I'm writing an author note on top- how awkward! I just wanted to say if you have not read my one-shot "Before the Night Falls" you should probably go do so before reading this, because there are quite a few references from there.

Misery Loves Company

Chapter One

The devil can appear in a variety of forms. To one person he may show himself as a horned beast with hooves and the torso of a man. To another the trickster may present himself as a cunning snake with an offering of a gift of fruit. Evil has a habit of sneaking into your life when you least suspect it, often in form of the unknown. Throughout his early life, Max has had a few encounters with evil. They were never much; just a nod to a casual acquaintance as passes on through his life. It was not until he was older did Max make his first face to face encounter with the devil.

It was a gloomy night. A greasy drizzle fell down from the sky, slickening the streets and all of those who dared to walk them. Despite the poor weather conditions, Max decided to take a walk. It was a habit that he had picked up shortly after the loss of his wife and young daughter. The consistency of the pace and the night air helps clear the thoughts that clutter in mind during the daytime hours, and he would not let any amount of water steal his temporary peace. There are few others out on this dreary night; mostly drunken men that have stumbled out of the bars and stagger off into the dark in search of their homes. Max pays no attention to them as he passes. His thoughts are elsewhere, with his crumbling estate and the blond curls at the ends of his deceased daughter's hair. This world has no use to him now. It has already failed him, and Max shall return the favor one way or another.

As he approaches the short wooden bridge that connects the two sides of town over a small river, Max notices a shadowy figure. It appears to be feminine in shape with long, full skirts flowing out from a narrowed waist. The figure, whoever it may be, looks rather short, even from the distance he stands. The closer Max comes to the shadow, the more details he can make out. It is indeed a woman, a young one, perhaps even a girl judging by her petite stature. Her dress is a powder blue, nearly looking illuminated against her pale skin. From a ways away, the dress appears to be finely made and in the latest style, but as he draws nearer to the girl, Max can see that this is not true. Even a commoner could see that, close up; it is only a knock off of what the wealthier young ladies might wear. Max can tell what this woman is. It was quite obvious as soon as he got a better look at her dress. She is the type of girl his wife would scoff at when they passed them on their evenings out in town. This is a lady of the night; a prostitute.

Max has no interest in this girl and what favors she may offer. Even in his darkest of despairs, he will not allow himself to sink to the level of paying for affection, especially from a woman so poorly disguised. The girl does not seem to notice him, though, and hopefully he will be able to pass without any interruptions. She stands on the bridge, facing outwards as she watches the raindrops smack the river below. Her expression is one of peace, perhaps even happiness. The girl holds no umbrella nor wears no coat to protect her from the rain. She is completely exposed to the elements, but it does not seem to bother her in the least. Max tries his best to avoid making any sort of eye contact with her as they cross paths. But the girl looks up and catches his eye.

"Good evening, Sir," she says. Her voice is high and sharp like a bird. Even as she speaks those simple words, there is a hint of laughter in her tone, like a naughty child trying her best not to reveal the prank she is planning. Max pauses a moment to return the greeting since, after all, he is a gentleman. Now that he is up close, he can see that this woman is not actually a woman; she is indeed a girl, one that appears to be too young to be out alone so late at night. Her face is round of soft like a child's, but there is something in her violet-blue eyes that sharpens her appearance. The fabric of her dress is soaked and clings tightly to her body. The girl is so thin that she looks to be nearly starved just like many of the other working class girls.

"Good evening," Max echoes back. He is a bit taken aback by the sound of his own voice. It has been days since he has spoken more than a few words, possibly even a week, and that was only to give simple answers to the servants when they sought his advice. The girl smiles prettily up at him, a shy smile that barely reveals her teeth. Perhaps she is not a prostitute, Max tells himself. She seems much too innocent to be one of those sorts of people. "I don't mean to be rude, but may I ask you what you are doing out at this time of night?" he asks.

The corners of the girl's lips twitched as tried to hold back her growing grin. "Only if I may ask you the same," she replies.

Max frowns at her boldness. How dare this girl, especially one of her status, question his personal matters? The young lady continues to look up at him, waiting for an answer. Her eyes are wide with question and a hint of amusement at Max's outward disapproval. "I am out for a walk."

"At night?" the inquisitive girl asks.

"It is a good time to clear the head," Max replies. "It is a lot less hectic than the day hours."

The girl nods as she turns to look out at the river once more. "I know what you mean." She sighs wistfully as she tilts her face up towards the heavens. The rain continues to pour down on her, flattening her dark curls. "I just adore the rain," she says, turning towards Max. "Don't you?"

He shrugs indifferently.

"Well," she says with a giggle. "You sure did pick an awful time for a walk, didn't you?"

Max stares at the young girl. There is something off about her, something he cannot quite put his finger on.

"Would you mind if I join you?" she asks.

"It is rather late," Max says. "Don't you think it would be best if you returning home soon?"

The girl releases another dramatic sigh. "Oh, home," she huffs. "I do not want to back there just yet. It is so stuffy and boring! And the night is still young; there will be plenty of time to rest later. Please, Sir?" she begs. "Please give me this one favor? I am so lonely and it is ever so difficult to find good company in this town. I promise to not be too much of a bother."

Max considers her proposition. It has been days since he has talked to anyone outside of the house, and he could certainly use the company. However, if this girl tries to trick him into any of her services, he will dump in the streets like a drowning sewer rat. Max nods and continues on his walk without saying another word. The girl quickly follows along, trying her best to keep up with the man's long strides. She is much smaller than him, not even coming up to his shoulders.

"You really should not travel alone," Max says as they walk further down the street. "It is not safe for a lady to be out at night, especially one of your age. How old are you, if you do not mind me asking?"

The girl glances up at him and grins widely. "Three hundred and twenty one."

Max smiles politely at her joke. "You do not look a day over fifteen," he replies in a playful tone.

Her eyes shimmer in the hazy street lamps. "Seventeen actually," she says. "My name is Eloise, by the way."

"Why, that is a lovely name."

Eloise places a pale, dainty hand over her mouth as she giggles. "Thank you, Sir. My father picked it out. He got it from a prostitute he once met while he was visiting France."

Max coughs, unsure of how to reply to that. "Well," he awkwardly starts.

"Oh, don't worry! It was before he met my mother, long before that."

"I suppose that is good."

Eloise laughs again. "Did you believe me?" she asks, skipping ahead a few steps. "You did, didn't you? You did; I could tell by that funny look on your face!"

"Yes," Max says. He wears a stressed smile on his face, trying his best to remain polite. "You fooled me."

She turns around, her blue skirts swirling about her ankles, and starts to backwards. "What is your name?"

"I am Max."

"Max," Eloise repeats thoughtfully. "That is a wonderful name! Max! What are you doing out here, Max?"

"I believe I already told you; I am out for a walk."

"Yes, of course. But why?"

"Well, I don't know."

"You don't know?" Eloise parrots back. "How can a man go out for a walk at night, and in the rain, might I add, and have no sort of idea as of why? Surely there is a reason!"

Max becomes uncomfortable with the girl's questions. He is used to being the one doing the interrogating; it is not often he is the one that must come up with the answers. "I could ask the same to you," he replies, sharply. "I cannot think of good business a young woman could have out at night alone."

Eloise's playful smile quickly fades into a scowl. "Are you implying something?" she demands. She ceases walking, causing Max to do the same, and places two angry hands on her hips. "You know, all of you upper class men are the same! You are so uppity and full of yourselves; it is a wonder you can see where are going with your nose so high in the air! Here I go and offer you some company and all you do is insult me! And to think I felt sorry for you when I saw that pathetic look on your face, all mopey and sad! Perhaps I should just leave your miseries." She lifts up her blue skirts a little and begins to walk away in sharp, quick steps. "Good evening, Sir."

Max turns to watch the small girl walk off. He begins to feel guilty for upsetting her and begins to follow in pursuit. "Eloise, wait!"

Eloise pauses and looks over her narrow shoulder. "What do you want?" she asks once Max has caught up.

"I would like to apologize," Max says. "I truly am sorry. This past year has not been the best for me, and, well, let's just say I have not been myself."

"I am sure you haven't."

Max sighs. "Would you please forgive me, Miss Eloise?"

"Well," she says, eyeing him over. "I suppose I could, but it will require something."

Oh no, Max says to himself. Now she has done it; she will now try to rope him into her immoral services. "I-."

"I should like a drink," Eloise says. She begins walking back into the direction of the town, leaving Max to once again trying to keep up with her. "I am awfully chilly and there is a nice little pub not too far from here." She links her arm into Max's and drags him along.

Max looks down at the girl. She is an odd little thing, so loud and pushy compared to the women he is accustomed in being in company of. "If you insist."

"I do. Come along now; it is not too far from here!"

Eloise takes him to a side of town that Max has not ventured to often. They stop at a small, brick building. Even through the dark of night, it is evident it is not the cleanest of places, and Max fears the inside will be not much better. A sign reading The Red Door hangs above the entrance, which has been painted black. Max looks from the sign to the actual door, feeling puzzled.

"It was red once," Eloise begins to explain. "The original one got destroyed in a nasty bar fight. It was awful and rather exciting too! People do the most amusing things when they are drunk! Murray, he owns this place, just hasn't painted the new one yet."

"Oh."

"It's been nearly two months now; I doubt he ever will! Come on now, we can't spend all night staring at a door!" Eloise takes Max's hand and pulls him inside.

It is not much different than he expected, certainly not what he is used to. It is small, but nearly cozy in an odd sort of way. The single room is dimly lit, helping hide the lack of upkeep. Just standing in there gives Max the urge to bathe. The occupants are all from the working class, grimy and worn after a long day of work. They sit at the bar, slumped over their drinks as they talk amongst themselves. A small group of rowdy young men sit at a table with two factory girls. They drink and tell loud, crude jokes while their female campaigns quietly sit, trying their best to pretend to be offended. Max looks around the room and feels ready to run right out of there, but before he gets the chance, Eloise drags him towards the counter.

"You can sit here," she says, pointing to a wooden stool. Max sits down and Eloise takes the seat next to him. "Hello, Murray!"

A bald headed man slowly turns around to face her. His skin is rugged and he does not appear to be too happy with something. "Miss Eloise," he says with a nod. "Can I get you something?"

"Do you have coffee?" She turns to face Max. "I don't drink alcohol," Eloise says, folding her hands and placing them on the counter. "I can't stand it. What would you like?"

"Oh," Max says. He cannot think of anything he would like to be served from this place. "I don't know."

Eloise giggles. "Do you know anything? Could you get him a coffee too, Murray?"

Murray nods again and begins to prepare the drinks. Neither Eloise nor Max uttered a word while they waited for their coffees. Max continued to observe his surroundings trying his best to keep it secretive. This has been such a strange night, he had said to himself. How is it that ever ended up here?

"So," Eloise says once they received their beverages. She takes a small sip of the dark liquid and wrinkles her nose. Max is tempted to do the same once the bitter taste hits his mouth, but manages to keep his composure. "What is it that has made you be not yourself?"

Max drinks a little more of his coffee. It is in dire need of sugar or some other sort of sweetener, but he does not dare to ask the grumpy looking man for any. "It's a rather long story."

"Oh, do tell! I love hearing stories!"

"Well," Max says, slowly. "You see, last year I lost both my wife and daughter. Now my business is not doing so well and-." He sighs. "My whole world seems to be falling apart."

"That is not a very long story."

Max smiles softly. "I suppose it is not."

"How did they die?" Eloise asks. She takes a sniff at her coffee and shakes her head. "I don't really like coffee either."

"My daughter, Suzette, drowned during a skating accident. Marjorie died shortly after. She basically gave up living and fell apart."

"How old was your daughter?"

"Five."

The girl's violet-blue eyes expand in shock. "How tragic!" she exclaims. "Was she only your child?"

"No," Max replies. "I have a son. He's around your age."

"How terrible for you," Eloise says, taking another sip of coffee. "So is that why you were out tonight? Were you trying to walk away from it all?"

"Well, not really. I was mostly trying to figure out what I am supposed to do now. I cannot think at all in that house anymore."

"And what are you going to do?"

Max sighs. Just thinking about the question makes him feel defeated. "I don't know," he admits. "Everything I have spent my whole life working to get is nearly gone. If only-." He trails off.

Eloise cocks her head to the side in question. "If only what?"

"If only I had more time," Max says, tiredly. "I am much too old to start all over again."

"More time," she echoes. A mischievous light flashes in her eyes. "There is always more time."

"No," Max says with a sad smile. "Not nearly enough."

"Of course there is! If you could live forever-."

"That is not possible. Everything must come to an end."

"Does it?"

He shudders under the intense grin the girl is giving him. "Yes."

Eloise leans in close towards Max to a length that makes him uncomfortable. "Suppose you could live forever," she says, lowering her voice to an excited whisper so that no one else may hear. "What would you give to live forever?"

"What?"

"What would you pay for immortality? It is possible, you know."

Max shifts away from the dark haired girl. "I don't-."

"Think about it," Eloise says. She sets her cup on the bar counter and hops off of the stool. "Sleep on the thought, and if you decide you truly want to live forever, come find me tomorrow night around midnight. I will be waiting at the bridge again."

"What? What are you-."

"It is possible," Eloise repeats before heading for the door. Just as she is about to leave, Eloise turn around one last time and waves at Max, grinning, and then disappears into the night. Max sits at the counter with his coffee in hand, staring at the closed, trying to piece his thoughts together.

Well, that was a rather boring start! It was short too, but at least it is a start! I promise that it will get more interesting, or at least that is what I hope! I have been planning this out for quite some time now, and I am happy to get it started. Now only if I could get it to work right.