terrible at math

[candlejack]

Comments

[jemerite]

[She'd actually been quite excellent at math, what had been lacking was her foresight. She had ruined someone's life, sent him off to jail to beaten and abused ruthlessly by his fellow inmates. And he'd back to kill her for it. Although, she never would have expected Barbet to infect her. Maybe that was where it had all gone wrong. She still didn't really understand him.

She reflects on it quietly while he's out. She's gone to sit on the landing of the stairs leading up to the studio, her legs dangling over the street, arms folded on the knee-rail. The door behind her is open, should she need to disappear inside with expediency for some reason. He'll probably be annoyed she's letting bugs in again... Oh well. They can be killed.]

[lmaoherlife]

[ Sasha is not excellent at math, but she is excellent at avoiding risks. As much as she can. Risks are too prone to get her into trouble and she already does that without even trying, so she avoids taking them as much as possible - at all, most to the time.

She isn't sure why she's there, but it doesn't matter. She doesn't question things. Not usually. She keeps to herself, walks with her head low, hunched over, looking smaller than she is, thinner than she is, a sack of flesh and bones under large hoodies and jeans too big for her. It's very unattractive, but she prefers it that way. Less glances towards her. People don't like looking at homeless people, even if they are as harmless and skittish as Sasha. It's like a they're a disease you will catch if you do look.

She's sitting on the stairs, rolling a cigarette, hood falling upon her face, head leaning against the rails. She's tired, like always, but not high. ]

[jemerite]

[Zinc looks down at her, watching her with bored interest. The street was usually empty, it wasn't really a place for the living, unless you were a thug of some kind or another. Zinc has no complaints, so little changes between each day for her, it's really quite novel.

She sniffs curiously, curious to know if it's tobacco she's rolling or something else. If it's the latter, Zinc does not want to be downwind from it. She catches the scent of something else though, and sits up a little straighter, her intensity focused on the girl.]

[lmaoherlife]

[ It is tobacco. She's too tired to smoke weed because she needs to be awake and though it does damper the paranoia and calms her down, Sasha knows it also makes her drowsy.

Finished with the cigarette, she closes the bag and the filters, shoving it on her worn out, dirty backpack, putting it on her lap and wrapping her arms around the thing like a child does with a teddy bear, setting her chin on it. She takes a small lighter out of the pocket of her hoodie, flicking it and touching the tip to the flame it emits, letting a cloud of smoke out.

Finally, she takes a time to look around. It is a rather empty street. Sasha has no qualms with that. She likes it that way. Her head turns and she looks up and jumps when she sees the girl watching her back. Quickly, she turns her head down, like a dog that's out of order. ]

S-sorry. I didn't, hm, didn't know s-someone else was h-here. [ Such a pathetic lispy stutter. ]

[jemerite]

[Not weed, no, something else entirely and Zinc crawls on her hands and knees to the edge of the landing to take another sniff, her nose wrinkling.]

You're human.

[Her brows furrow. That's obvious, skin and dirt and sweat, but what is the rest.]

[lmaoherlife]

[ The crawling on her hands in knees, it doesn't bother her. She has seen weirder stuff. What bothers her is the fact that she is coming closer. She recoils a little and looks at her, before averting her eyes to the floor, nodding.

Maybe if she obeys, she won't hurt her.

Head low, she nervously rolls the cigarette between her index and thumb, staring at it quite intensely so she won't have to look at the girl on her hands and knees. ]

[makhairai]

[Facon can walk down these streets with confidence now, instead of hiding in the shadows, avoiding every white face she sees. She owes that to Zinc, although she might have managed it on her own, eventually. Perhaps it is sad to see the state the woman's in now, but there were consequences and karma, Facon had never stopped believing in that. She stops on the street below the steps, calling up,]

Is your Frenchman here?

[jemerite]

[She stares down at Facon thoughtfully. It wouldn't amuse Barbet to be called hers, but she likes the sound of it. She likes that it comes out of Facon's mouth. Zinc had liked her, she had been so much more clever than Durban, so much more appreciative. It was too bad Zinc hadn't gotten to enjoy it after all the hard work she'd done.]

No.

[Her legs swing for a moment, considering how long he's been gone already. It's never extended, and she doesn't complain, as long as he comes back.]

He'll be back, if you want to wait.

[She motions to the open door. Facon is the only person she would say that to. She's the boss, she can come in if she wants, otherwise Zinc will take her messages and pass them on when Barbet returns.]

[makhairai]

[She didn't think he would be, considering Zinc was outside. The artist was intensely protective over this particular reanimate, and Facon allowed it, even if Zinc was a little too free and a little too smart. Barbet's talent made up for his eccentricities.

She climbs up the stairs without a response, thinks maybe she'll have a poke around the studio while he's away anyway. Zinc was a special kind of guard dog, but Facon knew how to handle her if she got snappy.]

Where has he gone?

[jemerite]

Shopping.

[They both needed to eat, and he never did like anyone else buying his paints either. She wasn't any help on such excursions, just something else to worry about, so she's here, sitting and waiting. She's a very good guard dog.

She uses the rails to help pull herself up to her feet.]

[makhairai]

Of course. Spending money.

[Barbet was an investment, there was no other way to put it. He was lucky he actually did the work he was needed for, but then, Durban probably would have gotten rid of him years ago, if he'd been as useless as he often seems.

She doesn't help Zinc up, just slips past her, walking into the studio. It's as much of a mess as always, but it isn't as if she has to spend much time there. The first port of call is of course, the wall of faces.]

It surprises me he doesn't have you openly displayed somewhere, Zinc.

[jemerite]

[She follows inside, pulling the door shut after her, no need to keep letting all the summertime bugs in if she isn't outside. She does not follow Facon over to the other pictures, goes over to one of her puzzles spread out over the open floor, eying its pieces thoughtfully from above.]

I am not a toy.

[She is not for display. She is his to have.]

[makhairai]

Art. That's what he calls them. And art is made to be seen.

[She remembers Zinc's ego. She wonders if this situation feeds it, or if it disappeared with her life, left her crushed by captivity and undeath.]

[jemerite]

[She crouches down, picking up and few pieces, pressing them into place.]

You think I'm pretty, Facon?

[There's amusement in her voice, dry and teasing.]

[makhairai]

[She raises an eyebrow. Zinc knew the answer to that one - they'd fucked enough times before she'd died.]

What I think doesn't matter much, does it?

[jemerite]

You're the boss.

[And one of incredibly few living humans that Zinc was allowed to interact with openly. A few more puzzle pieces are put into their places before she pushes back up to her feet. She wanders over to the windows without even thinking about it, gazing out onto the street again.]