AFTER-ICE-CREAM-PARTY

[pecker]

[Boy everyone is so bloodthirsty tonight. And now a kid is dead and another is gonna execute. Do y'all need some baskin robbins, because it seems like you do!!! So before everyone can leave, Niwatori raises her voice louder than it's gone before now to draw a little attention, and then deflates immediately when she actually gets it.]

Excuse me, please! U-um... this case was really hard, and I think we could all use some time to cool our heads before we finally go back. So... ice cream? Who's with me?

[she'll lead the pack there and anyone else can go home or to visit Clarisse on the set of Orange is the new Black.

Niwa's not that good of a host though, she just gets her own ice cream and lets everyone serve themselves. Who is she to limit your freedom. (Someone who doesn't want to be partly responsible for a Millium Monstrosity, that's who.)]

Comments

[streetwolf]

Yeah. Have done before.

[At least he's not the one responsible for the murder person this time. He sighs, letting out a small snort.]

...You know. It's bad, but I can't help thinking about how you're the oldest I've every seen a raised assassin get too. I mean most of em get recruited later on but still...

[Congratulations on surviving to the grand age of 17?]

[snideper]

...

Reese is older than I am. Legion was a little older than us both, I think. Lady Eremiya always raises up her wards to be the very best, and this is all I've done my whole life.

[She doesn't look at him, but she does give a little puff of air, almost a sigh, and her eyes focus on the space in front of her instead of glazing over so uselessly.]

It's only the weak ones who die young.

[streetwolf]

...Yeah. That'd explain it...

[There's a growl. And his leg stretches out then it's crossed.]

The ones I know- They get fed a load of bullshit about food and a job when they're older if they sign up with the army. Except these places already got their own soldiers...

[snideper]

Lady Eremiya takes care of us. She brought us up from nothing and in exchange, we receive the honor of serving her.

[But there's an automatic way she says it, like a trained mantra; none of the fiery devotion from the trial carries in her explanation now.]

[streetwolf]

Sounds almost noble when you say it like that right? Like you're just repaying them for everything.

[It's hollow.]

Worst of it is, there's nothing you really do about it.

[snideper]

I am. I owe her everything.

[Something finds its way into her voice, finally, and her eyes focus on some point on the wall in front of her instead of glazing over.]

She found value in our worthless lives and gave us use and a reason to exist.

[But that strange flicker of emotion or intensity or whatever that may have been dies out again.]

...But it doesn't matter now.

[streetwolf]

Nah, it don't...

[And he stops again. Cause wow this is hard.]

I don't think you'll appreciate it cause you still got caught. But at least you weren't a fucking moron about it like Nine.

[snideper]

...

That doesn't make any difference, either.

[Maybe it does, though, because it makes her shift, arms starting to uncross before she just pulls them tighter around herself again. She has spent so much time since that first trial telling herself she was different than that condemned man whose story sounded too much like hers; she was smarter, stronger, better, she wouldn't waste her second chance, and the envelope reminded her of that awful failure and she told herself she would do it right.

And Wayne acknowledges that difference. And she's in here anyway.

She closes her eyes, lets out one slow breath, and when she opens her eyes again, her vacant expression has focused again, on some point on the floor.]

[streetwolf]

Uh... Look, I'm sorry. I don't normally talk about this. Normally they're already gone so I don't have to think about it to much.

[He sighs and shuffles again. Then pushes himself up.]

You want anything? I don't think I can get a lot here. But I know some places talk about last meals and shit.