Twenty-Five ◑ The Request

“Dimitri?” Lucille spluttered, nearly slamming the fitting room door into Agnes’s face. “You really want me to take Dimitri?”

“Why not?” Agnes reasoned. When Lucille slipped angrily into the third cubicle, she quickly swerved inside and grabbed the dresses from her arms. “Look, your colleagues think that your date is a supermodel. And Dimitri is a god, with the looks of a god. You can’t beat that.”

Lucille couldn’t argue, mainly because she’d been thinking along the same lines since Agnes mentioned it to her on their way to Stitch Couture to look for an evening dress. She couldn’t quite believe she’d panicked about taking a man with supermodel features when she literally knew one with an even higher caliber. Still, she wasn’t sure she’d ask Dimitri.

“I suppose you can’t,” she just said, helping Agnes put the dresses she’d tried on back into their scented hangers. “Let’s just return these and look for more.”

Unlike the pool for her possible date candidates, Lucille’s choices in the swanky dress shop was abundant. There were hundreds of them, all in different colors, fabric styles, silhouettes, and prices. Her focus was narrowed down to the ones in shades of red, but even then there were a lot. Agnes seemed keen to look at every single one, though. Once they were back at the racks, she took her sweet time examining the items, humming as she went.

Lucille tried to do the same, but her brain was filled with Dimitri. “So you think I should just ask him? Like, just pitch the question at him?”

“Of course.” Agnes nodded, taking a slinky maroon number and inspecting it at arm’s length. “I mean, he never really turned you down before when you make requests.”

“But I only made two requests from him since . . . ever.”

“I know. Still, two positive results.”

“But one of those requests was for activating the electric line in our old house in Florida.”

“Like I said, positive result.”

“But the other request was for banishing the ghost from our old basement in Oklahoma,” Lucille reasoned. “And it turned out to be an infestation of rats. Remember how exasperated he was?”

Agnes sighed and handed the dress to her. “Miss Lucille, if you don’t want to ask Dimitri, then don’t. Simple as that. I’m not forcing you, don’t get me wrong. I just think he’d make a perfect date. He's really nice if you look past all that . . . knowledge.”

“I’m just a bit embarrassed,” Lucille mumbled. What a lie. She was extremely embarrassed, and she hadn’t even popped the question yet.

“I understand,” Agnes said consolingly. “You want me to summon him?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pressed her palms together, closed her eyes, and began to chant. Lucille clamped a hand on her lips just in time. “Agnes, not now! I still have a few days to go. I’ll just ask him when. . . .”

Lucille trailed off, noticing the tall figure from six aisles away. There was no mistaking the graceful stride, the wavy black hair, and the all-black ensemble. Dread squeezed her throat like a fist, causing her to step back and collide with the mannequin behind her. The thing rattled but thankfully didn’t topple over.

However, that little shake was all it took for the figure to turn and spot them.

Then, it began to walk.

“Is that Dimitri?” Agnes turned and squinted. “It is him! Let’s come and—”

“Run,” Lucille breathed as Dimitri passed through from one aisle of fancy dresses to another. She seized Agnes’s arm and pulled. “I told you not to summon him!”

“But I didn’t finish my incantation!” Agnes whispered back.

“It doesn’t matter because he’s here!” Lucille hissed. “Now let’s go! We can’t let him—"

“Hello, ladies.” Dimitri arrived at the aisle, smiling pleasantly at the two women. “It’s nice to see that you two have truly made up.” His smile faltered when he registered their horrified faces. “What?”

Lucille and Agnes simultaneously put on rictus smiles, but none of them had the capacity to speak. They just stared at Dimitri with matching bared teeth.

The god frowned, but he didn't press on. "Might I remind you to act normal? The other mortals cannot see me, as I'm on a mission to take a soul. That poor old dear at the register would die of a stroke in about ten minutes."

"Oh, that's a relief," Agnes said, then she quickly backtracked. "Not about the old woman dying. About you being here on a mission. I thought I managed to summon you with half an incantation."

"Summon me?" Dimitri's frown went deeper, his gaze sweeping from Lucille to Agnes. "Is there anything wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing," Lucille was beginning to say, but then Agnes pushed her towards Dimitri.

"She has a question to ask so I must leave you two to it," Agnes recited at top speed, walking sideways and wedging herself into another aisle before Lucille could protest. "I'll just look at some dresses while you talk."

Great. Just fantastic. Now Lucille was alone with Dimitri, who was now watching her expectantly. Oh, she'd strangle Agnes later for this.

"I think it's best if we talk somewhere private," Lucille hazarded, taking a random dress from the rack and leading Dimitri into one of the cubicles in the fitting room.

Since he was practically invisible to every mortal in the establishment, smuggling him inside was an easy feat. What wasn't easy was actually sharing the cramped space with him. The area was only a little larger than a one square meter. They were nearly chest to chest. The only thing that saved her was his general respect for her personal space, as he immediately began to press himself against the wall upon entering the cubicle.

"Why here?" he wondered. "It's so stuffy. Let me get my coat off."

Lucille nodded mutely, watching him shrug off his black plaid coat, underneath which he wore a sweater that clung to his torso and showed every plane of muscle. The cubicle was suddenly filled with a warm, sweet smell that seemed to be emanating from his very skin.

Fuck. Being alone with him here really wouldn't be easy, would it?

Dimitri draped his discarded coat on his arm. "So, what do you want to ask, Lucille?"

Should she ask the real thing, or should she just make up some stupid shit and forget about it? Her pride was screaming the second option, but the rest of her was desperate.

And desperation won.

"You see, our office is going to have a ball next Friday," Lucille ventured, gauging every shift of movement on his face. "We're supposed to bring dates, but the one I wanted to go with is already going with someone else, so I figured . . . you're laughing at me."

"I'm not." Dimitri hurriedly wiped the grin off his face. "Carry on, please."

Now Lucille was too ashamed and annoyed to give him the full context. She scratched the side of her warm cheeks, and with a deep breath, she decided to jump to the point. "I'm taking you to the ball. You will be my date."

"Wow." His expression turned serious, but his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sorry, but it's a no to both of those statements."

"Oh, come on!" She smacked her palm against her forehead. "Why not? It's not like I'm going to date you for real. You'll just show up with me so I won't look so pathetic!"

Dimitri winced. "What about Agnes?"

"She's banned from the office and everyone from work will be there," she explained. "I don't want her to be embarrassed. Besides, I already asked her last night. She said she'd be damned to go back and see anyone from there. I don't have any other male friends. Or any friends at that. You're my only choice. And you're perfect."

"Lucille, I'm a god," he said. "I don't do such things. Especially going to a ball."

She stared at him, taking in his regal features. The dude literally looked like he was created to grace formal events. She had to have him.

Dimitri exhaled sharply at her expression. "I know that look and I don't—"

"Please?" Her voice had melted into a sweet, almost child-like tone that she herself found unsettling, but she couldn't help it. "Oh, please, Dimitri. I'll do whatever you want."

"What?" He scratched the side of his chin. "I don't ask for things in return when I do you favors. You know that."

Her eyes widened with hope. "So you'll do it?"

"No," he said vehemently, but he softened right up when he met her wide-eyed gaze. "Lucille, stop making that face. You're making me uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable enough to say yes?"

"Uncomfortable enough to leave. Goodbye."

He turned to go, but she blocked his way by outstretching her arms. She expected him to just disappear in a puff of smoke like he'd done many times before, but he didn't. Instead, he just faced her again. "Lucille, you don't need a date."

"But I already told them that I have a date." Lucille leaned against the door, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "And that he might be a model." She gestured at his face. "Look. Model."

"You're lying to them?" Dimitri said disbelievingly. "This has to stop. You shouldn't even be back at that office."

Oh, no. He'd managed to turn the story against her. She waved off his words. "Alright, alright, you can go."

"No, I mean it." He was the one standing over her now. "You don't have a reason to go back to work. Your deal with Mia is null and void. You don't need to stick close to that man she wanted gone."

"But I like working there," she mumbled, cowering under his gaze.

Dimitri gave her a long, hard stare. "I'm surprised," he said after a while. "In all seriousness, though. You can just quit."

"I don't want to," she insisted. "I told you, I like it. The people are very nice, but I don't want to go to the ball with no one and have them pity me."

"Then maybe they're not so nice if you think they'll do that." He put on his coat once more. "I'm leaving. It's time."

Lucille turned to him hopefully. "So it's a yes?"

Dimitri met her gaze. "It's a no."