ofendtimes

[ofendtimes]

𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖓.

               ❛   𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘.   ❜    Stevan responds before he takes a slow breath and hauls himself to his feet.   He doesn’t add that eating breakfast in the company of someone else is different for him as well.   He usually eats them at home in front of his tablet,   but today he opened the fridge and realized that the day before was the last time he’d be able to get away with not going to the grocery store for three weeks.    Ah well,   he’d thought,   you can still use your tablet at a restaurant. 

       ❛   There’s a diner down the next street,   ❜    Stevan stops in front of Enzo’s bench,   head turned to him while he waits to see whether he’ll stand and join him.   He eyes the crow that’s still perched on the bench.    ❛   They mostly serve good coffee,   ❜    he admits,    ❛   But I’m sure the pancakes aren’t bad.   It’s hard to mess up pancakes.   ❜

         although he will never, not in a thousand years, admit that stevan could have a point... he does. maybe it is one of those days where he should start things out a little differently. will it make him feel any better? unlikely. but having breakfast has never killed anyone, as far as enzo is aware, and even if it had... well, that’s certainly the universe’s way of saying time’s up! through his silent contemplation, he watches as stevan pulls himself ( is he always this pained? probably... ) to his feet, and follows suit with a grunt of his own. and a swat at the pest.

         “it’s not expensive, is it?” judging by the fact that it’s a diner, probably not. but enzo’s pocket money is dwindling and even lucrecia’s funds haven’t made their way into his wallet, yet. “nevermind, i’m sure it’s fine. coffee and pancakes works just fine.” just fine, as everything in life is usually stated to be. for enzo, it’s the only descriptor he’ll use outside of moments of true frustration. and even then... “been a while since i had pancakes in general, anyway.”

[ofendtimes]

𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖔.

➣ 𝘏𝘖𝘞 𝘛𝘖 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘍𝘐𝘙𝘌𝘋 𝘍𝘙𝘖𝘔 𝘚𝘌𝘓𝘍—𝘌𝘔𝘗𝘓𝘖𝘠𝘔𝘌𝘕𝘛 𝘐𝘕 𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘠 𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘗 𝘧𝘵 𝘌𝘕𝘡𝘖 .

@ofendtimes && @parabellcm

mateo tucks a loose strand of golden hair behind her ear .  when her client ⎡JOHN, sixty-four and in the middle of a messy divorce with his third wife⎦ wraps an arm around her waist, she smiles politely .  when he pulls her closer and gives her hips a squeeze, she presses a manicured hand to the side of his chest, titters, and does not reveal a hint of her revulsion .  mama always said acting was her true calling (not true, mamá always said she was a terrible liar) .

while these events were the best paying by far, they were absolutely mateo’s least favourite.  days to weeks at a time playing the dumbass picture-perfect secret girlfriend, eyes glazed over and enamoured by the opportunity to spend time with strong, influential people circle-jerking each other over the hot topic of the month .  this particular client had only paid for the base package, so mateo didn’t have to entertain, but there’re only so many times you can hear about the dangers ❛ mind-controlling wackos ❜ pose to ❛ pretty young girls like yourself  ❜ before shoving sugar grampy in the retirement home to fend for himself .

when she is finally released, ‘teo taps the heel of her louboutins against the acacia flooring of the yacht’s atrium .  she takes JOHN’s glass to refill at the bar — a welcome break from time magazine’s 60 over 60 .  the ship had been docked for a few hours now, but her stomach was still turning from lingering seasickness, and the alcohol wasn’t helping it to settle . after returning with her client’s drink, mateo waits until he is thoroughly distracted before sneaking off to their shared room .  he is an absolute pain of a client, insistent and pushy about spending every moment together so he can ‘get his money’s worth’ . hence, a moment alone before the ship set off again was a blessing — even if that moment alone was sitting on the bathroom floor, replying to texts and scrolling through twitter .

‹ to: 🐦🧠 

‹ sorry for late response babe x haven’t had the chance to check my phone 🐝  ‹ can you pick me up please??? 🙏 very sick and can’t leave without being rude ‹just grab a suit from mine and security will ignore you. sending a pic of my ticket details 🙏🙏🙏🙏

sent @ 21:42

‹picture attached

sent @ 21:43

teo’s phone died right as she sent her last text, so she can only hope that it goes through; shooting the device a betrayed glare, she shoves it back in her tiny black clutch and uses the door handle to heave herself to her feet .  peering at herself in the over-sink mirror, she twists her body, checking out her condition .  she looks alright, blonde wavy hair and clear, unblemished skin — all included in the basic package; she was a little pale, but that was the sea’s fault , non-refundable .  classic look, beautiful and beautifully easy .  personalised appearances cost a little extra; treat your body like an economy airline, y'know ??? once her nausea is appeased, it’s only when she makes it back to the main hall that she realises she forgot to describe her appearance in the message .​

         not many things have gone right for him today. the first ( and potentially only ) job interview he’s ever attended ended in an argument between potential employer and potential employee, extinguishing the chance of retrieving extra information from the company. to make matters worse, the walk home had been ruined by heaven’s tears ( a sprinkle, thankfully, but an annoyance nonetheless ) and the stupid bird that followed him around had made a point to show its unending annoyance by dropping him a stolen wallet. with the man in question it had belonged to not far behind. a scrap later ( one he had lost, no less ) and a few extra bruises are added to his human visage, as well as as a very defeated sense of frustration.

         the text is a welcome distraction, even if it’s one of the messages enzo isn’t pleased to see. picking up teo from their latest client ( almost always repulsive ) is far from the promise of a nice afternoon... but it does give him something to do that isn’t wallowing in misery. he’s cancelled on that a few times this month, but he can make another exception. the lack of a description is missed entirely—true to the day’s luck—until he’s actually shown up... now standing awkwardly with no way of finding the friend in question. ugh, hopefully they’ll answer the text they send.

‹ to: TEO

‹ I’m here. Hope you’re not tied up ‹ Who do you look like this time?

         with the message sent, all he can do is wait. awkwardly. surrounded by people he will never in a million lifetimes understand, let alone do business with. how they can do it completely eludes them, but that’s likely more than obvious by now. thankfully, security hasn’t decided to hassle them—the only luck of the evening, depending on how well that holds.

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆 & 𝖘𝖆𝖒𝖘𝖔𝖓.

   ❛  you  told  me  no  more  criminal  activity  ,  i  thought  ,  en.  pinky  promises  aren’t  supposed  to  be  broken  ,  you  know.  ❜  agitation  tangles  itself  with  worry  for  …..  whatever  it  is  enzo  &  her  currently  are  ….  as  she  struggles  dragging  him  to  back  door  of  longest  nights.  ❛  what  if  you  had  been  more  badly  hurt  &  i  wasn’t  able  to  help  ….  dummy.  ❜  shoots  him  half-hearted  glare  over  the  screen  of  phone  ,  texting  samson  that  she  was  out  back.    ❛don’t  be  rude  to  my  friend  ,  please.  he’s  very  nice  &  is  gonna  help  you  ,  okay  …❜

         the usual roll of his eyes and array of half-hearted excuses hasn’t gotten him out of the situation, this time. while having successfully escaped from the prying eyes of the very same people who had discovered him burglarizing their apartment... it’s come at a cost. a jump from a position too far off the ground for someone without the ability of flight, which quickly turned into a block-wide earthquake. as it so happens, broken bones don’t like to be jostled. hence, the clinic—even if every bone in his body ( broken and unbroken ) are warring against it. “yeah, yeah,” he mutters, hood pulled up in an attempt to hide his unsightly true face. unsuccessfully. the talons are hard to hide and his crooked beak sticks out further than he likes. “as long as we can hurry this up, alright? i have... i don’t want to be out here longer than i have to.”

          @samsonking​

[ofendtimes]

𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖓.

        𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐓.   Any stranger would be shocked at Enzo’s words,   offended for the bird,   but Stevan is used to him now.   He is so honest it makes him unpleasant.   If Stevan didn’t have experience speaking with patients,   it might have made him intolerant to Enzo’s bluntness.  

    ❛   That makes two of us,   ❜    He says with no amount of cheer.   He can tell Enzo either slept poorly or had no sleep at all by the way he’s claiming the bench all to himself.   He probably plans to nap on it.   It wouldn’t be the first time Stevan’s seen him doing so. 

   He does not know what makes him continue to look for ways of supporting the other.   Enzo’s had it with him ever since the first time he offered,   so he doesn’t know why he opens his mouth and asks,   ❛   Have you had breakfast yet ?   I was on my way to get some.   You should join me before you continue your plans of—   ❜   He glances at Enzo up and down,   ❛   —whatever you are doing.   ❜ 

     He sticks on the last part with the same coarseness Enzo speaks with.   If he spoke the words any kinder,   Enzo might tell him to fuck off.   He might still tell him to fuck off,   but Stevan watches him expecting any answer as long as it’s immediate.   His lungs are still burning or freezing—    he can never tell,   most likely it is both—   and he looses strength in his hands when he’s exposed to cold tempatures for long enough.   There’s another street left to walk,   and he would like to get there before the previous happens. 

         a grunt and little else is given as a response. that makes two of us. stevan isn’t wrong—between the two of them, they might as well be cadavers in the local morgue. him with his permanent case of terminal illness, and enzo with his ever-present on-the-verge-of-rigor-mortis appearance. almost two peas in a pod, save for the canyon of differences that divides their world views. the harbinger himself has never been interested in reconciling with those that skew toward optimism, but... even he has to admit that stevan has given him more chances, conversationally, than anyone else ever would. what optimism does to a person, he assumes.

         “i don’t usually eat breakfast,” he admits, shrugging a shoulder, his other hand swiping at the bird just about to peck at his fingers. don’t you have anything better to do? his glare asks, but the corvid is immune to the evil eye it’s given. figures. “where were you thinking of going?” it’s more consideration than he’s usually willing to give, but... if the seating is inside, it will at least give some respite from the pest following him around. until it finds its way through the doors to bother everyone else. even so, trading one nuisance for another is hardly ideal.

[ofendtimes]

𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖓.

    evelyn isn’t certain if he’s joking or not but either way, she doesn’t see it happening, not in the slightest. offering him a simple shrug, she shakes her head, “unfortunately, i think that’s impossible. we might even be lucky if we get an apology…”

    his suggestion doesn’t bode well with her — in fact, her mind was already flooding with thoughts of what could go wrong, but his vexed demeanor makes her hesitate to reject it entirely. evelyn quickly recalls the night when she used her ability to save herself. she knew that she could take care of herself… but what if he needed help? despite only meeting him a few minutes prior, she couldn’t just let him go alone, as much as her brain was yelling at her to stay put and just wait.

    then finally, she agrees. “well…” she begins, there’s a hint of apprehension in her voice but she continues, “i guess i don’t mind, but i think i’ll just follow your lead…” she pauses again, “so how exactly are we going to do this?”

         her response has him sighing. figures. but refunds or apologies wouldn’t fix the current situation they were in even if the corporation was likely to give them out. spoiler alert: they’re most certainly not. that leaves enzo to his first ( and only ) other plan—get out of the train and hope he’s well out of its way by the time they can get to the next station. not the most safe or efficient of plans, but... it’s also not very complicated to pull off, right? “you mean, how are we going to get out of here? easy. we can just pry one of the doors open.”

         with only the slightest bit of hesitation, enzo pulls himself to his feet and bee-lines ( between the spaces he can get in the crowd ) for the exit door. it’s clamped shut and made of metal, but... well, as long as nobody gets too hurt, what’s a little disaster every now and again? taking the handle in hand ( soon to be claw ), enzo lets his eyes fall shut and calls to deep below this earth. not many things are within his power, but a little earthquake? more than doable. and hopefully enough to give him the ability to crack open the doors... before everyone panics.

[ofendtimes]

𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖛𝖆𝖓.

       𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐈𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆,   just cold enough to make Stevan regret leaving his apartment without a scarf.   He can see his breath coming out in short pants,   but it takes a painful coughing fit to convince him to sit on the nearest park bench.

      The crow that he’s been idly watching seems to have the same idea,   swooping from a momentary perch on a branch right down to an occupied bench.   Stevan almost drops his crutch as it descends on a lone figure,   attempting to warn the person and at the same time covering his mouth.

    It turns out that Stevan freaks out over nothing,   because although fierce-looking,  the crow isn’t aggressive.  It merely takes a perch on the edge of the bench,  unbothered by anything Stevan might’ve thought of it,  and drops a glinting coin beside the man Stevan recognizes as Enzo.  

    Feeling silly,   he offers an embarrassed smile.   He is aware of being on Enzo’s proverbial shit list,   but neither Stevan nor him have any say on the fact that Stevan needs to sit down in the following five seconds Or Else He Might Die,  so he makes way for the bench opposite. 

    ❛   I was stumped as to why it was carrying that coin around,   ❜   Stevan greets,    the effort it’s taking him to sit down evident in his voice.

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  — @ofendtimes.

         a rough night of dead ends leaving him discouraged and exhausted, it comes as no surprise that he takes refuge on the one bench that hasn’t been found already occupied. doesn’t anyone have better things to do than sit around? he’s been asking himself, fully aware of the hypocrisy of his annoyance but making no real effort to discard it, nonetheless. it doesn’t help that enzo’s bleary existence is punctuated by the appearance of their perpetual pest. at first, it simply sits across the street, cawing obnoxiously every time he just about nods off. that in and of itself is annoying enough... but after several long minutes of the same back-and-forth, it decides that keeping its distance is too boring and swoops in to take a seat beside him.

         the present is useless, too. a nickel. maybe if it brought him a few hundred dollar bills he wouldn’t consider kicking it so often.

         but even the pest of the corvid can’t quite compare to the mood-plummeting power of the greeting enzo receives. really? is fate just pissing on him that this point? “probably just to remind me how little i have in my life,” he mutters, taking the coin and chucking it back across the street. while the crow beside him squawks its disapproval, it doesn’t fly after it. pity. “if i wouldn’t look like a total asshole smacking a bird, i would do the exact same thing to it that i did to that stupid coin it carried over here.” a pause and an awkward shared glance later, he adds. “you look like shit.”

[ofendtimes]

𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖓.

      “i say give it about ten minutes… if it’s still not fixed by then, i’ll really start to panic.” she sighs, glancing at him, then back out at the train windows, revealing a dark and gloomy sky. evelyn tucks her hands into the pockets of her jacket, thinking about if she had any place to be — then, she realises her answer was simple. all she wanted to do now was to relax in a warm bath and then fall asleep on her cold bed, especially since she still had work in the morning. “i just can’t wait to get home, if i’m being honest.”

  she takes another look at him and then decides to introduce herself, albeit sounding just a little awkward and nervous, “i’m evelyn, by the way…” her attention is suddenly caught by a quick flicker of the lights in the train and she stops midway, letting out a worried laugh instead, “looks like we might just be here for a little longer than expected.”

         “seems like a good enough threshold to me.” a bit long, even. enzo is far from comfortable in tight spaces and being packed into an underground metal tube with what seems like a thousand other bodies is far from on his list of pleasant activities. even so... panicking is rarely a good thing. especially when it means a real catastrophe could start. “i hope they don’t have to bring anyone in to fix it. think they’ll give us a refund if it’ll be that late?” even knowing a limited amount about the economic world around him, he’s not about to hold his breath.

         after a moment of silence ( awkward or annoyed? it’s anyone’s guess ), and after the stranger introduces herself... the lights flicker. a bad sign, in his book, and enough to distract from a reciprocal introduction. “shit, maybe we should just walk to the next station.” the suggestion, as irritated as it sounds, is more of a nervous desire than anything else. “beats sticking around and waiting for the train to start.”

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

   ❛  when  we  first  met  ,  you  told  me  you  were  an  axe  murderer  ….  &  i’m  the  odd  one  ,  for  complimenting  your  thoughts?  ❜  reminds  with  with  a  small  smile.  she  pauses  in  the  littering  of  his  arm  ,  only  to  reach  for  hot  pink  sharpie.  uncapping  the  pen  &  resuming  in  the  inking  ,  her  head  tips  carefully  to  the  side.  ❛  you  can  tell  me  more  about  yourself  ?  i  like  getting  to  know  you  more  ,  you’re  so  …..  weird.  a  weirdo.  your  thoughts  are  so  much  more  expressive  than  what  you  actually  speak  ,  why?  ❜  quips  curiously  as  she  completes  another  intricate  detail  of  her  work.  ❛  &  it’s  a  butterfly.  with  angel  numbers  for  protection  …..  i  can  tell  you’ve  been  ….  through  stuff.  &  so  i  wanted  you  to  feel  ….  warmth.  ❜

         “no i didn’t,” enzo scoffs, rolling his eyes. “i told you i could have been an axe murderer. there’s a difference. i don’t even own an axe.” murder is more complicated, but he’s confident thart he doesn’t fit that description, either. the few lives that have been taken have been entirely justified—practically self defense, all things considered. but none of this is relayed to lucrecia, nor will it be in the near future. if his thoughts haven’t given away the contents of his argument, words will have to wait. “besides, you would know by now if i was.” deliberate murder is more difficult to hide as far as enzo is aware—particularly against someone who can delve into others’ thoughts. “you really think i’m that much of a weirdo?” false offense works its way into his tone, but not his expression. “hurtful, lu. i don’t think you’re weird.” lies. but how does he respond to the idea that he should feel warmth? a prickle of feathers teases at the back of his neck, but no certainty comes. “everyone’s been through stuff. i’m not special.”

[ofendtimes]

𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑𝖞𝖓.

evelyn should have just taken a cab back to her apartment after a long day of exploring but she decided against it, wanting to get accustomed to the city’s public transportation, which explained why she was currently on the subway, excitedly waiting to get home.

the sudden stop is certainly something she doesn’t expect, but luckily for her, she manages to catch her balance at the last second. it seems that the passenger beside her is not so lucky. she hears him groan and turns just in time to see him hitting his head. “are you okay?” she asks, concerned for him but also bewildered at the situation.

her eyes quickly scan the faces of the other passengers who all looked seemingly unbothered. “the train breakdown? it seems like it might be a common occurrence.” she shrugs, offering him a sheepish smile, “but if it’s you hitting your head, that might just be some bad luck.”

         with a fresh bump on his head in tow, enzo diverts some of his attention to the passenger that’s addressed him. bad luck. isn’t that the truth! “definitely has to be my luck,” he mutters, craning his neck to see whether anyone else has had the same misfortune. a few people’s things have been strewn about ( and are now in the process of being regathered ) but otherwise, no injuries and no real panic. “must be normal if nobody else cares,” he continues, half to himself. still, it’s not pleasant to think that they might be stuck here a while.

         the train lurches again as if to move, but no progress is made. great. “how long do you think it’ll be before we get out of this mess?” he asks, turning back to the luckier of the two. “not that i have places to be, i guess...”

[ofendtimes]

@aerodynqmic​

         the underground is far from enzo’s favorite place to be... but without a car, the subway is the most effective form of travel. usually. true to his record of bad luck, the last call train is halted slightly less than halfway from its destination with a sinister rumbling from underfoot. this time, he’s almost positive it has nothing to do with him. “fucking hell,” he groans, heading falling back and ( lightly ) smacking the window faced behind. “is this some kind of sick joke?”

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

   corners  of  mouth  quirk  upwards  at  remark  &  shoulders  lift  into  shrug.  sharp  pang  of  guilt  stabs ��through  back  of  her  mind  ,  reminding  her  that  while  she’s  grown  fond  of  the  company  he  provides  ,  it’s  still  under  false  pretenses.  of  course  enzo  would  discover  the  truth  sooner  rather  than  later  …..  though  lu’s  perfectly  content  with  his  blissful  ignorance  for  the  time  being  ,  sated  with  their  budding  relationship.  ❛  it  isn’t  an  insult  …  just  an  observation  ….  ❜  hums  off-handedly  ,  continuing  to  scribble.  ❛  what  do  you  think  my  thoughts  are  like?  talk  to  me  ,  tell  me  something  ,  anything.  ❜

         “i didn’t think it was an insult,” he responds, eyes flitting up from their previous position tracing lines and up toward her face. “just weird, that’s all.” it’s true. most of enzo’s thoughts are carefully guarded at best... and a torrential downpour of negativity and nightmares when not. the fact that lucrecia enjoys the best of it ( cynical, long-winded monologuing ) is bizarre enough to raise eyebrows, but not quite enough to cut company. who else does he have? more importantly, as long as neither of them are bothered by the shit lurking within the recesses of his mind, why does it matter? “i never know what to talk about.” after a pause, he relents. “what are you drawing, anyway?”

[ofendtimes]

         “i can see why,” he answers, eyes lazily tracing the doodles she’s staining his skin with. “you’ve probably drawn a whole career’s worth on me by now.” not just tonight, either. every time they’ve hung out in the past... while, her pen is out and pressed against his arm. enzo doesn’t mind. the stimuli is a welcome distraction from everything else going on around them. “you’re probably the only person who would ever say that to me,” he scoffs, dark eyes meeting her own. “i don’t know if i should be offended by that or not.” he isn’t, of course.

   ❛ when i was twelve , being a tattoo artist was the most intriguing thing to me , did you know… ❜ ink traces itself into mindless doodles along his forearm , while orbs settle into vacant lock with his own. canopy of sheer curtains cast illusion of their own private little world , tucked into neat little corner of space. ❛ will you come over again tonight ….. i like when you sleepover , you have such loud thoughts. ❜ / @ofendtimes

[ofendtimes]

@francessscas

         this is terrible. of all the times to lose control, did it have to be over a piece of absolute junk? the junk car in question has cost him more money than he cares to admit, only to come back assessed scrap metal. now what is he going to do? sell it for pennies at the scrap yard? a few kicks to its battered frame is all it takes for the rest of enzo’s rage to emerge, accompanied by the addition of greasy, dying feathers and long claws. he doesn’t care who sees him at this point!

         “stupid, no good, piece of—” a long string of colorful language continues to stream from his mouth, and more pressingly... the ground begins to rumble beneath his feet, crumbling around him.

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

   “  in  that  one  movie  ….  “  she  wonders  if  it’s  too  late  to  go  back  on  the  offer  ,  maybe  it’d  be  best  to  just  wipe  the  memory  of  herself  clean.  she  contemplates  it  for  all  of  a  minute  as  she  silently  stares  him  down.  “  you’re  odd.  did  you  know  that?  ”  is  all  she’s  able  to  say  ,  dragging  him  along.  it’s  impossible  to  hear  anything  he’s  saying  as  they  weave  through  the  crowd  of  bodies  ,  so  she  simply  opts  to  ignore  his  questions  until  after  ,  they’re  in  the  backrooms.  

      takes  only  a  quick  chat  &  explanation  to  security  guard  ,  to  be  let  though.  “  you  take  forever  ,  you  know  that?  &  i  need  my  stuff  ,  if  we’re  heading  to  home.  you  think  i  carry  around  my  car  keys  &  everything  ,  just  on  person?  while  working?  how  does  that  make  any  sense?  ”  lu’s  off  onto  a  tangent  ,  mumbling  more  to  herself  than  to  enzo.  after  shoving  the  last  of  her  belongings  into  her  duffel  &  throwing  on  a  hoodie  ,  she’s  turning  to  reface  him.  “  were  you  going  to  tell  me  your  name  ,  by  the  way?  how  will  i  know  what  to  call  you  ,  if  you  don’t?  ”  

         you’re odd. oh, if only she knew. but enzo isn’t about to enlighten a stranger, even... as kind as her offer to let him stick around is. still isn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. is there going to be some sort of catch later on? if there is, he thinks he can handle it—any risk, for now, is worth the reward for a warm place to sleep that isn’t his back car seat. regardless, lucrecia doesn’t give him much time to contemplate the arrangement, dragging him back through the building and through the swarm of people quicker than he would have liked. there’s a thought to ask her to slow down a little, but the roar of the music is too loud to be hard and, really, would she have listened? something tells him otherwise.

         “i’ve been right behind you the whole time,” he protests, watching as she storms around the room to pick up whatever belongings are lounging in the back room. he wonders if she carries this much stuff around with her normally. is that normal? is he the weird one, here? nothing in life has given him a concrete answer on the appropriate amount of stuff. “oh, well... now that you mention it, i guess.” there’s an awkward pause. “enzo. probably should have said it earlier. you gonna tell me yours, or what?”

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

   so  he  isn’t  helpless.  she’d  figured  as  much  at  the  haunting  glow  if  his  own  eyes.  doesn’t  seem  to  be  anything  along  the  lines  of  lu’s  own  gift  ,  which  leaves  a  whole  floor  of  opportunity.  is  pleasantly  surprised  ,  as  false  memory  takes  seed.  she  takes  a  moment  to  search  his  features  ,  assuring  that  he  wouldn’t  try  fighting  back.  then  takes  a  few  steps  back  ,  once  again  ,  extending  out  the  folded  bills.  “  sorry  about  your  car  ,  i  see  you’re  very  ….  attached  to  it  ….”  trails  off  awkwardly  ,  bending  to  collect  belongings.  pulling  out  phone  ,  she  sighs  at  seeing  it  dead.  really  ought  to  start  remembering  to  charge  it  before  hand  or  look  into  a  portable  charger.  

      lu  looks  from  him  ,  to ��car  &  back  to  drained  phone.  guilt  settling  like  a  rock  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach  ,  she  throws  out  the  question.  “  you  have  ….  nowhere  else  ,  you’re  able  to  stay?  ”  it’s  a  crazy  idea  ,  considering  their  initial  meeting  ….  but  ,  she  technically  owes  him  more  than  just  a  tow.  “  if  you  really  need  somewhere  to  stay  …  i  could  help  ,  if  you’d  like?  ”  

         there’s something pinching at the back of his mind as she looks at him, but he can’t find the energy to dig into it further. what’s the point when he has bigger concerns ahead of him? somehow, he’s going to have to scrape together the money to get his car fixed... if it can be fixed... and that’s going to take more than rooting around a few apartments for things he can sell. the tow being paid for is nice ( he supposes ) but it’s not enough to cover the things he really needs. “well, i live in it,” he admits, shrugging; “so yeah. i guess you could say i’m attached to it.” suddenly, he notices that he’s crumpled against the brick wall. strange. he doesn’t remember getting into a fight, but... he must have.

         picking himself up off of the ground, enzo takes the money offered to him and tucks it into his back pocket. hopefully, nobody has the dumb idea to try and mug him tonight. he’s been through enough, in his opinion. “you mean... i could crash on your couch?” he asks, surprise evident in his expression. “aren’t you worried i could be some crazy axe murderer or some shit?”

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

   eyes  slant  into  half  heated  glare  ,  shoulders  tensing  at  seeing  the  fury  in  his  own.  “  you’re  rude  ,  you  know.  i  apologized  &  told  you  the  tow  ,  i’d  cover  ….  that’s  enough  now.  ”  the  night’s  been  frustrating  &  the  early  hours  of  morning  ,  even  more  so.  this  man  isn’t  doing  anything  to  help.  so  what  if  she’d  demolished  his  car  ,  she’d  offer    to  cover  a  part  of  the  costs.  that  ought  to  be  enough  ,  it’s  so  obvious  that  she  isn’t  in  the  right  mind  frame.  perhaps  a  bit  of  persuasion  ,  is  what  he  needs  to  cool  off.  with  a  swipe  of  arm  ,  lu  flings  him  into  rough  brick  of  alley  wall.  propels  forward  to  deplete  distance  between  them  &  eyes  take  on  their  signature  eerie  white  glow  ,  iridescent  mist  surrounding  her  hands.  

      “  you’re  mistaken.  this  wasn’t  me  ….  the  one  responsible  was  gone  ,  before  you  got  here.  you’ll  take  the  $200  &  walk  away  …..”  with  a  flick  of  wrist  ,  she’s  sending  wanted  thought  into  his  head.  wether  or  not  false  memory  is  rooted  successfully  ,  depends  on  a  variety  of  possibilities.  one  of  which  including  if  he’s  got  any  sort  of  psychic  shields  ,  protecting  him.

         you’re rude. “really? you trash my fucking car and then have the audacity to—” enzo doesn’t even have the time to finish his argument before he’s being flung back against the bricks. of fucking course. only in boston. there’s a lot of ways he could have seen this going, but having her decide to quit the apologetic act to take up the role of a supervillain wasn’t one of them. it’s not entirely surprising given the city’s status as a safe haven, but it’s frustrating to deal with. not only has she destroyed his home, she’s going to try and trash him, too? not fucking happening. or so he wants to believe.

         his own eyes glow a deep red as he prepares to open up the ground beneath them, but before he can set off the calamity in question, she closes the distance between them and sets her own abilities to work. a fine mist seeps into his skull, pacifying the deep rumble beneath the earth and sending him into a hypnotic daze. you’re mistaken. this wasn’t me. she’s right, the perpetrator has fled the scene and left him with the damages. “it wasn’t you,” he echoes, still somewhat dazed. he shakes his head to rid himself of the feeling. “thanks for the money, err... man. most people wouldn’t help out a stranger like this.”

[ofendtimes]

𝖑𝖚𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆.

      anger  is  warranted  &  with  good  rights  to  be  so  ,  eyes  scan  over  the  mess  she’s  created  ,  looking  anywhere  but  at  the  man.  “  m’sorry.  it  looks  like  ….  someone  else’s  car  i  know  &  i  just  …  i  wasn’t  thinking.  ”  it  looked  too  similar  to  his  car.  within  the  a  second  ,  she  was  fifteen  again.  hanging  off  of  every  little  praise  &  word  ,  rained  onto  her.  the  high  &  low  lights  of  a  relationship  that  should’ve  put  him  behind  bars  ,  instead  of  allowing  for  the  cycle  to  continue  on  &  on.  lu’s  head  cocks  to  side  as  her  eyes  water  ,  as  the  stranger  continues  on  his  tangent.  “  i  can’t  really  afford  …  anything  else  …  i’m  so  sorry.  ”  could  probably  cover  the  cost  of  damages  off  of  just  a  few  days  of  busy  nights  but  ,  there’s  no  need  to  share  that.  still  though  ,  she  feels  guilty.  which  is  how  she  finds  herself  rummaging  through  bag  ,  pulling  out  a  wad  of  bills.  “  that  …  that’s  almost  $200  ,  should  cover  the  cost  of  the  tow  ….”  

        i wasn’t thinking. the smolder of anger brightens into a proper flame, lighting his eyes. “yeah, you weren’t thinking, were you? i mean, seriously? you thought it belonged to someone else? how does that make it any better?” for that matter, how is he just supposed to take her word for it? even if the statement rings with truth, it doesn’t take back the damage to his only home. “i don’t care if you can’t afford it. you’re lucky i don’t take you to court over this.” really, he can’t afford to do that, either. he’s holding onto the hope that she’ll just fork over his rightful amount without a fight. “i still might, so don’t get your hopes up. you can start with paying for the tow. after that, you still owe me.”