Chapter Text
Eve hadn't bothered much with her appearance much lately. Not bothering brushing her hair or changing her clothes. She'd been poring over the newest files for the last week. Not even having time to comprehend the fact that Niko had left her.
Several days ago. He'd told her that she wasn't open enough with him, not talking things out like she'd promised.
Gruesome murder. Slit throat. Hung over a balcony in France by his tie. Castrated.
Villanelle trying to slick her tongue out at Eve.
There'd been an increase in the number of brash unsightly murders. Kenny had barely been able to stomach the photos.
She should have seen it coming. She hadn't exactly been the best but certainly she'd known that Niko wasn't either. Gemma.
She isn't surprised when it happens, but she isn't happy about it either.
She can't think about it for much longer without feeling like she wasted her life and time on Niko.
Possibly, but she was happy then, or she thought she was, so maybe not a total waste.
She feels guilty for letting him down. She also feels as if she was also let down.
The murders lately had been direct, not taking much time with the actual killing part, but drawing out post-mortem by hours. Making them intricate and delicate like little sculptures. They all seem to have no purpose except proving what Villanelle can do. Her skill set.
She decides with a sweeping flourish to take a shower. Brush her hair. Eve pushes the files onto floor and resolves not to think about Manderley. The flourish is enough to make her flustered but not enough to be embarrassed and pick it up.
She sheds her layers onto the floor of the bathroom, setting a towel aside for when she gets out. She opts against a shower at last minute, pulling the plug in the drain and all but throwing herself down into the tub. She lets the water slowly envelope her as she lays on her side, head propped up against the sill of the tub. She doesn’t let the fact that the water is slightly too hot bother her, or she tries, she doesn’t want to move, and it cancels out the hotness of the water. Almost. She sits in it for several more minutes before the water starts to go cold and goes almost over the ledge. She leans up and turns it off, realizing that she can’t move very much, she pulls the plug, only letting out the minimal amount of water she can so that she can move freely without causing long-term damage to her tile.
There’s a long drawn out silence that’s only cut out by Eve’s loud long sigh as she stretches her legs as much as she can and sticks her face under the water. She keeps her eyes open and looks at every fine detail on her hands, boredom draws her out of the water after a minute. She draws her knees up to her chin and rests it gently on them.
Her purposeless staring is ended abruptly as the doorbell rings out faintly through the flat. She pops her head up and frantically grapples for her towel spilling water on the floor and barely covering up her body with the towel before she snaps down the stairs and wrenches open the door.
Water drips down from her hair, she can feel it running down her shoulders, being absorbed into the towel and carpet. The person at the door looks quite freaked out, they’re holding a thick stack of something, papers? Post cards?
“Yes?” Her voice is palpably exasperated, she must look and sound like a drowned rat.
“Sorry to bother you ma’am. These post cards were sent to you, but they got held up in the carrier room. We had to make sure they were safe to send.”
The mailman smiles slightly, awkwardly, handing them over. He looks to the side before nodding and turning to leave.
She shuts the door and takes the rubber band and the ‘sorry’ slip, dropping them to the floor.
She doesn’t even stop to read the inscriptions on the backs to know who they’re from.
Villanelle.
She runs up the stairs in a flash and throws herself onto the floor throwing the cards onto the bed and clutching the files and scooping them into a pile and heaving them onto the bed.
They all match the newest case files in terms of presentation.