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Is it? He won't feign offense at that. Hap's kept up with technology — advanced it, in certain niches. He just doesn't have the time for or interest in streaming television and 4K nonsense.

"I have a set around here somewhere." He and Leon used to play games over correspondence. "I'll find that for you."

With that promised, he finishes the last few bites of pasta. She ate well under the circumstances. On the whole, she's been exceedingly amenable. Hap doesn't deserve it but she has a gift for making it seem like that's not the case.

"Really? Will you play me sometime?"

Undisguised -- and unfeigned -- hope in her voice.

"I'm not a master or anything, but I'm a good loser."

Undisguised delight in return. He has no doubt she's graceful in defeat.

"I'd like that. I'm a little rusty — who knows what'll happen?"

He toasts the idea and drains the last of his water.

Bella smiles -- the warmest smile she's worn in two and a half weeks. For a moment it's all real. Hap's pleasure pleases her; it has for as long as she's known him. That may not be long, in the grand scheme of the lives they've each led, but it's long enough to have been hurt by him. Long enough that seeing him enthusiastic about something makes her forget everything else for a moment of satisfaction.

It's such a strong feeling, such a relief of tension, that a second later she feels her eyes prickling and starting to well up. She inhales, surprised, and puts a hand over her mouth.

"Oh -- I'm so sorry." She sniffs hard and then lets out a watery laugh. "I'm sorry. I'm not upset with you or anything."

Obviously that's probably not true in a broader sense; hopefully he understands what she means. This has happened to her before during intense scenes, but it usually came out of something physical, pain or sensation cresting unexpectedly. This is the first time in a long time she can remember it happening from just talking.

For a moment, the air between them clears. All that's left is the string of magnetism between two well-matched people, charged with attraction and intrigue. They're in the trap of each other, neither of them more predator than they are prey. Muscle memory bids him to reach for her when her eyes catch more of the room's glow. His hand stutters forward on the table, barely an inch, before he stops himself.

"I know," he cajoles her. The same tone he would use in bed as she descended from climax. Someone else tearing up across from him and he would be irritated. Bella has done well to retain the benefit of the doubt. She would help it if she could and she almost always can. "It's..." he trails off. It's a lot doesn't cover it. Softly, though with less conviction, "It's alright."

Hap has lost the privilege of helping her through it. Instead, he'll give her privacy. He pulls back, straightens, and stands from his chair. Stacking their plates, lays a featherlight touch upon her shoulder as he passes by.

She snorts and reaches for a napkin to dab at her eyes.

"Come on, Hap. Let's not go back to lying to each other now."

It's so much worse when he touches her, even lightly. Pathetic how much she wants to reach for him in turn. It translates into a minute flinch. She starts to rise, trying to cover it, knowing it won't work. The kitchen isn't big enough for them to achieve distance.

"I can help clear up."

He doesn't respond but neither does he discourage her. Scraping her scraps into the compost bin under the sink, he twists the faucet to start the warm water pouring. Hap's just one man; he's never seen fit to install a dishwasher in the old place when he doesn't dirty dishes that quickly, and uses his time cleaning them to relax his mind.

He lets Bella take over clearing the table, rolling up one sleeve.

Clearing away the glasses and pitcher hardly takes a minute; Bella does pause to throw back the rest of her own glass like she wishes it was vodka.

Stupid. Stupid crack about lying. Her guard was down and her mouth ran away with her. They had something for a moment there, and maybe she could have maneuvered it into something more.

No, she shouldn't kid herself. It's the first time they've spent extended time together since their truths came out; it's her first time out of the damn room in any real sense. It might be more suspicious if she didn't have a few mood swings. And Hap is too careful a man to let his guard down yet.

It just leaves her aching, to have heard that tone in his voice again.

She sets the glassware on the counter beside Hap, then retreats a step or two, looking around for a cloth to dry when he finishes washing. Space settles between them again.

"... May I ask you a few more questions?" she says after a minute, only a little louder than the water. "About how this is going to work."

It's strange having someone in the kitchen with him. He finds himself bristling at her movement even though he doesn't think she's about to do anything stupid. That eases once she finds the dishcloth and picks a spot to root herself. He's rusty at this, too. Hap hasn't lived with anyone in a little over two decades.

He passes one plate off to her, then the other. Casting a sidelong glance to her when she speaks up, he returns his attention to the suds in the basin.

"Go ahead."

Is that why she's lending a hand? Get it all out in one go, and then she can have the rest of the evening to herself. It works for him; he'd rather have her near while he's too preoccupied to check in on her via CCTV. He expects he'll be doing that often as they acclimatize.

"Is there a camera in the bathroom?"

She hasn't looked closely on her daily trips, generally more worried about practicalities. If she has free rein, she can always go check herself, but she'd like to know from him.

"No." Which is not to say he didn't consider it. But even if he swapped out the shower curtain for a glass door, she could simply fog up the room.

Hap hands her the pot in which he boiled the pasta. "I'd prefer if you'd keep your time in there brief." And in case she doesn't, the door doesn't lock from the inside.

That genuinely surprises her. She takes the pot, blinking at him, and nods.

"Understood."

That means there's one place in the house, at least, where she can feel however she needs to feel, without worrying what Hap might glean from it. Turn up the shower, sit, and think.

"Would it be all right if I took a glass of water into my room at night? It could be the same rules as the pen if you'd like."

That's her next question? Hap tries not to look surprised himself.

Given the basis for their acquaintance, he's on tenterhooks waiting for an unsavory accusation to drop. Why not? One appalling act is the same as another to the people under his control. To them, he's evil, pure and simple.

Bella's initial reaction to the lives he's taken was visceral disgust, carefully reined in every moment since. She was no different from any other captive in that first moment. Hap will remain prepared to be reduced to a monster. If she doesn't ask, he'll just assume she remains resigned to the role of kept woman. Nothing he can say could provide true assurance, anyway. Only time.

"Yes, that's fine."

"--What?"

She can tell he's surprised, though she isn't sure why. Maybe he wasn't expecting her to voluntarily add strictures to her own captivity. There's probably a joke about bondage in there somewhere, if so.

He shakes his head, cheek creasing with a self-effacing grin.

"Nothing." She'll come to him with it or she won't. Hap needn't let on that he cares the slightest amount what people think of him. (As if he hasn't already.) Handing off the baking dish to her and pulling the plug on the sink, he asks, "Anything else?"

That answer is a little disconcerting. Is there any such thing as "nothing" now? Seems unlikely. Whatever it was, though, it's something he thinks she shouldn't know, and something inconsequential enough to make him smile. She'll have to accept that.

Bella takes her time wiping down the baking dish, giving herself time to think. Part of her wants to ask him what consequences there will be for rule breaking -- the rest of her knows that's foolish. What would she be expecting him to say? If she abuses the few privileges he's giving her, he'll revoke them. If she goes far enough, he can probably sedate her. If she really pushes it, he'll kill her. Never forget that.

Consequences. Be serious. That's something a submissive would negotiate with a dom, she thinks, wholly unaware of any parallel her train of thought might have to Hap's. That's not what this is, not at all.

What she says, finally, tentatively, is, "Could we have coffee in the morning?"

Always the first thing she gets in the morning, even if the closest thing to hand is the mid-grade stuff in single-brew packets in the hotel room. Coffee with plenty of milk.

It's not nothing and maybe he deserves to be plunged back into temporary silence for careless lying. The drain burbles as Hap fetches a fresh dish towel from an unsecured drawer and dries his hands. Wiping his fingers, he pivots from questioning why his instinct was to lie, into what tonight's resolution will free him up to do tomorrow morning. It will be good to get back into the swing of things.

At the mention of coffee, he glances to the coffee maker. Just your standard drip maker and carafe, nothing fancy. She could slip something into the grounds or splash boiling coffee in his face. Surely she must understand that incapacitating him is no more forgivable than an attempt on his life. The specter of the lab hanging over them infers there are more dehumanizing ways to keep her.

Besides, he can't go without a cup in the morning.

"Sure. Can't imagine not having it."

Her turn for a self-deprecating smile.

"Me neither."

She puts down the dish with a soft clack, her eyes dropping to the drawer he pulled the cloth from, then his hands, before coming back up to his face.

"Thank you." She leans a hip against the counter, fidgeting with her own dishcloth for something to do with her hands. Wishing vaguely that she still had access to lotion. "For the chance. And dinner."

He tracks her gaze. His hands. She was enamored with them, once upon a time. Her eyes betray nothing of her thoughts on them now. Hap puts it out of his mind. Nothing is better than fear.

"Thanks for the help."

Before his eyes can fall to her hands, or worse, her throat, Hap swallows and says, "I'll go see if I can find that chess set."

"No hurry." She straightens up, hangs the cloth wherever is convenient. "I'm not going anywhere. Well, the bathroom," she corrects herself, "if you don't mind excusing me a few minutes."

Now that she knows he can't see her in there, she wants to take advantage of a few minutes to process. For all that the conversation can't have taken much more than an hour, a lot changed in that time.

Wordlessly, he nods. There's a tightness to his mouth that suggests he might be about to say something but it vanishes in the blink of an eye. Don't take too long in there, he told her less than twenty minutes ago. And he can clearly see she's not taking anything with her.

To that end, he steps aside to allow her to exit first.

Almost enough to make a girl think she isn't trusted.

But he does step aside. She takes the invitation at face value and moves past him. There's a moment where she falters, orienting herself to the parts of the house she's seen before before heading to the bathroom, her thoughts picking up speed with every step along the hall.

How brief is brief? She doesn't have anything to keep track of the time. Can she ask him for a watch? When she was locked into her room, paying attention to the passage of time just felt like a way to drive herself crazy. Will it be better out in the living room, the kitchen? Shit, she should have been paying closer attention in the kitchen. Where did he keep the dish soap? Could she get a fork or butter knife out without him noticing?

Hang on. Something is different in the bathroom.

Did the son of a bitch throw away her conditioner?

Bella wrenches the taps of the sink onto full blast and whispers under the water's cover, "Fuck you fuck you fuck you, Hap, God."

How brief is brief? Too short to exorcise all her feelings fully; long enough to wash her face with cold water and the bar of hand soap. With a few droplets of water still dewed along her hairline, she straightens her dress, sets her face back to neutrality, and goes back out to see if Hap wants to play a game against her.

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cw sexual coercion/violence refs

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