genessia | [Anon Text and Anon Forever]

[ He averts his eyes, nodding. This is still inching uncomfortably close to something he can't bear to acknowledge at the moment. He digs his teeth into his lower lip for a second before looking back at Faye, a new smile taking the place of that nervous tic. ]

So, you weren't into the handcuffs?

[ He knows he's being annoying, but maybe it'll be enough to distract Faye from what he's afraid to remember. ]

*Faye watches him, and although she doesn't know him extremely well, she knows that being suddenly brought back, to a strange, and rudely confronted by Faye, is probably not his ideal situation. At mention of the handcuffs, she just gives him the most deadpan of deadpan looks*

Do you have idea what my friends were thinking about you when they came to get me?

[ Whew. Breakdown successfully averted? ]

I can't imagine they were all that surprised.

[ You're a lot to handle, Faye. You'll have to forgive him for the handcuffs. ]

So your friends turned out to be pretty useful after all, huh?

Edited 2018-08-16 20:12 (UTC)

*Maybe. At least for a moment*

Hey - I don't spend a whole load of time handcuffed on beds, you know!

*He gets a frown and big unhappy pout for that. And dammit, that isn't fair if he just goes and proves himself right*

Well, sure. Useful when I need them and I've been ditched by some crazy guy with a saxophone.

*Clearly, those events have not been forgotten or forgiven by Faye*

Edited 2018-08-16 21:49 (UTC)

[ Ditched by some crazy guy with a saxophone? At this the last traces of his smile falls away and he stares off at some vacant corner of his studio apartment. He hadn't really given much thought about what he had selfishly done to Faye. It's not like he really had the time, but now that he does it's troubling him. What he did was not the most representative display of his character and he regrets leaving Faye with that memory. ]

Yeah, about that. . .

[ He closes his eyes and pinches the area of skin between his brows, massaging it a little too hard to be effective in its relief. ]

. . .I'm sorry, Faye. What I did was unfair to you.

[ He opens his eyes, looking into Faye's. They're shinier than before, slightly glazed over by the sudden impact of his remorse. ]

Edited 2018-08-16 23:02 (UTC)

*She isn't expecting an apology, so at first she steels herself, waiting for whatever he might say next to lecture or berate her. But then he says he's sorry, and he looks like he means it too. So her expression softens, but at first it's hard to meet his eye; she isn't comfortable with displays of genuine emotion.

But she realises that she's sorry too, for how she failed to protect him from his fate. She takes a small breath and meets his gaze*

I'm sorry too.

*And, as someone who rarely apologises for her actions, that's not to be taken lightly*

[ Gren's eyelids flutter in a flurry of blinks. He wasn't expecting an apology either. Touched by Faye's sincerity, his eyes take on a luster for a whole new reason. ]

Is it too soon for friendship bracelets?

[ Despite virtually being a stranger, Faye is a comforting sight amid all of this strange unfamiliarity. He smiles at her, grateful for her presence but reluctant to admit it lest he scares her away with his gooey feelings. ]

*Damn musicians. Always so emotional... She has to look elsewhere for a moment or two, until he actually gets a small laugh out of her*

If they're bracelets of gold and diamond I wouldn't say no.

*She manages a more normal smile now, equally pleased to have something familiar or, at least, a connection to the world she's left behind*

[ Gren laughs a little himself, the playfulness bringing him back from the brink of tears. ]

Of course. Only the best for our Faye.

[ The view of his face tilts and sways a little as he plucks a lone cigarette from his breast pocket with his free hand. The rest of the pack had already gone up in smoke. It's the stress. ]

I hope this guy is aware of your expensive taste. Tell me about him.

[ Gren smiles around the cigarette, lighting the end of it. If Faye is going to be his bestie she's going to have to gush about her crush in gooey, oozing detail. Gren eats that shit up. It's his favorite flavor. ]

*Yeah, okay - seeing him with his smokes makes Faye realise she wants one of her own, so she reaches out of view for a moment to grab her pack. As she lights up, Faye raises a brow at his comment about her expensive tastes. She takes a moment to draw on her cigarette and gather her thoughts. What is it about his baility to make her want to open up? But no, she slowly shakes her head*

That just feels like a jinx. I tell you about him and he disappears. Or finds himself his perfect girl.

*Such would be her luck*

[ Jinx? He mulls over that, ultimately disagreeing with the sentiment. ]

Don't you think that's a little irrational?

[ He exhales white dunes of smoke that roll and climb up the air around him. For a moment they obscure an expression that's now a little more somber. You've activated Preacher Gren. ]

Do you always conduct your life by superstition? Do you think your bond with him is so fragile that it’ll fall to pieces just by speaking of it? The lack of confidence is sorta disappointing. I don’t think you’re gonna make it that far without it. I get that it scares you, really I do, but fear is a constraint and you’ll be bound by its influence forever.

[ His eyes drift out of focus. Blue, distant, and sad. ]

. . . It's not like it'll kill you.

Sure it's irrational, but that's just the way the world works sometimes.

*Faye's eyelids lower in her disdain of the arrival of Preacher Gren. Why must she activate him so easily?*

It's not superstition. It's called being prepared for every eventuality and preventing any potential hurt.

*She takes an angry draw of her cigarette next - she doesn't like being told that she has a lack of anything. All that talk of fear makes her uncomfortable too.

Faye holds her cigarette aside and watches his expression carefully with his last comment. There are comments and comebacks, but these would be unfair to make when she is sure he can only be thinking of his own death*

Anything can kill you if it's strong enough...

*Be it anger, hate, heartbreak, fear...*

Oh, it’s gonna hurt.

[ He used to be a bit more optimistic, but that’s a trait of his that’s been muddled by reality. He opts to keep his gaze situated on anything but Faye. ]

But it won’t kill you. Don’t be dramatic.

[ He immediately regrets that, looking at Faye to see how much he’s just fucked up. ]

*Dramatic? Is he kidding? Faye bristles again, chest puffed out. And she looks about ready to give him a long lecturing snap. But then he looks at her and she catches his eyes. She can't... Not when she knows how things worked out for him. But still, she looks huffy and fed up enough to make her feelings clear. Finally, she lets out a sigh and finishes her cigarette, her tone resigned*

What is it with the men in my life being so dramatic? Always lecturing women for it, then going on to do the things they do...

Hm.

[ He plucks the last of his cigarette from his lips and plops it into a nearby glass of water. She's right. He's being every bit the hypocrite. He's fluent in dramatics. He could tutor anyone on the subject. ]

You got me there.

[ She seems to have a way of doing that, seeing through his polished veneer and calling out the fear and the flaws that dwell just beneath his glossy, smiling facade. It's uncomfortable. Maybe he needs that. But let's change the subject anyway. ]

How long have you been here, Faye?

*So he doesn't try to contest the point - good, that makes both their lives easier. Faye sighs softly and reaches just past the camera for her ashtray, grinding the butt into it slowly. A subject change works just fine for Faye, happy to ignore any discomfort that either of them are feeling.

She shifts to sit more comfortably on her sofa before answering with a shrug*

Bout a year and a half already.

[ A year and a half. He processes that quietly. Could he be here for just as long? He's not sure how he feels about that. On one hand, he hasn't escaped from any prisons here so he can live somewhat normally again. On the other hand, he has to continue to feel like... this. It's what led him down that self-destructive path in the first place. ]

Being dead was easy. No taxes or anything.

[ He forces a chuckle, reaching into his breast pocket for the cigarette he already smoked. Shit. He sighs, opting to idly twirl a lock of his hair around his finger. He winds it tight, almost painfully so and then releases it only to repeat the process again. ]

Are you happy here?

Oh, so he's a comedy king now too, huh? Shit - why don't we all just kill ourselves to get rid of our debts?

*It's too far. She knows it as soon as it's out of her mouth. But he touched a nerve. Suicide was never an option for Faye, but she was always self-destructive in her own way. She doesn't apologise but perhaps the look she gives him is enough.

Faye clucks her tongue in annoyance, drumming her fingers on her ashtray as she tries to think of a response*

I don't know. All that shit... All that bullshit that I was always running from... It's gone. And it - it makes you realise what little you had without it...

I need a drink.

[ They're fondling all sorts of nerves here. The intimacy between these two is astounding because Faye definitely touched a nerve too. Maybe several. He doesn't say anything, though. That finger in his hair just winds a little tighter. He needs a drink, a smoke, a dose of--

He bites his lip at the thought. Shit, no. No no no. ]

. . .

*Oh fuck. She's really done it now. Faye takes a deep breath as she watches him play nervously play with his hair. This is not okay. So she snaps her fingers and snaps her command*

Gren. Get a grip.

[ At the sound his eyes flick up to meet hers. He lets go of his hair and... smiles. It's strained and unsettling. Grip got. ]

Sorry.

...Uh.

[ He furrows his brows, trying to recall the last thing Faye said. The part that didn't make him want to pull his hair out. Right, the happiness.]

You have things. You have someone you care about. That's-- that's, uh...

[ He gestures, trying to pull something coherent out of the boiling hunks of his brain. He's usually more articulate than this. Fuck. ]

*The boy's a mess. That much is obvious, and she hasn't exactly made it easier for him. So she ignores his attempts to get back to their conversation and slowly shakes her head*

Gren. Where are you? Do I need to come and get you?

*At least she isn't snapping anymore, but Faye isn't exactly known for her patience so she isn't doing what she can to sound as tolerant as possible*

[ Come get him? Gren blinks and shakes his head no. He definitely wants Faye to get him, though. Definitely. ]

They're blue apartments. Like my old place. Almost like my old place.

[ That's all he'll say. He doesn't want to be too obvious with his neediness. ]

*He doesn't want her to get him, but tells her where he is. Yeah, she knows what that means, but there's an eyeroll at how he gives his address*

'Blue apartments'. Great. That's real specific.

*Faye cradles her phone carefully but starts to get up and move around, flashes of a stylish penthouse behind her*

[ He arches a brow at seeing more of Faye's place. Nice. He looks around his own place. It's a temporary studio that's now scattered with shopping bags. A brand new sax case sits on the coffee table with his shiny, new sax disassembled and nestled within it. Yeah, all of his money is already gone. ]

Are you a drug lord or something?

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