"I can't believe Gallant's being such an asshole," Coco grumbles from her seat beside the piano.

I stop playing as I turn to her.  "For what, wanting to go to the Sanctuary?" I scoff.

"Yeah!  We all know I'm the one who's more worthy of that spot," she declares.

I shrug.  "At this rate, you're both going to be staying here with me."

She sighs.  "Speaking of, what the hell did Langdon do to your wrist?" she asks.

I quickly shake my head.  "Nothing," I hold my wrist up to show her that it now has no bruise on it.

She narrows her eyes.  "I saw what I saw.  Listen, I don't know what's going on between you and Langdon-"

"Nothing's going on between me and Langdon," I scoff.

She raises a brow.  "Oh really?  I'm not blind; I can see the way he looks at you.  It's like he absolutely hates you but at the same time loves you."

"Coco, that's ridiculous-"

"Uh-uh," she shakes her head.  "I can always tell when a guy is into a girl, and let me tell you, Langdon is down bad, and not even he realizes it yet."

I roll my eyes.  "Coco, during my interview he called me an incessant and petty bitch.  I highly doubt that's out of love."

"Many people who can't accept the fact that they love somebody push the feelings down by being a bitch to the person they've caught feelings for," she states.  "And that's exactly what Langdon's doing.  Tell me, haven't you two shared any intimate or romantic moments at all?"

I go silent for a few seconds, recalling the few times that we kissed.  I never gave them much thought, especially the first time since that just seemed like a heat-of-the-moment thing, but maybe I was wrong.  I mean, I did feel something during our second kiss.  Did that actually mean something?

I quickly look back up at an expectant Coco.  "No," I state firmly.

She scoffs.  "I saw you hesitate."

"What did Gallant say when you tried to propose that he should let you go to the Sanctuary?" I interrupt, hoping to get her off track.

My plan works; she immediately begins ranting about Gallant.  "He said that I was being a selfish, petty bitch and that nobody deserves that spot less than I do.  You know what I think?  I think he's jealous because he knows that I have a way better shot than him."

I chuckle.  "You know, I think you should try to talk to him.  Make yourself seem less selfish and petty.  Maybe then he'll actually consider compromising."

She ponders the thought for a bit.  "It's not a bad idea," she shrugs.  "Although it will require a bit of acting."

"Come on, Coco; acting can't be that hard for someone who grew up with the children of the most famous actors in LA.  You'll be fine."

She smirks as she fixes her hair.  "I suppose I am a good actress."

I turn back to the piano.  "There you go.  Now go work out your Gallant issue."

She smiles as I resume my song.  "Thanks, Valentina."  She runs from the room, assumedly on her way to find Gallant.

I sigh as my fingers go across the keys, playing "Sara" from memory.  

After a minute, I realize somebody is standing in the doorway.  "I know you're there," I call out, pretty positive that it's Michael.

My suspicions are confirmed when Michael's voice answers me.  "I don't know what I find more surprising: the fact that you like Fleetwood Mac or the fact that you just acted as a peacemaker in Coco and Gallant's argument."

I shrug, continuing to play.  "Why are you surprised I like Fleetwood Mac?"

"Well, people who listen to Fleetwood Mac tend to be less... aggressive," he states as he walks over to the chair next to me that Coco was just sitting in.

I roll my eyes.  "If that's the case, then I'm surprised you even know what Fleetwood Mac is."

He chuckles.  "So is Fleetwood Mac your favorite band?"

"Yeah, followed by Nirvana."

He scoffs.  "That is quite paradoxical.  On the other hand, I now see what band your aggression comes from."

"Okay, what's your favorite band then?" I counter.

He shrugs.  "I never had much time to listen to music."

"Liar.  You know Fleetwood Mac and Nirvana stereotypes, so I know you listen to some music."

"Well, my favorite is certainly not Fleetwood Mac."

I come to an abrupt halt upon hearing his words.  "And why is that?" I question.

"Stevie Nicks is a witch, remember?  Didn't you see her performing for the warlocks in that vision my father gave you?"

I roll my eyes.  "That doesn't mean you can't like Fleetwood Mac.  Stevie Nicks wasn't one of the witches to kill Mead."

"Guilt by association," he states.

I scoff.  "You're stubborn as hell.  Almost as stubborn as me."

"Go figure that my father made the only person more stubborn than me my ally," he rolls his eyes.

I stand up from the piano and begin walking towards the hallway.  "Speaking of that," I start.  "What are your plans about the witch situation?"

He transmutates to my side to walk in step with me.  "I figured I could contact my father for help," he suggests.

"How do you do that?" I question.

He smirks.  "Don't you remember what I was doing when I gave you that headache?"

"Oh god," I scoff.  "That blood ritual shit?"

He nods smugly.  "Care to join?"

"You wish."

He chuckles.  "What?  Are you scared?" he mocks.

"I see what you're doing," I state.  "You're trying to get me to join you through accusing me of being scared.  Guess what?  Not going to work."

"Oh, so you are scared."

I stop and turn to him, crossing my arms over my chest.  "Is your idea of bravery getting naked in front of the Antichrist?  That's honestly quite pathetic."

"Can you name a better way to prove your bravery?"

"Yeah, how about the, what, three times I've slapped you?  Slapping the Antichrist is a sure-fire way to get yourself on Satan's shitlist."

He chuckles.  "Well, if you change your mind, you know where I'll be."

I roll my eyes.  "I highly doubt it.  Just don't give me another headache this time."

"No promises."

I scoff at him and we make teasing eye contact for a few seconds as we're parting ways.  

Wait a damn minute; I just had a conversation with Michael that didn't end in my wanting to harm him in any way.  Hmm, I think I'd call that progress.

......

"Valentina!" Mallory yells from down the hallway as I'm walking towards the library.  "I need you!"

I stop and turn to her.  "What's wrong?" I ask.  I know this must be serious because she's never careless enough to call me by my first name when we're in a hallway where Ms. Venable can hear.

"Timothy and Emily just had sex!"

"Well congratulations, I never thought they'd actually have the balls to do it."

She sighs exasperatedly. "No, that's not the problem. Mead and the Fist caught them and are taking them to decontamination - I think they're going to kill them!"

"Well shit, that is a problem," I mutter. 

"Can you do something?" she pleads.

I look at her sympathetically. Admittedly, they are both going to die in a week anyway, but I can tell that this means something to Mallory, and I like her enough to try to save them for her. Plus, it's not like I have anything better to do right now. 

I concede with a nod. "I'll go see what I can do."

"Thank you," she sighs relievedly. "They're on their way right now, so you'd better hurry."

"Thanks," I nod as I set off for the decontamination room. 

A minute later, as I'm speed-walking down the hallway toward decontamination, I hear a gunshot. "Oh shit," I mutter.  Emily screams from ahead, and I speed up to run the rest of the way.  "Mead!" I yell as I turn the corner.

Timothy is laying on the ground, a gunshot wound in his shoulder, as Emily is fighting the Fist's grasp.  "He got smart and tried to overpower us," Mead states as she points her gun at Timothy.

I open my mouth to tell her to stop, but the gun fires before I get the chance.  The bullet lands in his chest, and I can already tell that he's dead.  "Ms. Mead!" I shout as I take the gun from her hands.  "That is enough."

I turn towards the Fist, slipping into her mind.  "Release Emily."

She lets go of Emily, and Emily collapses to the ground next to Timothy's body, sobbing.  

I roll my eyes as I turn to Mead.  "Did Venable give you the order to kill them?" I ask.

She nods.  "Yes, ma'am."

I scoff.  "Of course she did."

Emily's sobs get louder and I turn my attention to her.  "Emily, go back to your room and get cleaned up before Ms. Venable gets here.  She won't be kind enough to spare you," I state, doing my best to make my voice gentle but firm.

"But Timothy-"

"Is dead, and you'll join him too if you don't leave.  Now go, please."

She quickly jumps to her feet and runs past me and Mead, sobbing the whole way.

I sigh as I put the safety back in place on Mead's gun before setting it down on a tray table. Without speaking a word, I turn on my heel and walk out of decontamination. I continue down the hallway, on my way to inform Venable of the skew that I put in her execution plans.

......

"I'll be there in a moment!"

I stand outside of Ms. Venable's door, listening to the shuffling inside her office as she moves around. After a few seconds, the door opens to reveal her surprised face. "Why, Ms. Callistra, what is it that you're here to discuss?"

"Well, I was just coming to notify you that Timothy is dead but I thwarted your plans before Mead was able to kill Emily too, but I'm assuming that you're going to want a follow-up discussion on that."

Although she does her best to keep her face stoic, I can see the surprise (as well as frustration) in her eyes. She backs out of the doorway, silently telling me to come in. As soon as I enter the room, she closes the door behind me. "Elaborate," she requests, her tone not giving away whether she's pissed or not.

I casually stride over to the sitting area in front of her fireplace. I take a seat in one of the chairs before stretching out comfortably. Throughout the whole process, Venable takes her time approaching me. As she stands in front of me while watching me adjust, it becomes clear she has no intention of sitting down.

Regardless, as I lean back in the chair, I begin, "Well, I happened to hear the struggle as Ms. Mead and the Fist took the two little lovebirds to the decontamination room. When I got there, Timothy tried to take Mead's gun, and she shot him. I intervened to convince her to not kill Emily as well, and here we are."

"Ms. Callistra, I have made my rules clear. The punishment for copulation is execution-"

"Your rules?" I interrupt.

She stops talking and purses her lips, realizing her mistake.

I chuckle knowingly and shake my head. "Ms. Venable, Ms. Venable," I tsk. "Almost all of us have figured out by this point that you lied about the no copulation rule. It's just that the only people who've had the means to fuck anybody were Emily and Timothy, so those are the only people you've caught."

"Who all knows?"

I send her a knowing look. "Ms. Venable, you know I can't give you names. But I will tell you that it's over half of us. Luckily for you, the only two that actually cared were those two, so you have nothing to worry about." I begin to twirl a section of my hair around a finger as I add, "Although, you would definitely have to worry if anybody else found out about the rest of your secrets."

She steps closer. "What other secrets?"

I pause playing with my hair as a smile spreads across my lips. "Did you really think I didn't figure out that you made up all the rules? The purples and grays, the Victorian clothing, all of it? You're just lucky that I haven't told anybody else about it yet."

She takes another step closer so that we're only a foot apart. "So you're the only one that knows?"

My smile turns more mischievous as I lean forward. "Why do you want to know? So you can kill me and keep your secret?"

Her dark eyes analyze me for a long moment before she replies, "Yes, I would. But I'm assuming that you heard from Langdon, and he wouldn't want me killing you."

I feign disappointment. "You know, Ms. Venable, I would really prefer that you were the one who didn't want me dead."

She scoffs. "Yeah, right. I'm sure that's why you two have been attached at the hip lately."

That's when I realize... Venable is jealous of me and Michael. I am most definitely not the person that should be trusted with this information.

A smirk appears on my face as I set my plot into action. I compose myself as I stand up to face Venable, now in less than a foot proximity to her. "You know, he sees you as a threat."

Her stoic facade crumbles at this. "What?" she asks, her face conveying her curiosity.

"I despise that man more than anything or anybody. The fact that I've kissed you twice... he can't stand it. He knows that he could never interest me in the way that you interest me."

I really went out on a limb with that, but what can I say; I'm a high-risk high-reward type of person. Besides, I may or may not have happened to read her mind here and there to see that she's interested.

Although she does her best to hide her reaction, I can see the way that her eyes light up. I can picture the way that her heartbeat is racing just like mine. "W- What do you mean?" she asks, stuttering for the first time I've ever heard her stutter.

"He could never make me want him as much as I want you," I whisper.

She closes her eyes, and she rests her right hand in the center of my chest as she takes a deep breath. I watch as the face that I've always seen as cold and emotionless morphs into something truly human and vulnerable. Her features soften, and I realize that her hand is shaking in the slightest. She can probably feel my racing heartbeat too.

"Valentina," she says. Her voice is more emotional than I've ever heard, causing my heart to skip a beat. Shit, maybe this isn't just me advancing the plot anymore, because why do I feel so invested right now? When she speaks up, she pulls me from my thoughts as I focus on her every word. "Believe me, I want this as much as you do. But we can't. How bad will I look if I break my own rules?"

Her eyes are staring into mine, and it feels so different. This is torturous, the emotion behind just maintaining eye contact. Maybe it's because I know nothing can come from this, that at the end of the day I can't explore these feelings because I'm committed to this whole thing with Michael. It's too late to add in a love triangle, and I know that. God, fuck myself for always needing to overcomplicate things.

I look down at her hand, then back up at her face. "What if there were no more rules?"

She tilts her head. "What do you mean?"

"What if you say you've done some reflecting and decided that it's time to revoke the no copulation rule? Free love for all."

A small chuckle escapes her as she considers it. After a few moments, she nods. "You know what? I think that might work."