When I awake, I am pleased, finding my Eleanor's bare back sitting at the vanity. She looks back at me. Her curls spiral down her back.

Her side profile is lit by the moonlight.

"Does it not burn you," I whisper.

Her lips turn up. "Only a bit. Did you rest well?"

I watch her, slipping out of the bed. I pull my hair up, coming ho behind her, resting my hands on her shoulders.

"I slept next to you. And you? Did you enjoy our first sleep?"

She looks up at me with a small smile. "I was too excited,"

I kiss her cheek. How cute. She's been waiting to go to the movies. She smiles, leaning up to kiss me. I mean her supple lips, cupping her chin.

"You're certainly affectionate today," I note, as she stands.

She holds her hands up to me, looking up at me. Adorable. My fangs ache. How cute can she be. I look between them in question.

"Pick me up," she orders.

And so I do, I bend down and I pick her her, her legs around my waist my hands resting on the small of her back.

"What do you want to wear? Hm? Should I call a stylist in for you?"

Eleanor Shakes her head slowly. "The red dress," she nods to the closet. I raise a brow, walking toward the closet door, opening it.

"What do you think?" She says softly, leaning against my shoulder. Her fingers touch the fabric wistfully.

Something has shifted. I'm not sure if it's good or bad, yet.

"Since when do we care what I think," I chuckle.

Her gaze shifts to me, an instant, sharp. "Do you not like it?"

I pull back, looking between her dark eyes. There's nothing hidden. Pure inquisition.

I repeat my original response. "Since when do we care what I like? Do you like it? You're wearing it."

She frowns, her fingers dusting the dress once more, longingly. But she says nothing.

"Black then?" She suggests. I frown, pulling the dress from the closet setting her down.

"Are you alright, Eleanor?" I cup her cheek. Maybe she was exposed to too much moonlight. Setting the dress on the bed I close the curtains tighter.

"Perfectly. What movie are we seeing?" She sits down on the bed, playing with the hem of the dress.

I watch her carefully. "I didn't decide. I thought, we'd venture out and...make a decision together."

I order my Eleanor, when she's reluctant. I can see in her eyes, when she wants to agree to something. There's a...particular sequence of expressions she goes through.

Minute but I know it.

A look away. Right. She wants to. Then left, brows furrowed, just a bit, and she sinks her nail into whatever flesh is closest, usually her other hand. Brows raise, a little, she wants to again, then they furrow once more, she's unable to convince herself she should give in, her face evens out.

It's about a 2 second process but I catch it every time.

But we have agreed to follow where love takes us. My strong guiding hand is no longer necessary. We are on the same page.

And yet...here we are. I step out, and she seems to pull back.

She pursed her lips. "You don't already know?"

"No. I thought we could see something we both enjoy," I take her hand.

She looks down at it. "But you've done research's what's showing?"

I shake my head. Tell her what's showing and when. She watches my lips my expression, watching me like I watch her.

"Do you have a favorite?" She asks, standing, opening the closet once more, her eyes settling on a black gown similar to what she wore last night.

But she very clearly would prefer the red so why...maybe I'm reading too much into it. Perhaps she's just feeling indecisive.

"American Psycho seemed intriguing but I didn't think you'd like it—"

"Why not?"

Because she wouldn't. She hates stories like that. Murder, drama, she's a woman who enjoys simple happy tells. Life provides all the rest. Everything else but simple and happy.

"Because I know you."

She purses her lips pulling the black dress to her body. "Who did you think?"

"I think you liked the red better. And...I think you can wear whatever you want. And if you want something to else we can go get it—"

Eleanor shifts in her place, pulling a curl behind her ear. She looks to at me, and she smiles. Really smiles. It's sweet, and it's vulnerable.

It's...sickening.

Something about it makes my stomach turn.

"I just want to make you happy, Alastair. So...just tell me what to wear."