Not only can ya sing, but you can dance... You really are a fuckin' super-star

[Irina Ivanov]

The real deal smile? Rebecca's smiles always melted together in a strange, insincere mixture of stone and sunshine that weathered into nothing in particular. The smile bestowed to an irritating class clown was the same one shared with an acquaintance whose house she was residing at. Of course, they varied with intensity and size, but if a smile of contempt looked exactly the same as a 'true' smile, then are they really any different?

Perhaps to Lucille, who was used to it, Rebecca's response of a smile was worrisome more then anything. Rebecca sometimes found it hard to tell what Rebecca was feeling herself, if she was feeling guilty, sad, overwhelmed. She just had to wait for time to come and make it clear, and it has.

She felt this theoretical snake begin to unwind around her chest, the taste of metallic hot-coldness vanish from her words, and that's when she knew she had calmed down. That's when Rebecca knew to open the box of emotions she had locked away, without worry that it would burst out like arterial blood. She was correct, nothing was behind the box that seemed so monstrously uncontrollable, nothing at all.

"Hm, yeah, I can understand that. Gore is pretty uncom..."

...Nothing at all? Try again.

"I'm sure many others feel the same. One of my middle teachers fainted when a pigeon was eviscerated by a crow, and half my elementary school friends hated SOTF. And probably still do."

There still was nothing, except a chuckle from herself. Rebecca stood with a closed posture towards Lucille, one hand still organizing her side of the table, and the other nested her lap. Despite Lucille and Rebecca's relative physical closeness, Rebecca felt more connected to the pencil case.

No matter what Lucille said, Rebecca felt, not a knot of string in her stomach, but rather the opposite. A string she had been dancing on without knowing the consequences, and now it was severed. Sure, it was repairable, but sever it hard enough, or sever it too much, and is it really the same once you retie it?

"I can understand not wanting to watch it by yourself, even some scenes can get too much for me."

That came out as a hollow, blatant lie, and it was. Brutal honesty was her general policy, but even if she was no drama club member, Rebecca still knew that saying what she wants was not always the best idea. But after replaying Lucille's reaction to her drawing for the third time? She had the heart to only lead Lucille away with a very half-hearted lie. Lucille deserved that much.

"If I'll be honest, that does sound close to masochism. But I think it'll work out for you in the end, I mean, perhaps it already has. You're a pretty big super-fan, and I'll say it takes guts to watch SOTF with your uh, situation. I think just about anyone else would take a, 'moral high ground' and just deride SOTF as a whole."

That, somehow, felt more genuine. There was no lace creating a connection, of course. Rebecca's thoughts were far and away, away from Lucille's shoes. Perhaps because of that, what Rebecca might have said might not have helped. It might have been as fake-sounding as just about every soap opera on television right now. There wasn't anything she could do about that. Rebecca opened the cabinet for Lucille, beckoning their (actually well-progressed) piece to be received back into the darkness.

"You're inviting me, to a watch party?"

Rebecca didn't have much on schedule, fortunately. Dance was cancelled this week since the teachers were away, and Rebecca was hardly invited to a party. It left her a lot of time to watch SOTF, naturally. After what she did, Rebecca reckoned she needed a way to apologise to Lucille, even if it was sitting together watching teenagers shooting each other. Even if that thought created a tiny seed, or large bloom of nervousness in her.

"Probably. Maybe. Depends on how much time I have."