we should throw away weeks-- weeks! of work just because you're having second fucking thoughts?!"

"No. All I'm saying is that I'm worried. I think Nancy is starting to… suspect what's going on." Definitely. "And if she figures it out and we're in the shitter--"

She's more or less bellowing at this point, eyes dark and dangerous. "I don't think you realize just how expendable you are!"

"Hey, last I checked, I was carrying the show for some godforsaken reason!"

"Look." She breathes the word out similarly to how an enraged bull might have in her place. "If Nancy becomes an issue, we'll just have Thanos take care of her."

Grigor can feel a chill run down his spine, his stomach clenching up painfully.

"I… really don't think that's a good idea."

"What, because you're fucking her?"

Grigor's eyes widen. "Have you lost your mind?! I'm not sleeping with her!"

"And what, you think everyone around here is so goddamn blind that they haven't noticed the way you moon over her every single time she so much as graces your presence? You're not nearly as good of an actor as you seem to think, Romeo, so if you don't put a lid on your little lovey-dovey shit with Miss Detective there, then you can kiss not just this part, but your ass goodbye."

He holds up his hands in defeat as he slowly backs away, shaking his head with no small amount of caution. "Okay, okay… that's fine. Still not sleeping with Nancy," he's pretty damn sure he'd know if he was, "but if that delusion makes you feel better about yourself, that is not my problem. I'll do my part, and that'll be that."

Except it won't. He knows Nancy better than that by now. At this point it's only a matter of time before she figures it out.

He's not wrong.

It's later that day in the late afternoon that she comes to see him again, his heart clenching painfully in his chest because he knows why she's here.

"Hey, you."

"You're swapping out the artifacts with copies. And that list? That's who you're selling to!"

His carefully-crafted mask just crumbles and falls until there seems to be nothing left of it, Grigor fighting every single instinct in his body to cry as he stares up at the sky.

He didn't want this. Didn't want her to find out. And not for selfish reasons at all, even if he's terrified that that's what she'll end up believing anyway, just because it's easier.

But then again, maybe he's underestimating her. He hopes so, almost desperately.

"Nancy," he whispers brokenly, just shaking his head at her. "Up until now you could have just left." I'd rather have watched you leave a million times than see you get hurt because of me.

"I can't just let you steal the art! You lied to me, and I'm not going to let you keep leading me on like some lovesick fool--"

His eyes widen as he stares at her, rapidly shaking his head. He can't believe she's already jumping to blaming him right from the start, but what's far more important is that she stop talking so fucking loudly, Grigor placing a lone digit to his lips, his words dangerously quiet.

"Shhhh. Now be really careful. I didn't lie to you. I am not your problem here. Thanos is."

"If you didn't lie, then you still withheld information that you knew I was trying to get at. And you definitely lied about that list-- knowing fully well how awful I felt. And you and I both know that Thanos won't find out. Not unless you tell him!"

Grigor almost laughs, but her reluctance to see Thanos as the threat he really is is anything but funny. "He's always watching! Haven't you noticed how on edge Niobe and I have been? How mindful of what we say and do? You can't possibly think that there's no reason for that."

"I don't, but that doesn't change anything!"

"Nancy--"

He did underestimate her.

He didn't expect her to just walk headfirst into danger.

She finds herself in the Underworld, ready to kick ass and take names after Grigor decides to try and worm his way out of the blame that clearly rests on his shoulders as much as it does on Thanos'. Admittedly, she's hurt. She had hoped-- desperately so-- that he wouldn't lie to her, and she feels like an idiot for ever letting herself get led on by hope for the alternative.

Of course, what she doesn't expect is for Thanos-- not Grigor-- to actually come after her.

His steps are steady and ever-threatening, louder than she would have expected them to be, a soft chuckle leaving his throat as he makes his way toward her.

She knows it's stupid, that it's only thinking in the short-term. Even so, the panic of the moment compels her to punch in the number code to bring the bars up around him, nearly impaling him in the process.

What if it had actually impaled him? Nancy feels herself shiver, realizing after a moment that there isn't anyone left that she can trust here. It's an awful, hopeless feeling, and she's not entirely sure if she's more upset about that than she is about how betrayed she feels by Grigor.

Thanos growls, and for the first time, he actually scares her. She can't believe that it's happening while there are metal bars separating them. Shouldn't it make her feel safer? "Cute trick."

At the same time, there's no point in backing down now. If anything, this is exactly the time she needs to look stronger than ever, Nancy straightening somewhat as she steels herself. "You better get used to being in a cage." She sounds far more confident than she actually feels.

He just laughs, and Nancy feels her confidence tremble beneath the surface. "No. I don't think I will. You should get used to the world underground. You'll never see the sun again."

"That's pretty confident for a man trapped in a cage."

"Caged like an animal? Perhaps. Like a mad hound?" he reaches for the bars and pulls himself toward them, Nancy taking one slow, careful step back, as though he could bend the bars if he only willed it hard enough. "My eyes searching wildly for the weak seams of my captivity... blood still wet on my teeth."

She shrugs nonchalantly. She's not feeling very nonchalant. "Still trapped in a cage."

"How many heads did Cerberus have? Three?" She knows it's a rhetorical question. "I am but one of three and I will not be caged for long."

He growls again, lunging for the bars, Nancy's heart skipping a beat as she takes another step back, a chuckle leaving him as he smiles at her fear.

"Sleep well tonight, Princess."

"I think Thanos just threatened me."

By the time she gets out of Tartarus and the other underworld sets again, it's dark out, Nancy trying hard not to let his comment about never seeing the sun again terrify her the way it does. When she speaks, her words are quieter than she intended for them to come out, Nancy swallowing hard. A sickening, shameful feeling settles in her stomach at her decision to come talk to Grigor despite his previous reticence to tell her the truth when he knew fully well that it would hurt her. More than anything, she's pretty sure his lying about the list is the worst part, Nancy angry with herself for wanting to believe him in the first place.

"What? What did he say?" His concern makes her heart ache, Grigor taking a solid step toward her, his hands moving to her upper arms as he looks her over as though desperately searching for some sign of physical harm he might have inflicted on her. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

She takes a resolute step back, eager to put distance between them. "Yes, I'm fine-- and no, he didn't hurt me. Grigor--"

"Shh. Thanos is nearby."

She shakes her head. "I locked him into the cage in Tartarus."

"That... means nothing." She can't ignore just how unsettled that fact makes him look, though. It's worrying, like she really should not have been thinking quite as short-term as she did down there. "I guarantee you that it took him five seconds max to get out of there."

He takes a deep breath, letting his gaze drop to the ground. "Look, Nancy… I'm not a bad guy."

"Then I think it's high time you started being honest with me, don't you?"

Looking up at her, his gaze appears to desperately search her face for any remaining trust.

"Can we talk in the car?" A beat. "Please."

She imagines she knows why. She just doesn’t like her reasoning much.

They don't end up just talking in the car once they reach it, Grigor instead driving off as quickly as he reasonably could.

She's not sure she's ever seen him this shaken. The worst part is that she's not even sure if she isn't happy about that if only because it means that he might have actually been telling her the truth earlier.

"Is there anything you need from your hotel room? Like… really badly?"

"What?"

"I don't want to go back there if we can help it, but if you have any medication or something you need--"

"No, no-- nothing like that, but Grigor, that still doesn't answer my question about why we have to stay away from there at all!"

"You just said that he told you to sleep well tonight. If there's just one thing I've learned about Thanos during my time in the troupe, it's that he never wastes his breath on anything. If he says something, it's deliberate. And as much as you want to downplay the threat he presents to you, he's dangerous. If he knows where your hotel and your hotel room are-- which I can guarantee you he does-- then I'm not letting you go back there tonight. For all we know he could have men stationed there just waiting for you to arrive. The most benign option would be that the room is bugged."

Nancy shivers. "You don't think he'll suspect your hotel room?"

"No, I do. That's why we're not going there, either."

He ends up driving a ways out of town, regularly checking the rearview mirror for any suspicious cars trailing them. She can't deny that he seems genuinely frightened, Grigor finally pulling into the parking lot of a small motel.

"Come on. Let's go check in."

They end up asking for toothbrushes and toothpaste at the front desk before making their way upstairs to their room, Grigor locking the door in every possible way before sliding a chair under the door handle and pulling all the curtains shut.

"If we were smart, which I'm not sure we are, we'd just keep driving tomorrow. Leave the stuff behind and get on the first flight out."

"Don't you think you owe me an explanation first?"

Grigor sucks in a deep breath. "Look… I'm in over my head here. We both are. Niobe, too."

"Tell me what you mean."

"It's a long story."

"I have a lot of time."

"That's the thing. I'm not sure you do." There's another deep breath before he sits down beside her at the edge of the bed and starts again. "I got hired on as an actor, and I badly needed the money. The problem was that the job came with… strings attached."

"What kind of strings are we talking here?"

"I'm pretty sure you already know. Xenia had this… grand plan. As far as I understand it, her parents are in a bad way because of a Ponzi scheme. Xenia grew up spoiled and rich, so I guess that kind of lifestyle is hard to let go of. All she needed to make it work was a few more people down on their luck or happy to compromise their morals if it meant a generous payday at the end. Thanos fits into the latter category, as I'm sure you can probably imagine. He's part of the Greek mafia and was supposed to be the muscle of the group. Pretty convenient when your muscle happens to terrify everyone else in the group, if you ask me. You already know how Niobe ended up getting wrapped up in this.

"The plan was for Niobe to make copies of the art. Exact copies. Of course, that meant that we had to get access to the art in the first place, and so, from my understanding, Xenia was working with the Pinakes group-- the stagecraft guys-- who had been hired by the museum board of directors, who were more than happy to play along if it meant a multi-million dollar paycheck in their pockets at the end of the day. The insane amount of advertising the museum would get-- not just from the exhibit, but the heist later on-- probably didn't hurt either as far as incentives go. Turns out that the museum has been a bit of a... money-pit for them. The only problems left then were Melina and the staff. The staff were easy to get rid of once the foundation for the exhibit was in place. It was important that we get access to some of the finest pieces Greek antiquity had to offer, and that was not something we could accomplish without the groundwork being laid out at least, something for which we obviously did not have the required expertise. 

"While all of this was going on, Xenia was securing byers. I was told to come up with a way to hide their identities while maintaining a record of not only their names, but also the piece or pieces they wanted to acquire. She set it up as an auction; to the highest bidder go the spoils, so you can only imagine what amounts these pieces are set to go for.

"Where possible, Xenia used the remaining staff to help her own ends before paying them off to keep their mouths shut about the whole affair. But even with everyone gone, Melina was a constant thorn in our side, and it was starting to get increasingly difficult for Niobe to make actual copies instead of just the approximations as she was told to do. At one point it meant she had to essentially double her output in order to keep up the ruse. And that's not even getting into the fact that we were auctioning off a whole lot more art than just vases, but as you already know, she didn't exactly get the go-ahead to make approximations of anything else.

"So Melina had to be taken care of, at least temporarily. It would have been too suspicious if she ended up dead and would have brought production to an indefinite halt. So the plan was set up to hide certain pieces down in the sets so that Melina would be sent off on a wild goose chase to find something that could never be found. Stowing them down in the sets meant that any searches of us or our spaces would yield nothing while ensuring that, if they found anything, they'd be far more likely to blame the stagecraft guys than they would any of us. What we didn't count on, of course, was you.

"Xenia knew that it would have been too suspicious to just get rid of you the way we had the staff or Melina, especially seeing as you were like an extension of her. So we were told to keep a tight lid on the operation and left it at that. Xenia, Thanos-- they made a mistake in underestimating you, but I can't say I'm not glad that they did. I don't even want to know what Kronos can do to people. I've already heard enough from Niobe that I know I don't want to hear any more. 

"I was in a difficult position. You and I became close fast, and so I did my best to keep you out of harm's way. I told you to stay out of my things when you first decided to help yourself to my tablet. Then you managed to get into my personal shit and helped yourself to my bag. I don't even know how you managed to break into my tablet, but--"

"Xenia," Nancy is quick to interrupt him, pulling Xenia's copy of the script out of her bag to hand to him. "I don't know how she figured it out in the first place, but that is probably how she remembered it."

"What?" He takes the script from her in utter, horrified disbelief. "How the fuck did she fig--" A beat. Nancy knows what's coming next. "No-- why didn't you tell me about this sooner, that's what I want to know."

"Probably for the same reason that you didn't tell me the truth about the list. I wanted to be able to continue to cash in on the benefits. If you had found out, you would have changed your password, and I would have lost access."

"Touché." He sighs as Nancy reaches into her bag, to pull out something else to hand to him. "Well, anywa-- what's this?"

"The continued benefits of having access to your tablet? You wanted to know what notes Xenia was keeping locked up in that box, right? These are them."

"You are unbelievable."

This time when he says it, it's in awe, Grigor scanning the pages. Then again, she's not sure that it wasn't awe she was hearing last time.

"You were telling me a story. What I want to know is why you continued to put useful information-- sometimes even instructions-- onto your tablet when you knew fully well that I was reading it every chance I could get."

"Oh, right." He takes his attention off of the notes for a moment, Grigor shaking his head. "I did not know that, but no. I was trying to protect you. And if I couldn't protect you, then I wanted to at least be able to help you."

"You were willing to put me into a lot of danger for someone who was trying to protect me."

"You are an unstoppable force when you set your mind to… anything, it would seem. And you clearly can't resist a good challenge." He waves the notes somewhat demonstratively for proof. "At one point, I figured out that it was a useless cause, trying to hold you back. I had tried to keep you out of my personal notes, I had tried to keep you out of my bag, tried to get your mind off of what was in my bag… all to no avail."

"You really hurt me when you lied to me, telling me that they were angel investors for your theater."

"I know. And I'm genuinely sorry about that. At that time I was still trying to keep you from putting the pieces together. But then I felt awful about lying to you, and…"

"... and we got ice cream."

"Mm-hmm." He slowly nods. "Of course, then I was preoccupied with trying to keep you out of the underworld sets-- I mean, I didn't make that stuff about the hydraulic lifts up; they really were running hot, and I knew it was unreasonably dangerous for you down there. I mean, Pinakes were not exactly great at caring about our personal safety. I don't know if they thought that if one of us died, they'd get a bigger cut, but… I didn't want you down there for more reasons than just the evidence down there, that's what I'm trying to get at. The last thing I wanted was for you to lose a leg in that lava or for you to be burnt alive if you fell into the burning river. And then there was that whole issue with the corrosive water that Xenia got on her skin once… that was a bad time for everyone on set, let me tell you. She got even crankier than usual. Anyway, my point is that I have no idea what they were thinking.

"Of course, after that night, I figured out two things pretty quickly; first, that for the most part, you can take pretty decent care of yourself, and second, that you are extremely stubborn, so even if you needed protecting, you probably still wouldn't let me.

"So I did my best to help you however you could. I put instructions to the number box into my tablet so you'd see it and figure it out, because I knew that you would. I did the same for the entry about the Greek letter and symbol puzzle. Everything I've done, I've done to try and help you somehow. If not directly, then from a comfortable-enough distance. But… a part of me kept hoping that you wouldn't put it all together. Because if you didn't, you'd be safer. If Thanos came to see you as a threat, as he does now, then neither he nor Xenia would have any trouble allowing you to become collateral damage during the heist. And I couldn't let that happen. Which is why we're headed to the airport first thing tomorrow morning to get you somewhere safe. I'll change my name again and try to lay low, maybe turn myself in or check into witness protection. I've got insurance set up back in the States where, if I don't check in with certain people regularly, they'll know Thanos got to me. I've been just about this close to getting murdered for a few weeks now, and I didn't what that to be you, too."

"We can't just let them get away with stealing the art! And what about Niobe? And Melina?"

"Is it worth risking your life for a case?"

"Yes! I've done it dozens of times before-- and this is no different from those times except that there's more at stake!"

He's looking at her like that again, like he's hopelessly in love with her, and this time, Nancy holds his gaze.

"Okay. Then we'll go to the police first thing before we head to the airport. Would that work?"

"Yes."

"Good. Just… I need you to know that we're taking a sincere risk here."

After talking for what seems like eons, the silence seems deafening, Nancy processing all that she was just told for a long moment.

"I should call Melina and tell her about all of this. Thanos has been threatening her, too; she deserves to know the truth."

Grigor… hesitates before finally nodding.

"Okay."

She's on the phone for a while, first with Melina, then with her friends, what he imagines must be her own version of insurance. Grigor places a call himself before brushing his teeth and daring to leave her for long enough to take a shower while she's on the phone. He knows the story too well to want to hear it again another two times.

What he doesn't expect is for Nancy to be off the phone and brushing her teeth when he pulls the curtain aside to grab a towel.

"Oh my god--!" Nancy's eyes widen as she catches sight of his naked form in the mirror, promptly turning around to try and escape his reflection. This turns out to have been a mistake made purely on instinct, Nancy inevitably just left facing him, naked as the day he was born, before slapping her hand in front of her eyes as Grigor wraps a towel around himself.

"Sorry about that… didn't think you were done on the phone yet."

"Oh, that's fine--"

It doesn't sound fine, Nancy turning around to spit and rinse her mouth and toothbrush, her hand still held tightly over her eyes.

"Nancy, relax, I'm wearing a towel."

"Mm-hm."

"You can take your hand off now."

It's her turn to hesitate, but then she seems to see reason and relaxes somewhat, spitting again before drying her mouth and staring at the reflection of his face in the mirror.

"Is it that repulsive?"

"Um… no, that's not it."

He laughs softly, shaking his head in obvious confusion. "Then what? I mean, surely you've seen one before…"

Nancy slowly shakes her head.

"Oh. Wow. Well, uh…" he clears his throat. "In that case, I have some bad news."

"What?"

"The lack of… things… here… with us… has left us with very few options or what to sleep in. I'm afraid it's going to be underwear or nothing."

Because he is not going to be wearing a fucking breastplate to bed.

At the same time, he can't help but wish that he had one of his shirts to hand to her, if only so he might see her in it and nothing else, all beautiful legs and the slight, soft swell of her sweet little tush peeking out from underneath the hem of it.

"I… see."

"I mean, you're obviously welcome to wear your dress, but I imagine that could get kind of uncomfortable; I mean, it's not exactly a négligée." A beat. "Which is not to say that we shouldn't sleep. We'll need all the rest we can get tomorrow." Another. "So… all I can say is that I will be a perfect gentleman. It's a big bed, and I promise I'll keep my hands-- and eyes-- to myself."

That last one will be harder, but a kept promise is the least she deserves at this point, if only for trusting him after everything he's done.

Actually getting into bed-- this time it's his hand that's pressed over his eyes-- is fairly uneventful, all things considered. Grigor is careful to stay rolled onto his side and away from her to maximize her comfort, not that he expects to be getting a whole lot of sleep during all of this even despite his earlier advice to her, his mind racing with all the possible ways Thanos could find them and kill her. He's far less concerned about himself at this point, which is new, if only because he spent most of his life concerned about little other than himself, having never had the luxury to care about anyone enough that he'd want to put their needs so far above his own.

"Grigor?"

Her voice is unexpected, Grigor looking over his shoulder to her before rolling over. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Kiss me."

If her voice interrupting his lying wide awake on his side of the bed was completely unforeseen, this is miles beyond the surprise of that moment, Grigor's eyes widening.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He doesn't hesitate again after that, doesn't dare to for even a second, just taking her face in his hands to lean in and kiss her as per her request-- soft and gentle at first, but then, with her permission, deepening the kiss easily, one of his hands threading into her hair to keep her close.

She's magical to kiss.

She's also in nothing but a bra and panties, but he's doing his best to ignore that for the time being, willing the wellspring of his willpower to run eternal, if that's what it takes to keep kissing her.

Of course, then she reaches for his hand to draw up to her breast, and he feels some of his steely resolve slip away.

Still, he has to ask, Grigor pulling back to lean his forehead against hers, both of their breathing a good bit more strained now.

"Are you sure?"

She nods, but then swallows and repeats, "yes."

So he kisses her again, his hand receiving her gift as though offered to him by a goddess-- and maybe it was. His thumb traces the outline of the lace almost reverently, the skin just beyond it almost impossibly soft, his palm marveling at the sweet swell of her breast in his grasp, their kisses becoming more feverish with what feels like every single touch between them, Grigor sighing at the sensation of her own hand threading into his hair to beckon him closer.

He wants to touch all of her, all at once, but he remains patient regardless, his hand slowly guided down along the curves of her body, the definition of her waist and the soft swell of her hips. He doesn't dare to venture any further than she's allowed, his fingers merely pressing gently into her skin as though fighting to reassure himself that all of this is still real, that she isn't just a desperate delusion he dreamed up in his darkest hours.

But she is real. She's real, and she's here, and she's letting him touch her, her hand slowly guiding his to gradually expand upon the parts of her body he is allowed to worship the way they deserve.

Still, when he feels the soft lace trim of her panties, he hesitates despite her hand's urging him on, Grigor pulling back from her lips, momentarily amazed at this woman in his arms.

"Are you really, really sure you want this? With me?"

She looks like she doesn't even have to consider his question, just nodding, her gaze holding his steadily as if eager to prove her earnesty through it. "Yes."

"You haven't done this before." It's not a question.

"Yes."

"Any of it."

"Yes."

"Then let me do it right."

He disengages his hand from hers only temporarily to let his fingertips trace over her temple and down along her jawline, just taking a moment to study her features as he brushes a stray lock of golden hair out of her forehead.

"You are so, so beautiful." They've been on their sides until now, but with her permission, he guides her to lay herself back against the sheets and pillows, her hair framing her face like a halo.

Rather fitting, he thinks.

Hovering over her on his knees, his hand aiding him in supporting his weight, he lets his fingertips trace along her collarbones, just taking a moment to appreciate the little dips and valleys of her shoulders, the smooth curve where her neck melds with the rest of her.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, shifting himself to kneel, "and I'll stop."

But she doesn't say anything, so he leans in to press a soft kiss to her lips as his hands slip behind her back to gently unhook her bra-- a process that perhaps goes a bit too smoothly for it not to leave things implied. But even as he draws the soft straps down her arms and off to discard it beside the bed, she doesn't say anything, doesn't stop him.

The sweet swell of her breasts is just as beautiful without the support of a bra, and he marvels for a moment at the soft curves she's letting him touch, his fingers first tracing all the little details he wants to remember forever before he allows his palm to cup all of her. The touch comes coupled with another kiss, all passion and love and little else, and after a long moment he realizes that he's not just feeling it from him, but from her too, giving him all that and more.

It doesn't have to go spoken aloud for him to know.

Pulling off of her lips and back with some reluctance, he instead shifts down her body to slowly draw the peak of her breast into his mouth, his tongue laving attention upon it. He continues until he draws a whimper from her throat, his hand gently moving to cup her breast as he lets his mouth shift his attention to its twin.

On the other, his thumb carefully traces the details of her nipple until he hears another whimper and slowly lets himself draw back to marvel at all of her.

His gaze meets hers for a moment, stilling until she gives him a soft but undeniably certain nod in response, Grigor letting his mouth move to between her breasts. Kissing a soft trail down her body, he does his best to be patient, stilling only once he meets that soft lace trim, his thumb absently appreciating it for a moment. Only once satisfied does he move on to draw one of her legs up over his shoulder to allow him to continue kissing a slow trail ever closer to where she wants him. (He hopes.) But again, as he nears the crook of her hip, he moves his attention to the other leg to kiss his way up and along the inside of her thigh. This time, however, she whines impatiently from low in her throat, music to his ears. He smiles up at her, at the sweet, beautiful noises leaving her, and takes a moment to hook his fingers into the sides of her panties before sliding them down her hips and off her legs to leave her bare and beautiful and open to him.

He inhales sharply as he stares for a long moment, just swallowing hard. His hand reaches out to gingerly touch on the inside of her thigh, his thumb softly caressing the skin there as he finally tears his gaze away and back to hers, finally shaking his head.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And… I've seen a fair few in my time." He hesitates for a moment, but then lets his fingers tease up along her thigh until they meet the crook of her hip again. Taking in the sight of the skin there, the hair there, amazed at how much she must trust him to let him see her like this, as though plucked straight from Olympus and into his waiting arms. "I've never been… very lucky. But you make me feel like all of the loneliness and suffering was just leading up to meeting you." As though he had been Job, and God had finally seen it fit to reward him for his patience and his willingness to believe.

He only wishes he could have been a better man when she met him.

”Grigor…”

"I don't deserve you. But… I want to be worthy of what you're giving me here."

Because she's giving him everything.

Moving down between her legs, he gets himself comfortable before slowly parting her lips to let his thumb trace a slow path up to her clit, gently teasing her. He continues until he hears a sharp inhale and a gasp, Grigor promptly replacing his thumb's attention with that of his tongue while his the knuckles of his forefingers gently move to her entrance.

He's careful to take his time, not wanting to rush or leave her too sensitive for him to continue; but then, he can't deny that he doesn't also love the little noises of delight from her, the evidence of her pleasure and his ability to be a worthy lover to a goddess.

His tongue remains ever-attentive upon her clit, only occasionally pausing to suckle at it to elicit another sharp mewl from her.

When she starts bucking her hips up toward him, he lets the same two fingers from before start pressing slowly inside of her, questing carefully and gently as her body adjusts to the foreign intrusion. He doesn't want to push her too far too fast, just hoping to lave attention upon her for the time being. In truth, he wants nothing more than for her to find this as enjoyable as it is for him to make her moan and whimper in the wake of nothing but a skillful tongue and set of fingers.

He knows he's getting there when her fingers thread into his hair to impatiently tug him closer toward her, suddenly desperate for more contact. And when she starts to cry out, her hips bucking helplessly from his patient, careful attention, he knows he's succeeded.

He stills for a moment to let her return home from her peak, her breathing hard and heavy, pussy still flexing around his fingers after her orgasm, her soft gasps like music to his ears. Not that it's enough for him. Not yet.

When he hears her breathing relax somewhat, he decides to return to his tongue's previous occupation, Nancy's gasp loud and sharp, the realization of what he's doing-- that he's not remotely close to done with her-- setting in all at once. This time, though, he starts to gently push his fingers in and out of her, thrusting softly and carefully to let her adjust as slowly as she needs to.

When he curls his fingers inside of her only for her to gasp, a noise quickly followed by a loud moan, he knows he's found her g-spot. He feels himself smile against her clit as he suckles on it again, his fingers alternating between pressure and temporarily letting up. It’s like he's worshipping her the way she deserves to be worshipped, and he knows that that's exactly what it's supposed to feel like, as though she's become his new religion where he had been missing an understanding of faith even in the simplest of terms before.

What he doesn't expect is for her to come again so soon, her body clenching desperately around his fingers as she whimpers sharply. Grigor waits for her to recover before slowly drawing back from her clit to lick his lips, the smile on his face wide and genuine as he looks up at her.

Her breathing is still coming fast when she tries to speak again. "Are we--"

"Are we making love tonight?"

She nods.

"No. I'm not taking your virginity in a motel. You deserve so much better than that. When we're back in the States and safe. That's when I'll do it properly."

She offers him a shaky smile, Grigor's mirroring it as he moves to sidle up beside her body. Wrapping his arms around her, he slips the blanket back over their bodies.

But perhaps the lyre I had heard was not the instrument, only the words.

"Mm-- Grigor, what is it--"

She wakes up in the middle of the night for reasons she can't immediately pinpoint, sleep having left her disoriented.

When she feels the cloth held over her mouth however, she recognizes the scent, her eyes going wide as she starts to struggle, hard.

Chloroform.

When she does inevitably wake up again, it's naked and inside the cage in Tartarus, Nancy promptly scrambling to cover herself in sheer terror as she hears Thanos chuckle.

"There is no reason for you to suddenly become modest. I've already seen it all by now, you realize."

"You-- let us out of this cage!"

"That would be most unwise." He chuckles again, too smug for her tastes. "Get dressed." Dropping a bag beside the bars, he nods to it, Nancy scrambling to grab for it and the clothes inside of it without entirely uncovering her body. "It is a shame that you got caught up in Grigor's sad stories. He did not tell you the whole truth."

”Why am I supposed to believe anything you say?"

"Because I have no reason to lie to you. You are on the right side of the bars this time, and I hold all the power. And... because your contacts are not as trustworthy as you want to think they are."

Her contacts? She would trust the Hardy brothers with her life. If they’re not trustworthy, no one is.

"If you have no reason to lie to me, how did you find us?"

"I put a tracking device on Grigor's car long ago, right at the beginning. And because I bugged his costume after Niobe had completed it. Because I did not trust that he would do his part." A beat. "I was right."

Nancy glowers at him, Thanos' smile widening as he slowly makes his way back out of Tartarus.

Nancy shakes Grigor as soon as he’s out of earshot, frantically putting on her underwear all the while. "Grigor!"

Grigor groans, reaching for his head for a moment before it seems to register in his brain that he's not back in the motel where he last remembers being.

"Where--"

It hits him fairly fucking promptly after that, his eyes widening as he scrambles up. At least he got to keep his underwear on, Nancy pulling the bug off of his costume with no small amount of annoyance.

"Fuck."

"Get dressed. Here--" She throws him his clothes, Nancy searching for her phone in her bag. Nope. Took that. Took the evidence, too.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Vaguely," she mutters. "I remember waking up and getting chloroformed."

"Fuck," he says again. "Are you okay?"

"Not real happy about waking up in here naked, but physically I'm fine." She's quiet for a long moment. "Why did Thanos tell me that I shouldn't have believed your stories?"

"What? Did he say why?"

"He said my contacts aren't trustworthy and that you didn't tell me the full story. So I'd really like to know what you're still lying about."

"I--" Grigor curses to himself. "I didn't lie to you. I just-- left out some information. What I want to know is how he fucking knew about that."

"Because he apparently bugged your costume."

"Great. That's… less than ideal."

"To answer your other question, he found us because he put a tracking device on your car. So? Going to tell me what you conveniently left out of your story?"

Grigor sighs, sitting back against the wall once he's got his costume back on. Dragging his hand down his face, he sighs.

"I have this friend. He told me to come act in a play. Ten grand in a week. Show up, do what you're told, don't ask questions. I'm not stupid enough to believe in free money, but I did it because I was more or less in the same place in life that I've always been in. You can only go without dinner so many days out of the week before you decide to succumb to drastic measures. I mean, that's how Niobe got into all of this bullshit too. But then I got here and when I figured out what the hell was actually going on-- like the fucking fine print details of the plan, because it wasn't like I had been told anything before then-- I was stuck because Thanos started threatening me. And these people-- the people he works for, Kronos-- they're dangerous."

"And… what, that's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. I don't know what else he's talking about."

"You sure about that?"

"Nancy. Please. Why the fuck would I lie to you about this shit at this point? I have basically nothing left to lose. I've lost… the job, I've lost my escape plan, and I've lost your trust. The only thing missing at this point is losing either my life or losing you, and I frankly care more about the latter because between you and me, you're far more deserving of staying alive anyway. And-- what are you doing?"

"Getting us out of here."

Grigor is looking at her like that again, Nancy feeling herself flush as she gets the bars to recede again.

"They took my phone, and probably yours too, so I don't know what time it is or how much time we have left before the show starts. But if we hurry, we might still be able to expose them."

"You're unbelievable."

"You keep saying that."

"Yes, because it's the truth!"

After rather decidedly dumping the bug in the lava, she manages to get the door out of Tartarus unlocked for the second time during her stay here, and the two of them slip through to the three judges' throne.

"If we go through the workshop, and we hurry--"

"No go. Door's locked. Try the other one."

Nancy hurries over to the door leading to the ferryman, heart pounding in her chest. Pulling it open for the two of them, she climbs into the boat, ready for the short ride back to other shore and then the surface.

"Typically we're only supposed to have one of us on here at a time, but I think these are extenuating circumstances."

"Wasn't that also true of the boat?"

"... yeah."

Nancy nods, pressing the button to the lift.

"It's not working--"

"They must have powered the wifi down-- god, they must really want us stuck down here. Actually-- fuck, hold on, I know how we can get it back up. Do you still have that piece of paper you found when you finished the Greek icons and letters puzzle back in there?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you read me the order of the letters?"

"Sure, it's J, M, M, D, M, V, N."

"The order for the Ms is Mi, Ma, and Me, and from there it's pretty easy if you know your Roman mythology." Which he apparently does, Nancy watching him skillfully and quickly work the puzzle on the ferryman's staff. Really, all things considered, he's just as unbelievable as she is. But then, she can't help but like that quality about him an uncommon lot.

It feels, oddly enough, like he tickles her heart without even trying to.

And just like that, he ends up with a whole host of small black and white-- what appear to be-- marbles. Eight of them exactly. He shows them sitting in his palm with a smile before smiling to her and holding his hand out.

"Shall we?"

It doesn't take them long to get back to the three judges, the two of them figuring out fairly quickly how to determine which the heaviest marble is, and Nancy knows in her gut that it's rare for her to feel like she's met someone her equal.

Thanos was wrong. Grigor is neither small nor less intelligent than him.

"Oh, here's the remote to get the lift wifi back up!"

Grigor nods but stalls her for a moment, his hand moving to her shoulder as he pulls out a piece of paper from underneath.

"Hold on. I think this might be seriously damning evidence."

"Woah."

Not just a blueprint of how they were planning on sneaking out the art, but a seemingly ongoing, extremely incriminating conversation between Xenia and Thanos. She has to admit, reading it-- why they would keep a handwritten record when they were hoping to avoid a paper trail is completely beyond her-- is terrifying, and she catches sight of Grigor's face paling as he swallows hard.

Almost right from the beginning-- he was going to take the fall for this.

And they were evidently going to take care of her, whatever that meant.

"We need to get out of here as quickly as possible and get this to the police."

That, however, does not happen, Nancy instead feeling something impact the back of her head before the world goes dark.

Grigor wakes up with a start and what he's pretty sure will be a massive bruise, his head pounding viciously even as he feels Xenia's foot slowly start to crush his fingers.

"Fuck--"

"Oh good, you're awake. I hope you know you're going to be dying today. I don't give a shit about your so-called--" she adds rather derisive air quotes, "contacts that don't actually exist, so... since you weren't smart enough to just take the fall and get your share in twenty-some odd years… you and your nosy little girlfriend are just going to have to be the rather unfortunate collateral damage in all of this."

From beside him, Nancy groans, Grigor sitting up almost instantly to turn to her. It's hard, because they're both shackled together at the ankles, and fairly uncomfortably at that, but she's worth any pain he might experience in the process.

"Nancy-- wake up--"

Thankfully for his sanity, she stirs.

"What happened? What's going on?"

"You might want to pay attention. Xenia might kick you in the stomach if you're not around to listen to her mad villainess speech."

"Mad?" she practically barks out the laughter that escapes her at that, Xenia rolling her eyes. "The only difference between you and me is that I'm one hell of a lot smarter than you. I've got Niobe under my thumb, Thanos wrapped around my finger, and my heel on both of your throats."

"Xenia, you can't do this! It ruins your entire plan!"

"And how is that?"

"You need Grigor for the play!"

There's another bit of harsh, raucous laughter from her, the sound of it anything but kind. "Please. And here Grigor thought I underestimated you. Honestly. This is hilarious. It was never about the play. The play was just a convenient cover for what we were doing while the preparations were going on! Sure, it might have to go a bit differently now, but I started planning for the play not taking place the second I noticed him mooning over you like some pathetic, lost little puppy dog." She turns to look at Grigor. "And I know you figured that out long before you saw that conversation that no longer exists... but it's too late. I'm too many steps ahead. No…" she starts inspecting her fingernails, the very picture of bored superiority. "Due to sudden illness, opening night has been unexpectedly moved to tomorrow while we supply our buyers with the Greek antiquities of a lifetime. And by the time anyone shows up for tomorrow's show, an unexpected disaster will have occurred, because it'll have turned out that you two have been selling off precious museum pieces to eager buyers before running off. See, the operation started with you, Grigor dearest, but then you found the perfect little accomplice in Nancy here, who, after working so many cases... easily figured out how to become a mastermind criminal herself. So you see? It's pretty important that no one finds your corpses when you two die down here, which is why I've called in a couple of Thanos' Kronos buddies to clean up the little mess you’ve caused. Hades is for the dead, don't you remember? You came into Hades a blushing, trembling maiden, but you weren't strong enough to become the queen. Because it's always been me."

Grigor stares. "What about Niobe? She's never been in on this completely!"

"If she blabs, not only will she die, but it'll be after getting to watch me burn her new Brazilian passport and the deed to her studio. No. She's smarter than that."

Nancy practically growls. "You'll never get away with this, Xenia!"

"Oh yes, I think I will. Better say your tearful goodbyes to each other now before the hellhounds arrive. I mean, it's up to you, but... it would be my suggestion."

Xenia chuckles as she makes her way out of the throne room, Grigor waiting for the door to close behind her before turning to Nancy.

"Are you okay?"

"Going to have a pretty big headache for a while there… but fine otherwise."

The smile he shoots her in return is wry. "Yeah, pretty much… I wish I knew how much time we had left. God, I just--" he starts to struggle with his wrist restraints again, Nancy shaking her head.

"Here-- scooch your back against mine so I can try to untie you."

Something tells him she's been in this position before, which would be unsettling enough already if they weren't also about to die.

"Like this?"

"Yeah-- hold on, it's tight--"

"You're telling me."

It takes her a good bit longer-- plenty of time for Kronos to arrive and murder them-- but she manages, Grigor's heart skipping a beat at the feeling of his hands coming free.

"There."

"Your turn-- this should go faster, since I'm not tied up anymore--"

He makes quick work of her restraints, Nancy groaning in relief when she finally comes free. Not that she allows herself much time for the feeling before moving on to inspect the shackles holding one of their ankles each.

"There doesn't seem to be a mechanism-- something to unlock these without a key--"

"Yeah, they're… pretty specialized locks the way that Pinakes made them. I never spared them much attention, because it wasn't like I was expecting to be shackled in either of them..."

"And let me guess, Xenia has the key?"

"Actually, Thanos has the key, but it… has the same effect. "

"This is not good."

"You seem to have been tied to things before. This situation ever come up before?"

"Usually there's a mechanism to release it, or the key is within reach-- not extremely far away from us-- or I have my lock-picking kit on me--"

"You have a lock-picking kit?"

"Grigor, now is not the time--" she growls again before seeming to give up, frustrated and out of breath. It makes his heart ache.

"Look, Nancy, I've never been a saint in life." It's probably why he's being punished like this, now. But… that doesn't mean that Nancy deserves to be in this pickle alongside him. She's done nothing wrong. Well, nothing aside from being too smart for her own good, regardless of what Xenia may think. "I've obviously made a lot of mistakes. But of all the mistakes I've made, agreeing to do this job probably ranks at the top of the list, and not just because it's about to result in my untimely death. But... I can't even bring myself to be upset about it, because even though this all would have probably gone a lot more smoothly if you had never come into any of our lives… it means that I at least got to meet you."

"Grigor..."

"So even if I could choose to do it over again, I don't think I'd change anything. I mean-- I'd probably try to at least do a better job of keeping you out of harm's way than I did this time, but even if I had to take the fall and die all over again-- something I really don't want to do, mind you-- deep down inside I know that I'd still choose falling in love with you every time."

Nancy is very quiet after that, almost strikingly so, just watching him for a long moment before he decides to speak again, his hand gravitating to his ear.

"Uh, I also don't want to die without ever knowing what it was like to be with you. Now, if-- if you don't want to, that's obviously fine with me, but I figured we're about to die, so it's kind of now or nev--"

He doesn't expect her to grab his face to kiss him mid-sentence, but he's certainly not about to complain, no matter how awkward a position it might be to maintain while shackled together, Grigor's heart soaring with the knowledge that she feels the same way about this, about their situation, maybe even about him.

He feels like he can be himself around her without feeling like there's something wrong with him that he should fix, that she wants him to be anyone other than himself, undiluted and pure.

It reminds him of how his mentor-- his namesake-- made him feel years ago, but this is undeniably different.

He loves her. In her, he sees the family he never had, the future he never dared imagine for himself. Even if they didn't have any children-- he pictures them, engaged and happy, living in a small, shoebox apartment in Brooklyn while he tries to make it on the stage and she solves cases-- he knows she's all the family he could ever ask for or would ever need.

She lies back onto one of the steps of her own accord, and Grigor shifts himself to just above her, his hand slipping under her head to keep it from having to lie on the cold, hard stone. Their ankles are still shackled together somewhat painfully, not that he's too worried about his own comfort-- but still, he's got Nancy to worry about. And boy, does he ever.

Their kisses are as feverish as anyone might expect from people convinced they were about to die, and his free hand comes up to cup her cheek only for her to take it and slide it down her body instead.

He understands. They don't have a lot of time.

"Are you sure?" he whispers even as he slowly pushes up the skirt of her dress to marvel once more at her unparalleled beauty.

"I'm sure," she says, pulling him back in to kiss, hard and desperate as his hand finds its way into her panties, forefingers starting to tease at her clit. Her hips lift up of their own accord from the action, Grigor unable to help himself as he feels himself smile into their kiss.

Pulling back from her lips, he watches her face as his fingertips keep teasing at her, drunk with love at the sight of her in the throes of pleasure.

She comes faster than he'd been expecting, and he sighs against her cheek as he kisses her, her breathing hard, heartbeat frantically trying to keep up with the sheer amount of adrenaline packed into the past half hour.

"I'm so sorry I can't do what I did for you last time… the shackles..." he nods his head down toward them, swallowing hard. "Are you sure you still want to do this?"

"Yes," she says, the word panted more than it is spoken, soft and breathy and beautiful. "So long as you can tell me that you're clean."

He stares. "Do you trust me?"

"Should I?"

"Yes," he nods. "I'm clean. Got tested before coming to Greece. And I definitely haven't slept with either Niobe or Xenia. It's been a very celibate few weeks. And... while this might not matter if we really are about to die here… I'm not putting you at risk of pregnancy at all, right?"

"I'm on birth control," she nods, Grigor offering her a smile before he leans in to kiss her forehead.

He doesn't bother undressing completely-- not even close, both of them still mostly clothed for all intents and purposes, and he smiles as he finds Nancy helping him guide down his briefs before the two of them turn their attention toward their underwear. Just as he slips one of his legs out in order to free himself, so does she follow, Grigor smiling down at her as though he's never been so in love.

No-- he's never been in love before. Not like this. And this-- this feels so much more like the thing he's seen and heard reiterated about a million times before, if not on the silver screen, then in books or in every single love song.

He's so sickeningly in love with her that it kills him a bit, Grigor careful to blink away the sudden and unexpected tears as he kisses her again, his hand guiding her one free leg to wrap around his waist. Licking both his fore- and middle fingers, he lets them slowly find their way down to between her legs again to start pressing inside of her as his forehead meets hers. She's still tight, but that's to be expected, and it's made up for by the fact that she's plenty wet, even if his thumb can't resist the urge to make her whimper again.

It takes a bit before he's really satisfied that she's ready-- or at least, as ready as she'll get to be given the extenuating circumstances-- Grigor withdrawing his fingers again with a small smile.

"Still sure?"

"Still sure," she says with a nod, Grigor taking in a deep breath as he slowly starts to guide himself to her entrance. In this instance, he's more than happy that he's not any bigger than he is, not wanting to hurt her more than is strictly necessary, and as he feels himself slowly slide into her, careful and patient, he watches her eyes close, their foreheads still touching as his own breaths start to come faster.

He's been a selfless lover with her so far, wanting nothing more than to please her, but-- somehow it makes the feeling of this all the sweeter.

Nancy gasps and he promptly stops only for her to hit him in the arm.

"No, don't stop, I just think you might be hitting resistance--"

She's not wrong.

From the questing exploration of his fingers, he knows that there isn't a lot left of her hymen, if there was ever much of it to begin with, and it's something he's genuinely grateful for. There is no need for blood on the bedsheets in this particular tragedy of theirs.

"Do you want me to just push in or take my time?"

"Just like ripping off a bandaid, right?"

Grigor nods, the mental visual causing him genuine anguish at the thought of hurting her at all-- especially considering that they're already about to die a rather painful death. "Just like that." Just probably a good bit more painful. But he sincerely hopes not.

Nancy nods. "I trust you."

Moving his thumb to between their bodies, he's careful to start teasing at her clit again, if only for the distraction of pleasure to take her far away from any pain he might cause her in the next few seconds. Closing his eyes, he pushes into her the rest of the way to a sharp, stilted gasp from Nancy as she clings to him.

"Oh--"

"I'm so sorry," he whispers softly against her cheek, his thumb careful to keep up its ministrations upon her clit. "I never want to cause you any pain."

"I'm fine--" she nods, her eyes closed. She's not quite there yet, he knows at least that much. But he's also not about to contradict her, just staying exactly where he is as he laves kisses upon her features.

He's more than patient enough to wait for her.

In this case, he's waiting for the feeling of her walls starting to clench around his length as he feels her come again with him inside of her. It's Grigor's turn to gasp, his forehead falling forward to rest on her shoulder as he fights the urge to move, something that's getting increasingly difficult.

"C-can I--"

"Yes--" Nancy is quick to nod against him, Grigor groaning sharply as he pulls out of her just barely before pressing inside of her again, slow and steady, not wanting to overwhelm her. More than anything, he wants her to have plenty of time to tell him to stop or slow down if she needs him to.

But then he feels the heel of her foot start to press into his ass to try and get him to speed up, and he can't hold himself back anymore.

It's as passionate as fucking, but he's fucked a lot of girls and he knows that's not what this is. He's making love to the beautiful woman beneath him, Grigor momentarily entranced as he watches her lips part with each whimper that escapes her, his thrusts slowly gaining in speed.

"God, Nancy--" he breathes her name, the sound leaving his lips like a prayer might on a god-fearing man. And while he might have always feared death, he knows that meeting her and getting the chance to love her will have made it all worthwhile when his time does come.

Until then, every second more that he can spend with her is a gift from the gods.

His fingers move between her legs again, eager to get her to come at least once more before he can't hold back any longer-- if there's one benefit to his having been a bit of a manwhore prior to meeting her, it's that it taught him how to properly love a woman. He knows what he's doing and he doesn't finish pathetically quickly, and Nancy seems like the first one that truly deserves to reap the benefits of his past experience.

She deserves the world.

"Grigor--"

His name leaves her lips and he silently thanks whatever deity has somehow been responsible for giving him all of this and more. The love of a woman he doesn't deserve.

For the first time in his life, he thinks he might have done something right to be offered all of this in exchange for only his life and nothing else.

She tumbles over the precipice of her orgasm seconds after she whispers his name, her head pressing back into his hand as her hips buck up against his, her walls fluttering desperately around him as though begging him for his own completion.

He's never been one to turn down the impassioned pleas of a woman in the throes of ecstasy, and he leans his forehead against hers as he manages to thrust into her one, two, three more times before he can't hold himself back any longer, his cock stilling deep inside of her as he feels himself come.

"Nancy--"

"Grigor--" she whispers sharply, his eyes opening once more as he looks down at her, suddenly panicked at the thought that he might have done something horribly wrong. "Notice anything?"

It takes him a moment. And then he realizes that she's right.

Looking over his shoulder at his leg, his eyes widen as he shakes his head. "What the fuck--"

"I accidentally kicked that part of the chair," she nods to behind him, "and I think that did it. Like a... built-in failsafe just in case something goes wrong, probably."

He could cry from joy, Grigor instead just leaning in to kiss her, hard, cupping her face with every ounce of love he feels for this incredible woman. That's the most safety-conscious thing Pinakes has done for them in any of these sets so far, but he's certainly not about to complain

"You're unbelievable," he whispers, the smile on his lips unwavering.

"I know."

"Okay, so if we-- if we didn't take too long, we might actually manage to survive this, so--"

He hates himself a little bit for having to do it, but he pulls out of her, takes a moment to appreciate having one of his legs back, and pulls his underwear back on before making sure that her leg is just as unharmed.

"You okay?"

"More than," she nods, righting her own underwear.

Grasping her hand, he takes a moment to kiss it before leading her along the path into the back room where the truck is stationed.

"Pretty sure that unless something went totally weird-- which is admittedly possible-- everything should be in here." Opening the door of the truck, he pulls himself up into the driver's seat to lean down, Nancy following as she gets in on the passenger's side and promptly buckles up.

"What are you doing? Do you have the keys?"

"No, that's why I'm hot-wiring this car."

"You know what, it's probably better if I don't ask in this case."

"Probably," he grins as the motor comes to life, purring comfortably as he nods to the small window behind them. "They're in there, right?"

Nancy cranes her neck, leaning up somewhat to get a good look. "Yes."

"Then-- we're going straight to the police with all of this and our statements."

For the first time, it strikes him that this might have a happy ending yet, and he starts driving with a newfound sense of hope.

On the drive there, Grigor tells Nancy about his past partners-- not girlfriends so much as fuck-buddies from the sound of it, which makes her feel oddly satisfied with herself-- all of them lasting about as long as any given theatre show. With his partners generally limited to castmates, all of them were evidently kept roughly at arm's length by him after a couple of disappointingly short relationships.

He tells her about the families he was with over his many years in foster care, and the ways he's always felt a little like a bird, forced seasonally to fly elsewhere for warmth and happiness for reasons outside of itself.

He tells her that she's the first girl he feels like he can be himself around, and Nancy, in turn, feels almost impossibly special.

She finds, by the time they reach the police station, that the drive is far too short for all the stories she wants to hear from him, all of the stories she wants to tell him.

They're taken in for questioning first, and for the most part, things seem fine.

Nancy explains her part, and it's fairly quickly that she's let go.

But then the police bring in the other three, and she realizes that Grigor's in trouble.

Xenia and Thanos are more than happy to pull him-- and Niobe, for that matter-- down with them; Xenia because she's the vengeful, bitter sort, and Thanos because he has very little to lose, knowing fully well that he'll be out of there sooner rather than later anyway.

When she next gets an update on Grigor, he's in jail, locked up without a chance for anyone to even post bail.

Even in spite of his role as whistle-blower, there's no way to get around the fact that he acted as an accomplice to the crime. Aiding and abetting. It doesn't matter to the Greek police that he and Niobe were both threatened into doing Xenia's bidding by Thanos, in part because Thanos is out of jail faster than any of them. Nowhere to point fingers. Instead, they take the fall. As intended, it would seem.

She doesn't expect to be pouring over the Greek penal code-- particularly articles 45, 46, and 47 regarding participation-- or calling her father for advice after it happens, but there she is, doing her best to find some kind of legal loophole-- anything-- that would get him out for having been threatened into his position before trying to get out.

But there's nothing she can do, not with Thanos out of there faster than anyone could say corruption.

Not as bad as Xenia's sentence is liable to be, but not even remotely close to Thanos' entirely too-fortuitous result. Being in the Greek mafia evidently has its benefits. Who would have thought. 

So when she next gets to see him, it's through bars, her fingers wrapping around the cross-bar to cover his.

"I'm sorry," she says softly. "I've been looking for an answer, but… Thanos made this a lot harder for you. If we were back home, I'd ask my dad to recommend a defense attorney for you."

He shakes his head, his expression solemn. "I'm pleading guilty to aiding and abetting."

"What? Why?!"

"Because Niobe deserves this less than I do. And if I shoulder her blame, she'll get off easy."

"But that's not fair!"

"For you? Or for me?" He's quiet for a long moment, shaking his head. "I deserve to pay for my sins. There are more of those than I care to admit. And maybe when this is done, I'll actually deserve someone like you."

"You already do. Besides-- shouldn't I be the one to decide who deserves me?"

He offers her a sad smile. "Even if they let me out right now, I don't think it would be a good idea."

Her stomach seems to twist at his words, Nancy feeling nauseous as she stares at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Right now, this is the safest place for me to be. And if I was out there with you and happy? Do you know who the first person is that Thanos would go mutilate?"

She can answer his question easily enough. It's her. She's not so naive that she thinks that he'd just leave them alone.

And yet, somehow it doesn't help to make her feel any better.

"I can't let him do that to you. I can't be the reason you get hurt. I didn't kill anyone, and I'm not Xenia. I'm just an accomplice, so right now, it's looking like I'll be in here anywhere from three to five years."

"Then I'll wait."

Stubborn as ever. He sighs.

"Unless Thanos somehow dies during that time-- hell, ideally all of Kronos-- I'm probably going to end up in witness protection after that. Being an ex-con will mean that I'll literally be lucky if I even manage to get a job to so much as support myself, let alone you or any kind of family we might want to start. And while changing my name and starting a new life is nothing new for me, I would never ask that of you."

"You said you never wanted to cause me pain." Her words are quiet, but they still seem to have the intended effect, Grigor looking a little bit like she just punched him in the gut. She kind of wants to.

"Indirect pain is part of that." He takes in a deep breath. "If he didn't know about what happened between us, then maybe it would be different, but..."

His thumb runs along the edge of her palm, his touch distracting. She can't stop thinking about the fact that, the second she leaves here, she'll never get to be distracted by his touch again.

"Can you at least wait and see what happens in three to five years? I--" Nancy swallows down her voice's betrayal, the way it almost cracks, and takes in a deep breath. "I love you," she finally whispers. It's all she has left, Grigor swallowing hard as he looks at her like a man more broken than whole.

"Will you let me write to you?"

"What? Yes, of course--"

"Good." He squeezes her hand, just leaning his forehead against the bars only for Nancy to mirror the gesture. "You're not going to lose me. Not unless you want to. But if Thanos hurt you, I would never be able to forgive myself."

"I know."

It's barely above a whisper, Nancy fighting against the threat of tears.

Later on, before she's forced to leave him, he kisses the back of her hands, the inside of her wrists, and most everywhere he can reach. She promises to keep each one of his kisses safe until she next gets to see him, and he has to fight every bone and muscle in his body to actually let her go.

She feels the ghost of his touch lingering with her long after she leaves his side, first outside of the station, then on the plane ride back home, when her back hits her bed at home in River Heights, and with each letter she receives from him.

Nancy counts not the days, but the cases until she sees him again, and finds with every passing one that it doesn't get any easier. Then again, she's not sure she would even want it to.