His left wrist twitches within its sleeve. The tailor-made suit hangs loose on Tem's shoulders and boosts his confidence as he slinks through the crowd of champagne and diamonds. There are a hundred women in this room, all of them beautiful and charming. There are a hundred men too, but soon there will be one less.
Tem shifts his eyes to study the lives of each guest as they laugh the night away, and his gate – creeping – goes unnoticed among them. He never hides in the shadows; shadows are conspicuous. No, he chooses to hide in plain view, lingering in and out of conversations and taking single sips of his wine at each pause. A smooth Cabernet, room temperature. Just as he likes it. He holds it casually between the fingers of his right hand, churning it gently.
A blonde woman in furs touches his back as she passes by, sending shivers up his spine. The shiver reminds him of a saxophone he once heard in the war, but he's brought back by a conversation that catches his interest. It is an argument between a nearby couple. They bicker quietly, to not disturb the rest of the party, but the affair grows heated and Tem steps closer to get a better listen. The mistress is disappointed in her sir's choice of tie, while he dismisses the whole matter. As she presses him, he becomes more distant; and the more distant he becomes, the more irate she becomes. The sir attributes it to her drinking problem. She pounds on his chest, sobbing.
Tem stands inches from the scene and stares at the mistress' tears as they soak into the very tie she loathes. He takes a sip of his wine and turns to survey the room. A group of fellows, five of them, stand in a circle and share jokes with one another. Their square jaws stretch like cartoons, Tem is reminded of Tex Avery, as they laugh at the crass punchlines. He approaches and considers laughing along. Instead, he just listens and sips from his glass. The jokes are only slightly funny but seem to be the by-product of some story Tem had missed before and so thus misses the true humor as well. His left wrist twitches again and now he finds his chin dropping a bit toward his chest. Perhaps his mouth finds the jokes funnier than his conscience does and is trying to laugh without him. He takes another sip to calm his nerves and moves on before losing more control of his body to the snare of jest. As he sneaks away, however, one of the men takes a hold of his arm and asks him why he's leaving. Tem, astonished, responds in broken words his reasons for being at the party in the first place. He is here to blend in, to move among the guests, to finish his wine and then assassinate a gentleman. His claims are drowned out by the man, who insists it is Tem's turn to tell a joke. The group of five turn their focus to Tem and wait for his delivery. Tem feels his throat go dry and he sips again at his glass. It only buys him a few seconds and he finds himself again at a loss before the audience. He realizes the whole room has grown quiet and everyone is waiting to hear him speak. They are on bated breath and their wide eyes burn into the back of his neck. The man still holds tightly to his arm and the grip seems tighter than before.
Well, he begins. I do know one joke...
He first explains its origin – he learned it from his father many years ago. He warns that it is lewd and may offend some of the women, but he reassures them that it is a funny one.
They wait.
Well, he begins again. There was this Jewish man and...
But before he reaches the punchline, a woman out of sight calls his name. The crowd parts to reveal the blonde woman who earlier touched his back. She sits on a stool at the bar twenty yards from where Tem stands in his unwelcomed spotlight. She speaks to him as if he is the only other person in the room besides herself, and he listens to her in the same way. Her voice is dark and warm, and her gypsy green eyes pierce his soul from across the room. His left wrist twitches again and and his feet carry him convulsively toward the woman. He tries to fight them, but it's no use – he's lost control of his feet and now his chin begins to go again too. The man has released his arm, but now Tem reaches for him as a ship to an anchor. The man pushes away with a whimper and cowers behind the group of jesters, now just snickering shamefully.
Tem looks miserably at the hiding man for a moment and then gives into the direction of his shuffling feet. His left wrist twitches more rapidly now and he tucks it into his chest to hopefully steady it. Ten yards from the woman. She gazes cooly into his eyes as he moves closer. He can't look away, can't break her eye-contact. He swears she has him under some spell. She has the whole room under a spell, he decides. She's gorgeous, but she's a witch. He could never love a witch. Witches are evil.
As he passes people, like a wave, they go back to their conversations as if nothing has happened. The only person still acknowledging him is them woman. Five yards, three, one. He leans against the bar and asks her rudely what she wants with him. His opinion of her has done a total 180ยบ from when she first touched his back, but she laughs like an old friend and bites her lip. She points out that his glass is almost empty.
Tem glances down to see for himself. He swirls around the shallow puddle in the glass, hanging loosely between his metallic fingers. The two hooks shine handsomely under the chandeliers, but leave little nicks in the stem of the wine glass. Tem sighs at the scratches as he kicks back the last of the red liquid, room temperature. He opens the hooks and leaves the glass there. The woman places a hand on his back again and he wants to pull away, but his body won't let him. She whispers her vixen words into his ear and leads him to his bed. He follows limply, like a dummy by his puppeteer. She reminds him that his bed is by the window because he likes to count the stars. He half-nods and lays down on the cold, gray cot. She covers him with a blue fleece, points to out the barred window toward Orion's Belt, and says goodnight. And Tem is already up to thirty-two stars by the time the blonde woman returns to her desk to update her charts.
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