This overlaps with Monster 2.3 and 2.4. It's recommended you read those chapters of Monster first.

Life Asunder

Cherie

I'm with Daddy, hunting down his next girl, when life changes.

This approach isn't normal for us. Or wasn't normal? Daddy usually handles finding new girls himself in his own impulsive way, but ever since he found out how big my range is, he's been pushing me, making me test it. I nod and smile and go along, because any other path is suffering. I take some solace in the fact that he doesn't have my ability to read people. Or maybe he knows and just doesn't care. It would be typical of him.

Anyway: life. Change.

There's been a cape in Toronto for the last week. Gotta be a cape with how they're... I'm guessing roof-hopping, though it could be flight. Weird, flat emotions most of the time, too. Been in the back of my mind for a bit now, only really found them interesting at all because they're clearly not living in the area. No idea where they are living, really. But mostly I've been ignoring them, 'cause, hey. Capes come and go all the time, ya know? Almost never relevant to us.

This one's been looking for something, though, and getting increasingly frustrated. Piqued my curiosity, 'cause that's a bit odd. So tonight, since we're out around the same time they're giving the city a lookie-loo again anyway, I decided to pick out a girl who should put us on the path to intercept the cape. If nothing else being able to connect their feelings to something visible will make it easier to make sense of them. Heck, I might be able to get a toy out of this if I'm careful. Assuming Daddy doesn't steal them anyway, but what Daddy doesn't know about Daddy can't steal.

But then we cross paths and the cape reacts. There's a surge of interest/focus initially, which melts into cold, murderous intent after only a few seconds. My conversational patter hitches for a moment, but Daddy doesn't seem to notice my reaction. I try to look, out of the corner of my eye, to where I know the cape is currently standing atop a roof, but I can't see anyone. I glimpse a bit of motion, and I can feel the cape moving back from the roof's edge. They jump to another one, I think. Still haven't seen them.

Nervous, now. They're clearly stalking us, it takes less than a minute of walking afterward for that to become obvious. It never crossed my mind they might be looking for us. They seem... surprised? Not sure by what, though they're getting over it. There's some jealousy? Low-grade physical revulsion. Hmmm. Reacting to Daddy's face, probably. Probably a heterosexual man-cape, with the jealousy and all. Oh, the frustration is going up again. Huh. The murderous intent hasn't gone away yet, but he's not willing to jump us right now. Too public? Probably too public. Interesting. Given he's not local, I'm pretty sure he's not a Protectorate cape. I think those people are on too tight a leash. I'd think he'd go for a public kill if he wants Daddy dead, though. Free publicity and all. Hm. Maybe it's something about his power? Or maybe he's just paranoid -yes he is definitely paranoid. So maybe he wants to be sure he gets the kill.

Wish I could see him, trying to do an analysis semi-blind like this fucking sucks. I shift the patter of my dialogue a bit. No reaction. I'm thinking he can't hear us from up there. Clearly not any kind of tracker. God, that impulse for violence is so visceral. They don't just want Daddy (and possibly me! Don't assume!) dead, they need to be in his face, choking him with their bare hands. Imma call this cape Killer until I have a better name. Explains the frustration, I think. Going for the choke would be suicide, and while I don't think Daddy's abilities are that well understood by outsiders, he's plenty well-known, so they probably know it.

After two blocks of following us Killer's anxiety spikes. Hm. We're heading downtown... he's roof-hopping. Yeah, I can see how that might be a problem. Hm. Well, we can escape easily enough then. Just keep going into the high-rises.

... but do I wanna? I'm curious now. Real curious. Not exactly in a hurry to die, but I'm thinking I can take him if he does go for me. Suicidal depression isn't particularly hard to induce.

Let's see how this plays out.

Cue up supplicant teenage girl routine. "Oh, oh, Daddy, situation's changed." We pull to a stop. Aunt Cordelia heaves a dramatic sigh and tries to meet Daddy's eyes. She's basically not begging him for sex because we're in public. Correction: because he hit her with terror the last time she did it in public. She still loves him, of course, and would sooner die than fail him.

Daddy grunts. You learn to read his grunts. This one is, "Go on."

"Turns out Betty-" Probably not actually her name, but we're in public so I need a name for the façade. "-doesn't have time for us tonight. Surprise visit by family, too busy for us." Lies, all lies. 'Betty' is currently drinking herself into a stupor and would probably be glad to have a strange man burst into her home and offer to have sex with her, even without Daddy's power getting involved. Not that he'd be offering so much as demanding, but 'Betty' probably wouldn't care. Self-esteem issues like crazy. But I gotta sell the illusion. So with a grin I wave my cell phone -not that I use it that much- and say, "But Louise -she's the one who lives more at the edge of town- is throwing a little party and is happy to have us over."

Message to Daddy: "The girl I scoped is too problematic to approach right now, and will be until morning. I have a back-up target, though."

Real motive: let's see if Killer perks up.

Daddy grunts again. This one is, "Sure, why not." So I return to the patter of teenage girl monologue interspersed with character analysis of 'Louise', and we turn right. This'll take us to a less urban part of the city.

Killer has a spike of relief. Levels off fairly fast. As we walk Killer keeps following us. Having a hard time catching sight of him, though. I think I might've caught sight of him mid-jump at one point? Just a dark, indistinct shape sailing through the air, though.

Whoa. Killer's upset. Not rage-y upset, more horrified-upset. Interesti-

Jesus!

It takes me a moment to remember what ninny blathering I was in the middle of. Fortunately, Daddy isn't really paying attention, and I manage to get my rhythm going before he does notice the gap. Cordelia doesn't care, of course. Never does. Still, that was murderous, and it came on fast. Little more disturbed. Should I move to safety? On the other hand, Killer's still just... stalking us from rooftop. I don't think I need to fear him simply dropping down and killing us all before I have a chance to reason with and/or blast him with emotions.

Hmmm. I... think I can work with this.

So I go back to talking about 'Louise'. Let's sell Daddy on her. I'm thinking... Killer's waiting for opportunity. Privacy, maybe? Some people think of murder as an intimate act...

Oh! Oh! Killer's reacting. I think he hears me talking?

"... two, maybe three relationships close enough that they might miss her, and they read long-distance to me, probably parents she talks with on the phone or maybe by email or Skype, I can't find reciprocal people in the city. I don't think she's close enough to any of them that they'll find a sudden change alarming if they even notice it at all, though there was the incident with the stalker a couple years back so you shouldn't assume anything, and her coworkers find her a combination of boring and creepy. She's got self-esteem issues like crazy, convinced she's not that attractive, but guys and some girls disagree fairly frequently, she probably dresses ugly and hasn't even noticed it, she doesn't feel to me like she's in poor health, anyway. She's not a spender, too conservative, probably has some money saved up from her job even though her job doesn't pay well."

Killer's confused. Not sure exactly what he's thinking, but confusion makes sense. Hmm. Let's test something.

"So Daddy, she joining the 'harem' or not?" I do actual air-quotes. Might be hamming it up a bit too much, there's hardly anyone out this late in this area anyway, but hey, why not? Interestingly, Killer feels some relief. And anticipation? Excitement?... little bit of joy, too. Not sure what the relief is about, but the rest of it... I'm thinking Killer was looking for Daddy, and is thinking he's found Daddy. Iiiiinteresting.

"Goddammit Cher." Daddy's annoyed, but not that annoyed. He probably won't punish me at home. Probably. "I've told you before, don't talk about it like that outside." Yes, I know, I know. Trying to get you killed dear old dad.

So glad he can't read feelings. Or thoughts.

... also, is Killer gay? Maybe just bi. 'cause wow Killer is reacting salaciously to Daddy's voice. Bit unexpected. Or... maybe Killer is hunting Daddy down to bone him? Ugh. Better not be a fanboy. Eeewww.

I make an effort to look contrite. Not much of one, it's not like he's actually looking my way. "Sorry Daddy, I forget sometimes it's supposed to be a secret, the way we live." Pfffahhahaha. Lies, all lies. But he buys it when Pauline says it, and he doesn't pay much attention to us as individuals, so sure why not.

Daddy grunts. "Don't do it again." Uh-huh. Yup. Got it. I make a vague noise of affirmation. He's not really listening to me anyway. I think Cordelia is trying to get frisky with him. Ugh.

Killer keeps following us. Closer now, less effort to stay out of sight, I think? Getting stalker vibes now, but the anger's still there, it's just more of an undercurrent rather than the primary stream. So... have hatesex with Daddy before killing him? While killing him? I mean, ewww, but whatever floats your boat, bro. I just want him dead.

Killer either can't hear me or isn't paying attention to me anymore. Disappointing. I'm tempted to do something to try to provoke him, but... no. I don't want Daddy noticing anything. Especially if Killer isn't actually going to kill him. Which would suck, but it's possible. Or Daddy might whammy Killer. He's not fond of doing that to men, but he's willing to, and I doubt he'd be all that slow to turn to it if his life was on the line. Sooo... can't count on his death.

sigh

I pass the time with chatter. Once I've basically run out of things to say about 'Louise' I focus more on teen-girl gossip stuff. Mostly about the fam, though I mix in some of the stuff from when I've hooked up with a guy. Or girl. Or multiple. But with the bits that might out us if overheard glossed over, of course.

Finally, finally, finally we get to 'Louise' and I wave off Cordelia and Daddy. He grunts in acknowledgment. That's his, "Good job," grunt. Personally, I think the woman is a bit bland, but whatever. Daddy is boring. I already knew this.

Then I hurry home while trying to look like I'm not, keeping my attention on Killer. And trying to not 'listen' overly closely to Daddy and company. Got lots of practice at that. Way the heck too much practice. Basically an automatic at this point.

Killer's moodstream is difficult to follow. Mostly, it's pretty low-key, aside from the occasional burst of anger or even more occasional joy, and I'm feeling like it's... heavily internalized, maybe? There's a moment of self-satisfaction where he deliberately cuts himself off from indulging in it and then settles back into an analytical mode. Makes me think he... was happy with something he thought and then forced himself to focus on the mission? Hard to say.

Then he moves, and I have a stab of panic when it looks like he's coming for me-

-but no. He's going for Daddy.

Relief.

So now I just need to work on my escape. And hope Killer lives up to his name. And hope that nothing goes wrong with the escape itself.

It's fine, it's all fine. Everything's cool.

Let's just keep walking and 'listening in'...

Killer's... interesting. He's scuttling around the building once I'm a fair distance away, and his attitude isn't what I was expecting, given how things were going down earlier. He makes me think of one of the brats handed a Rubik's Cube. The ones who wouldn't throw it away as dumb, anyway. Poking at the situation like it's an interesting puzzle to solve. I shiver a little, and it's not just due to the physical cold.

I'm pretty sure I know the exact moment Killer finds Daddy and the girls... busy. There's a fair amount of revulsion, irritation, anger. No jealousy though, which seems odd. No lust, either. None at all. Usually people experience at least a little, even if they won't act on it or admit it, when they see or hear sex in action. Odd. The level of discomfort I'm getting... I don't think Killer is, like, jaded to it, or whatever. I don't understand what I'm getting from him. Might be a power thing? Something to keep in mind.

Eventually Killer... settles in, patient. Awww, fuck. That's lame.

Something like twenty minutes later I stop paying close attention to Killer. He's getting frustrated, slowly, and bored, slightly less slowly, but he doesn't seem to be having his attention wander in a way that would give me an opportunity to have fun trying to guess at what he's thinking. He's just being boring.

I end up focusing on the 'background noise' of the city instead for the remainder of the walk home, bored out of my skull.

Sasha's house is our current bolthole, and it's a decent little mid-sized house in the suburbs. It's not really designed for this many people to live in it, but it's manageable as a temporary solution. By far its most beneficial quality is that the neighbors aren't very nosy. I'm not entirely sure why, that's normally something I see in cruddy neighborhoods where curiosity gets the cat shot, where this area is comfortably middle-class, but whatever the case we haven't had to do too much shenanigans to avoid drawing problematic attention. It helps that Sasha always drove an SUV anyway and always bought groceries in large batches. People will eventually notice that she's making shopping trips once or twice a week rather than once a month, every month, but in the short term it's working, and that's all that really matters.

For my purposes, it's kind of convenient, because while the neighbors aren't nosy enough to be poking into the house and seeing things we don't want them to see, neither are they so un-nosy that they'll ignore a public confrontation. If I can get my stuff and get out of the house, the fam will have to wait until I'm further away to confront me. Ideally, they won't realize anything unusual is happening, but if they do... backup plans are good.

Just in front of the door, I take a deep breath, steady myself. Then I get the house key out of my purse, in it goes, turn the lock, and open the door quietly. Not slowly, because if anyone is watching I don't want them to think I'm trying to be sneaky, but I particularly make an effort to not bang the door against the wall. Step on through, close the door, careful to not make too much noise. On the plus side, it's the middle of the night, so most of the fam is asleep, and anyone watching might think I'm being considerate of that. (Okay, any of the fam who don't really know me that well might, but my aunts -and Mom- don't tend to pay close attention to us kids and the kids are basically a bunch of little cliques, so that's actually more than half the fam)

I don't see anyone with a view on the door, not when I turn to look and put the key back in my purse, but I'm not assuming I succeeded.

Then I go to get my stuff.

My stuff is on the second floor, not the first, in a room that was a guest room before Daddy entered Sasha's life. This is unfortunate, because the goddamn stairs tend to creak and the room I sleep in is the furthest one from the top of the stairs too. Worse, the stairs are, themselves, on the opposite side of the house from the front door. So basically I have to walk pretty much as much of the house as is possible to force, just to retrieve some essentials. Fucking wonderful. It doesn't help any that I'm wearing heels because Daddy is less awful when I wear heels, and if I change before I leave then trying to pretend I'm going out to a club or something will fall flat.

I walk through a doorframe and oof

"Hey Cher'." It's Pauline, oldest kid in the fam, false cheer filling her voice. Syrupy-sweet, awful to listen to. Though given she just punched me in the gut, maybe it's not so false after all.

I spend a minute gasping for air, hunched over with my arms clutched against my gut, before I manage to rasp out, "Hey Pauline."

What I'd like to do is tell Pauline to go fuck herself, but that's a bad plan. I can't read her at all for some reason, not even to know where she is -I assume it's her power, but she triggered when I was still learning to walk so for all I know she just never had real emotions- and she prefers to literally beat the defiance out of you if you show any. I've never figured out the details of her power and I'm scared to ask, but I do know she uses violence to change your feelings in a tangible way. I don't think she has any kind of actual emotion-sense, because she doesn't hit me every time I have a hostile thought -if she did, I'd be a walking bruise or dead- but she usually will recognize even subtle defiance and move to remove it with her fists. Sometimes she kicks, usually if you fall down.

I'd also love to try clawing her eyes out, but even aside from the irony of her name -'Pauline' means something like small, and she's the tallest member of the fam nowadays, with like half an inch on Daddy- I'm almost certain her power has a physical component. Super-strength and super-toughness, or something like that. My best guess is that it's controlled by how much you fear her -she's real big on having everyone but Daddy afraid of her- where, like, a punch hurts more if you're more scared, and your own punches are weak and ineffectual if you're scared of her.

And I am plenty scared of her, however much I try to not let it show.

I maintain eye contact. She also tends to hit if you break eye contact. I read once staring contests are a dominance thing, the person who averts their gaze first being the weaker party, something like that, so I'd really expect her to hit for maintaining eye contact, but it's how she is. Whatever. Makes no sense to me, but whatever.

Something about me pisses her off though, because she slaps me in the face, this weird up-swing motion aimed at my nose instead of a cheek. I jerk upright, more or less, clutching at my nose instead of my gut, and try not to react. She also hits if you make high-pitched noises. High-pitched noises really irritate her (I don't know why she hasn't killed a baby, given that) and most anything that irritates her gets violence. I want to make a high-pitched noise right now, a shriek or keening wail, but somehow I manage to force myself to just moan in pain. After a second I pull my hands away -fuck. Blood. My nose isn't broken, but I've got a nosebleed. Fuck. That's going to be a problem.

Then I give a shaky, brittle smile aimed at Pauline. Given brittle is my default when I smile at her, I'm not worried about that. I'm worried by how she's staring at the inside of her left hand, eyeing the blood that got on it. She also is a bit of a neat-freak, which most of the time is actually a small blessing because she spends literally an hour every day hogging a bathroom, getting her makeup and hair and so on perfect, so that's an hour -sometimes two!- that you're safe from her, she won't even come out and punish people over noise, but then there's moments like this where the act of beating on you can lead to her deciding she needs to beat on you some more because she got herself dirty in the process and that's somehow your fault.

I think she might be autistic, honestly. More accurately, I fervently believe it. There's some actual evidence, but mostly I want to believe because it makes it easier to cope with her. She hurts you because hurting you gets what she wants -be it quiet, or power, or getting you out of the bathroom when she wants to preen- not because she's a sadist who delights in your misery and so will seek to increase it for its own sake. If I believe that, I can keep calm.

Mostly.

Right now I'm holding my breath, waiting to see how she reacts.

Finally, she drops the hand to her side and gives me a smile. It's the smile of someone who doesn't realize smiles are for happy people, instead blindly imitating the things other people do because there must surely be some kind of reason behind it. (This is another thing that supports my desperate belief) She's not smiling because she's happy, she's smiling because she's about to end this interaction. (I don't know why she does that, but she does. She only smiles when doing that or when picking up boys -always boys, never girls. I'm not sure why. I'm certainly not going to ask why)

I breathe a slow, low sigh of relief at the realization, and then slump and wince, finally able to relax, when she artfully whirls around (Skirt flaring up in a way that would make other people drool, revealing thigh without quite displaying underwear, tantalizing anyone who might be interested in her) and starts clicking away in her high heels. She's probably going to go start her daily ritual. I'm safe for an hour. Safe.

Ow. Ow. Shit, my nose is still dripping blood.

Shakily, I click my own way to a tissue box, pull several tissues out, and clutch a pair to my nose. I change my mind about the heels -off they go, clutched in the other hand with the extra tissues, and I walk slowly through the kitchen and around to the stairway. I have to step over a pair of aunts sleeping on a rug, curled up against each other -the proper lesbian couple, signature-wise, though it's so dark I wouldn't know if it weren't for my power- and then it's a slow, agonized climb up the stairs. Walk past the room the three older boys are set up in, where Guillaume and Nicholas are playing some fucking murder simulator game. Guillaume calls out, "Hey Cher'-bear," because he's an asshole, but he stays focused on the game. I've seen this particular one enough to know he's playing against Nicholas, not with Nicholas. If my brief glimpse is accurate, Nicholas is currently winning. Probably why Guillaume isn't inclined to harass me more than the bare minimum. Winning is too important to him.

Past the master bedroom, which is currently overstuffed with sleeping women. Not sure why the door is half-open. I'd probably ask, normally, but right now I just want to lie down. Then I'm in the room I share with the three youngest girls, because for once I managed to talk Daddy into not doing the age-based approach, which has been a tremendous relief because not sharing a room with Pauline is amazing compared to sharing a room with her. I mean, the brats are irritating in their own way, but for the most part they aren't violent. For that matter, they're midgets, so they can't do a lot to hurt me anyway. Hadn't thought about that before, but it's true.

Two of the brats are asleep. The last one is reading a book via nightlight; she gives me a cursory glance, and then goes back to reading... whatever the fuck this brat reads. (They are not old enough for me to care about names, certainly not if they don't have powers. Which they don't) I lay down on the floor (I share a bed with one of the sleeping brats, and I'm not waking her, I don't need more trouble), on my back, head tilted back so the blood won't flow out of my nose.

Then I close my eyes and just... focus on the feelings of the city. Take a moment to double-check Killer, but while it's vaguely amusing how aggravated he is at this point, he's not actually changed. Mayor's still asleep, I think. So's his mistress. What I think is Tube Lord (I've never actually confirmed it's Tube Lord and not just some hobo) is in some kind of frenzy, I'm thinking he's gotten inspiration for tinkering. Some kind of confrontation, Radiance and Flaktrap taking on... either a cape I don't know -new trigger, maybe- or a regular burglar. Hmm. Thinking it's a regular burglar. Flacktrap is bored to tears, so... not a new trigger. Might be a loser I've just never bothered to pay attention to, though. Or an out-of-towner like Killer, but not worth paying attention to.

And on and on I distract myself. Trying to not fall asleep, which... I'm not sure how successful I am, but I snap to full alertness when Cordelia has an utter freak out and-

Daddy is gone.

I jerk up, startling book-brat, but she relaxes and goes back to her book when I go to check the nose bleed with an unused, clean tissue, acting as if nothing is going on. Yep, bleeding's done. Excellent. Then, projecting calm (Figuratively, not literally), I grab up some of my snack stash, my duffel bag -normally only broken out for a move- and pretty much anything else I think I might need for a trip.

Not my laptop. (I used to share it with Pauline, but a year ago I managed to talk Daddy into getting a new one for her, so now it's just mine. Not having her demand the laptop from me=not getting beaten by her when I'm too slow to comply!) I want to take it, I really really want to, but bringing it would be a giant neon sign making it obvious I'm planning something more than clubbing or the like.

I also grab a pair of recently-purchased (Well, convincing a clerk to give me them for a dollar and the suggestion I'll go on a date with her even though they're fifty bucks, more than actually purchased) shoes I hadn't gotten around to trying. They're still in their box, but I correct that. Purple, glossy, nice-looking flowers set toward the back of the center. I quite like them, honestly, but more importantly than that they're a plausible excuse for me to go out not in heels. The fam thinks of me as easily distracted by shiny new things and... they're not wrong, but the main thing is that they'll believe it and high heels are not ideal for fleeing.

I pack clothes into the duffel bag and that's when nerd-girl finally decides I'm being weird and asks me what I'm doing.

I smile brightly at her and say, "It's a surprise."

She's not stupid, but we do enough dumb shit like birthday parties often enough she's not quite willing to call bullshit on me. Also, I'm smothering her curiosity. Should've done that earlier, really. Fuck, I better not have a concussion. I don't have a broken nose, so I shouldn't have a concussion from Pauline's loving handling, but fuck, powers mean anything is possible. Whatever, not a big deal that I didn't think of it sooner.

She goes back to ignoring me once I've wrangled her curiosity from 'burning' to 'eh, it'd be nice to know' and I start walking. Guillaume is... not present in his room. Nicholas is playing some kind of puzzle game now, I think. A quick check of Guillaume's emotions shows he's outside, playing with whatever friends he has that are stupid enough to wake up before dawn. I'm thinking they're graffiti-ing some place. It's a power thing, put their mark on the world, but a dumb kind of power thing because they're scared of getting caught and are doing it (Whatever it actually is) precisely because it's a way of exerting power without retaliation from people with real power.

I don't know why Guillaume runs with these idiots. I really don't know why Daddy hasn't reined it in, either, 'cause at this rate the cops are gonna catch him or something. Dumbass doesn't even have powers yet.

But whatever, it's convenient for me!

I make my way downstairs. The two aunts who were curled up earlier are starting breakfast, still in their sleepwear. Going by the simmering lust, I think they're expecting Daddy to come back and be pleased to see them this way. (Never understood the appeal of that whole thing, personally, but never mind, stop getting distracted Cherie) Or... oh right, lesbians. Miiiiight be for each other.

Ugh, I never know with those two.

No wait never mind they're doing that soulfully-staring-into-each-other's-eyes thing over a goddamn mixing bowl. Definitely for each other. More importantly, they're ignor-

"Not staying for breakfast?"

-ing me... fuck, what's Pauline doing here, staring at me with her dead, soulless eyes, face blank like a doll? I... fuck, I must've fallen asleep earlier.

Fuck.

I turn to face her, casual as can be, and stick one foot out, gesturing at the shoe. "I wanna break in these babies. I'll eat out."

"Father is not home yet. You should stay." She speaks like she's reading a script. That would be because she is reading from a script. She hates it when you deviate from routine, and one of those routines is that anyone who goes out with Daddy stays if they come home before him, waiting until he's home before they're free to leave without her harassing them. Every. Single. Goddamn. Time. She says the same thing. Even the inflection is identical.

I smile brightly -fuck, too brightly too brightly- wrangle it into a more appropriately brittle one. I'm so close to being gone I can taste it, and here's Pauline, in my way. Always in my way. I need to handle this... peacefully. Can't have a confrontation.

Fuck, I think I'm going to need to invite her along.

"I was going to meet with a-" quickquickquick oh right the shoe girl "-girl for a date. We could go together, I'm sure she won't mind." Because I'll make her want it. "If you want?" I'm not even sure Pauline can tell when there's the lilt of a question, but I do it anyway. Habit, maybe.

Hell, I even did imply I'd pick up the girl this morning. Won't need to do too much emotion massaging to make it-

"Girl?"

-fuuuuuck forgot she only goes for boys.

"That would be acceptable." Pauline nods, looking vaguely thoughtful. She pushes a lock of hair back behind one ear in a motion that I know makes the boys hot for her. (I don't know why, it doesn't work when I do it. Not fair)

...

Did she just not realize other girls were an option?!

Oh god I think she didn't. Oh god, this would be glorious to witness if I wasn't trying to get out of here.

Instead of letting any of this show on my face or leak into my voice, I just grin and say, "Great! You ready then?"

In the background the aunts have decided that they are macking on each other rather than baking pancakes. I twitch a little, because the noise is distracting and Pauline is staring at me silently and I do not need these two things happening at the same time. I do not need to associate kissy-face noises with Pauline's fisheyed stare of horribleness.

Fuck, I'm going to flash to her face the next time I'm kissing someone, aren't I?

Then Pauline smiles -the one she normally only uses for boys, not the stiff one she uses when ending a conversation- and warmth enters her voice. "I think I am, yes."

God, I'm going to have nightmares about this.

I walk us to the girl's house or possibly apartment. (Gonna need to massage her feelings so she ignores that she never told me where she lives, ugh) Killer fled the city, fled my range. I'm a little frustrated, because there's no chance of me keeping up now, not with being forced to do this detour, but it was the same general direction he always goes and arrives from: south-east. I've got a starting point if I want to follow him, which I kind of do because hell yes Daddy's dead. I'd really like to get a better idea who made that possible.

Pauline at no point offers to carry my stuff. I dunno if she just normally uses her feminine wiles to get everyone else to carry her stuff and hasn't even thought of the possibility of offering or if she's clueless in general or what, but while there's a part of me irritated by this there's a much larger part that is so relieved that I can keep all my stuff on hand. If I can get separated from her? I'm all good.

Unfortunately, she insists on walking about half a foot behind me to my left, staring at the back of my skull. I'm going to have to lose her at the girl's home, I think. Yaaaay. Or, worse, on the date. Assuming we go out somewhere, which... is not actually my normal modus operandi, but I don't think Pauline knows that so I don't think I need to worry overly much about her catching onto me being weird.

I can tell aunt Cordelia is wandering around, and it's... very weird. Not sure what's going on there. Did Killer get her coated in blood and guts from Daddy or something? Because everywhere she goes people are upset. More fear than anything else though. Nobody seems in a hurry to get her to a hospital, though. I'm missing something, I think.

Whatever.

Pauline and I get to the girl's house. I ring the doorbell, but she's still asleep. That's fine. I hit her with excitement, and after ramping it up for about thirty seconds she jerks awake. Then I ring the doorbell again, and she calls out something and scrabbles to get to the door. I tweak her feelings so there's more anticipation, going for making her hope it's me so she won't question my presence, reduces the massaging I need to do. She ends up jerking the door open, and yes I've still got it she lights up when she recognizes me.

... for some reason she's still wearing her work outfit, nametag and all. Odd. She didn't seem unusually exhausted last night? Is this laziness?...

Oh, whatever. Time for smiles and smoothtalking.

"So heya girl I'm here to deliver on the-"

jesus christ I forgot about Pauline she steps up from behind me, scaring the bejeezus out of me and inserts herself into the barely-started conversation. "I would like to sleep with you."

Goddammit Pauline, that's not how-

...

...

Oh come on.

The girl -who I am dubbing Shylia, and I don't give a damn what her nametag says- is doing that thing of wanting to accept what she's being offered but not wanting to admit to wanting to accept it, and she's blushing and ducking her eyes and wringing her hands and I suspect I'd think she was upset if I couldn't read her emotions but as-is I know she wants Pauline, wants her way more than she wants me.

I vibrate in place for a second, smile brittle, probably more of a rictus than anything else. Goddamn Pauline always fucking taking my fucking toys and- and- aaa.

... and then I remember I'm actually trying to escape, not score.

Smiling fiercely, I push Pauline at Shylia -and yes Pauline is cooperating instead of hitting me for daring to touch her so she must really like Shylia- and declare, "You know what? Never you mind me, you two lovebirds were clearly made for each other and fuckit-"

"That was the intention, yes," is Pauline's flat, slightly confused-sounding rejoinder. Shylia ducks her head and blushes but Pauline's weirdness apparently does it for her for some reason. Fuckit I don't care anymore!

"-I'll just be... elsewhere. Doing other things and/or people." Shylia doesn't blush or particularly react. Oh come on, not fair at all. Pauline does it, it's cool, I do it, it's not? Whyyyyy. Why do you do this to me world, I'm funny and clever and all-around awesome. Why is there never anyone around who appreciates me properly? All the world's a stage somethingsomething and I've got no goddamn audience. Not one with actual taste.

Fine. Fine.

I cheerily declare, "Have fun with that!" and slam the door in their mutual faces. Or it would be their faces if they weren't looking at each other more than me. Pauline doesn't react, Shylia is distracted for just a second aaaaand yeah let's just pretend I can't read their feelings.

Good news: Pauline isn't going to be following me. She'll be busy with her new toy.

I turn and walk away, heading in a vaguely southeasterly direction.

Free. I'm free.

Freeeeeee.