A/N: Not even the sincerest of apologies could express my remorse for not updating this in such a long time. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT'S BEEN OVER 2 YEARS? Time is an illusion. You have all been so kind in your reviews so I feel absolutely terrible! I seriously cannot thank you all enough for your support so far. I'm not sure if anyone's still reading this, but if you are, THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME!

The days following his discovery had been surprisingly normal. Neither had spoken of the letter since that dreaded afternoon; perhaps the subject is just too awkward, or too personal, to fit in with their daily banter. Though he reckons the real reason had something to do with her guarded disposition whenever the envelope is in sight. There's something strange about it, for sure.

Yet the thought always lingers in the back of his mind, the temptation to bring it up so great, he almost has on many occasions. Maybe he's just waiting for the opportune moment. That's what he told himself, at least; their lack of discussion has nothing to do with the fact that he's terrified of her response.

Obviously...

In fact, tonight's the most talking they've done in a while. Her voice echoes softly in the back of his mind, the occasional word or phrase slipping into his thoughts and thrusting reality onto his shoulders once more.

Though the reality of tonight is grim.

"And I swear if you make me sound like some idiotic free spirit, I'll fly all the way to America and make your life a living hell!"

Very, very grim.

The boy only smirks at this threat, his shoulders slouching in feigned disappointment as his full attention returns to her once more, "Well, there goes all my artistic similes. Damn. I was even looking forward to using some, too."

"Oh, shut it."

"You first, Yacker."

"Yacker? What kind of nickname is that?" Eddie shrugs, his lopsided smirk and slouched posture setting her further on edge. She rolls her eyes, "But you know, at least I have a reason to talk. It's an interview, Doofus. I'm the one who's supposed to answer all your stupid questions."

"True. Only I don't remember asking one."

Patricia hesitated, her eyes bright with amusement and lips etched into an impish grin, "Then I guess you're not doing your job, Mr. Miller."

He only scoffs. Patricia is something they hadn't covered in all his journalism courses: How to interview someone with an attitude. She isn't the first person to give him lip and she certainly won't be the last, but there's something oddly playful about their banter; he can't deny that arguing with her is fun.

"Well, in that case," The American delicately clears his throat before uncapping his red pen, poised to write with a small smirk etched onto his features, "Ms. Williamson, tell me about the importance of art in your life. In fact, was it always this important to you?"

Patricia watches him with a bemused stare, surprised to see that he hasn't yet cracked under her stony gaze. The formality of it all, though feigned, is enough to make anyone uncomfortable. But this is exactly what Eddie wants, of course. And she, of all people, isn't about to fall victim to one of his stupid schemes.

So instead of tossing aside his question with a snide remark and disapproving glance, Patricia visibly straightens in her chair, resisting the urge to groan at the single thought that runs through her mind.

What would Piper do?

She clears her throat, "Art is of the... greatest importance to me."

Eddie smiles faintly at her response, suppressing the laughter that threatens to bubble up inside him. Her scowl only deepens.

"Something funny, Miller?"

"Oh no, no." He shakes his head, "I'm just enjoying this new side of you. Glad you can finally show us all who you really are."

"Yeah? well it's not like I have a choice, though, is it?" She sneered.

Patricia remembers their first encounter. He had been running down the pavement in a pathetic attempt to catch up, mucking about like some clumsy idiot. Albeit an idiot who might just be the key to her success. Rather unfortunate how that one worked out, isn't it?

Eddie looks down at his notebook again, struggling to make out the questions he had scrawled quickly across the page before rushing over here. Penmanship had never been his strong suit.

He squints slightly, "I think I wanted to ask you about your childhood experience with art… either that or the best place around here for takeout."

She ignores that second bit.

"I always loved art, if that's what you're asking. I used to get bored during class and draw pictures in the margins of the page. Teachers would hate it, but that's probably what made me do it more." She smiles fondly at the memory, "I dunno... I didn't have some life changing experience if that's what you're getting at."

"So much for journalistic gold." He offers a wry smile.

"Very funny."

"So, you said you started from a young age, correct?"

He waits for her nod before continuing, "So your parents must have contributed to this? Encouraged you, right? You know, art school and all that?"

"My sister, Piper, she's a great musician." Her words are a little too loud.

He hesitates, confused for a moment. "Right. But you're not Piper... last time I checked..."

She looks away.

If this were a normal interview he would've pushed the topic further, desperately tried to weasel an answer out of her to point where it'd be uncomfortable for them both.

Persistence is key.

Though as he stares at the girl across from him, he just can't bring himself to do it.

"Uh... anything you want to add?" He asks softly.

She appears distant for a moment, the usual sharp reply nonexistent in the darkened room. This was obviously a touchy subject.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Eddie reaches down to grab his backpack, "Well, you're right, Yacker, I think we've both had enough for one night. You probably want me to go home anyway..." He offers a weak smile in her direction before picking up the remaining materials and stuffing them into his bag.

Though when he makes some comment about returning tomorrow, she smirks slightly, then adds a dispassionate goodbye.

And soon they're back as they once were.

Crisis averted.