nextgenerationmarvel | The Artist (Out Of Her Natural Environment)

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The Artist (Out Of Her Natural Environment)

Alistaire pulled up to the house. He still couldn't believe that Grandfather had run Alisa out of the city. He'd deal with that in due time, but right now, he had to get her to stop running. This location was a joke. A dirt road driveway? He was probably going to have to throw away these shoes. A large parcel was in the trunk of the Tesla Roadster he'd bought for the drive. He glanced back over his shoulder at it, before ringing the bell.

It was a lovely house, even if the location was a joke. He'd have to make sure to help her with the reselling.

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"I think you like that we're that opposite. I bring no emotions, and you bring them all. You can't help it. You're the way you are, and I'm the way I am." He lets his posture relax a bit, still giving her that look.

"Alisa... what are you doing here?" He waves a hand around. "The house is beautiful, but there's nothing here for you. No life. No society. No emotions to feed on.

You can't stay here.

If you stay, you will rot, wither, and die.

I'm all the quiet you can take. This place isn't for you."

"It's safe, an' dat's what matters, Alistaire." She shook her head, putting her paintbrush down and sitting on the edge of the bed he laid in. She had not a drop of paint on her... despite how quickly she was working.

"I was attacked by a Guild member in my first apartment. Your Grandfather walked in on it an' killed de man before he could do anyt'ing more den beat me up bad. He den turned to me an' called me "pathetic". Scared me good." She never told Alistaire this, because she feared what he would thing.

"De next place I moved to didn' feel safe, either. Your Grandfather's men ruined my car. Cut de gas an' break lines... an' when I had it towed to a mechanic, dey found sugar in de tank. It was gonna be too expensive to fix, so I decided it needed to be totaled or sold for whatever parts were good." She sighed, laying back on the bed. "Den he decided to have my art gallery fire bombed. I had to have Ryan stay wit' me for a few days. I was scared he was gonna come for me next... or hurt Ryan to punish me more."

"I can' win in a fight against your Grandfather. Even if I absorbed all de hate an' rage on dis planet, he'd still be able to take me out. So, I decided to let him win. I moved. I'm close to de school, which is good 'cause I still need a new car. Can' rely on a rental forever. An' despite it bein' so quiet an' lonely... it's beautiful inside an' out."

"Leave Grandfather to me." Alistaire says, sitting up from his reclining position. The sheets slip, almost dangerously so.

"I can give you anything you ask of me. I can protect you. I can make you powerful and respected.

And all I ask is that you stop saying no to yourself."

"Alistaire, I don' know..." She took note of the blanket, then turned her head away from him.

"You know, part o' de reason I left was not just to protect myself or Ryan, but you as well. You skate on thin ice wit' your Grandfather. You wouldn' survive his wraith, or if he tanked your bank accounts like your father did. Would be selfish o' me to stay an' get de people I care about hurt."

"I don't care. I'll survive. Don't underestimate me, Alisa."

He reaches for her hand closest to him.

She allows her hands to be held by his. For a bit, she is silent, looking as though she is thinking quite hard on what to do. She could give up on all the hard work she had done to try and get the Institute to try and trust her, a relationship in which her partner truly seemed to care for her, and her safety... for Alistaire Shaw.

"I really don' know what to do..."

"I won't make your decisions for you. I'd get bored with you if I had to." He gives her hand a brief squeeze, then lets go. He pushes hair from her face, and then gets out of the bed, walking confidently across the room to his clothes.

"Would you mind stayin' de night?" She asked, watching him grab his clothes. "I"m makin' some killer home cookin', an' well... you never tasted my cookin' before."

She got up and walked over to him, her arms folded over her chest.

"An' do you wish to see de paintin' now, or do you wish me to bring it over when I return to de city tomorrow?"

"What about your Ryan?" He raises an eyebrow. "Will he object?" He looks back at her over his shoulder, pants pulled up but not secured yet, and slowly turns to face her.

"I'll see it when you're ready for me to see it." He runs his tongue along his lips delicately. "Are you coming just for the day, or are you going back where you belong?"

"I like Ryan, but de fact I can see his family or his place bugs me. Like I'm so secret girlfriend or sumt'ing to be ashamed o' . Oui, he protects me, loves me... but he hasn' well... touched me since I lost my leg. No one 'as." She hated to admit that.

"Maybe he an' I are better off as friends or sumt'ing. Because as a girlfriend... I feel... neglected." She never had told anyone about any of this. "De tighter I try to hang on to him, de faster he seems to slip away."

"You never felt ashamed o' me. You spent more time wit' me den anyone else, sometimes..."

"You should be telling these things to him, not me, Alisa." He buttons up his shirt.

"What's for dinner?"

"I'll talk to him soon..."

He had an opportunity to take advantage of her situation and did not. Who was this man? Perhaps Alistaire was telling the truth about how he felt towards her.

Alisa soon returned back to Earth to answer his question.

"Seafood Jambalya an' Crafish Étouffée. All dis work an' trouble has got me starvin' !" Alisa smiled, giving Alistaire a kiss on the cheek before going over to the canvas and turning it around so he could see. She had yet to sign it, yet, but it was done.

Alisa used brush strokes like the kind used for Asian Calligraphy, giving the picture this amazing look. It was as though someone threw paint at the canvas and an image of Alistaire came of it.

"Needs a bit longer to dry before you take it home."

He's tired of her going back and forth. This needs to be done with finality. It needs to be her choice. Or at least she needs to think so.

"Sounds delicious."

He appraises her work with a finger to his chin, taking in the brush strokes and the coloring. "Lovely."

"Well, it's only as lovely as de subject matter, no." She grinned before carefully placing the canvas back on the easel. She then took a brush and signed the bottom of the painting. She even dated it. "Dere you go. It should be dry in a couple o' hours."

She then closed up all the paints, washed off her brushes, and began to head back downstairs with Alistaire.

"Maybe I could keep dis place for de weekend. It's too nice to put back up on de market. Especially wit' de plans I got for it."

He's still buttoning his untucked shirt when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "I'll buy it from you. I could definitely use this for events that need to be away from prying eyes..."

"Alistaire, I don t'ink dat would be necessary." She waved her hand as she headed for the kicthen. It was a gorgeous kitchen... as though a chef once owned this house. "I wish to keep it. You may borrow it. An' what kind o' parties are we talkin' about?"

"In either case, it's probably still better that you don't know." He says evenly, giving her a look. He's not going to debate the matter further.

"You are no fun. You never let me know anyt'ing. What if dere is some good coke at dese parties, an' I'm missin' out?" She pouted and started to take out a few pots from one of the cabinets. "You always were such a horrible tease."

He tilts his head, examining her. "You shouldn't sully your body with that. There are plenty of other vices to alter your state with." Alistaire finds himself a seat.

"I don't tease. I deliver exactly what I promise. No more, no less."

"De coke was a joke, Alistaire." She leaned over the island counter to look at him. "After your Grandfather's LAST party, I prefer not to 'ave my mind in any altered state ever again."

She turned back around and started to take some fresh ingredients out of the large, steel refrigerator. She placed vegetables with vegetables, spices with spices, and seafood with well... seafood. She was meticulous with her cooking as she was with her painting.

"Yes, you will deliver yourself unto me wit' ... do you come wit' a marriage certificate an' security for de rest o' my life?" She knew he was going to say no... but it was fun to tease him.

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The Artist (Out Of Her Natural Environment)

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