The first time he held her under the shower, he was louder and shriller than he’d intended. It bothered him that he lost control but it had all happened so suddenly. And he’d been anticipating it for so long.
‘Who are you?’ he yelled.
‘Louise.’
‘Wrong answer. Your name is Lucy. Who are you?’
And then the other questions. Lots of questions.
Some of them planned. Others improvised. Some of them tailored towards what had happened at the party, on the roof, changing her perception, forcing a shift.
Questions about where they’d met and how they’d connected and how long they’d been together.
Questions about her business, about her work, her life.
The questions would get refined over time.
So would her answers.
He didn’t expect it to take right away. The process was going to require a lot of patience.
But that was OK because he was going to arrange it so that they had as much time together as they needed.
As much as he could ever want.