Likely both.
Bel is just thrilled to have her friend around, and her hand has healed far better than she expected. Though it still can’t do much gripping or take a lot of weight, the physical therapy has helped so much. I find myself wondering if her strange connection to us means she is also somehow supernatural-adjacent.
If she was meant to be bonded or claimed by one of us, it would make sense that the vessel for her soul is… more durable than your average mortal.
“What’s up?” Fritz asks me, “What are you thinking about?”
I let out a breath, “I was just considering how well it appears Bel’s hand has healed.” I explain to him the thought process I was having, and he nods along, listening intently.
With a shrug, he answers, “Could be. I haven’t thought about it much.”
“You haven’t thought about Bel’s rapid, unbelievable recovery after an injury like the one she sustained?” I find that hard to believe.
He laughs, taking a sip from his drink, “Alright, let me rephrase. I haven’t questioned it.” With a shrug, he continues, “This world throws so much garbage and shit at those who live in it that when something good happens, I try not to ask why. I instead just live in the gratitude that something has worked out for the better for once.”
That’s a lovely way of seeing things.I tell my friend as much, but he just shrugs again, not seeing the way his pessimism is actually somehow optimistic.
Bel and Isla squeal, preventing me from continuing the conversation. They nearly throw themselves out the door, hands clasped together as they head toward the entrance. There’s a line that must have hundreds of people in it, waiting to be let inside. Rather than make our way to the back of the line, Fritz places a hand on Bel’s back, guiding her to the front.
“Four for Fritz?” he tells the man holding a massive clipboard there.
The man looks through his stack of papers, looking confused, before he looks back up, “Four? The only Fritz I have for tonight is a party of five for bottle service in the VIP lounge.”
Fritz looks perturbed, though Isla and Bel haven’t noticed, both fascinated by all the lights and the people waiting to get inside. He shoots a panicked look at me as we both know there’s only one person who would be crazy enough to somehow add himself to our reservation.
“Actually,” the clipboard man adds, “I think the first member of your party already arrived. Follow me.”
Fritz pulls our distracted girl by her hand, Isla in tow, and I follow behind them, ensuring our group stays together through the throngs of bodies packed together. I think I can just make out the murmuring of Fritz praying to whatever god is listening to let it be a mistake.Please don’t put me through this againhe pleads under his breath, and I chuckle.
As soon as I see a man that towers over every other head in here, I know for certain the night is going to be an absolute mess. Isla is already well on her way to being drunk, and her least favorite person just put himself right in her path. Again.
Fritz sees him at the same time as me, grabbing Isla by the arm and pulling her close enough that she can hear him shout, “Isla. Please don’t kill me! I swear I didn’t invite him! I didn’t even tell him where we would be. I swear to fuck I didn’t-”
“What are you talking about?” she laughs, “Who’s here?”
At that exact moment, she must spot him. The smile drops off her face instantly, replaced for an infinitesimal moment by an expression of pure fury, followed by the coldest, calmest mask I’ve ever seen.
“Hey guys,” Eamon drawls, plopping onto what I’m assuming is our couch, “I hope you don’t mind. I heard from a little birdie where you’d be tonight and thought I’d join you.”
“Why would we mind?” Isla asks, “I’m quite certain no one will even notice your presence.”
One corner of his mouth lifts in a half smile, his eyes sparkling like they always do when she tries to verbally tear him to pieces. Fritz looks at me, panic evident. But what can be done? Nothing. This is something the two of them will need to work out on their own, one way or another.
Truthfully, their disdain for each other doesn’t make any sense to me. The only thing Eamon has done is save Belissenda and bring her a lovely Christmas gift, albeit irritating Isla every step of the way. And while, yes, Isladidpoint a gun at him, he hardly seemed to mind it. It’s not like it would have hurt him anyway.
Eamon stands, giving Bel a one-armed hug, asking how she’s been and what they’ve been up to since Christmas.
“Not much,” she tells him with a laugh and gesturing around us at the club. “Just a lot of this.”
“Isla’s been dragging you to every club in the city, huh?” he chuckles before looking up at where Fritz and I stand side by side. “How about you two? You’ve spent the last week trailing behind two drunk little mortals?”
The smirk on Eamon’s face tells me he knew exactly what he would be causing by crashing the party tonight, but somehow, the chaos only seems to incense him further, his smile growing at the discomfort of everyone.
Bel is the only one who seems tipsy enough that all the tension around us isn’t affecting her. She sits on the couch, pulling Fritz and me down beside her. Isla takes the only space left, on the far side of Eamon.
He leans over to speak to her, draping a massive arm over the backrest of the couch behind her but not touching her in any way. “I’ve already ordered a bottle of that tequila you like and they’re bringing some bourbon too.”
“Cool,” she responds, examining her nails.
