This kept happening to me. New people. Does the cosmos just think I'm good at welcoming people or something? Because in my opinion, I'm pretty far from it. At least this guy looked lively.
I'd been in the kitchen looking for some ice cream, but it was just my luck that the one day I was totally jonesing for some was a day there wasn't any made. Guess that's what I got for not partaking last time we had some.
Anyway. I'd grabbed a cookie instead (SO not the same, for the record) and was standing in the kitchen doorway peering out at this lively new guy. Because oh, he was definitely new.
"Good question," I answered, and took a bite of my cookie.
What the fuck was with this place? Outta no where some chick walks out of the room in front of him instead of the dude he was expecting brought him to...wherever the fuck he was. She was acting like it was completely normal that he was there, and that confused the hell out of him too. Either way, she looked like he could handle her in the same way as he handled them, so he pointed his gun straight at her. He didn't like scaring chicks, but it wasn't like he was really going to shoot her.
"Stand right where you are, lady," he said, his eyes narrowing. He pulled off the fucking pantyhose off his head, letting his sunglasses drop back in front of his eyes.
There. Now he finally looked as badass as he wanted to look. Fucking Rupert.
I guess it's a 'used to be dead' thing, but the gun didn't impress me all that much. My eyes widened a little, but that was really just because I couldn't believe this guy thought he was going to shoot me for standing there eating a cookie. I chalked it up to him being traumatized.
"Are you trying to rob me?" I asked, brows arching, because if he wanted the cookie that badly, he could have it. "Or do you always have conversations with people at gun point? Because see, my rules are, if you want me to answer your questions, you can't be threatening to kill me." New rule, I just made it up right then. I thought it sounded kinda cool. Like I was in charge.
The chick was giving him lip. It had been so fucking easy to get everyone in the bank to do what he wanted, and the fact she was telling him what to do threw him off completely. Fuck, everything was so messed up.
It wasn't like Gideon actually wanted to go around shooting people, much less some random girl who wasn't pointing a gun back at him. Helped she was cute, too. Maybe he'd try the nice way. That worked in the movies, too.
"Did I say I was robbing you?" he asked, lowering his weapon enough to make it not very threatening. He wasn't willing to put it away just yet, but that was just because he wasn't a fucking moron. He was in some strange as fuck place and he didn't feel like dying.
If he hadn't died already.
"Fine. Weapon's down. Where the fuck am I?" he asked, trying to sound just a little nicer about it without acting too much like he was rolling over for her. He didn't want to look like he didn't still have control of the situation, after all.
Wow, that was totally easier than I'd thought, and I couldn't help but look a little impressed by my badass-ness. "Because you're probably really freaking out right now, I'm going to go ahead and answer you even though you still have your gun out. For the record, I am not secretly a ninja assasin, so you don't have to feel threatened by me." I'm only 5'4", I don't know why he'd think he needed to worry about me in the first place.
I pressed my non-cookie hand to my chest. "I'm Shari, and this is Tabula Rasa. It's an island, annnnd yeah, you're going to think I've lost it, I can tell. But it's the truth. I don't know how you got here or why. I don't even know how I got here or why. It's like the Twilight Zone. Welcome."
He had been looking at her like she had lost it. In fact, he thought the bitch was just plain fucking crazy.
"So I'm not in Connecticut anymore," he said, almost calmly, because suddenly he's so confused he's forgetting to keep the tough guy act up. And he's about to ask her what the fuck she was on that she came up with such an insane story, when he stops and realizes he had just gone from standing in a fucking bank to this place in less than seconds. It wasn't like he had been lying on the ground or anything when he realized he was here, either - it happened in a fucking blink of an eye.
Literally.
So now he didn't know what to think, because no explanation was going to make sense to him. Maybe he was having some kind of fucked up dream, but it felt pretty real to be one.
"So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?" he asked. Shit. Everything had messed up so fucking much. His plan should have been fool-proof. Fucking Desmond and his stupid as hell bank.
"You're not in Connecticut," I confirmed, and hell, I couldn't help but feel a little bad for the guy, even if he had been pointing a gun at me. "And what you can do first is put the gun away. Then, tell me your name, and try to not cuss when you do it." He looked like one of those types that would try to put 'fucking' in the middle of his name, like it would add to his street cred. "And then I can show you what to do after that. Here." I broke off half of my cookie and held it his way with a smile.
"I don't want your fucking cookie," he grumbled, though he did slip the gun into his pocket when she asked him to. It was obvious there was no danger around, so he figured he'd just have to trust this chick because he sure as hell had no one else to turn to. It didn't look like Desmond or Rupert were around.
He was kind of wary on giving her his name (maybe she was a cop; who fucking knew?), so he settled on just using his first name as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Gideon."
"Fine, then I'll keep my fucking cookie, Gideon," I shot back at him with a frown. I want to make one thing very clear: I really wanted to peg him in the head with the cookie then, but I DIDN'T. Seriously, I should be given some kind of award for philanthropy just because I didn't.
I then proceeded to make a show of eating the rest of the cookie, because hey, fuck Gideon. I'm the one with the cookies, buddy. "Mmmm, what a GOOD COOKIE," I swooned, licking the crumbs off my fingers.
"What are you, fucking twelve? Shit," he sighed, reaching up to rub his temples. "Look, are you going help me or not? Because if you aren't, I'm going to start trying to figure what the fuck is going on myself."
I'd been in the kitchen looking for some ice cream, but it was just my luck that the one day I was totally jonesing for some was a day there wasn't any made. Guess that's what I got for not partaking last time we had some.
Anyway. I'd grabbed a cookie instead (SO not the same, for the record) and was standing in the kitchen doorway peering out at this lively new guy. Because oh, he was definitely new.
"Good question," I answered, and took a bite of my cookie.
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"Stand right where you are, lady," he said, his eyes narrowing. He pulled off the fucking pantyhose off his head, letting his sunglasses drop back in front of his eyes.
There. Now he finally looked as badass as he wanted to look. Fucking Rupert.
"Who are you and what the shit is going on here?"
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"Are you trying to rob me?" I asked, brows arching, because if he wanted the cookie that badly, he could have it. "Or do you always have conversations with people at gun point? Because see, my rules are, if you want me to answer your questions, you can't be threatening to kill me." New rule, I just made it up right then. I thought it sounded kinda cool. Like I was in charge.
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It wasn't like Gideon actually wanted to go around shooting people, much less some random girl who wasn't pointing a gun back at him. Helped she was cute, too. Maybe he'd try the nice way. That worked in the movies, too.
"Did I say I was robbing you?" he asked, lowering his weapon enough to make it not very threatening. He wasn't willing to put it away just yet, but that was just because he wasn't a fucking moron. He was in some strange as fuck place and he didn't feel like dying.
If he hadn't died already.
"Fine. Weapon's down. Where the fuck am I?" he asked, trying to sound just a little nicer about it without acting too much like he was rolling over for her. He didn't want to look like he didn't still have control of the situation, after all.
Reply
I pressed my non-cookie hand to my chest. "I'm Shari, and this is Tabula Rasa. It's an island, annnnd yeah, you're going to think I've lost it, I can tell. But it's the truth. I don't know how you got here or why. I don't even know how I got here or why. It's like the Twilight Zone. Welcome."
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"So I'm not in Connecticut anymore," he said, almost calmly, because suddenly he's so confused he's forgetting to keep the tough guy act up. And he's about to ask her what the fuck she was on that she came up with such an insane story, when he stops and realizes he had just gone from standing in a fucking bank to this place in less than seconds. It wasn't like he had been lying on the ground or anything when he realized he was here, either - it happened in a fucking blink of an eye.
Literally.
So now he didn't know what to think, because no explanation was going to make sense to him. Maybe he was having some kind of fucked up dream, but it felt pretty real to be one.
"So what the fuck am I supposed to do now?" he asked. Shit. Everything had messed up so fucking much. His plan should have been fool-proof. Fucking Desmond and his stupid as hell bank.
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He was kind of wary on giving her his name (maybe she was a cop; who fucking knew?), so he settled on just using his first name as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "Gideon."
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I then proceeded to make a show of eating the rest of the cookie, because hey, fuck Gideon. I'm the one with the cookies, buddy. "Mmmm, what a GOOD COOKIE," I swooned, licking the crumbs off my fingers.
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"What are you, fucking twelve? Shit," he sighed, reaching up to rub his temples. "Look, are you going help me or not? Because if you aren't, I'm going to start trying to figure what the fuck is going on myself."
He had no patience for this shit today.
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