Page 89 of Gunslinger Girl
“How many bottles do you think I need to order to make it look like I’m trying to forget a floundering campaign?”
Pity took a bracing sip of her champagne. “If that’s the idea, you might consider switching to something stronger, Mr. Sheridan.”
He gave her a disheartened look. “This isn’t going to work unless you start calling me Patrick.”
“I’m sorry… Patrick.” Pity tried to force herself to be as relaxed as Sheridan looked. Despite his rapid departure from Cessation after the attack, nothing in his manner suggested a man worried about his surroundings. But that was likely owing to the extra Tin Men in the Gallery, as well as Sheridan’s austere mountain of a bodyguard stationed nearby, glaring at anyone who strayed too close.
This is part of the act, she reminded herself. You need to learn to play this part, same as you did the first time Eva worked with you in the arena. Unlike in the Theatre, however, where she gave no thought to the specifics of her audience, Pity found her attention continually drawn to the crowded Gallery, anxious to know who was observing them. Selene’s orders meant she couldn’t tell anyone the truth behind her actions. Not Luster or Garland or Duchess.
Not even Max.
Their argument about the Finales had left Pity with a persistent bee-stung feeling, one that mixed unpleasantly with her current situation. But she hadn’t seen him anywhere when she and Sheridan arrived. She silently hoped he wouldn’t visit the Gallery at all tonight.
“I want you to know,” said Sheridan, as if sensing her troubled thoughts, “that this isn’t some kind of ruse; I have no ulterior motives toward you.”
“Thank you.” Chastened by his contrite tone, she forced a smile onto her face, as if he had just said something incredibly charming. “But what your intentions are and what people are thinking right now are two different things.”
“Does that matter to you?”
“I guess not.” Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Your pride isn’t what’s important, she reminded herself. Satisfying Selene and avoiding the Finales was. “But why me? There are plenty of better choices here.”
“None that have saved my life.”
“I was saving my life, too. Doesn’t seem like enough to hang your trust on.”
Sheridan chuckled. “It’s more than that, of course. No matter where you call home now, you grew up under CONA, unlike most of Selene’s people. And I think you know what it can be like there for a former Patriot.”
“I do. At least I know how it was for my mother.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?”
Pity shook her head. “After the war, she cut a deal to keep her neck out of the noose. But like you said before, some people never forget the past. My father included. He hated my mother and he hated me. I left when he tried to ship me off to another commune that needed fertile women.”
Sheridan’s expression soured. “Is that a regular occurrence on the communes?”
“Regular enough.”
“Well, when I’m in control of CONA,” he said with a wink, “I’ll make sure to put a stop to that.”
She eyed him. “Really?”
“You look so skeptical. Of course. It’s a small enough thing.” Sheridan beckoned a porter. “A bottle—no, two, of the best whiskey in the house. And then champagne for everyone here.” He slurred his words slightly, as if already half drunk. “If I can’t celebrate success, I’ll celebrate failure instead.”
“Yes, sir.” The porter set off.
He’s a better actor than you are. But something in her brightened. Back east, Sheridan’s past made him a pariah. Yet in Cessation, home to those who refused to live under CONA’s stringent rules, it made him an ally, even a friend. Maybe protecting the city wasn’t the only thing he could do. “That’s not the worst that goes on, unfortunately. Like the dissident settlements that CONA’s been destroying.”
“I’ve heard.” His articulateness returned. “It seems unnecessarily brutal to me.”
“Most of them were Patriots, too. If you’re president, you could put a stop to it.”
“So I could.” He sighed, but it was one accompanied by a confident smile. “There are many, many matters that will need attention once I’m president. With the combined power of Columbia and Cessation, well, what can’t be accomplished?”
“So you really think Selene can deliver what she says she can?” said Pity.
“Maybe.” Sheridan swirled his glass so that the champagne glittered like liquid gold. “What I know is that doubt won’t get me what I want. And I wouldn’t be here unless I thought Cessation could.”
It was a relief when Pity was finally able to leave behind the stares and whispers of the Gallery, though not as much as she would have expected at the start of the evening. Despite the unpleasantness of her task, there was an agreeable earthiness to Sheridan. He seemed like a man who didn’t take for granted the wealth and power he had gained. As she punched in the code to her door, she realized she even liked the way he navigated Cessation with easy self-control, unlike so many of the other patrons who treated the city like something to be consumed when it suited them and discarded afterward.
