Then her eyes went wide. "Oh no!!!"
Prince gave her a sidelong look. "What now?"
"My phone! I—I don't know my chauffeur's number by heart. I can't call him without it!"
Prince hummed thoughtfully. "Forget it. You can crash here tonight. Easier anyway, since you don't have a phone." He said it casually before heading inside and coming back out.
Charlie's cheeks warmed. "Oh no, I couldn't. I'd be intruding—"
He didn't even give her the chance to refuse. A shirt and a towel smacked against her face.
"There's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Don't touch my bed with whatever sewer stench you picked up today before you've taken a shower. You stink."
"I do not—!" Charlie stopped, sniffed herself, and cringed. "…Okay, maybe a little."
Prince just chuckled as he disappeared back inside.
Charlie held the shirt and towel against her chest, staring at his back with a little goofy smile.
When she finally stepped back into the apartment, her heart didn't feel quite so heavy as before.
---
Charlie couldn't deny it anymore, her body felt like it had been through a war.
Between the nerves from her failed interview, the scare of Razzle's kidnapping and unknown status, and the sheer stress of trying to stay optimistic, she was more wound up than usual.
Maybe what she needed wasn't more pacing or worrying. Maybe what she needed was a nice, long shower.
She slipped into the bathroom, humming faintly as the steam filled the space. It was surprisingly neat for a man's place. Modern tiles, everything smelling faintly of cedar.
Then her eyes caught it—there, on the shelf near the shampoo, sat a little rubber panda. Another one by the faucet. And another one balancing on the edge of the soap dish. She tilted her head slightly...
"Rubber pandas, huh? Not what I pictured," she muttered, poking one with a finger. It squeaked.
It was cute. Unexpectedly cute. So he had this side of him too.
The corner of her mouth curved before she concentrated on wiping away all the sweat and stress.
...
When she finally stepped back out, she had the towel draped around her shoulders, her hair still slightly damp. She tugged at the oversized T-shirt Prince had tossed her. It clung to her curves a little more than she'd liked. She was halfway to the living room when she froze.
Prince was at his desk, fingers tapping rapidly across a sleek computer screen balanced on his lap. His head turned slightly, his mask catching her reflection—and for a second, she thought she saw his throat constrict.
"What?" Charlie asked, self-conscious, brushing her damp hair back.
"Nothing," he said quickly, closing the screen with a snap and standing. "Just going to take a shower." His tone was casual—almost too casual—as he walked past her without another glance.
Charlie squinted her eyes after he left.
"???"
"What was that about?" She mumbled, deciding not to think about it, before curiosity got the better of her. She padded over to the couch, flopped down, and flicked the laptop screen open.
She made a new browser tab and logged into her email account.
Her inbox popped open. Empty. No response from the newspaper company. She sighed, shoulders slumping. She closed the laptop and whispered to herself, "Tomorrow. They'll give me an answer tomorrow."
In the meantime, she decided to watch some Youtu. Especially the cute cat videos—they were just so adorable.
...
The bathroom door opened not long after, steam trailing out, and this time it was her turn to gawk.
Prince walked out, his mask still on. But his torso was bare except for the faint neon line like tattoos across his shoulders. Purple shorts hung low on his hips, and every one of his muscles looked like it had been sculpted by someone with way too much free time.
Charlie's eyes widened. Her brain scrambled. She gave his body a quick once-over, immediately comparing it to her ex—and, yeah, no competition. Ten out of ten.
He caught her staring. "See something you like?"
Her face went crimson. "No! I—I was just—looking at the—window. Yes. The window. It's very… square." She spun on the couch, hugging the pillow to her chest, sneaking peeks anyway.
Prince chuckled. He walked past her, the faint scent of cedar and honeydew trailing with him. She blinked, realizing she kind of liked it, before shaking her head hard.
"So where am I sleeping?" she asked, desperate for a subject change.
"The couch," he said, then reconsidered. "But that'd be inhospitable of me, and you'd complain about your back tomorrow. The bed's huge anyway. We can put a pillow divider between us, you stay on your side, I stay on mine."
Her mouth opened, and he thought she was ready to protest, but instead she surprised him. "Fine. That works."
Prince paused. That was… way too easy. "You really need to be more guarded. What if I had bad intentions?"
"You don't," Charlie said simply, as if she knew. He wouldn't do anything to her.
He shook his head, muttering, "You're too trusting, princess," but didn't push further. "It's decided then."
She opened her mouth again, only to stop when he flicked on the TV. "I'm going to watch some Sin City before bed. If you're tired, you can head off first."
Charlie gasped. "You watch Sin City?!"
He arched an eyebrow behind the visor. "What, you think I just kill people and brood all day?"
"Honestly? Yes!"
He smirked, grabbed a beer from the table, and leaned back. "Pigs fly, princess. Or as Alejandro would say—"
"—'Do imps pay taxes?'" Charlie finished at the same time, her voice high with excitement.
Their eyes met, and she absolutely lit up. "Oh my gosh, you do watch it! That's one of my favorite lines! Season two, episode five!"
"Congratulations," he deadpanned.
"No, you don't understand!" She leaned forward, clutching the couch cushion. "This means you've watched the whole thing, and—wait, don't tell me you're caught up."
Prince reached over to the shelf, grabbed a slim case, and held it up. "Recorded the season three finale."
Charlie squealed, nearly bouncing in place. "No way! No one has that! You're lying."
He slid the disc into the player without a word.
Dazzle groaned from the beanbag chair, curling up into a ball. "Kill me now," he muttered. His twin was missing, he was exhausted, and the last thing he wanted was to listen to these two gush about bad TV.
But Charlie had already grabbed the remote, eyes wide with stars. "You're my new best friend," she said.
Prince leaned back, mask glowing faintly as the opening credits rolled. "Don't push it."