All In Your Head (TheNerd & Treasure)

"Oh goody. Dinner with my mother and my babysitter. What an unparalleled delight," Damien said dryly. Even so, he went to his wardrobe and used the mirror on the inside of one door to straighten his clothes and brush his hair straight. However he might feel about this dinner, he was trying to put his best foot forward. He even put on his shoes and made sure they shined, even though his tired scowl definitely did not.

Once he was in order and felt decent, he walked out the door and descended the stairs slowly. He leaned on the wall, feeling each step carefully. The stairs were by no means narrow or ricketty, though they were dark, yet he felt disoriented and uneasy going down the slope. Tiny beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. Even so, he did not stop until he reached the bottom landing and sighed in relief.
 
Celia noticed that and had to record it, as it was another manifestation of his illness. It was an obvious fear of heights. She followed, putting the notebook up. She didn't look dirty by any means; she was already prepared for the dinner.
 
Damien noticed Celia watching him and scowled. "Haven't you ever been taught that it is rude to stare?" he grumbled before turning his back on her. Oh, right, he was supposed to be ignoring her right now. Oh well, he could go back to doing that later. For now, he walked to the dining room and inclined his head to his mother. "Mother."

Mrs. Richards sat, not at the head of the table, but at the right-hand side of the head. The head of the table was clearly saved for the head of the household, Mr. Richards. Who was not present. She held a small glass of dark wine in her hand lightly, as if it were a bird resting on her pale fingers. "Damien. You have chalk on your trousers."

Damien looked down and quickly dusted off his trousers. "Apologies. I lost track of the time and did not want you to have to wait for me to change."

"Thank you for your thoughtfulness," Mrs. Richards replied cooly.

Damien went and sat across the table from his mother, keeping his back straight and his eyes down. The maid had already set a place for Celia two seats down from Damien.
 
Celia went and sat down in that seat, smiling at the maid as if to say, "Thank you." She then waited for Mrs. Richards to state her business, hopeful of something good, though in her mind she feared it would be bad.
 
Mrs. Richards ignored Celia as the maids brought out dinner and served it in a beautiful display of balance and efficiency. Not one cup dropped or plate clinked as they set the food before them and backed into the shadows. Pheasant dinner with all the delightful trimmings. The two Richards helped themselves in complete silence, eating for several minutes.

"Miss Celia, how do you find your post to be?" Mrs. Richards asked abruptly once her plate was half empty.
 
Celia stopped her eating, then said, "Quite well, Mrs. I feel like I'll enjoy working here."

This would've been a dirty lie to anyone who was of Lycan blood, but it should sound satisfactory to the humans.
 
Mrs. Richards did not look like she instantly believed Celia. She glanced over at Damien, who was busy trying to spear peas, so she let him be. "Good. I expect you to fulfill your promise to stay for an extended amount of time."
 
Celia smiled again, as if to say that she would, then started to eat again. She was starting to forget how she felt, but then immediately had a thought about her late parents that rang in her head. It was their cries of pain just as the both of them were slaughtered right in front of her. She thought it over again, and she tried to hide her thinking about it by eating.
 
"And you are finding it easy to coerce my son into staying with his medication?" Mrs. Richards prodded Celia just as she prodded her bit of pheasant.
 
"Yes ma'am," she said, looking up from her meal.

This was certainly expected, and Celia should've used her other tactic: secret confusion spells. They usually confuse the target just enough that whatever you tell them afterward is the thing they'll do, most of the time literally. Of course, she never thought of that, as her own mind was too clouded to think. She feared she'd lose her job now that she was getting questioned much as much as this.
 
"Good," Mrs. Richards said mildly. She clapped her hands. The maids whisked away the dinner plates and replaced them with tiny plates of rich sorbet. "What else have you done in your work?"

"Mother, can we not just eat our desert in peace and ask questions later?" Damien sighed.

Mrs. Richards ignored him, eyes on Celia.
 
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Celia looked at Mrs. Richards. "I've helped at least a thousand other people from all around the world, including The Earl of Shaftesbury from here, surprisingly," she said.

Now this was a truth, she'd actually had the Earl as a patient. He turned out pretty well afterward, and still continued his honorable work under the premise of keeping his secret of the knowledge of Lycans, though no human knew what actually happened to him besides the fact that he saved children from slave labor.
 
The look Mrs. Richards gave Celia said she was less than convinced. Celia was not doing well to pass herself off as a seventeen year old female in this particular era, even if she was telling the truth. "So I see. How remarkable for someone such as yourself," she said in a monotone.

"I do not know, Mother. I rather enjoy the image of her taking care of the Earl," Damien said, smirking at Celia. For some reason, he almost believed her ridiculous story.
 
Celia kept her indignant feelings inside, as she knew something was definitely up with these humans. They shouldn't be able to notice, she didn't even have behavioral cues that incriminated her. However, realization hit her that appearances were king, even down to what you wore. She had to keep her panic in, as the humans were now seriously suspecting. Hopefully they wouldn't attempt to burn her at the stake if they knew who she truly was. At least, that's all of what she feared, as the thoughts of her past trauma came flooding back at one of the worst times possible. The cynical, sarcastic nature of these humans seemed to confound her, because she had to quit using her concealed quirk, as she couldn't keep it up for much longer without getting a blistering headache the next morning.

Instead of letting the emotion take over like most Lycans would in this situation, she chose a happy form of stoicism. She kept a very strong calm facade up, hoping and silently praying to the God she serves that they wouldn't notice her break.
 
Mrs. Richards dabbed her lips with a napkin and placed it next to her empty dishes. "Darling, everyone pads their resume. It is to be expected. However, most people know to keep said padding reasonable. If you were the first or even second nurse I had hired, you would find yourself dismissed. However, you are not even the tenth I have hired. Therefore, I find myself in such straights that I cannot afford to dismiss even a prevaricator such as yourself. You may stay. For now."

The woman rose, her black skirts whirling around her like silken night shadows. "I will now retire to the drawing-room. Lucy, bring my coffee in ten minutes, if you please."

"Yes, Miss," the maid said with a quick curtsy.

"Damien, sleep well. I will speak with you in the morning about those records you need to complete." With that, she swept out of the room, the door closing softly behind her.

Damien shrugged absently as he nibbled on his desert. Looked like the witch was staying. Oh well. He'd handled worse.
 
Celia was now stuck with Damien, and that meant she could at least go back to her work. She gave him a look, as if telling him that he needed to head up to bed.
 
Damien shifted in his seat to look back at Celia. "What exactly is that look supposed to be telling me?" he drawled. Oh, he could guess what it meant, but he still had no interest in making things easy for her.
 
"Shouldn't we be tucking in for the night?" Celia asked, a rhetorical question. She knew in the back of her mind that she'd be stuck here for as long as it took for him to trust her. She couldn't fail the mission; her alpha would surely be the one to flay her if she gave up upon arrival of her final case.
 
"Tucking in? I assure you, I have not needed to be 'tucked in' by anyone since I was under the care of my nanny," Damien said in a frosty tone. He leaned back in his chair and pretended to have great interest in the dinnerware.
 
This internally offended Celia once again. Her culture raised up a lot of people who were very much affectionate, even to complete strangers. She happened to be one of those people. Of course, all the indignant behavior and thoughts were reserved for her personal journal and for quirk training when she was on break for half a day.

She knew stoicism would work in this case, so she cleared her head for a second, then responded, "Well, there's not much I can do but see you to your room. It's another duty."
 
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