Teal.

Teal spent a fair amount of her time in Julian’s loft until she was due to take her editor back to the airport a day later. But, he couldn’t say it was time spent chatting or that there was much socialization going on between them during that time. He even thought she might express interest in how his call back had gone; it was her story after all, and she had wanted him to give it a shot. But that wasn't the case. She’d been camped out on his couch once more when he had awoken hours later, white screen of her laptop illuminating her face in the dark of the living room as she typed away at the keyboard. A mug of tea sat on the coffee table, and she’d glanced up once to inform him there was a whole pot on the stove if he was thirsty. Those were the only words she spoke to him for at least six hours. She seemed too focused for him to attempt to bother, so he had let her be.

He’d gone out for food at one point, returning with some for both of them. Teal had muttered a small thanks, picking at the sandwich he’d returned with for her as she continued to peck away at her laptop. Her focus was starkly set on the pages she wrote, and Julian was in no place to risk ruining that. It was a different side of her; and he found himself studying her as he tidied up around the loft a bit. He'd seen her normal demeanor; cool and light, that small, sometimes almost mockingly pleasant smile tugging at her lips. And then there were the few times she had snapped, the alarm over the skype call, the fear and exhaustion when she'd shown up at his door, phone in hand. But this was new. She was quiet, serious, almost in a trance like state as she continued to write. He'd doubted a bomb going off in the apartment would have deterred her from her work then.

There were pauses, of course, some of them lengthy as she'd stop typing, and stare steadily at the screen, or maybe out the window at the overcast city. Even in those instances, he was positive she wasn't there with him. She was in her head, engulfed in whatever she was working on. He hadn't remembered it ever being like this when Claire had been over; she always wanted his attention, there had to be noise, whether it was her own voice or the TV, there had to be something. This, was a stark contrast.

Hours before David Yorkshire was due back at the airport, Teal finally closed her laptop, and curled up in the corner of the couch. She slept then, and he pulled one of the blankets over her before making his way to his own room. Jet lag still had him somewhat messed up. By the time he'd awoken, she was gone. But, there had been a note scribbled on a ripped piece of notebook taped to his door.

I owe you one. Thanks.
-Teal

Julian had smiled at that, setting the note in the drawer of his coffee table before he'd gone on with his day to day life. He expected to hear from her later that day, or maybe the next. In fact, he looked forward to it. Perhaps he'd wake up and find her crashed on his couch again. But, Julian Giles received what he hadn't expected; radio silence from Teal Emerson.

It was four days later she knocked on his door again; one glance through the peephole confirmed that. It was a pleasant releif to see her in its own right, and he smiled as he opened the door.

“Teal, its—“

She’d slipped passed him, into his apartment without a word. There was something clutched in her hands; he hadn’t missed that. And merely by the lack of greeting, something seemed… off.

“Teal?”

She shook her head a little as she paced in front of his coffee table, teeth clamped firmly on her bottom lip. Julian kept his eyes on her as he shut the door quietly, slowly approaching the girl. Her steps came to a halt, eyes seeming to be unfocused as she looked up at him. Even if she was looking in his direction it felt like she wasn’t seeing him at all. Julian’s brow furrowed.

“It. We’re. It happened again.”

The actor blinked a few times. “That’s exceptionally vague, Teal. What happened again?”

“We. Um. Someone?” She began to fidget, glancing down at the paper in her hands. He recognized it almost immediately. A tabloid. Gently, he reached out and carefully grasped at it. She offered no resistance when he took it from her. The main focus was the latest Hollywood split, bright yellow print with the promise of drama splashed tackily across the image. But, in the upper right corner he saw it; even now seeing his photo in one of these papers seemed almost surreal. It was a picture from a few weeks earlier, taken inside the lobby of the lofts. They were in the lift, her arms around his neck as he hugged her back tightly. His stomach tangled itself into knots at the sight.

THE ACTOR AND THE WRITER; JULIAN GILES’ MYSTERY GIRL REVEALED

He ran a hand across his face with a sigh; he didn’t like this, at all. His eyes drifted back to her. He understood it was unpleasant, but her reaction struck him as... a bit too alarmed. It reminded him of the morning she'd shown up with her phone in hand, sleepless and panicked. He remembered the song on the other end of the phone, how much she had changed that morning.

"Teal." Julian let the tabloid drop onto the coffee table, brow furrowed a bit as he reached out, studying her carefully. She flinched a little as his fingers grazed her arm, taking just a step back. Something was certainly wrong.

"Even... even if he she gave him my Skype or my number, even if she told him where I'd moved, she had no idea of my exact location. I didn't tell her that much. But. But. It isn't as though they don't say where we were photographed—They--" She released a shaky breath, fingers tugging at her curls. "Don't you get it, Julian? I don't want the world knowing where I am—I don't want the world knowing! Because if it knows, he knows. And I—I can't do this—I'll have to move again if—oh my god--"
He blinked in surprise at her outburst, only able to stare at her for a few moments. It had told him more than she had allowed so far, even if it was unintentional. She was afraid of someone. And she said it much more clearly than just his speculations had allowed him to suspect before.

"Who is he, Teal?" His intrigue got the better of him then; and he watched as the dawning realization of what she had said took hold of her. It was a slow fade, from uncertainty, to panic, and then to regret. She had said too much.

"I don't want to talk about it." With that, she seemed to close off; drawing into herself as she took a few steps back, towards the counter of his kitchen. "Talking about it makes it too real. And it's my problem."

Julian blinked, running a hand through his hair as he kept his eyes set starkly on her. "You do realize you've come to me twice because of what I can only presume to be the exact same person, Teal. I haven't forgotten the phone incident that morning, and I haven't forgotten the skype call. Are you in trouble?"

He watched as she swallowed; the fear slowly creeping onto her features again as she stared at the hardwood floor. There was something there, and it desperately wanted to break the surface, but it wouldn't. She was too good at keeping it under wraps, even then, when she seemed on the verge of a breaking point.

"You can't keep it bottled up forever, that's not good for you. Just, please, talk to me. Let me help if I can--"

She cut him off with a laugh; it was a jagged, almost mad sound. It seemed wrong coming out of her. "Help? You want to help me? You know who else wanted to help? My old editor, Liz. Look how that turned out. I don't want your help, and I don't—I don't know why I came here."

With that, the girl was out of his loft in a matter of moments. Julian was left to stare in confusion at his door as it closed in her wake. Something was wrong with Teal Emerson, and for the first time in his life Julian was going to do what some of his fans did; seek out information online about the strange writer who crashed in and out of his day-to-day life like an unpredictable storm.