Chilly Boulder Ice Creamery, Sunday Afternoon

[death_of_hope]

Whatever bout of Fandom strangeness was going on had completely passed Anemone by.

For once, she was not pleased about it.

Which is why she's grabbed a spot at Chilly Boulder with her sketchbook and colors.  If she doesn't get have to put up with children of her own, she's going to eat her ice cream and watch all the other make-shift families run

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[damn_twin_genes]

Her mama had shoved a ten dollar bill into Emily's hand, pressed it hard into her palm and said, "You seem a smart enough girl. You take your brother and go do something; you know where to find me when you're done," which, really, Emily was used to, even if so many things about her mother seemed different right now. So she and Edgar went walking, and then she made the decision that ice cream would be a good use of the ten dollars.

That would explain why, while his sister was getting them both ice cream, Edgar, still with his hands both heavily bandages to keep him from eating them, was standing there staring at the girl with the pink hair.

He'd never seen pink hair before; some of the women in Africa where Uncle A'tole and Aunt Leah and his cousins lived had orange hair, or red hair, but never pink hair.

It called for staring. And Edgar had one hell of a stare, the kind that made people pretty sure that there was absolutely nothing going on behind those wide, heavy-lidded eyes at all.

[death_of_hope]

Anemone was rather good at knowing when she was being watched, and looked up from her notebook to meet the eyes of the little boy watching her. Staring didn't bother her as much as it used to, but she returned didn't blink as she continued to watch him.

[damn_twin_genes]

If this was going to turn into a staring contest, the results would be rather interesting. Edgar didn't move, didn't blink, although his focus had definitely shifted to the pretty eyes staring back at him rather than the pretty hair, and he was unlikely to shift even the slightest while his sister was distracted with the bountiful ice cream choices.

[death_of_hope]

Anemone just plopped her chin in her hand to keep watching him. At least this one was honest about the staring, rather than trying to hide it.

Finally giving up, she blinked once, slowly and deliberately before grinning. "Hey kid. You aren't mine, are you?" He didn't feel like a Coralian, but it didn't hurt to ask.

[damn_twin_genes]

Just because it was quite clear that Edgar had won didn't mean he was going to stop staring.

At least after a little while longer, he let out a muttered, "No."

And stared some more, feeling glad that Emily was taking so long with the ice cream, because if she saw what he was doing, she would make him stop.

[death_of_hope]

Too bad. She liked him.

"Okay," she said, picking up a crayon again and starting to draw again. She occasionally glanced back up at his, as of the sketches started looking slightly like the set of his eyes.

[damn_twin_genes]

After a moment, Edgar commented, "That's a stupid drawing."

Which wasn't true; he liked the drawing and he liked the lady drawing it, especially her pink hair, but that was exactly why he had to say what he said. He liked her, so he had to make her dislike him.

[death_of_hope]

"Can you do better?" she asked, raising one eyebrow at the boy. "Then step up and grab a crayon. Otherwise, keep enjoying the staring."

[damn_twin_genes]

"I could do a lot better," Edgar answered, with a disenchanted type of voice. He knew he couldn't, but he was thinking about what else he could do with a crayon that didn't involve drawing.

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten that his mother had reapplied the bandages covering his hands, making them little more than blunt objects with no grasping abilities, and he didn't realize it until he lifted one of them to take the crayon.

He dropped his hands back to his side; that option blocked, he just stared some more.

[death_of_hope]

"What happened?" Anemone's hand flashed out to try and grab his wrist. "Are you okay?"

[damn_twin_genes]

Edgar let the lady take his wrist, but only so he could try hitting her hand around it with his other hand as he let out a whining sound that dragged out and he tried to squirm away.

In the way that was clearly not actually trying.

The whining was enough to get Emily's attention over by the counter and she, wide-eyed, hurried over. "Edgar! Stop that! Ma'am, I'd let go right now, if I were you, his next step is usually trying to bite."

[death_of_hope]

"I bite back," she snapped, not letting go. "So he's welcome to try. So, Edgar, huh? What happened? Someone hurt him?"

[damn_twin_genes]

Emily started to feel a little bit of a swell of panic, a swell of panic that all of her six years was way too young for. "Ma'am, please, that'd only do what he wants. No one hurt him, 'cept himself. We have to bandage his hands like that so that he doesn't try to chew them off..."

The squirming and the hitting became a little more forceful, and Edgar started to breath harder than he should, intentionally, purposely, short little breaths to make his lungs work harder than they should.

"Just let him go, ma'am, please?" Emily said, bouncing nervously between her feet. "I'm sorry, it's my fault; I shoulda watched him better..."

[death_of_hope]

"He doesn't need watching, he watches just fine on his own," Anemone replied, but she opened her hand anyway for Edgar to remove his hand if he wanted to. "Calm down, Edger, a little crazy never hurt anyone. It just makes us more interesting at parties when we grow up."

[damn_twin_genes]

Edgar pulled away and waved his arms around him as if making it a protective pinwill, stomping his feet and letting out more screams. Emily winced, tempted to cover her ears because she hated when her brother did the screaming, but she was holding two ice cream cones, so it didn't work very well.

"A little crazy, maybe," she muttered, although she muttered it loudly enough that the pink-haired woman could hear, "but a lot of it goes a long way. He's sick, ma'am; his brain's like Mama's and doesn't work right, so he tries to hurt himself all the time. He probably won't live past age twenty."

She stated the last bit with an informed sort of pride.

[death_of_hope]

Anemone didn't wince or cover her ears at the screaming, she just tilted her head and stared at him. "You are special, aren't you?" she mused.

"Like your mama, huh?" Anemone transfered her gaze to the girl. "Who's mama? I thought he might be mine at first, except he doesn't feel right."