Kaye's leaning against the bar, bouncing a crisp green apple against her palm. Apple goes up, apple goes down. She likes how the color of the bar lights reflect off it's surface. There's nothing to make you smile like a successful heist.

It's almost like she's back to her old self.

You know what's difficult, climbing a tree without Pixie grace. Kaye doesn't even notice the water droplets (fallen from leaves) that spatter down the back of her neck, she has to concentrate. Kick an old boot into a knot on the bark and pull with dirty hands, pull upwards, just don't let go.

It's her second attempt.

It's starting to get cold. That's the first thing Kaye notices. The way her breathe ices when it hits the air, leaving a frigid cloud. So cold that she already can't feel her fingers and it suddenly seems a bad idea to be out without a coat and sitting on the damp grass, soaking through her jeans ( Read more... )

She was wearing one of Ellen's skirts, a slender black number that reached halfway down her calves. There was a cigarette burn right near the bottom, but Kaye doubted anyone would notice, or care. She felt like a grown up, in the stuffy clothing, staring at the door to the funeral parlor. In a moment she would have to go in and join them. She didn' ( Read more... )

A girl in false skins could sit at the Bar all day and no-one would know the difference. She could sit and brood in her silent hate; imagining a scene of pale fingers tangled in red curls, silver hair trailing around a beautiful face as they kissed. She could just sit. Sit and let the self-pity overtake her.

Just for now.