Genevieve lit the last taper candle, its flame flickering inside a cut-glass holder shaped like a skull. "There," she whispered. "Perfect." The two figures sat in silence, quietly admiring the stoicism of the atmosphere.

Genevieve arranged the chessboard between them with surgical precision. Bone-white pawns. Onyx queens. As always, she played black.

Wednesday sat cross-legged across from her, spine straight, expression unreadable. Her braids were slightly looser than usual, as if the crypt's dampness had uncoiled even her tension. "You spend more time staging our games than playing them."

"I like things to be beautiful," Genevieve replied, brushing non-existent dust off the corner of the board. "Don't you?"

"I like things to be truthful. Beauty is often camouflage."

Genevieve's eyes flicked up, candlelight catching her irises like twin embers. "That's why I admire you. You never hide what you are."

Wednesday considered the compliment, then moved a pawn forward. "And you hide everything?"

"Only what matters."

They played in silence for a while, the occasional click of bone against board echoing like distant footsteps. Around them, the crypt breathed softly, the way only ancient stone knows how to exhale.

"You're quiet tonight." Wednesday said.

"I'm always quiet. You're just usually too distracted dissecting motives to notice."

A faint smirk curled Wednesday's mouth. "I find you....less confounding than most."

That made Genevieve go still. It was the kind of comment Wednesday offered rarely, and never without meaning. Not flattery, a statement of fact. For Genevieve, it was dangerously close to affection.

She leaned forward slightly, her perfume barely perceptible -- black tea, crushed violet and something sharp underneath the soft woodsy tone. "If I asked you to run away with me," She said softly, "would you?"

Wednesday didn't blink. "To where?"

"Nowhere. Everywhere. Just us. Somewhere cold and beautiful and irrelevant."

Wednesday tilted her head, analyzing the question like a puzzle. "Are you planning to commit a crime?"

Genevieve smiled. "Not yet."

They played on

It wasn't until Genevieve reached for the queen -- her hand grazing Wednesday's knuckles lightly -- that the air changed. Not a flinch. Not even eye contact. But Genevieve's fingers trembled slightly as she withdrew.

Wednesday, as always, missed the quake beneath the surface.

"I envy you," Genevieve said quietly. "You're complete. You don't need anyone."

"No one needs anyone," Wednesday replied. "Need is how people become property."

Genevieve stared at her for a momen, something fragile and dangerous twisting behind her eyes. She masked it quickly, standing up and smoothing her skirt.

"I concede," she said. "You win."

"You never let me win."

"Tonight, I wanted to see what surrender felt like."

"It doesn't suit you." Wednesday frowned with suspicion.

"No," Genevieve said, walking toward the stone door. "But perhaps one day, you'll understand why I did it."