002 || dream; action

[cruciverbal]

There's a hazy sort of half-light that filters in through the palm trees lined against the road - twilight, or perhaps dawn. The sky overhead is darker, unobstructed, but not quite clear; the pervasive smog in this city makes it difficult to call any day (or night, for that matter) truly clearB walks for another few steps, then stops, looks up at

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[whiskeykillshot]

Oh joy. Gloomier and gloomier... did nobody in this damn dream world have any kind of good dreams for once? Rubi never was a sunshine and lollipops sort of person, but the whole undead/gothic nonsense was starting to get repetitive. The fact she kept stubbing her toes on lower standing tombstones didn't do much to help her temper.
Noting both B as well as the mystery boy several meters ahead, she halted. "Great place to have a babysitting job." Malone drawled under her breath, staring the two down with an unreadable expression.

[cruciverbal]

The boy is the one who glances up at her, pushing a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. "Who are you?" His tone is calm, not hostile, not accusing, only mildly curious.

[whiskeykillshot]

She grimaced and dug a toe into the turf like a kid caught stealing candy from the store. Had she been that loud? "Probably a person responsible for half the corpses here." Rubi muttered, settling her arms over her chest. "Not that it matters at this point."

[cruciverbal]

B chimes in without looking up: "Importance is relative." It's deadpan, the way he speaks, and the boy's gaze returns to the two headstones in front of them. "You didn't kill them." He unwraps his arms from around himself and shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

[whiskeykillshot]

Ooooookay, that was even creepier. Sooner or later Rubi expected a sudden outburst of 'red rum' chorusing from the two, from the way both were in some sort of connected mental state. She did have a twinge of curiosity, however, and refrained from retreating or initiating what would've been a pointless argument. "And how do you know that? I could be a serial killer and mental asylum escapee. You can never tell these days."

[cruciverbal]

With one arm, B pulls his knees a bit closer to his chest, while he points to the headstone on the left with the other. "He was murdered by a member of a local gang, shot in the head at point-blank range three times." The boy sighs, casting his gaze down to the ground as he points to the headstone on the right. "She died in a train crash." B falls silent again, tilts his head to rest the side of his face on top of his knees; the boy glances up at Rubi with an intent, unblinking stare. "We couldn't stop it."

[whiskeykillshot]

A long stretch of absolute silence followed. Her head cocked to one side in an almost birdlike fashion, she pursed her lips and whistled, her humorless smile somewhat souring the tone. "You got me. One point for the boys." Clearly she was missing something here; they must've known the two in the grave at some point during life.
"Things happen, people die." She shrugged, taking a seat on the cool grass. "Not a whole lot anyone can do about it."

[cruciverbal]

"We know people die - it's the other end of living. We've seen it happen." B turns his head to face Rubi as she sits. The boy watches, silent for a moment, then takes a few slow steps toward her and also sits down on the grass, pulling his knees to his chest in the same manner as B. He states, very matter-of-factly: "But if we know it's going to happen, there's still something we should be able to do about it."

[whiskeykillshot]

Rubi processed their argument in silence, rubbing her tattooed forearm with a thumb in an almost inquisitive fashion. Her eyelids drifted halfway closed. "Not necessarily. If you put your neck on the line, then that's a whole lot of unneeded grief right there. At worst you'd get killed." She sounds rather matter-of-fact in a neutral sort of way, as if merely commenting on the weather or some other topic of insignificance.

[cruciverbal]

The boy leans forward, rests his chin on the top of his knees, still watching her, eyes wide and curious. "Have you tried?"

[whiskeykillshot]

"Once. I regretted it." She responded flatly. Her eyes became shuttered and completely emotionless, not liking this new turn in conversation. Malone never liked to talk about herself if she could help it.

[cruciverbal]

The boy notices this - the subtle changes, the minute shift in body language - but he asks anyway. "What happened?"

[whiskeykillshot]

Bah. What the hell was so interesting about a hitman's mistakes? Other than a lot of blood and gore, it probably wasn't anything they hadn't seen before. "A shitty mistake. That's it." She growled, cranky at such an intrusion. "It's over. That's that."

[cruciverbal]

B pipes in, without looking up: "You're upset."

[whiskeykillshot]

Her reply was grated out between her teeth rather than actually spoken. "I. Am. Not. Upset."
....yeah, way to fail Rubi.

[cruciverbal]

B's tone is completely unruffled: "You sound upset."