Conscious of the tremor in her hand, Bisola offered the huge man two tablets conveniently popped out of a sheet of paracetamol on a saucer and a glass of water she'd fetched in probably 30 seconds flat.
He stared at the saucer then took the tablets and the sheet and proceeded to pop the rest of the paracetamol free and throw all 8 pills into his mouth.
Trying not to stare Bisola proffered the glass of water.
He ignored it and she heard crunching.
Insane, she thought. He's completely off his rocker. A mad man.
She glanced at him and away quickly.
Aside from the nakedness thing, you couldn't actually tell, really. When it came down to it, now that he was awake and sitting up, he really seemed too gorgeous... and healthy... and glowy kind of... to be crazy?
"What century is this?"
Bisola wanted to pat herself on the back for not knocking the glass of water still in her hand into his face from how hard she startled at his voice. "Sir?" She asked a little breathlessly, self consciously putting it down on her nearby dresser.
The man looked at her. For someone whose sanity she'd been debating his expression was humiliatingly eloquent. He was clearly wondering if she was slow.
"Date." He tried. Then, "Time?"
"I - I know what a century is!" Bisola muttered then felt even more annoyed when he looked relieved. "It's the 21st, its not like I don't know it's just a really weird question? Well... fine, maybe not as weird as what you just did with the paracetamol but -"
He stood up suddenly taking the sheet with him and casually wrapping it low around his hips.
Bisola was too shocked to stagger back and could only crane her neck upwards as he seemed to double in size again. She was not that short at 5ft 5 but she barely reached his chest.
He peered (no other way to describe his analyzing her from such a great height) down at her, his light eyes inscrutable and suddenly feeling somehow compelled to, Bisola hung her head and whispered, "S-sorry..."
He frowned.
"Could you be the one that called me?" there was an air of disbelief in his tone.
Bisola blinked. "Sir, I... don't even know you?"
The man's long expressive brows flew up. For a second, Bisola could swear something crackled in his eyes. He looked big time offended.
At that moment clarity suddenly hit her like a strong fan blowing away confusion's dust and cobwebs.
"Oh my God!"
The big man folded his huge arms at his chest, hoisting the massive, dirty battle axe like it was nothing.
"Could this be a misfired booty call?"
The big man froze. Bisola felt he must've realised it too.
"It's obvious! You're looking for the *Runs girl next door! You probably got the address wrong! Though I can't figure out how you got past the burglary proof and lock..."
The big man seemed like he wanted to interject but Bisola was on a roll now that a solution that didn't involve serial killers - or even ritualists; the leading argument for burglary proofing after zombies and actual burglars - was at hand.
"Or is it more of a business booty call? Are you in the sex industry? You don't need to be embarrassed - you're literally an amazing advertisement for your business?" Bisola was really warming up to the theory. He didn't even seem that scary anymore now that the battle axe was clearly just an over realistic prop.
The big man's mouth was open but nothing came out.
Bisola felt a bit bad. It was probably his first time making such a huge mistake. He was really quite lucky she hadn't called for help or broke a jar on his head.
"Honestly, it's totally fine," she said, stepping back so she could look up at his handsome face more comfortably. She'd had no idea that the sex industry was at this level with their workers. He must be from a very expensive organisation. His skin care routine alone would probably destabilize her salary for months.
"Look, this doesn't have to be a complete loss for you! I just happen to be at that age where I'm at a wedding every weekend. You know, always the bridesmaid, never the bride? Actually, usually not even the bridesmaid? Just the friend that spends a ton on aso-ebi* only to get sat at the kids and nannies table that gets served last, hahaha..." it wasn't that funny so Bisola hurried on, "Anyway, if you've got a card..." Bisola's eyes trailed up and down the massive, naked, more than 6 foot frame, "um, stashed away somewhere, you could make a fortune on hen nights though me so..."
She started to trail off, finally realizing that it was rising anger and not embarrassment in the big man's eyes and lord Jesus were those bulging veins on his forehead there before or....?
"S- So..." she continued weakly, "in a way... this could even be fate.... right...?"
An incredibly tense silence ensued.
Bisola's heart rate tripled in speed.
When he spoke again, the big man's voice was a low, slow, menacing rumble she felt reverberating in her head.
"Do you really not know who I am?"
Bisola really didn't and sensed she'd made a grave error in assuming that she did.
She cleared her throat. "Not a stripper?" she mumbled.
There was a sudden clap of thunder so loud it rattled her windows and made her ears ring. The power went out and the sound of car sirens going off floated into the room with them. Bisola shrieked and fell to the ground cowering.
"Look at me," his voice really did reverberate in her head, like it was coming from everywhere and nowhere, like a really good surround sound system.
Slowly, cautiously, Bisola obeyed and looked up from her crouched position.
Dusk had fallen and with the power gone, it was dark in her room. The soul source of light in the room came from his eyes. They were on fire.
Bisola realised that the sanity she should have been questioning all along was hers.
The big man unfolded his arms and loomed above her with white fire pouring from his eyes. He was terrifying. He was magnificent. Bisola had never felt a stronger urge to offer up something in her life; praise, prayer, herself....
"Know me now," he thundered in her head and heart and veins, "I am Jakuta, fire walker and caster of the thunder stone, grandson of Oduduwa, Alaafin of the unbreakable Oyo Empire - I am the god of lightning and thunder, your lord, Sango… are we quite clear on that?"
Bisola was the speechless one now.
She swallowed dryly and nodded. So, yeah, definitely not a stripper.
"Now" he said, the fire in his eyes finally seeming to bank, "tell me intelligibly, boy, why have you called me here?"
...
B - boy???
*Runs Girl: Nigerian slang for party girl, usually associated with the Sugar Daddy life style.
*Aso-Ebi: In Nigeria during ceremonial occasions, guests will often wear traditional clothes made from a fabric sold by the event organizer to show solidarity and a close relationship with them.