“I would if I could,” that was a lie, “But I can’t so I won’t.”
Beats nodded to himself as he grabbed the last rib and took a anxious bite of it. Would this be his last meal? It wasn’t a bad one if so. It was better than he deserved. Darlene was a strong and sweet and small person with a certain degree of wisdom and positivity to her spirit. Some would call it naivete or stupidity—Beats could settle on optimism. She was able to see the good even in the bad. Was able to not let her mistakes make or break her. How could someone see the positive even in this situation? It was impressive, it was inspiring...
It was the surest sign she wouldn’t last for much longer out here.
Eighty-five percent of the other students Beats didn’t have to worry about. Ten percent were up in the air. Five percent were kill on sight. Beats wasn’t good at math, he hadn’t really run any calculations. He couldn’t listen to his heart or his brain much anyway. The only thing Ace could trust was his gut. And his gut was telling him to let this moment pass. His gut was telling him that this didn’t have to be fucked up or marred up by bloodshed. Not today. Ace had fought and killed and struggled enough today. He would be on the announcements tomorrow and hopefully home the next day if he had his way.
Beats didn’t have to kill Darlene. Not today. She wasn’t like Connor—it wasn’t the same. He could cross that bridge when it came and it was still a bit further on the horizon. She wasn't like Connor. It wasn't the same thing. It wasn't personal with Darlene. It was personal with Connor even when it wasn't--that had more to do with Ace than with his QB. When the time came--Ace would've hesitated with Connor. He wouldn't hesitate with someone like Darlene. Maybe neither of that was true. Maybe Beats just liked giving himself rules so he could break them.
“I do gotta plan,” he himself admitted, “But it’s fucked up and dumb and I’d pretty much accept anything better at this fuckin’ point,” he finished the rib and tossed the bone, “Facts facts though, right? I wanna get the fuck outta here,” he swallowed a sip of water, “I wanna get home.”
That’s the way it was, huh? Well what else could it be?
“Thanks for the meal,” he said with a somber tone in his voice, “It was good to get to know you and like talk and share some lunch and stuff.”
‘I hope I never see you again’
Mama's Gonna Look So Great
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"Yeah," Darlene said, "it was. Thank you too."
She didn't move much, even though she had places to go too. She just slowly finished her rib, lingering over it for a few long moments, enjoying the smoothness against her tongue before finally tossing the last bone. The truth was, she was all set to wait until Ace was out of sight before she got going. This was a plan and it was tactical, in a more real way than anything else she'd done or said. As soon as Ace was out of sight, Darlene was going to take the wax paper and she was going to lick it until it was totally clean! She was going to get every last little hint of leftover barbecue sauce, because who knew what would happen even fifteen minutes from now? But Ace didn't have to know that.
She thought it actually probably was a better plan than his, really. Or, if nothing else, it was at least a better plan for her. Darlene didn't always track time so well. Days and days had gone by and there weren't that many people left now. Getting down to the wire like this, the chances were strong a lot of those left were starting to really seriously consider their odds and what they could do to be the last one standing. It wasn't something that came naturally to her at all, though, and not something she could force either, at least not here and now.
Every action in the service of survival that Darlene had taken had been in the moment, responses to immediate threats real or imagined, aimed at securing her ability to keep breathing just another few minutes. That was easy to understand. She could realize someone was shooting at her and shoot back and have that all make logical sense. It was self defense. But the idea of shooting someone she knew and liked, someone she'd traveled with and watched over, not because they were attacking her but because a distant force demanded it? She didn't think she had it in her. Not after these days of finding every last little good moment. Not after quiet times like these, eating and talking and being almost normal. Not after Arizona.
"I, uh, I hope you—good luck," she said, and meant it. Mostly. Ace was okay. He was pretty good. Darlene didn't have some list in her head of who deserved good things the most or anything, and if she did it would've been populated mostly with people who weren't alive anymore anyways. Of everyone who she actually knew was left, she supposed she was on Abe's side more than anyone else, but if after all the fighting stopped it was Ace left she wouldn't be angry about that. She wouldn't be anything, but even if she was she wouldn't be bothered. She'd be happy for him. But at the same time, it wasn't her fight. She wouldn't go to war for Ace, wouldn't step into the line of fire for him. It was like Christina and the guns: she felt a little bad, but not enough to do anything about it.
"Be careful," she added a second later, because if Ace wasn't going to come with her that didn't mean he was necessarily going to avoid the others. "Abe and, and Christina, they're, someone shot at us yesterday again so we're all kind of scared, and I wouldn't want there to be any more accidents, so if you see them say something or go the other way."
She didn't let the other options stay in her mind for long. She could offer Ace that much, at least.
She didn't move much, even though she had places to go too. She just slowly finished her rib, lingering over it for a few long moments, enjoying the smoothness against her tongue before finally tossing the last bone. The truth was, she was all set to wait until Ace was out of sight before she got going. This was a plan and it was tactical, in a more real way than anything else she'd done or said. As soon as Ace was out of sight, Darlene was going to take the wax paper and she was going to lick it until it was totally clean! She was going to get every last little hint of leftover barbecue sauce, because who knew what would happen even fifteen minutes from now? But Ace didn't have to know that.
She thought it actually probably was a better plan than his, really. Or, if nothing else, it was at least a better plan for her. Darlene didn't always track time so well. Days and days had gone by and there weren't that many people left now. Getting down to the wire like this, the chances were strong a lot of those left were starting to really seriously consider their odds and what they could do to be the last one standing. It wasn't something that came naturally to her at all, though, and not something she could force either, at least not here and now.
Every action in the service of survival that Darlene had taken had been in the moment, responses to immediate threats real or imagined, aimed at securing her ability to keep breathing just another few minutes. That was easy to understand. She could realize someone was shooting at her and shoot back and have that all make logical sense. It was self defense. But the idea of shooting someone she knew and liked, someone she'd traveled with and watched over, not because they were attacking her but because a distant force demanded it? She didn't think she had it in her. Not after these days of finding every last little good moment. Not after quiet times like these, eating and talking and being almost normal. Not after Arizona.
"I, uh, I hope you—good luck," she said, and meant it. Mostly. Ace was okay. He was pretty good. Darlene didn't have some list in her head of who deserved good things the most or anything, and if she did it would've been populated mostly with people who weren't alive anymore anyways. Of everyone who she actually knew was left, she supposed she was on Abe's side more than anyone else, but if after all the fighting stopped it was Ace left she wouldn't be angry about that. She wouldn't be anything, but even if she was she wouldn't be bothered. She'd be happy for him. But at the same time, it wasn't her fight. She wouldn't go to war for Ace, wouldn't step into the line of fire for him. It was like Christina and the guns: she felt a little bad, but not enough to do anything about it.
"Be careful," she added a second later, because if Ace wasn't going to come with her that didn't mean he was necessarily going to avoid the others. "Abe and, and Christina, they're, someone shot at us yesterday again so we're all kind of scared, and I wouldn't want there to be any more accidents, so if you see them say something or go the other way."
She didn't let the other options stay in her mind for long. She could offer Ace that much, at least.
Well…
What fuckin’ now?
Beats licked his fingers individually and then wiped his hands on his shorts. He tasted of blood, grime and brown sugar. Even when his fingers were licked clean, they still felt sticky and dirty. There were somethings he was completely incapable of washing away. Beats was done even trying. His hands were dirty forever, he’d just have to deal.
So what now? The hard part—just walking the fuck away.
“I’ll keep that in mind if I see ‘em,” Beats said in passing to Darlene as he took one last sip of that water bottle and then threw it in the dark of his bag, “Just, y’know,” he felt a bit like Tirzah here, “If anyone asks—tell ‘em I don’t want no problems,” what did that matter? Ace continued, “Not lookin’ to start shit, just finish it.”
Beats didn’t want problems—Beats was the problem. That was harder to articulate or explain.
If Darlene could vouch for him with some, maybe that was a chance he was not met with immediate hostility at the end. Maybe such a small thing would count for something. Beats wanted to shake his head, it wasn’t so tactical or calculated. Ace didn’t wanna be the bad guy. Ace didn’t want to hurt anybody or keep on fighting and killing and so on and so forth. It had stopped being about what Ace wanted a long time ago.
Beats zipped up the duffel bag and he grabbed the BR18 placing it over his good shoulder. Ace rolled his arm a bit before lifting up his bag and putting that one Myles had shot days ago. He winced. That wound was weak and hadn’t been cared for properly—it felt tender and raw. Just a little longer. Two more days or so. Ace had heard that two days ago. It might as well have been two hundred years.
“Stay safe Darlene.”
Now the hard part--just walking the fuck away.
What fuckin’ now?
Beats licked his fingers individually and then wiped his hands on his shorts. He tasted of blood, grime and brown sugar. Even when his fingers were licked clean, they still felt sticky and dirty. There were somethings he was completely incapable of washing away. Beats was done even trying. His hands were dirty forever, he’d just have to deal.
So what now? The hard part—just walking the fuck away.
“I’ll keep that in mind if I see ‘em,” Beats said in passing to Darlene as he took one last sip of that water bottle and then threw it in the dark of his bag, “Just, y’know,” he felt a bit like Tirzah here, “If anyone asks—tell ‘em I don’t want no problems,” what did that matter? Ace continued, “Not lookin’ to start shit, just finish it.”
Beats didn’t want problems—Beats was the problem. That was harder to articulate or explain.
If Darlene could vouch for him with some, maybe that was a chance he was not met with immediate hostility at the end. Maybe such a small thing would count for something. Beats wanted to shake his head, it wasn’t so tactical or calculated. Ace didn’t wanna be the bad guy. Ace didn’t want to hurt anybody or keep on fighting and killing and so on and so forth. It had stopped being about what Ace wanted a long time ago.
Beats zipped up the duffel bag and he grabbed the BR18 placing it over his good shoulder. Ace rolled his arm a bit before lifting up his bag and putting that one Myles had shot days ago. He winced. That wound was weak and hadn’t been cared for properly—it felt tender and raw. Just a little longer. Two more days or so. Ace had heard that two days ago. It might as well have been two hundred years.
“Stay safe Darlene.”
Now the hard part--just walking the fuck away.
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"You too," Darlene replied, giving Ace a small wave. "And I will."
He'd adjusted his gun as part of getting ready to go, and she was half tempted to also, because when he was gone she'd be back on her own, and his appearance had reminded her that there were people in these woods besides just her and Abe and Christina. Also, the revolver was not very comfortable pressed into her leg. On the other hand, though, she wanted to be clear she wasn't planning anything suspect, and also she'd have to put the weapon right back down when she brought the paper to her mouth to lick it. So instead she just hung tight.
The world was calm and peaceful. There were bugs making sounds, and the crinkle of faint air currents against trees, and the distant noises of unknowable life that made up this ecosystem they were intruding in. For a second that was all Darlene could think about. What would those bones they'd so casually tossed away mean? Would they feed some scavenger that would've otherwise starved?
It was a comfortable sort of thing to contemplate, something allowed by the moment, so different from the last time she and Ace had parted ways. It was a new experience, in some ways. Most partings Darlene had experienced had been abrupt, or uncertain, or intended to be temporary. Sometimes a mix. She'd been nervous when Jonah and Arizona took off after the trial. She'd been crushed when Max slipped away. It was always like that, but this time it was goodbye, probably forever, and they both knew it (or at least she assumed Ace knew it because he seemed pretty smart) but that was still okay.
She wished Sakurako had been here for this. Maybe the girl had gotten something similar, something good enough in its own way. Ace did say he'd been with her at the end. Maybe she'd just known, and that's why she'd left. Still, the feeling, the character of these partings were so different. Last time, Ace had been in such a hurry that—
"Wait," Darlene called, surprising even herself with the volume she put into it and quickly dialing it back. She held up a finger to convey that she had something else to add, and then she turned her focus to her bag. She'd forgotten. They'd been sitting right there together, so focused on the food and the conversation that he hadn't noticed and she hadn't remembered. Her fingers tugged at laces pulled too tight, worried the knots she'd made.
"I," she said, and the smile that spread over her face was the widest she'd had in a while, "I have something, something else..."
There. Darlene grabbed her prizes and held them up towards him, only giving passing thought to what the fabric and rubber against her fingers had been through, what all gross things had soaked into and permeated it, the faint smell, the fact she was smearing traces of barbecue sauce on them
"I brought your shoes."
He'd adjusted his gun as part of getting ready to go, and she was half tempted to also, because when he was gone she'd be back on her own, and his appearance had reminded her that there were people in these woods besides just her and Abe and Christina. Also, the revolver was not very comfortable pressed into her leg. On the other hand, though, she wanted to be clear she wasn't planning anything suspect, and also she'd have to put the weapon right back down when she brought the paper to her mouth to lick it. So instead she just hung tight.
The world was calm and peaceful. There were bugs making sounds, and the crinkle of faint air currents against trees, and the distant noises of unknowable life that made up this ecosystem they were intruding in. For a second that was all Darlene could think about. What would those bones they'd so casually tossed away mean? Would they feed some scavenger that would've otherwise starved?
It was a comfortable sort of thing to contemplate, something allowed by the moment, so different from the last time she and Ace had parted ways. It was a new experience, in some ways. Most partings Darlene had experienced had been abrupt, or uncertain, or intended to be temporary. Sometimes a mix. She'd been nervous when Jonah and Arizona took off after the trial. She'd been crushed when Max slipped away. It was always like that, but this time it was goodbye, probably forever, and they both knew it (or at least she assumed Ace knew it because he seemed pretty smart) but that was still okay.
She wished Sakurako had been here for this. Maybe the girl had gotten something similar, something good enough in its own way. Ace did say he'd been with her at the end. Maybe she'd just known, and that's why she'd left. Still, the feeling, the character of these partings were so different. Last time, Ace had been in such a hurry that—
"Wait," Darlene called, surprising even herself with the volume she put into it and quickly dialing it back. She held up a finger to convey that she had something else to add, and then she turned her focus to her bag. She'd forgotten. They'd been sitting right there together, so focused on the food and the conversation that he hadn't noticed and she hadn't remembered. Her fingers tugged at laces pulled too tight, worried the knots she'd made.
"I," she said, and the smile that spread over her face was the widest she'd had in a while, "I have something, something else..."
There. Darlene grabbed her prizes and held them up towards him, only giving passing thought to what the fabric and rubber against her fingers had been through, what all gross things had soaked into and permeated it, the faint smell, the fact she was smearing traces of barbecue sauce on them
"I brought your shoes."
“My…,” he was unable to stop himself “Adidas?”
Rap lyric for everything—so much had changed and that somehow remained the same. Ace stared at his shoes like a kid stared at a Christmas present and he was unable to contain his disbelief. Darlene had made a habit of this, huh? She had gotten his tank top at #Swiftball, that’s what she said, right? And now she was holding onto his shoes? This girl had both fed and clothed him and Ace felt a twinge of guilt enter his psyche.
Beats then felt his arms twitch. Ace had to physically restrain his finger from finding the BR18’s trigger.
I’m gonna have to kill her.
The idea was twisted but it was also solid and concrete in his mind. That dark voice in his head that whispered from the corner of his heart—‘You ain’t good enough’. The idea occurred to him explicitly when it had only been in the back of his heart before. Ace had thought that when it came down to it, when this whole thing was at it’s precipice—he would’ve been able to kill Darlene. Her kindness killed that killer instinct. Beats had thought she was different from Connor and now he was stricken with doubt. When it came down to it, would he give the win to Darlene because she deserved it more? Because she was a better person than he?
Connor had given Ace a dream and that couldn’t compare to food or shoes. You’d have to walk in Ace’s to really understand. The collar ‘round his throat was only half as tight as the stranglehold his own darker nature had. The idea was solid in his mind--he was gonna have to kill Darlene. But not today. Not this second. Ace didn’t want to do it and he didn’t have to do it.
Not today—not this second.
“You’re an angel—forreal,” he said with tears in his eyes as he reached for his shoes, “Thank you so, so much.”
He took the shoes from her hands and sat down once more. He placed his gun and bag down and began removing the dirty old canvas shoes and placing on his dirty old Adidas Superstars. White on white. These shoes were completely ruined, covered in blood and mud and muck. Ace used to clean his shoes everyday—he didn’t like spending money on kicks like that. The ones he wanted were clean and ones he could combine with other stuff. He needed to save money on other shit--cleats were expensive, studio equipment, scooter maintenance. Ace had never been one to own J’s or anything crazy like that. He always felt like it was better to save his money. Ace was bad with money. Beats was bad with a lot.
He laced up his shoes and stared at Darlene with a strange appreciation that twisted into an anxious apprehension. What fuckin' now? What did he do? Part of his mind screamed at him to pick up his stuff and run out of there without saying a word. Another part of it screamed to pick up his gun and empty the clip in her right now. Beats didn't listen to either. In football--if you were thinking you were losing and Ace wasn't thinking at all. Beats was overwhelmed with both gratitude and in awe of the generous nature of Darlene's spirit. He couldn't help himself. Ace didn't pick up his stuff and run. He didn't empty the clip in Darlene.
Ace gave her a hug. Quick and awkward, just the way he did everything.
"Thank you, I mean it, " he separated from her and worked his way up, "For everything."
Rap lyric for everything—so much had changed and that somehow remained the same. Ace stared at his shoes like a kid stared at a Christmas present and he was unable to contain his disbelief. Darlene had made a habit of this, huh? She had gotten his tank top at #Swiftball, that’s what she said, right? And now she was holding onto his shoes? This girl had both fed and clothed him and Ace felt a twinge of guilt enter his psyche.
Beats then felt his arms twitch. Ace had to physically restrain his finger from finding the BR18’s trigger.
I’m gonna have to kill her.
The idea was twisted but it was also solid and concrete in his mind. That dark voice in his head that whispered from the corner of his heart—‘You ain’t good enough’. The idea occurred to him explicitly when it had only been in the back of his heart before. Ace had thought that when it came down to it, when this whole thing was at it’s precipice—he would’ve been able to kill Darlene. Her kindness killed that killer instinct. Beats had thought she was different from Connor and now he was stricken with doubt. When it came down to it, would he give the win to Darlene because she deserved it more? Because she was a better person than he?
Connor had given Ace a dream and that couldn’t compare to food or shoes. You’d have to walk in Ace’s to really understand. The collar ‘round his throat was only half as tight as the stranglehold his own darker nature had. The idea was solid in his mind--he was gonna have to kill Darlene. But not today. Not this second. Ace didn’t want to do it and he didn’t have to do it.
Not today—not this second.
“You’re an angel—forreal,” he said with tears in his eyes as he reached for his shoes, “Thank you so, so much.”
He took the shoes from her hands and sat down once more. He placed his gun and bag down and began removing the dirty old canvas shoes and placing on his dirty old Adidas Superstars. White on white. These shoes were completely ruined, covered in blood and mud and muck. Ace used to clean his shoes everyday—he didn’t like spending money on kicks like that. The ones he wanted were clean and ones he could combine with other stuff. He needed to save money on other shit--cleats were expensive, studio equipment, scooter maintenance. Ace had never been one to own J’s or anything crazy like that. He always felt like it was better to save his money. Ace was bad with money. Beats was bad with a lot.
He laced up his shoes and stared at Darlene with a strange appreciation that twisted into an anxious apprehension. What fuckin' now? What did he do? Part of his mind screamed at him to pick up his stuff and run out of there without saying a word. Another part of it screamed to pick up his gun and empty the clip in her right now. Beats didn't listen to either. In football--if you were thinking you were losing and Ace wasn't thinking at all. Beats was overwhelmed with both gratitude and in awe of the generous nature of Darlene's spirit. He couldn't help himself. Ace didn't pick up his stuff and run. He didn't empty the clip in Darlene.
Ace gave her a hug. Quick and awkward, just the way he did everything.
"Thank you, I mean it, " he separated from her and worked his way up, "For everything."
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"It's, you're, uh," Darlene mumbled as she returned the hug, just as fumbling and unsure as she always felt.
It was strange this time, because she thought Ace was just as lost and confused by this as she was, and that in turn left her even more baffled. Ace was cool. That was pretty much all she knew about him before this, or all she thought she knew. He was one of the football guys, and he was at that huge party and almost got in a fight and took his shirt off in a room full of people. He seemed more natural there than Darlene had ever felt anywhere doing anything, so what was this now? He was so much taller than her that the top of her head wouldn't reach his chin.
Just as quickly as it happened, the hug was disengaged and Darlene was on her own again.
"It's nothing," she said, "I just thought, you were in a hurry, I thought you'd maybe want them back."
She was looking at the dirt again, at her feet but also at his. She'd thought a few times about what he'd been doing without the shoes, whether his feet had been hurting and bleeding or if it had tripped him up, but he'd gotten more from somewhere. The replacements looked just about as cruddy as the ones she'd carried, though, and the dirtied white sneakers just fit him better somehow. Still, her footwear was probably looking the best of all three pairs, which was saying a lot since her sneakers had a partial shell of mud and twigs caked to them. She'd noticed earlier that when she stepped on rocks she could feel them more through the soles than normal, which meant the rubber had to be wearing down quite a lot. There would be holes soon, maybe, or not because there wasn't enough time left for that really. It didn't matter either way. The drizzle had made sure her socks were soggy already.
She wondered, all of a sudden, if any of the fancier girls had worn high heels, and if that had gotten any of them killed. It didn't seem like a thing to talk about. She'd messed up the moment enough already, somehow, done something important and right but also broke both of their rhythms in a way she couldn't explain or fully understand.
Darlene scooted a little further away, a conscious effort to let this pass, to get back on track. She was smiling, small but true, and she took her glasses off and cleaned the lenses on the bottom of her blouse quickly, then put them back on, squinted because she'd just scooted the water around some, took them right back off and cleaned them again with a drier spot and then finally she could see clearly. She wanted to keep this moment, even if it didn't last.
"Take care of yourself," she said, quietly, making herself look at his face and linger.
It was strange this time, because she thought Ace was just as lost and confused by this as she was, and that in turn left her even more baffled. Ace was cool. That was pretty much all she knew about him before this, or all she thought she knew. He was one of the football guys, and he was at that huge party and almost got in a fight and took his shirt off in a room full of people. He seemed more natural there than Darlene had ever felt anywhere doing anything, so what was this now? He was so much taller than her that the top of her head wouldn't reach his chin.
Just as quickly as it happened, the hug was disengaged and Darlene was on her own again.
"It's nothing," she said, "I just thought, you were in a hurry, I thought you'd maybe want them back."
She was looking at the dirt again, at her feet but also at his. She'd thought a few times about what he'd been doing without the shoes, whether his feet had been hurting and bleeding or if it had tripped him up, but he'd gotten more from somewhere. The replacements looked just about as cruddy as the ones she'd carried, though, and the dirtied white sneakers just fit him better somehow. Still, her footwear was probably looking the best of all three pairs, which was saying a lot since her sneakers had a partial shell of mud and twigs caked to them. She'd noticed earlier that when she stepped on rocks she could feel them more through the soles than normal, which meant the rubber had to be wearing down quite a lot. There would be holes soon, maybe, or not because there wasn't enough time left for that really. It didn't matter either way. The drizzle had made sure her socks were soggy already.
She wondered, all of a sudden, if any of the fancier girls had worn high heels, and if that had gotten any of them killed. It didn't seem like a thing to talk about. She'd messed up the moment enough already, somehow, done something important and right but also broke both of their rhythms in a way she couldn't explain or fully understand.
Darlene scooted a little further away, a conscious effort to let this pass, to get back on track. She was smiling, small but true, and she took her glasses off and cleaned the lenses on the bottom of her blouse quickly, then put them back on, squinted because she'd just scooted the water around some, took them right back off and cleaned them again with a drier spot and then finally she could see clearly. She wanted to keep this moment, even if it didn't last.
"Take care of yourself," she said, quietly, making herself look at his face and linger.
“I will,” he said rising up and gathering his belongings, “Somehow, someway—I always manage that.”
Brown eyes met green and Ace returned that uneasy smile and then he flashed the peace sign. Now the hard part—walking the fuck away. Ace was always a prisoner of the moment. When the pressure was on and the spotlight was on him—he never made the right choice. It was tough to trust his gut and impossible to trust his heart or his mind. Beats thought about how it would only take a second to turn around and fire upon this short mousey girl. It would be easy—except it wouldn’t be and it never was. Even when you didn’t feel bad, you felt bad about not feeling bad. Thems were the breaks. That was the game. It wasn't personal even when you knew them personally.
Ace’s heart had long turned cold but with his stomach full and his head full of doubt—it wasn’t so easy. In for a penny, in for a pound. Prisoner of the moment. So much had changed and so much had stayed the same.
“See ya…”
‘Hopefully never again.’
Beats began walking away. Inch by inch, moment by moment, step by step—one foot in front of the other. Beats would have to kill Darlene—but not today, not this second. Inch by inch, moment by moment, step by step—one foot in front of the other. It was that simple—until it wasn’t. Ace didn’t want to think about that. In football if you were thinking you were losing and Ace was done losing. In the end, he walked away and didn’t turn back. In the end, Ace ended up running away quickly and awkwardly. Just like he did everything.
So much had changed and so much remained the same. In Ace's case, both were unfortunate.
[ Ace Beats Continued In: many men (wish death) ]
Brown eyes met green and Ace returned that uneasy smile and then he flashed the peace sign. Now the hard part—walking the fuck away. Ace was always a prisoner of the moment. When the pressure was on and the spotlight was on him—he never made the right choice. It was tough to trust his gut and impossible to trust his heart or his mind. Beats thought about how it would only take a second to turn around and fire upon this short mousey girl. It would be easy—except it wouldn’t be and it never was. Even when you didn’t feel bad, you felt bad about not feeling bad. Thems were the breaks. That was the game. It wasn't personal even when you knew them personally.
Ace’s heart had long turned cold but with his stomach full and his head full of doubt—it wasn’t so easy. In for a penny, in for a pound. Prisoner of the moment. So much had changed and so much had stayed the same.
“See ya…”
‘Hopefully never again.’
Beats began walking away. Inch by inch, moment by moment, step by step—one foot in front of the other. Beats would have to kill Darlene—but not today, not this second. Inch by inch, moment by moment, step by step—one foot in front of the other. It was that simple—until it wasn’t. Ace didn’t want to think about that. In football if you were thinking you were losing and Ace was done losing. In the end, he walked away and didn’t turn back. In the end, Ace ended up running away quickly and awkwardly. Just like he did everything.
So much had changed and so much remained the same. In Ace's case, both were unfortunate.
[ Ace Beats Continued In: many men (wish death) ]
"My man got too familiar and I’d ended up having to whoop his ass, man, you know. Because he would step across the line. Habitually. He’s a habitual line stepper.” -Charlie Murphy
V8 Relationship Thread
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
Slidin'
Lookin' for the opps, they been hidin'
I grew up 'round drugs, sex, and violence
We turnt off they street, we heard sirens
Since a juvenile, I been wylin'
-
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"See you," Darlene said too, even though it probably wasn't true.
She watched Ace's departure, all of it. Every hurried, uncertain step, Darlene kept her eyes trained on and tried to imprint permanently on her mind. She'd learned, now, how easy it was to take things for granted. She couldn't remember quite what it was like to say goodbye to Arizona when the girl split off to go collect her first prize. Other things were a little more clear—the whispered parting at the trial, Jonah telling her to go as he bled and faced down Michael—because they'd been so dramatic, but Darlene couldn't conjure to mind what she'd said to her parents the last morning at home, before she boarded the bus, or what she'd even said when she phoned them up before she started back. She couldn't recall how the visit to the Newseum had ended, whether it had actually been as awkward as it felt that whole time with Bert. But when Ace disappeared into the foliage in a way where she couldn't tell if he'd just run out of sight or if he had tripped and wiped out, that was clear as day and she decided would stay that way forever, or at least for as much of it as she had left.
Darlene counted after the boy was fully gone, obscured from all her senses. She didn't know how high she was counting to, when she started, just that it was a good idea to count a little extra in case he turned around and came crashing back, or started screaming or something. None of that happened right away, at least. Darlene made it to fifteen.
That was enough. Ace wasn't coming back. They'd already said goodbye twice! And besides, there were bugs all around and while Darlene had only seen the single solitary ant invading their picnic, there was no telling when reinforcements would arrive. So she snatched up the wax paper and held it before her face, contemplating the angle of attack.
The concentration of sauce was thickest right in the center, where the meat had been bundled up. There, the drippings were dense and viscous, a dark brown color that stood out against the lighter hue of the paper. It even looked like there were a couple tiny scraps of loose meat and fat left. Further towards the fringes, where the paper had overlapped itself, there were big chunks of empty real estate, bare of anything worthwhile. Where there were residual patches of sauce, it was often partially-dried. She poked at one of these smears with her finger, and it still came away with some residue on it, though.
One of the larger gobs of sauce in the middle started to slide down the paper, and that put any further tactical considerations out of Darlene's head. She brought it to her lips, stuck her tongue out, and licked and licked, lapped at it, scraping the paper of anything and everything she could get. There was nothing particularly substantial, even the lingering scraps of meat melting instantly in her mouth. Each moment was just that: a brief instant of further flavor, followed by nothing but aftertaste. It wouldn't have been worth the effort normally, but that wouldn't have stopped Darlene; her dad still got on her sometimes about licking clean the bowl when she had ice cream.
Inevitably, before long there was nothing left to get at. Darlene held a soggy, wet shred of wax paper, ran her tongue uselessly over it again and again. But by now, it bore no lingering resemblance to eating ribs. She was just wasting spit in search of another piece of the past.
This entire time, her focus had been so much on her efforts that the world had melted away. Abruptly, it returned. Darlene let the top of the paper fold down like she was a spy on the bus peering over the evening news, and she half expected to see Ace doubled over in laughter and half expected to be making eye contact with a gun, but neither was the case. She was still all alone, murky humid forest stretching beyond sight in all directions, no sign she'd ever had company aside from the little pile of bones that was already drawing the insects.
Darlene crumpled the paper and tossed it in that direction as well, then pulled herself to her feet, shuffled the contents of her bag around, sucked on her fingers until she didn't taste anything but hand, and wasted an antiseptic wipe from her kit to clean them even more carefully. Then she pulled the revolver back out of her skirt. She didn't put it in the bag after all.
Finally, reequipped and centered, Darlene set off once again down the path towards where she'd been... an hour ago? More now? The guilt about not bringing ribs back to share settled in her stomach right along with the food. But maybe she wouldn't have anything to feel bad about on that front after all.
She really did hope Abe and Christina were still waiting.
((Darlene Silva continued in You Gotta Roll With It, You Gotta Take Your Time))
She watched Ace's departure, all of it. Every hurried, uncertain step, Darlene kept her eyes trained on and tried to imprint permanently on her mind. She'd learned, now, how easy it was to take things for granted. She couldn't remember quite what it was like to say goodbye to Arizona when the girl split off to go collect her first prize. Other things were a little more clear—the whispered parting at the trial, Jonah telling her to go as he bled and faced down Michael—because they'd been so dramatic, but Darlene couldn't conjure to mind what she'd said to her parents the last morning at home, before she boarded the bus, or what she'd even said when she phoned them up before she started back. She couldn't recall how the visit to the Newseum had ended, whether it had actually been as awkward as it felt that whole time with Bert. But when Ace disappeared into the foliage in a way where she couldn't tell if he'd just run out of sight or if he had tripped and wiped out, that was clear as day and she decided would stay that way forever, or at least for as much of it as she had left.
Darlene counted after the boy was fully gone, obscured from all her senses. She didn't know how high she was counting to, when she started, just that it was a good idea to count a little extra in case he turned around and came crashing back, or started screaming or something. None of that happened right away, at least. Darlene made it to fifteen.
That was enough. Ace wasn't coming back. They'd already said goodbye twice! And besides, there were bugs all around and while Darlene had only seen the single solitary ant invading their picnic, there was no telling when reinforcements would arrive. So she snatched up the wax paper and held it before her face, contemplating the angle of attack.
The concentration of sauce was thickest right in the center, where the meat had been bundled up. There, the drippings were dense and viscous, a dark brown color that stood out against the lighter hue of the paper. It even looked like there were a couple tiny scraps of loose meat and fat left. Further towards the fringes, where the paper had overlapped itself, there were big chunks of empty real estate, bare of anything worthwhile. Where there were residual patches of sauce, it was often partially-dried. She poked at one of these smears with her finger, and it still came away with some residue on it, though.
One of the larger gobs of sauce in the middle started to slide down the paper, and that put any further tactical considerations out of Darlene's head. She brought it to her lips, stuck her tongue out, and licked and licked, lapped at it, scraping the paper of anything and everything she could get. There was nothing particularly substantial, even the lingering scraps of meat melting instantly in her mouth. Each moment was just that: a brief instant of further flavor, followed by nothing but aftertaste. It wouldn't have been worth the effort normally, but that wouldn't have stopped Darlene; her dad still got on her sometimes about licking clean the bowl when she had ice cream.
Inevitably, before long there was nothing left to get at. Darlene held a soggy, wet shred of wax paper, ran her tongue uselessly over it again and again. But by now, it bore no lingering resemblance to eating ribs. She was just wasting spit in search of another piece of the past.
This entire time, her focus had been so much on her efforts that the world had melted away. Abruptly, it returned. Darlene let the top of the paper fold down like she was a spy on the bus peering over the evening news, and she half expected to see Ace doubled over in laughter and half expected to be making eye contact with a gun, but neither was the case. She was still all alone, murky humid forest stretching beyond sight in all directions, no sign she'd ever had company aside from the little pile of bones that was already drawing the insects.
Darlene crumpled the paper and tossed it in that direction as well, then pulled herself to her feet, shuffled the contents of her bag around, sucked on her fingers until she didn't taste anything but hand, and wasted an antiseptic wipe from her kit to clean them even more carefully. Then she pulled the revolver back out of her skirt. She didn't put it in the bag after all.
Finally, reequipped and centered, Darlene set off once again down the path towards where she'd been... an hour ago? More now? The guilt about not bringing ribs back to share settled in her stomach right along with the food. But maybe she wouldn't have anything to feel bad about on that front after all.
She really did hope Abe and Christina were still waiting.
((Darlene Silva continued in You Gotta Roll With It, You Gotta Take Your Time))