She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers through his hair. He wasn't John. He wasn't close to John. 

"To you." 

"To us." she chimed, clinking the wine glasses, a soft smile playing on her painted lips. He took a sip, then a gulp, the Pinot emptying his glass. Her gloved fngertips encircled the goblet, she took no time to place her glass firmly on the table. 

"Timmothy--"

"Call me Tim." He pleaded, grapsing her cloaked hands in his. "Timmy if you wish, anything you desire."

The study they sat in was dimly lit with candle chandeliers; thunderstorms outside crackled with fury; ringing that drew him nearer. 

"Hm, this bottle seems to be so strong... just a large glass and I'm already tipsy. Shall we retire early?" 

She smirked, saying nothing, and stood up, flattening her dress with her palms, she retrieved her purse from the desk. With ease, he picked up her, wisping her down the hallway.

"Maidens shouldn't have to walk." She giggled, touching the ground once more. Crutching him down the hallway, he leaned against the doorframe, wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close. "I'll treat you like a princess..for a price."

A gasp. He stumbled back. 

A thump. The letter opener fell from her balled fingers, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"H-how--"

"Goodnight, dear prince."  He gurgled softly as she took a minute to reapply her lipstick.

She dragged him across the carpet, his blood trailing. "Ugh.." She grunted with effort. "Such a waste.."  A pause, exhaling, propping him up against the windowsill, she pecked his cheek. 

"Sweet dreams." She collected her belongings, lighting a cigarette, the ash flicked down the hallway.