Prompt : Gel

Lucy was still not entirely sure, exactly, what had happened. Sometimes she still marvels over it, and how fast it had all happened.

She looks at the closed door and thinks about it. In retrospect, she had known this man for maybe a month – a little more, perhaps a good deal more, considering how confusing things got between time and space. She wasn’t all clear on that either.

They had come back home at almost the moment they had originally left. A month had passed since the day she had met him in the park. September 18th. It was October, now.

They were getting married in two weeks and it suddenly dawned on her that she had not known this man very long at all. Longer than she had seemed to have known him. She had lied to her father and told him that they were business associates for some time before she brought him home.

“I like him very much,” she had told her father, and it was not exactly a lie. “I think I might marry him, if he asks me.”

Of course, he would ask, and she would say yes. It had been in their plan ever since she explained to him – as best she could – that politicians could not have mistresses. Humans did not like that.

She had sculpted her lips into a gentle smile for her father to see.

He – him, the man she was marrying – had made a joke and Lucy laughed. He laughed at himself to ease the stiff silence from everyone else. Her father had looked at her and said “He better buy you flowers.”

“Remember, sweetheart,” her mother had told her, “politicians are a nasty sort. They lie.” Lucy had smiled and kissed her mother on the cheek, and wondered how much of a fib it would be to kiss your mother when you wanted to laugh at her, or scoff at her.

Lucy came back to herself, and shook her head at the door as she heard the water turn off. The Master was getting to be a terrible influence on her.

The door swung open a few minutes later and she was greeted with the same wide smile and brown eyes that she had started to get so used to. She almost smiled back. And then she saw his hair.

“Oh, no.”

“What?” He asked, his face falling. “It’s not that bad, is it? I know I haven’t brushed yet, but I wanted to wait until after tea.”

“Master,” she frowned, putting her fists on her hips and putting on her best serious face. “You march right back in there and wash your hair.”

“I just showered! It’s clean! Why, does it—?”

“I don’t care what you did with it, just undo it. My goodness, Master…” she stepped close, her brows furrowing in distaste as she looked at that slimy mess of slicked-back hair he had. She almost picked up a bit of his hair between two fingers, but didn’t dare to touch it. “What did you do? Use an entire bottle of gel?”

The Master pouted dramatically at her. “Luce…” he said, drawing out the name. “I want to look presentable.”

“Yes, well…” she pursed her lips, then decided to take his hand instead. “Well, it looks… you did it sort of… let me help you make it up.”

“But—”

“Master.” She said, firmly, and that was that.

Fifteen minutes later, most of the gel was thankfully out, with just enough in place to keep his hair from flopping about. It was falling naturally now, and Lucy was pleased with herself.

“So?” She asked, looking up and smiling at this man.

He tilted his head. “You’re sure this looks presentable, Luce?”

“Definitely better.” She nodded. She brought up a hand to pet his cheek. “You look wonderfully handsome, Master.”

“Harold,” he corrected her. He leaned in close to give her a little kiss, and it felt so natural that she could not tell if he was practicing the gesture or if he really meant it. “Harold. I’m a politician, now.” He smiled so wide that she could not help but feel pleased with his enthusiasm.

“Harold,” she repeated, then leaned up to kiss him. She patted his arm. “Go on. Go get changed, or you’ll be late.”

He gave her a wide smile. He turned away and Lucy began to think that, maybe, time didn’t really matter so much. He would make a good politician, and a good husband.

“Lucy Saxon.”

She tried out the name, on her tongue. A smile slipped up across her lips and for a moment, Lucy Saxon was anything but a politician, herself. She gave an honest giggle when Harold turned around to give her a grin and a flattering wink.