You'd think that helping a man out from a coffin buried six feet under would have desensitized a girl to everything. And you'd be wrong.
It's been some time since island magic pulled Jason far underneath the earth, since Faye's dug so frantically that her fingers were run raw, the skin cracked and bleeding in places; in spite of careful tending to the injured areas, her hands remain slightly bruised in some places, which Faye doesn't bother to hide anymore, though she might have once. The whole event's made her look at the island even more suspiciously than before, a feat she hadn't even believed possible, warier than ever as she stares down sandy shores and reluctantly lays back on her beach towel for some time under the sun's rays. There's a knot that twists in her stomach, that tells her this isn't the right day to relax, but sometimes Faye's rebellious streak leads her down the more troublesome path, and there's just nothing to be done about that. Most of the time, it makes life more interesting.
Today, it splatters brains over glassy walls.
Although she's seen worse in her time, there's still an instant recoil on Faye's end as she peers at the box, picking herself up and wrapping her sarong around her hips for some measure of modesty. But what gets to her, the nail in the metaphorical coffin, is the tone of voice the man inside takes with her. She casts a look at his gun, then one at his face. Suicidal and possibly disturbed teen probably needs a foot shoved up his ass anyway.
"Guessing someone shoved you into that hopefully bulletproof box for your own good," she offers, tone heavy with sarcasm.
"No one's been shoved into anywhere. Didn't you see the broadcast?" Nathan replies as he opens the door and exits, whirling around once when his feet touch sand. Whoever's done this has gone to a lot of trouble to move him. He really ought to think about getting a bodyguard once this is over and he's back. One of the big ugly ones with some kind of facial scarring.
"Besides, there was only one bullet in this thing," he adds as he continues to gesture with the gun in his hand. Only, his finger suddenly slips, and the next thing he knows, the gun's gone off in his hand, bullet flying out to sea. The resulting gunshot is loud enough that it seems to echo, and Nathan immediately crouches down to cover his head, the gun dropping out of his hands and onto the sand.
A broadcast, Faye thinks to herself. Not exactly what she expected, but it goes a long way in explaining his attitude, the flippancy and the entitlement that are in his voice, like someone who's accustomed to the spotlight and to having things catered his way, somehow. All things considered, she shouldn't be half as irritated as she is (who's she to criticize, after all, when she behaves in the same way herself, taking and taking and often waiting for someone to roll out the red carpet), but these days, the island's proving to be a greater burden than expected, and it leaves her just a bit raw.
The fired shot only worsens things.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks, heart racing at a mile a minute as she steps forward and picks it out of the sand, setting the safety and waiting for the heat to die down as it hangs loosely in her hand. "Watch where you point this thing! Can't you see that you aren't where you were a few minutes ago? Suddenly having a loaded gun wouldn't be much more of a stretch."
"No, no, I had the gun before," Nathan says as he waves it off, pretending that he wasn't just crouched over like a frightened little girl at the sound of a gunshot. Getting shot itself's not too bad, after all. At least not if he dies as a result of it. It wasn't too bad, when he considers all of the alternatives.
Of course, this likely means that the next time, someone'll take a chainsaw to him or something, but he's not going to dwell on that just yet. Instead, there's the lady and the beach in front of him to consider.
"Where've you taken me? If you're one of those psycho fans, let me tell you that this is not the way to go about getting a shag from a celebrity." He reconsiders. "Okay, so maybe it is, but I'm frowning on it first!"
Maybe if there was a single endearing trait about the young man in front of him, Faye would have been a bit more understanding. Offered a few details about the island in a softer tone. Instead, she stands there with a skeptical look in her eye, before she yawns, widely, stretching out her arms as she turns right around. "You? And me? Hah," Faye laughs as she walks toward the closest path to the Compound- maybe she won't hand over the verbal guide on a platter, but that doesn't mean she plans to leave him completely in the dust.
"I haven't taken you anywhere, and if you pass for a celebrity in your world," she adds, shaking her head, twirling the gun in her hand.
"Hey! That's theft! You can't just take that," Nathan calls after her as she starts to just walk off with his gun. Okay, so maybe it's not his gun, but the television people gave it to him, so it's more his than it is hers, anyway. He's right behind her, longs legs helping him catch up to her easily enough.
"And it's not as if it's my fault you obviously haven't got a telly and don't have any idea what's been goin' on in the world."
Someone'd have to be living under a rock to have missed his face on television. It feels like he's done at least twenty interviews since he and the others were outed.
"Sure I can. Here on Tabula Rasa, we share everything. Room and board is free, there's a bakery that won't even kill you if you take half a dozen pies for yourself, a building crew that makes new huts sometimes because they don't have anything better to do. Which all sounds great and like a hippie paradise, until you realize it means private property doesn't mean squat," Faye explains in a slight sing-song, still twirling the gun around her finger as she leads him down the path.
With a yawn, Faye continues her explanation, voice suddenly heavy with drowsiness. "Oh, and good luck finding good TV and movies on the bookshelf. I still haven't coaxed anything past 1980 out of that old thing."
It's been some time since island magic pulled Jason far underneath the earth, since Faye's dug so frantically that her fingers were run raw, the skin cracked and bleeding in places; in spite of careful tending to the injured areas, her hands remain slightly bruised in some places, which Faye doesn't bother to hide anymore, though she might have once. The whole event's made her look at the island even more suspiciously than before, a feat she hadn't even believed possible, warier than ever as she stares down sandy shores and reluctantly lays back on her beach towel for some time under the sun's rays. There's a knot that twists in her stomach, that tells her this isn't the right day to relax, but sometimes Faye's rebellious streak leads her down the more troublesome path, and there's just nothing to be done about that. Most of the time, it makes life more interesting.
Today, it splatters brains over glassy walls.
Although she's seen worse in her time, there's still an instant recoil on Faye's end as she peers at the box, picking herself up and wrapping her sarong around her hips for some measure of modesty. But what gets to her, the nail in the metaphorical coffin, is the tone of voice the man inside takes with her. She casts a look at his gun, then one at his face. Suicidal and possibly disturbed teen probably needs a foot shoved up his ass anyway.
"Guessing someone shoved you into that hopefully bulletproof box for your own good," she offers, tone heavy with sarcasm.
Reply
"Besides, there was only one bullet in this thing," he adds as he continues to gesture with the gun in his hand. Only, his finger suddenly slips, and the next thing he knows, the gun's gone off in his hand, bullet flying out to sea. The resulting gunshot is loud enough that it seems to echo, and Nathan immediately crouches down to cover his head, the gun dropping out of his hands and onto the sand.
Reply
The fired shot only worsens things.
"Are you kidding me?" she asks, heart racing at a mile a minute as she steps forward and picks it out of the sand, setting the safety and waiting for the heat to die down as it hangs loosely in her hand. "Watch where you point this thing! Can't you see that you aren't where you were a few minutes ago? Suddenly having a loaded gun wouldn't be much more of a stretch."
Reply
Of course, this likely means that the next time, someone'll take a chainsaw to him or something, but he's not going to dwell on that just yet. Instead, there's the lady and the beach in front of him to consider.
"Where've you taken me? If you're one of those psycho fans, let me tell you that this is not the way to go about getting a shag from a celebrity." He reconsiders. "Okay, so maybe it is, but I'm frowning on it first!"
Reply
"I haven't taken you anywhere, and if you pass for a celebrity in your world," she adds, shaking her head, twirling the gun in her hand.
Reply
"And it's not as if it's my fault you obviously haven't got a telly and don't have any idea what's been goin' on in the world."
Someone'd have to be living under a rock to have missed his face on television. It feels like he's done at least twenty interviews since he and the others were outed.
Reply
With a yawn, Faye continues her explanation, voice suddenly heavy with drowsiness. "Oh, and good luck finding good TV and movies on the bookshelf. I still haven't coaxed anything past 1980 out of that old thing."
Reply
Leave a comment