Day 36: Waiting Room/Lobby 1
Oh yeah. This was bad. Grabbing a chair and ignoring the woman who had brought him in, Takaya crossed his arms and glared at the wall. He wasn't going to participate in this bullshit. Being told he had 'company' and that he should he happy about it had ruined what was otherwise an okay day
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Meche was sure it had to be some kind of mistake. Surely no one could be coming for her. Who would it have been, even? The angelitos were too much to hope for. One of the other Double-N ticket holders? Someone she'd known as a volunteer when she was alive? It couldn't be; of course they would all think she was still dead. Even if they'd somehow gotten the memo about her reincarnation (or whatever this was), they wouldn't recognize her anymore. She was so much younger than she'd been when she died.
Because surely it couldn't be anyone else, she told herself. The others were dead (and gone, which was another thing altogether). Meche didn't have a calendar on her, but she was positive today wasn't the Day of the Dead. That ruled out anyone she still knew in the Eighth Underworld who hadn't been sprouted (Eva was about the only name on that list anyway, and why would Eva visit her?). And even if Glottis had roared up right outside in the Bone Wagon, she knew she wouldn't have been able to see him anyway. Not anymore.
She sat quietly, hands folded, waiting for the nurse to come back and tell her, "Sorry, María, there's been a misunderstanding; let's get you back to the Sun Room now." Because that was what was going to happen, any minute now. There was no one coming.
There was no one coming.
So why did she feel so nervous?
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Most of the reunions had an initial moment of recognition, even of joy, but then something seemed to be changing. She watched smiles drop like sinking bodies as the conversations continued. She wasn't listening to anyone's conversation in particular, but she caught tones of frustration, even anger. One woman had started sobbing. Not too far from her, a boy with--white? odd--hair suddenly sprang up and flew at the older gentleman facing him. A nurse and a pair of orderlies got there almost instantly, but not in time to stop that poor kid from throwing up all over the floor.
What on earth could they all be saying that would lead to this much tension?
Meche thought about approaching one of the nurses and asking if she could leave, but they looked like they had plenty to deal with as it was. Something was wrong here, and she was starting to have a sinking feeling that she was about to find out what it was.
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He glanced around the lobby over the rim of his sunglasses and pushed them up again when he found the pigeon, looking kind of out of place without a stack of reports to file. Every suit was his best suit, but he'd made a point of wearing this one today - the last suit she'd seen him in, the day he'd watched them come into the office and take her away. A yellow collar stuck out against dark jade, and his shoes were shined to perfection. He noticed the body filling them was getting more than a few glances from the staff, as well. He was raring to go twenty-four seven with his strapping build and his immaculate tan and his professionally styled hair kept in place with designer gel - and a smile that could bend any client to his whim.
Victor flashed his admirers a grin before making his way towards María, both hands behind his back. He halted about two steps in front of her. His smirk only widened as he studied her new clothes.
"You lost your mind and your wardrobe?"
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Domino.
The one person she least wanted to see. Ever again. Especially like this. Even with skin, she wouldn't have needed the lines of his body, the sound of his voice, or the well-remembered and hideous colors of his suit to pick him out of a crowd. Show her that smirk, anywhere on earth, and Meche would have thought: Domino Hurley.
And then the man himself was right there in front of her (in the flesh) and all she could do was gape. Stop doing that, her brain was screaming at her, he'll take it as a compliment! but Meche couldn't move. Domino.
So Landel was willing to bring someone back from the dead just to torment her. What was going to happen to Domino after he walked back out that door? Would he disappear, or would they kill him again? And then what--would he end up back in the Eighth Underworld with a second chance, or would he just go right back to...
...those coral crushers flashed in front of her eyes again. Domino. That smirk being devoured into ashes.
She'd thought she was over all this.
But Meche knew Domino well enough to know that her window for making a snappy comeback was closing fast, and that only bad things were going to happen if she missed it. Working on instinct, she shot back, "Too bad they don't judge insanity on the basis of fashion; we'd be trading places. Teal and canary, Domino, seriously? Why did you come here, anyway--just to inflict that painful color combination on me?"
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"I'm afraid you aren't in a position to be making calls on what's 'fashionable', sweetheart," he sneered, tilting his head back. He grinned and waved a hand, brushing that aside, then gave an exaggerated sigh. "As far as I know, giving me a pet name wasn't part of your contract," he said gently, as if talking to a slow person, which in fact, he was.
"I'm here for what's mine," he went on in a tone of feigned innocence, seeming a little colder now. "I thought you might be interested in coming back to work for me. Once you're on the home stretch, that is."
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But what the hell did he mean by "work for him"? The man was dead. Hector's operation had been shut down. Unless...maybe he only had memories from before--before the crushers. Maybe he honestly thought she was just going to go back to being his obedient little secretary on that godforsaken factory island in the middle of the Sea of Lament. Filing his papers. Making his coffee.
Think again, Buster. Even she didn't want to get out of here that badly--not yet.
"And listen to me, Domino Hurley. If you think I'm ever gonna agree to waltzing back to you and being trapped in that hellhole of an office again, you've got another thing coming," she snarled. "Just in case pointing a gun at you didn't make that quite clear enough."
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"With that attitude," he said once he'd collected himself, "I'll be glad to show your replacement the door."
"... Are we on the same page here? I'm Victor, remember?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, as if it might help get the message across, but ended up shaking his head in disappointment and releasing her. "That was a fantasy, María. Brought on by your delusional co-worker."
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Well, he wasn't bright enough to keep that up forever. Sooner or later he'd have to slip up, and she might be able to use it to her advantage.
In the meantime, though, it couldn't hurt to find out who María was supposed to be and what she'd done to land herself here. Was her "delusional co-worker" supposed to be Manny?
"Sorry," she forced herself to sigh, raking her fingers through her hair. Ugh. Like apologizing to the snake in the chicken coop. "It's just that being here makes things a little...fuzzy, sometimes. And you know what else I'm confused about: I can't think why you still want me to work for you. Or are you developing a taste for spit in your coffee?"
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