After roughly twenty minutes, Mr Dean accompanied the formerly angry customer to the store entrance. The older gentleman wasn't happy, but he had also stopped yelling and they were chatting quietly. Afterwards Giselle's boss walked up to her and frowned, "Diplomacy didn't work, huh?". The brunette shrugged and grimaced, "Not sure. He came in angry and I didn't have the patience to find out". The store owner nodded at her and as he walked by put a hand on her shoulder, "Please find the time and patience next time. We have a reputation to defend".

Her response was more of a whisper, when Mr Dean was already too far away, "Yeah, I'll try". And then she went back to work.

At 5:30pm she closed up the store, left the money with her boss and took the bus back home. Not before stopping by the bakery. She hoped for some sweet bread, but that was sold out. Instead she took baked sweets back home. The encounter with that angry man still bugged her. Annoyed her even. The sugar and pleasant taste would probably take care of that.

Today the brunette barely thought about the empty apartment. Ian wouldn't be back anyway. It didn't need to occupy space in her mind. Yet when she turned the key, the door wasn't locked, it just opened with a single twist.

The apartment was illuminated, some rock music was playing from the speaker and a deep voice tried to match the tune. "....Now the story's played out like this; Just like a paperback novel; Let's rewrite an ending that fits; Instead of a Hollywood...", it stopped when her husband glanced out of the bathroom and said, "Hi Giselle".

For an instant, everything was as it had been. The fight was forgotten and the smile and expression was just like back, when everything had been okay. She was happy, smiling, slipped out of the shoes and almost dashed over to hug him.

Then she saw it. The deep, dark areas under his eyes, the smile faded into nothingness and he pulled his head back into the bathroom, without singing along to Nickelback.

Recovery was tough. Reality shattered. For a long moment she hesitated, waited for her pounding heart to quiet down. This wasn't the homecoming she wanted. It was the homecoming she got, and somehow she needed to live with it.

Having no better idea what to do with herself, she unpacked, changed into her pajamas, not the silk ones, and went back into the living room. Her husband fell into the couch next to her. "How was your day? How have you been?", she wondered and forced a smile. "Was okay I guess?", he responded and that's when she knew this wouldn't go away easily. The wife sighed.

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When the silence became unbearable, Giselle asked, "Want some dinner?". He nodded, "That'd be nice. Wanna watch James Bond tonight?". She almost facepalmed until she realized that this hit her deeper. He came home to watch James Bond, not to fix their relationship. Without a word, she vanished in the kitchen.

Putting her weight onto her hands on the counter, she pressed her lips together and sighed again. It was a pleasant summer evening. The clouds were tinted red. Quite romantic, too, if Ian wasn't such an oaf. Staring out into the evening sky distracted her enough to lift the weight just a little.

Quickly, she prepared salad and offered to share her snacks from the bakery. Ian had opted for You Only Die Twice and the intro was already running. "James Bond it is. Here's some sweets from the bakery, if you want any", she said. His smile was genuine, "Sure, thanks!".

Against all her desire to leave or play with the phone, Giselle stayed with Ian for the whole movie. She realized, she hadn't even seen the movie. Or she had seen it, but had fallen asleep quite early. It always made her chuckle what they had considered special effects in 1967.

When the movie ended, Ian glanced at her with a surprised expression, "Didn't exactly think you'd stick around. Did you like it?". The brunette tilted her head. Then shifted it to the other side, grabbed the plates and carried them toward their kitchen. "Not sure I had seen it before, so I stayed and watched it", she admitted truthfully from the kitchen. Her husband chuckled, "You've fallen asleep through half of them, you know!". Giselle shrugged and returned to the living room. She didn't stop there, she went to the bedroom. "I'm going to bed, you coming?", she asked. He got up and followed her, "Do I need to check for women hiding anywhere?".

Giselle turned on her heel and pressed her hands into her hips, "If you want to say something, do it now!". But he waved off with a grin, "I've been better at teasing you once upon a time". His wife agreed, "Yes, you have been!". "Oh c'mon, that's hurtful", he whined, but she just raised an eyebrow and climbed under the cover.

It took a while to get used to hearing another person breathing next to her. When it all settled down, Ian wasn't the only person she heard. Someone was moaning. Screaming even. She couldn't make out words, but it still made her sigh, "There they go again". Both of them were glancing up at the ceiling. "That happened before?". "Two days ago. I could hardly sleep", she said and he grunted. Both of them listened to the woman moan. Finally Ian whispered, "That's Cel. Sounds like she's having a good time". Giselle turned her head and glanced over to him, and then back at the ceiling. He continued, "Is that what we sound like?". "You mean me, you're all quiet", she mused. He just responded a simple, "Yeah". Then a fist hit his side. "What was that for!", he complained, but his wife mumbled, "That was for putting this all on me!".