The Beautiful Ones

AN: Anyone else heard this song? My romantic interest played it for me, and I had to download it.

Criss found her jamming her few things into a plastic bag. He stood and watched for a moment, entranced by the anger in her movements. He shook his head, snapping out of the reverie.

“Cassandra, what are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. I quit!” she snapped.

“You’re going to quit just because I made one mistake? Cassandra! I thought we talked about trust.”

“Well, if I trust you then, I certainly don’t now, do I do?” her eyes seemed to be glowing with anger. Criss swallowed.

“Cass, don’t do this okay?” he tried to make his voice calm and soothing. She grabbed the plastic grocery sack of clothes and her bunny Stanley. Wordlessly, she grabbed a pad of paper and an ink pen. She scribbled for a few seconds and handed him the sheet.
“What is this?” he squinted at the words, trying to decipher their meaning.

“It’s my letter of resignation. I have enough manners to at least give you this.” She tried to brush past him. Criss grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t leave like this.”

“Let go of my arm.” Cassandra’s voice had dropped dangerously low.

“I am not going to let you walk out of here with no money and no place to go. I’m not going to let you let you walk out of here when you’re angry like this.”

“You’re not my father!” she cried, yanking her wrist away. “You don’t get to have any say in what I do!”

“I write your paychecks, Cassandra.”

“And I just freed you up from that responsibility, didn’t I?” she shot back. Criss stared at her for a moment.

“You’re not leaving.”

“You can’t make me stay.” Her hands were shaking. For some reason, the illusionist had the sudden urge to take her by the shoulders and lead her to the couch and make her tea. Either that or shake her until her teeth rattled.

Possibly a combination of the two.

“Will you please give me the courtesy of letting me talk to you about this? Please?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

Her arms wilted to her sides and she nodded. Criss gestured to the couch. She sat down, arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the knee. He sighed and kneeled down before her, gently moving her legs so her feet were flat on the floor.

“You have to be willing to listen to me, Cass.” He murmured as he moved her arms. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“So talk!” she demanded. Calmly, her employer walked into his kitchenette and made a cup of tea. He handed it to her.

“I need you to calm down before I do that.” She glared at him but sipped her tea. Criss leaned against the wall, watching her. When her hands had stopped shaking, he inhaled deeply.
“I didn’t tell my mother to upset you, Cass.”

“But you still told. I thought that it was understood that was a secret. If I wanted her to know, Criss, I would have told her myself.”

“I understand that, and I apologize. But you have to know that you can’t just storm out of here every time we disagree about something.”

“I know,” she mumbled, ashamed of herself. She glanced up at him. “Forgive me?”

“If you forgive me.”

Cassandra nodded, and he found himself smiling at her.

“Now go and unpack your sack. We’ve got stuff to do today.”