A note. That was what Ophelia had found taped on her window. It had nothing but an address, a date, and a time. Naturally, Ophelia wanted to see what would be happening at this place at this time. She did not fear for a trap because at this point, Ophelia was on top. Things were going well for the director of the Defenders.

The dark woman strapped on a pair of five inch black heels, adding to her already extreme height. Ophelia liked to feel on top of the world at all times, even with something as small as height. She stood up and looked in her mirror, admiring herself. Her tight jeans matched her off-shoulder green top perfectly. I look too good, she thought to herself, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Ophelia turned out of her room, shut the door, and stormed out of headquarters. She looked again at the note. The address was not too far for her, so it would be best to just walk and admire her subjects. People walked by her, doing double-takes when they saw her and many stopping in awe. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed that she had already made it to her destination. It was a little run-down coffee shop with a very rustic appeal to it. Ophelia shrugged and walked into the cafe.

The moment she walked in, a waitress stopped in her tracks and stared at Ophelia. "This way, ma'am."

Ophelia followed the woman into a private sitting area that had a table in the middle and was surrounded by windows. The way the sunlight hit everything in the room was just so...bright. Ophelia turned her head to the waitress.

"And what is it that I am doing here?" She demanded, her quiet voice demanding the presence of the young girl. However, instead of answering, the girl simply backed away. The situation was sketchy, and Ophelia liked that. 

Deciding that she wanted to watch this play out, Ophelia sat down on the windowsill and looked out at the town below.

A piece of paper with a date, a time, and an address on it. That was all it held. Pierce was skeptical. Was this some sort of trap, a plan to make him leave the Academy vulnerable and try to kill him again? He let out a laugh in disdain as he crumpled the paper and tossed it into a wastebasket by his desk.

But as the day went by, he began to question his decision. Maybe it was just one of his staff members trying to get him outside. He was practically a recluse nowadays... many of his employees clearly voiced their concern for his social life. Or it could have been a student trying to get a glimpse of the elusive species of P. johnsonus, the headmaster they only saw about once a year when he gave an address at the beginning of term and maybe once or twice after that when he wandered around school grounds. He still couldn't go, though. It was a matter of security.

Finally, though, Pierce couldn't contain his curiosity. He needed to see what the note meant. He'd just make sure someone knew where he was going. He could defend himself if it really came down to it. But he'd have to hurry. Whatever this was was happening in less than an hour. He scribbled down a note to leave for someone before dashing to his quarters to make sure he was in some sort of condition to go out.

Staring into a mirror, Pierce cinched his trademark thin black tie up to his neck before observing the backs of his hands. Was that a spot of grey showing through his skin? It was probably just his imagination.... but no matter what, he would have to be careful about holding his glamour today.

When finally Pierce arrived to the location he was due to, about five minutes late, he held in a silent gasp. It was the little café he had always gone to with Micah. He couldn't do this. But as he was about to leave, a waiter smiled at him and waved a hand to direct him inside. He was too awkward to explain that he wasn't staying, so he just followed inside.

He was led to a private room, the smell of brewed coffee heavy and comforting in the air. The room was warm and bright, and though he was still cautious, Pierce was skeptical that anything bad could happen here. At the center of the room, a woman sat at a small table, her eyes flicking around the room. Someone had set him up on a blind date, hadn't they? Pierce let out a small sigh before taking a seat across from the woman.

"Just so you know, I had nothing to do with this whole idea," said Pierce with a smile. "Erm, I'm Pierce. Pierce Johnson."

Ophelia's eyes flicked up towards the man who had spoken. Pierce Johnson. Odd name. She tilted her head at him, her eyes narrowing when he said he was not part of this. She scoffed, he didn't look much like a mastermind anyways. However, Ophelia saw no need to just storm out and leave. Sometimes it was nice to mingle with the humans that looked up to her so much.

Fingers snapped, and the waitress came by.

"Tea for me, coffee for the lad," she ordered, and the waitress scuttled away. Ophelia wanted to build tension. She wanted to be the main focus of this Pierce, for he was not staring at her in awe as most others did. Of course, that didn't phase her. It was just another challenge.

"Ophelia Grey," came her small yet powerful voice. "It seems that we have been tricked into a date."

Pierce cocked an eyebrow as the woman ordered for both of them. She was rather commanding and dominant, he could give her that. Of course, Pierce himself was about the exact opposite, so her manner may have been amplified simply because it was so foreign to him. At least she had gotten him the right drink -- coffee as black as his soul.

The woman turned to Pierce, stating her name rather plainly. Ophelia. It was a bit odd, but elegant and pretty. As long as one didn't think about the fact that the most famous Ophelia in literature had drowned herself, it was quite nice. And perhaps it was the somewhat morbid edge given to it by Hamlet's Ophelia that made it so mysterious and charming.

The woman confirmed Pierce's suspicions, announcing that she believed they had been set up on a date. "It would appear so," agreed Pierce. "I guess we might as well make the most of it. So, Ophelia, what is it that you do?"

Ophelia smirked at Pierce when he asked her about her profession. I hunt mainly down magicians, but I get in a few non-believers on the side. She already knew what she could say. No one doubted her elaborate lies, she had gotten too good at it. What a shame. Ophelia really did hate lies.

"I'm a model," she hummed, flipping her hair behind her shoulders as she looked at Pierce and tried to gauge what he did before he could even think about telling her. He had the vibe of a librarian, but there was something else there. A fire that she could not put her finger on. She liked it. "I normally take pictures with animals," she added, raising her eyebrows when the waitress came back with their drinks.

Ophelia beckoned the girl to put the drinks on the table, and as she did that, Ophelia looked straight into Pierce's piercing eyes. "And what is it that you do?"

A model. That was fitting. "I can easily see you in tht profession," said Pierce with a grin. She was rather beautiful, with her commanding presence and her smooth, coffee-colored skin and eyes. He hoped he would not take his compliment as flirting. He was being polite, and yes, they were on a date, apparently, but he didn't need a broken heart again. Perhaps an acquaintance, but he couldn't handle a love interest.

The conversation shifted to Pierce, Ophelia asking what he did for a living. There was no reason not to tell the truth, but there was also value in not revealing the whole truth. "I'm the headmaster of a private school," he said with a shrug. "It wasn't really what I set out to do with my life -- I actually majored in business when I was in college -- but it's one of the most rewarding things I've done."

A headmaster. He was rather young for a headmaster. She could see it though, Pierce had a very schoolboy sort of vibe. But being a headmaster implied that he was more mature than he appeared. Ophelia did not blush when he commented on her profession, she was used to compliments at this point. "Your powers are sooo impressive!" "You are like a goddess!" "I hope my children grow to be like you!" All were flattering, but none were genuine. But this headmaster Pierce seemed genuine, and she had only known him for a few moments. Ophelia had a flare for picking out the liars.

"A private school?" she finally asked, her interest piqued. "Where?" Ophelia was always interested in schools. She had a rough experience with school growing up as a child, so Ophelia thought it was gratifying to go to schools and realize how petty all of the children actually were. She had been to most schools anyways with her Defenders, looking for magicians to take in and obliterate. Ophelia felt as if she would have recognized Pierce if she had been to his school, so there must have been a few that she was missing.

Ophelia seemed rather interested in his school. Crap. He couldn't reveal anything about the Academy to a normal human. They were weak, easily bent by the Defenders and greedy, too. They would happily betray hundreds to be a prize pet. So rather than explain his true position, he poured every ounce of charmed speak into his voice. It wasn't one of his natural talents, so he wasn't sure how well it would work, but he just prayed he could redirect the conversation. "It's very small, I'm sure you wouldn't have ever heard of it."

It was somewhat exhausting to be utilizing multiple powers at once, even for a magician as strong as Pierce was. But if he stopped either suddenly, there would probably be consequences. "But anyway, enough about that. What do you enjoy doing, Ophelia?" he flashed a charming smile as he lowered the charmspeak from his voice. There were so many ways this could go wrong, but hopefully Piece was just letting his anxiety get the better of him. It would all be fine...

The tone of Pierce's voice was warm, comforting even. Ophelia felt as if she needed to just...listen. What had she even been asking about anyways? Whatever, it didn't really matter. Pierce had just asked what she liked to do. What did Ophelia like to do besides kill? Oh yes, there was that one thing.

"Well, whenever I'm not preoccupied with my...job...I like to watch X-Factor and sing to myself," she mumbled, a slight blush tainting her brown skin. She didn't tell her fellow Defenders about this, but this was just a random human. It was okay, she would probably never see him again.

Ophelia was taking a sip from her tea when she suddenly heard something. A small electrical current. Ophelia was working on mastering her senses, but her hearing had always been better. She tuned in on it and realized it was behind her. Turning herself around, Ophelia looked at the source of the current and saw that it was a radio. With a short smile, she leaned over and turned it on. A thick voice of a female balladeer rang through the room and Ophelia started to hum along with it for a moment until she remembered she was in company. She quickly turned back around and tilted her head at Pierce as she took another sip from her tea. She was done with small talk. This man was attractive, seemed to care, and was overall friendly. She wanted more.

"Let's cut to the chase," she said abruptly. "Someone arranged this because they thought we were compatible." She lowered his voice, hoping that Pierce would lean in to hear her. "Tell me what makes you different from the rest of them."

---

So she liked X-Factor. "I'm more of an America's Got Talent guy myself," replied Pierce with the barest hint of a smirk. "And singing's great as long as there's no dancing involved. I can't swim, I can't dance, and I don't know karate. Other than that, I'm pretty awesome." he laughed. He was rarely so cocky unless it was a joke, at least now that he was older and wiser. When he had been younger, despite his extreme awkwardness, he had been rather egotistical, the way teenage boys were. It was hard to believe that it had only been around ten years since those days. It seemed like an eternity, and Pierce felt like a completely different person.

Pierce was snapped out of his thoughts with the sound of music. Ophelia had switched on a radio, humming. Pierce smiled. She seemed like a wonderful person, but also one who was not often herself. It didn't seem like she was particularly skilled in opening up, but here she was on a date with Pierce telling him about  X-Factor and humming.

Suddenly, her expression became intense and serious, her coffee brown eyes locking onto Pierce's own, glamoured to the color of chocolate. What was special about him, she asked? What was it that made him compatible with her? Pierce suddenly felt on the spot, and took a pensive sip of coffee. He had payed little attention to his drink as they had talked. "Well," he muttered, choosing his words carefully, "I suppose I'm special because I'm heartless." Of course she wouldn't be able to sense the literal layer of meaning behind his statement. "I haven't been in love for years. I've focused on my work mainly, and I just haven't been able to bring myself to do anything since my last love died." He frowned as he thought of Micah, but he pressed on. "And I have a feeling you're the same way, that you have a hard time getting close to people. Someone thinks that we need someone who understands to... fix us."

Ophelia's gaze immediately softened upon listening to Pierce's vague yet meaningful story. She understood exactly where he was coming from. "I lost both of my parents in a house fire," she whispered, her voice breaking for only a moment. Ophelia may have been a self-healer, but she had never truly recovered from the death of her parents. All that she had gained from that experience was a deeply rooted hatred towards magic. But now this heartless woman was feeling something else: empathy. She understood what Pierce was feeling, and she wanted to help him. That's just what they wanted. A connection. Great.

Ophelia leaned forward and reached her hand out, gently placing it on top of Pierce's. "I'm so sorry that happened to you." Her eyebrows creased together as her next statement forced its way out of her unwilling mouth before she could stop herself. "Maybe we can help each other find...what we lost all those years ago." Well crap, aren't I just the cheesiest. At this point, Ophelia's cheeks were more than a light pink now - they were actually rather red. Stupid feelings.

After Pierce finished his account, Ophelia's somewhat cold demeanor softened and she slowly opened up. Her parents had died in a house fire. They had both lost those they loved, though Pierce was alone in having caused the death of his love. "I'm so sorry," Pierce whispered, his eyes flicking down to the table. "That must have been hard on you."

He felt a soft, warm hand atop his own. Looking up, he saw Ophelia staring into his eyes again, but this time there was a much softer connection. He didn't want to feel anything for this woman. It would just end in heartbreak for one of them, and he felt like he was lying to her, not letting her know anything more than a few vague sentences about his past. But he felt himself making a connection, slowly. It wouldn't be easy, but there was something burning in his heart for the first time in more than half a decade. Maybe they would be able to help each other find themselves, as Ophelia said. "But we won't be able to know unless we try."

Pierce was right. Ophelia knew that she would never truly heal, but maybe something other than death could help her to fill the void left by her parents. She needed something warm...someone warm. Something about Pierce just screamed "pure." When Ophelia would eventually take her place on the throne of the world, she would need someone by her side. Maybe it would be this Pierce.

"I think I know just what we need," Ophelia blurted out, standing up and tightening her grip on Pierce's hand and pulling him up with her. She snapped her fingers, and the waitress was back.

"What is it you need, ma'am?"

"Here's your payment," Ophelia said quickly, shoving a dollar into the waitress's hand. However, Ophelia had used just enough illusion to make the waitress think that she had just been left a major tip of around one hundred dollars. The waitress gasped at the money and smiled with a new-found appreciation towards Ophelia, who had just turned back to Pierce.

"Let's go for a walk."

Pierce watched as Ophelia fished a bill out and shoved it towards the waitress. From where Pierce sat, it had looked like a smaller amount of money, but the girl seemed extremely grateful to have it. Oh well. Pierce wasn't one to judge. Perhaps her situation was one that made her grateful for anything she could get.

Ophelia turned her focus back to Pierce, requesting that they take a walk. It sounded nice enough, so Pierce stood, ready to follow the woman wherever she wanted to go. His guard was breaking down quickly. There was just something about her that made him actually feel trust, which, like love, had been long dead in him. As the two of them stood, Pierce noticed something. Ophelia was at least half a foot taller than him. He wasn't that short of a person, just about an inch less than average, but compared to Ophelia he felt like a midget. Looking down, he saw her shoes. Of course. Heels. She still seemed rather tall. "Um, random question," said Pierce, scratching his neck. "Exactly how tall are you?

Ophelia looked down at Pierce, her eyes conveying a warm smile. "I'm five ten," she said. Oh it was incredibly awkward to be looking down at him, so Ophelia did what any girl would do. She bent down and took her shoes off so that she was shorter. However, she was still a little taller than Pierce. Ophelia liked that, it showed that she was in control. But now she had no shoes.

Mentally cursing to herself, Ophelia stuffed her heels into her purse and pretended to rummage around in her purse. While she did this, her fingers made erratic movements that slowly transformed her heels into ballet flats. While they still had the same design, these flats had absolutely no heel in them. Hopefully Pierce wouldn't notice that her "two" pairs of shoes looked exactly the same. Even if he did, he would have no idea anyway. Ophelia smiled and slipped her shoes on, straightening up and looking at Pierce. She couldn't be that much taller than him.