sky_from_sea | (no subject)

(no subject)

Anna has been avoiding the Wasteland of late, even though she has stopped avoiding other people.

Well. She's stopped avoiding Daniel, at least.

But now--well.

She's not going to let Nicky drive her out of this (her) city, so it's time to stop being a shadow.

Which means--talking to Gwen.

Now, if only Anna knew how best to find her. The shelter isn't as small as it used to be, and Anna's never spent that much time there, anyway.

Still, someone's sure to know where the Wasteland owner is.

Right?

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Anna just gives Gwen a Look.

"Now the Red Sox, I know they played baseball."

Anna is from Boston.

Some things stick.

Gwen holds up her hands innocently.

"Hey, hey. Never hurts to check."

Then she grins, stepping out into the third-floor hallway.

"Floor sweet floor. We're down near the end."

"It's just you and Preston there?"

Anna's checking to see, perhaps, if Russ has moved in.

That would be . . . awkward.

"Just us," Gwen says cheerfully. She pulls a key out of her pocket and twirls it jauntily. "And, uh, unless it gets packed to sardine levels in here, that's how it's going to stay."

She smiles ruefully. "One roommate's enough."

Anna smiles back.

"I know how that is."

Though Daniel's not a bad roommate at all.

(It helps he doesn't have a fetish for Gandhi.)

(Preston's Gandhi fetish is soooooo unhelpful, man.)

A few more doors, and Gwen comes to a stop.

"Here we are," she says, turning the key and pushing the door open. "Preston! We've got company."

The room is small, but not cramped. There's space for two beds, a futon couch and small coffee table, and a dresser that's seen better days. Also: a beanbag chair belonging to Preston.

Preston himself, however, is nowhere to be found.

"Huh." Gwen frowns, then shrugs. "Place to ourselves, then."

One kind of tension fades from Anna's shoulders, even though it is partially replaced by another.

"Ah. Well, then."

As openings go, it isn't much at all.

"Yeah," Gwen agrees, nodding.

She casts around for something to ... say? Do?

"Um. Want to sit?"

"I'd like that, yes."

Anna eyes the couch and the beanbag chair, then steps hesitantly toward the couch.

"... Good choice," Gwen says wryly. "The beanbag chair gets a little ... short? I don't know. I always start feeling really gangly and weird."

She shrugs, then makes her own way-- hesitantly-- also towards the couch. About as far from Anna as she can get, though-- she doesn't want to mess with her personal space, especially not now.

Anna's currently sitting there, legs crossed primly, looking at her hands.

"Did you have any specific questions? About--things?"

Gwen frowns.

"Well ... yeah, I guess."

A beat. She huffs out a breath.

Then:

"... Did you want to work for that guy? In Philadelphia?"

"No."

Anna's answer is immediate and over-sharp.

She takes a deep breath.

"I didn't even particularly want to be a vampire."

Beat.

"Not that Nicky took the time to ask me."

Gwen's eyes widen.

(Her reaction is immediate and under the skin, and she stifles that as best she can: Not now not now not now.)

"He didn't--"

She snarls, without meaning to. It was supposed to be, what, a sigh? Something harmless and sympathetic.

"Son of a bitch."

Anna smiles faintly, wariness heavy in her eyes.

"I wouldn't like to speculate on his mother's character."

"Mmph."

Half a hmph, half muffling herself. Gwen growls softly.

"Probably a good bet she wasn't, I guess. Or isn't. Then he'd be less likely to be ... the charming guy he is today."

"Yes. Well."

Anna looks down at her hands again.

"He is very . . . insistent on getting his way."

Gwen frowns, then, sharp and disconcerted.

"I ... get that impression."

Anna laughs, soft and sharp.

"Yes. Well. You have no idea."

Yet.

Gwen's frown only deepens.

She really. Really. Does not like the sound of that.

"Is it-- anything you can talk about?"

Anna shrugs.

"It's all old news."

Her face is set and still as stone. Gwen could see it more clearly if Anna would look up from her hands.

"I was a vegetarian, before."

Gwen can't see her face, but she smells-- it's different, and she never has bothered to sort through all the information her nose gives her in the first place so it gets difficult to tell what's different, but now, whatever it is, it's not making her feel any better about whatever Nick could have done to Anna.

"I ... I feel like you've told me that before," Gwen says, making a face. "I guess, um ..."

She looks to her uncertainly.

Anna does look up, then.

It's--not an entirely pleasant thing to see.

Her expression, that is.

"Do you know how long it takes a vampire to go mad with hunger?"

Gwen swallows, reflexively.

She's waiting to shiver, shudder, get the tension out somehow-- nothing doing.

"I've heard-- a couple days."

"Yes."

Her voice is cool, distant.

"I lasted a little less than a week."

Beat.

"The first time."