Re: 706, 12:00 am
It took a strong sense of personality to do what Iris did for her profession. In order to be someone else, you had to know yourself; you just had to be able to put yourself away sometimes. The worst parts of Iris' life were when her true self, the secret self, ended up buried so deep she almost couldn't find it when she needed it. This was different--Irene was different. She was Irene, and Irene was her. It was like that secret self just wasn't the same. 'Disoriented' wasn't a strong enough word for that jarring realization.
Eliot made it worse. Iris secretly acknowledged her weakness for the man, she understood that something about the combination of that much intelligence, tenacity, and veracity was both unassailable and irresistible. She had known of Warren Eliot for a long time, and she had known him for years. She'd certainly made his professional life hell where she could, but she knew that it was because she couldn't leave the man alone. This time she had tried to keep him out of it, but.... silly words like fate and destiny flew through her mind.
Her eyes focused on him. She tried to resume her scattered control but had little success. Her hands came up her arms and she brought her knees up to hide her torso. Her skin prickled, and she wished he would touch her again without that revulsion in his eyes. "I... before you did."