Sugar has no idea what has been going down - in fact, she's come to visit Karla because it's been a while, and it's nice and sunny. Her daughter is off playing with one of the many uncles she's adopted for herself, Cal is probably still playing night-dweller, and well...
She thought she'd invite her friend to a picnic. So yes, she has food in a basket on her arm, and she'll knock on the door politely.
After a moment, there is the sound of movement from behind the door, and it opens. The expression on Karla's face is - blank. Her eyes are empty, her mouth has settled into a relaxed position that means nothing, and there is something distant about her posture.
Then she smiles, and it's just sad. "Hello, Sugar," she says. She glances at the picnic basket and remembers, abruptly, the first picnic, when they first -
Karla blinks a little, but she is of course allowed, though she seems a little - out of it, a little confused. "--he's gone," she says, after a second, and saying it again seems to drive it home a little more. "He's just - gone."
Oh dear. Sugar's heart sinks to her heels, just thinking about how she would feel if Cal were to suddenly disappear. She and Armand didn't get on well - but it matters little in this instant. It's all about Karla.
"--- Oh, Karla --" She opens her arms, offers a hug.
Karla takes a shaky breath in, and starts to claim that she's fine, it'll be okay, but in the next moment she is in Sugar's arms and just - not crying, not sobbing, but her face is wet and she is shaking, violently.
"Hush," is all that Sugar says, and her hand gently reaches to touch her friend's hair, she might be petting her slowly, trying to give her a reassuring touch, that she's there, and real, and well... at least that's that?
She'll just weather it, because the young reformed prostitute doesn't really have the words for this. Just the understanding.
That's good. The words too often don't mean much, and Karla's feeling so fragile that the wrong words might shatter her. At the moment, she's just trying to hold it together, and her arms come up to cling to Sugar, just a little.
"It feels like I must have done something wrong, somehow-"
Sugar is... a bit undone, to be quite honest. It's the first time that the roles are reversed, and she's not sure what to do, but she.. really wants to return the friendship and the favors she's received in the past.
"That's not possible," she finally says with -- more faith than she thought she had in her. "-- You couldn't."
"I don't know," she says, still frantically, "What if I did, without knowing it? What if somehow-"
It's...once in a blue moon she falls apart like this. It is new to the typist as well. Even when she was poisoned and dying and Morton was killed, it wasn't like this. She was fighting, then.
"No," Sugar says with more energy. "No. I --- Karla, I know you. This is not the kind of person you are, and if --- if he left because of something you did, then clearly, he did not deserve you, because he would have been wrong to do that."
That's a bit of her own enmity to Armand coming out - she didn't like him much.
Karla flinches, a little, and ducks her head. "--he was my first," she says, suddenly. "Ever. I was scared for so long, with everything - that happened, to Jaenelle, and - I just couldn't. I thought I never would, and then he came along and I just-"
Karla looks up, barely, through both hair and eyelashes. "Meant to be this way?" she says, with a touch of anger. "How can it be - meant to be like this? Why?"
She thought she'd invite her friend to a picnic. So yes, she has food in a basket on her arm, and she'll knock on the door politely.
"-- Karla?"
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Then she smiles, and it's just sad. "Hello, Sugar," she says. She glances at the picnic basket and remembers, abruptly, the first picnic, when they first -
Her blue eyes flicker away.
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She might dump the basket somewhere to just -- hug her friend, if she's allowed.
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"--- Oh, Karla --" She opens her arms, offers a hug.
She's afraid of asking about Etienne.
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"I just don't - I don't understand why-"
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She'll just weather it, because the young reformed prostitute doesn't really have the words for this. Just the understanding.
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"It feels like I must have done something wrong, somehow-"
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"That's not possible," she finally says with -- more faith than she thought she had in her. "-- You couldn't."
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It's...once in a blue moon she falls apart like this. It is new to the typist as well. Even when she was poisoned and dying and Morton was killed, it wasn't like this. She was fighting, then.
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That's a bit of her own enmity to Armand coming out - she didn't like him much.
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Because she feels the same way about her lover, about Caliban who has her heart and will have it forever, for better or worse.
"--- I know," she says softly, "I know -- and maybe -- I don't know, maybe it's meant to be this way, I can't explain it, but ---"
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