Becky is out and about. Or, more accurately, she's standing in the middle of the sidewalk about a block away from the hotel, letting the people move around her
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Morona's on her way to the Conrad after work, to see Johnny, when she passes by Becky. She's clutching a bag with a red evidence seal on it, containing a torn up shirt, tightly to her chest. They make eye contact for a split second, and Morona starts to get a nagging feeling at the back of her head. They've got something in common. Maybe a few things.
She starts to walk past her at first, but something inside her says to trust her instincts. There are not many people who deal with death on a daily basis, and that's what Morona's instincts are telling her about Becky. That she deals with death.
So she turns around and says, "Hey," to try and catch the girl's attention.
"I just... You're Becky, right? The Angel of Death?" Swallowing and stepping forward a bit, she says, "I'm... Dr. Rainer. Brando brought me to the Conrad a couple of nights ago." Frantically, she adds, "Don't ask me how I know, it's just... gut instinct, I guess. I had a feeling you and I have something in common."
Ricky's smoking a cigarette, walking down the sidewalk without thought to demons or whatever else might lie out here in this other world. He lost whatever survival instincts he might have been born with in the image of his little brother with blood trickling down his forehead.
You'll have to take the blame for this one.
He's walking back to the hotel. This week. He'll do it this week. The knife weighs heavily in his pocket.
Someone's standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
"'Scuse me." He looks up just long enough to meet her eyes.
Sitting in a room. One of the rooms in the basement of the Conrad. Nothing so dramatic as getting in the bathtub. More of a mess, maybe, but that's not the point, is it?
He's not scared. Just hurting. And there's no reason to keep going.
He puts the knife to his wrist, grits his teeth, and pulls back, pushing into skin. It hurts, obviously, but he manages to do the other one after a moment.
Lie back on the bed.
Wait for it all to be over.
And then it is.
Becky gasps a little and stumbles back, her eyes still locked on his, not looking away. She's determined not to look away.
"Ricky," she whispers. "Your name's Ricky. Right?"
This is not the first time a stranger has said his name. Apparently, everyone here can see right through him. It never gets less frightening.
Ricky would just walk past her, but something in her voice keeps him standing there. Maybe she's a demon. Unlikely. Maybe she'll kill him. Even more unlikely.
He's scared, but it probably only shows in his eyes.
"...yeah." She may not look away, but he does. "So?"
Becky doesn't know where to go from there. She never does, she never bothers to talk to them beforehand. She just makes sure she's there when it all comes to an end.
"Uhm... I just... I'm Becky," she blurts finally. "I'm staying in the basement at the Conrad."
Comments 46
She starts to walk past her at first, but something inside her says to trust her instincts. There are not many people who deal with death on a daily basis, and that's what Morona's instincts are telling her about Becky. That she deals with death.
So she turns around and says, "Hey," to try and catch the girl's attention.
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The woman's standing there, clutching a bag to her chest and looking at her.
She shivers a bit. This could be Calisto or one of her little... henchmen. Unlikely, but... possible.
Becky doesn't meet her eyes a second time.
"What do you want?"
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She swallows and looks up at someone else passing by.
Nothing.
"Yeah, I guess. You don't have to deal with them alive, at least."
That makes it worse.
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You'll have to take the blame for this one.
He's walking back to the hotel. This week. He'll do it this week. The knife weighs heavily in his pocket.
Someone's standing in the middle of the sidewalk.
"'Scuse me." He looks up just long enough to meet her eyes.
Reply
Sitting in a room. One of the rooms in the basement of the Conrad. Nothing so dramatic as getting in the bathtub. More of a mess, maybe, but that's not the point, is it?
He's not scared. Just hurting. And there's no reason to keep going.
He puts the knife to his wrist, grits his teeth, and pulls back, pushing into skin. It hurts, obviously, but he manages to do the other one after a moment.
Lie back on the bed.
Wait for it all to be over.
And then it is.
Becky gasps a little and stumbles back, her eyes still locked on his, not looking away. She's determined not to look away.
"Ricky," she whispers. "Your name's Ricky. Right?"
Reply
Ricky would just walk past her, but something in her voice keeps him standing there. Maybe she's a demon. Unlikely. Maybe she'll kill him. Even more unlikely.
He's scared, but it probably only shows in his eyes.
"...yeah." She may not look away, but he does. "So?"
Reply
"Uhm... I just... I'm Becky," she blurts finally. "I'm staying in the basement at the Conrad."
Reply
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