#interactions; felix and roxy 001

[manybcdthings]

location: santiago's house

starter: felix ranstrom and roxy rose @hxckedvxid

Felix at a wake was a fucking joke. A bit. A comedy sketch where the punchline was always the same. His existential dread, now with added ambiance. He was already prone to overthinking mortality without being shoved into a situation that required him to sit with it, steep in it. And yet, here he was. Again. A tradition now. Respect, honor, remembrance. All that shit. But it never changed the fact that his eyes would always drift, scanning the room, wondering what his own would look like. Who'd be there?

Would he go first, or Jakob? Would he be watching his brother get lowered into the ground, or would Jakob be watching him? What about Roxy? Would he be standing over her grave, waiting, half-expecting the coffin to shake, for the wood to splinter, for her to claw her way back up with some unholy cackle because she punted Death in the dick and stole the scythe? Or would it be her watching his? His thoughts spiraled, dark and fast. He didn't know how to pull himself out of it. Never did. Not even the fact that Jakob was still eyefucking Ines Alvarez. Not even the fact that Roxy was draped against him, perched in his lap. Probably with a scythe.

Then. A sniff. Felix blinked. Confused. There it was again, small, wet, and completely unfamiliar. His brows furrowed. Another one. His first thought? Someone was doing cocaine in Santiago Alvarez's house. Bold. Maybe even admirable. But if that was the case, why the fuck weren't they sharing? Then another. Too snotty to be a coke inhale.

Felix shifted, tilting his head just enough to throw a glance at Roxy only to watch her flop slightly as he moved, revealing red-rimmed eyes, a sniffly nose. His head cocked to the side. What the fuck? He had never seen her cry. Not once. Ever. So, naturally, the first thought in his head was that she wasn't crying. Because that made more sense than the alternative. "Are you allergic to dogs?" his voice came out flat, not unkind but completely at odds with the situation. His face? Baffled. Tiniest flicker of amusement.

"You never told me you were allergic to dogs. That was close, I was gonna get you a chihuahua." he mumbled, his hand lifting to cup her face and...wait a minute. "Wait, you're crying?" he had to stop himself from blurting it out. Sure, she wasn't in hysterics. Barely even had proper tears just watery eyes which, admittedly, made them all the more blue. Felix bit back a grin, a confused grin, not a mean one. He wasn't that bad. His thumb swiped at a tear caught just under her lashes and he even inspected the small droplet, as if checking it was even real. Even happening. "Have you stolen something from me and this is a diversion?"

[manybcdthings]

Felix had never seen her like this before and he had seen most versions of Roxy. The manic kind. The cunning kind. The burn it all down and laugh while it happened kind. The one people either worshipped or feared. They usually did both. He had seen the deeper ones, too. The versions not for public viewing. His favorite ones. When her voice dropped and her eyes turned soft and sharp all at once. When she pressed her mouth to his neck and told him things like they were secrets, not confessions. When her hands gripped like a lifeline instead of a weapon. He had seen the real her. But not this.

This was new. This was quiet. Dangerous. The kind of stillness that came before an explosion. She wasn't pacing. Wasn't twitching or laughing or snarling. But the tension in her was coiled. Her body screamed with it. That look in her eyes was fixed and waiting. Like a shark circling deep beneath the surface. And he had no idea how to tell her that he wanted her to strike. Christ, he really wanted her to do it. To let it all go. Tear into someone. Burn it to the ground. Not for him. For her. But he couldn't say that. Not now.

"So, I'm annoying all the time?" Felix muttered but the grin that followed wasn't his usual brand of sarcasm. It was softer. A little crooked. One she could pull from him without even trying. Her arms were already over his shoulders and his hands dropped to her waist, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of her shirt like they belonged there. They did. His forehead pressed to hers. Just a second of stillness. One heartbeat shared between two fucked up people trying to hold it together.

"How about you just hold the grenade and don't pull anything yet?" he added, quieter now. Meant to be a joke, but it wasn't. Because that was what she had been doing this whole time. Holding it. Teeth clenched. Hands steady. He pulled back just enough to look at her and watch the shift behind her expression as it happened. That flicker of recognition. She knew what he was saying. Knew what they had to do. The fucking patience of it. The bullshit performance. But she got it. And then, finally, there it was.

The grin. The sharp, unhinged, perfect twist of her mouth. That glint in her eyes like violence and devotion lived side by side. His chest eased just a little. Relief. Lust. Something like pride. "You didn't even ask for the details. Just nodded." Felix let his voice drop, dry with amusement, soft in a way that only ever existed for her. His hand slid up her side, slow and sure until his fingers found her jaw. He tilted her chin up, then guided her head into a gentle, exaggerated little nod. Mocking, affectionate as he grinned, smug at her. "What made you be a good girl all of a sudden?" that was just because he could, and because he wanted to see a flicker of something else in her eyes, just for a second.

Roxy doesn't say anything right away because the second she opens her mouth, she knows too much might come out. I need to steal that truck right now. I miss her so bad it feels like dying. You're the only reason I haven't lost my fucking mind. But she also knows, Felix already knows. Probably more than that. He doesn't see straight through her, he sees straight into her. So she just stands there, her fingers curling slightly into his shirt, grounding herself with the quiet hum that only Felix can ever bring.

"God, you're annoying when you make sense." she mutters under her breath, no venom behind it just a small, tired surrender that sounds a little like love. Too soon. Yeah. It is. And she hates that he's right. Her gaze lifts to his, and for a second her pulse calms to his steadiness. He tells her not yet, and somehow, her body listens. Her breathing evens out. And when his fingers push her hair from her face, she lets the warmth of it hit her.

Then that grin flickers. That familiar curl at the corner of his mouth, and Roxy's eyes drop to catch it in real time before snapping back to his. She huffs out a laugh. "You telling me to go ape shit is like handing me a grenade and saying, 'just don't pull it all the way.'" her tone is softer, teasing now and Roxy moves closer, arms sliding up around his shoulders, like muscle memory. Like maybe if she holds on tight enough, the pieces inside her won't rattle so loud.

But her eyes never leave his, watching the look shift in his eyes. That flicker of the real plan, buried under his very Felix calmness. Roxy's head tilts, her grin forming slow and sure, smaller than usual. Less teeth and more focus. She squints, but only for a second, just until she's certain she's tapped into the wavelength Felix is on right now. Plotting. Cunning. "You wanna go to Bouse, baby?" she says, voice warm and teasing at once. Understanding. "Okay." she nods once, like she's thinking it through, considering it as her fingers drag against the back of his neck. "If that's what you want, we can do that." and her smile says it loud enough for both of them. They're not going to fucking Bouse.

[manybcdthings]

roxy's apartment

felix ranstrom and roxanna rose @hxckedvxid

Roxy's place was never quiet. Felix didn't expect it to be. Hell, at this point, he'd probably hate it if it was. The boombox in the corner had been half dead for years, and always thrashed out something that was maybe hyperpop, maybe punk, maybe both. Graffiti glimmered across every wall, catching the light. The windows were open, but the place still reeked of bubblegum and vodka. Outside, traffic howled. Dogs barked. Someone was screaming about rent or revenge. Inside, she cackled above it all.

Usually but not tonight. The chaos was still there, undeniable and hers but Roxy hadn't laughed in twenty minutes. Not a giggle, not a snort, not even that deranged little hum she did when her brain was on fire and her heart was full of knives. She was pacing. That was the first red flag. The second was the nest of phone chargers on the floor. At least a dozen, maybe more, all coiled like discarded snakes. He hadn't even known she owned that many.

She was crouched near an outlet, jaw clenched, trying one charger after another like something had to work if she just jammed it hard enough. The burner in her hand stayed dark. Felix hadn't blinked in a while. He was pretty sure of that. The joint in his fingers had smoldered down to a ghost, but he still dragged the last of it before grinding it out in a neon pink ashtray that said SPANK ME in glitter letters.

"Rox. Babe." he said, voice steady as he leaned in a little. Just enough to hopefully cut through the spiral. Then, a hand reached out. Slow like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. And gently, he stopped her own hands as they untangled another charger. "I mean it, DJ's the best bet." the first time he made the suggestion, she told him to stop being stupid. The second, she gave him a look like she might stab him. The third, she snarled.

Felix's last hope was that the fourth time's the charm. His eyes flicked over her profile, and even from this angle he could see the determination turned mania flashing behind her eyes. He said nothing else for a moment, just kept his fingers brushing against hers. "He won't give a fuck what's on that thing. He's too dumb to care. And even if he could put two and two together, he'd eat the phone before he ever talked."

[manybcdthings]

Felix couldn't take his eyes off her. Couldn't think past anything except God, look at her. Like really fucking look at her. That grin stretched so wide it was damn near splitting her face open, her shoulders doing that slow, satisfied sway, so fucking pleased with being a little twisted sociopath. It hit him like a punch to the gut, that deep rooted, maddening affection. "Liked it? No, Rox. I fucking loved it." his voice was low, a little rough at the edges and fuck this stupid paper plate of pizza, it was in his way. He barely spared it a glance as he tossed it onto the coffee table, both hands already gripping her hips, dragging her closer, shifting her fully to face him.

She leaned in, and his smirk sharpened, teeth flashing as she spoke. Imagine if you died. Perfect. No notes. Just existential enough to light up that fucked up part of his brain that always lingered in the dark. His hand found her face, not holding, but keeping her there because there was a difference. A small tilt of her chin, his thumb skimming over her cheekbone. "How do you want people to mourn for you, baby?" it was a genuine question, his voice amused and quiet. "A party?" but his lips barely stayed away, hovering at the corner of hers, brushing just enough to tease. "Fireworks?" it wasn't rushed, wasn't some performance for anyone watching. It was slow, drawn out, like he had all the time in the world to admire her.

Her demand was heard loud and clear. It always was. And Felix never ignored her. His laugh came out more of a huff as he squeezed her jaw, gave it a slow, deliberate shake. "You're always a problem," he muttered, affectionate, matter of fact, grinning because she fucking was. He shifted her off his lap, pushing up to his feet. There was no glance back, no goodbyes. He wasn't staying a second longer. His hands were already back on her, guiding her toward the door, grip firm on her hips, his mind cycling through every possible way to see that mascara running again before the night was over.

END.

Roxy is feeling fucking proud of herself. Sitting like it too, perched right on Felix's knee, straight backed like some prim little thing. Shoulders shimmying, barely able to keep still with all the pent up delight. But it's not just about her performance, not just about tricking him into playing doting boyfriend, dabbing at her fake tears like she's some tragic soul. No, it's better than that. Because Felix never looks at her like she needs fixing. Not once.

That's what cracks her grin open, splitting wide enough to cut. He's not judging her. He's looking at her like he's impressed. Like she's entertaining. Like she's fascinating. The quiet awe is there in his hands, in the slight tilt of his head, in the way he doesn't even try to snap her out of it. Fuck, she could eat that look up with a fucking spoon.

"I knew you'd like that." Roxy preens, full of herself. Because of course, she knows him. Knows exactly what makes his fucked up brain tick, knows how he finds humor in the macabre, how he gets off on twisted, rotting shit that makes normal people queasy. "Actually, you sorta inspired me, 'cause, listen," she says it like a compliment, because it is. She shifts, facing him more, carving out their own little bubble in the corner of the room, letting the rest of the gathering dull down into static. "Imagine if you died," she murmurs, and there's something too serious in her tone, too intense for it to be a joke. "Came back as a ghost, watching people sit around eating shitty pizza to honor you. That's a fucking insult, right?" her head tilts, the thought so real to her that she almost gets mad about it.

Felix dabs at her face again, gentle and automatic. And just as automatic, Roxy lets him. Doesn't flinch, doesn't wriggle away. She used to, once upon a time, back when softness was foreign, uncomfortable, something to snarl at. But not now. Now, she leans into it, lets him admire the track of fake tears down her cheeks, her grin still sharp, still mean, still a little feral.

He calls her a sociopath, and she laughs, because that's how this always goes. But as soon as their lips meet, Roxy catches his bottom lip between her teeth, sharp and urgent, a reminder. "That's dark, Felix. Real dark. Wanna fuck me at a wake? Show some respect." she hums against his mouth but there's no judgment. They crawl into the darkest corners of each other's minds, make a home there, never try to redecorate. They like the heavy, the rot, the sick, the warped. But of course, she's not going let his words slide. Not when they're so fucking clear. His need has already sparked hers, and now she's burning. "You got three seconds to get us outta here before I start being a fucking problem~" she warns, sing song and sweet. "Tio would get it. Bet he was a dirty dog, I just know it."

[manybcdthings]

Felix had been half a second away from lifting the napkin to Roxy's face, letting her blow her nose into it. But then...there. He saw it. A flicker. The shift in her scowl, the way those big blue eyes lost their pitiful sadness, darkened into something sharper. Something more Roxy. He leaned back just slightly, letting it unfold, watching it take over. The revelation. The turn. Her scowl curling into that grin. Her grin.

She snapped her teeth near his nose, and Felix didn't even blink. He was already grinning, unsurprised. Unbothered. If anything, impressed. "Holy shit, baby." his tone sat somewhere between confused and admiring, his head tilting as he brushed away the last remaining tear. Fake and real, all at once. "That was very convincing… I mean, your nose is red and everything." his hand gently angled her chin to the light, the streak of tears carved into running mascara. Well shit, now he was horny.

And apparently, Felix didn't need her to actually be crying to lift the napkin and wipe at her face, because he did it anyway. Automatically. Unthinking. His other hand still steady at her jaw, watching her half in awe and some kind of primal thrill lurking underneath. Like watching a horror movie on purpose because you just fucking love the scares.

Roxy learning the art of manipulative tears was dangerous. No question about it. But Felix? He wasn't worried. He couldn't wait to watch her use it on other people. Knew, without a doubt, that he'd even fall for it again. And again. And again. Probably for the rest of his fucking life. Maybe it should have concerned him. The fact that, at a wake for people she had known for years, she had to think about bad pizza just to cry. But it didn't. If anything, it told him something.

He thought back to earlier, to his own spiral, the existential bullshit about what would happen after who went first. If it was him, she wouldn't be crying. She wouldn't be wailing at his grave, trying to throw herself into it. No, she'd be burning the world down. That was better than crying. "You're a fucking sociopath." he said simply, affectionate and caught in a slight laugh. Then his lips found hers, a quick kiss, his grin widening against her mouth. "I wish I could fuck you at this wake," he mused, almost wistful, like it was an actual shame. "But I literally already had an argument about that."

Roxy sniffs, scowling harder because she's pissed at her own face for leaking. But, she's not exactly thrashing away in Felix's grip to escape. She's all floppy head and limp wrists, lazily swiping at every attempt he makes to take a look at her tears. She can see the gears turning behind his eyes, like he's trying to make sense of the sight. So is she. But then he does that thing. Her Felix thing. Steady, calm. The way he bumps his nose against hers. She leans in, forehead knocking against his, sniffling. "Yeah, that does make me feel better." Roxy mumbles, voice all pitiful, pouty, nodding like a wounded puppy. Everyone dead, no shitty fucking pizza. Dream scenario, actually.

And then, it shifts. The way Felix is gentle, thoughtful, wiping her fingers clean, setting the napkin down, plucking the pizza slice out of her hands, brushing her tears away like it's second nature. Like she's someone who deserves looking after. It breaks the act, immediately. The tears are gone, her scowl vanishes. Replaced by a slowly curling smirk, sharp and menacing. Very pleased with herself. "Gotcha." Roxy whispers, snapping her teeth close enough to his nose that she almost grazes him.

With that, she's sitting up straighter on Felix's lap like she's just been knighted. Chin up, victorious. "Was it convincing?" she asks, already smug. "Been practicing. Dom said earlier it was weird I never cried and I was like, huh, yeah, guess it is." she shrugs, carefree and still absolutely relishing in her own dramatics. She snatches the pizza slice from the plate, tearing off a bite. "Not even bad pizza, but I couldn't think of what else. Made me get in the zone." she explains, chewing and her grin has shifted into something wicked. Except, for Felix, it's fond. "You're cute, though. Really cute."

[manybcdthings]

Felix watched it happen almost in slow motion. The scowl pulling slow and deliberate across Roxy's mouth like it was dragging itself out of her. And fuck, he almost reached out. Almost put his fingers to the corners of her lips just to push the frown back into that unhinged, razor blade grin she wore better than anyone alive. The one that felt like her. His gaze swept her face, catching every micro expression. There was something tired in her eyes now. Not soft. Not weak. Just…bruised. And it made his jaw tighten, because he knew exactly what came next.

Not for him. Never for him. She'd set the world on fire, and he'd be right there beside her, hand in hers, second match in his teeth, making sure she didn't burn herself too badly on the way down. And everything she said? Not wrong. Not even a little. Nobody knew what the fuck they were doing. His eyes drifted for a second, taking in the same werewolf and witch still locked in their soap opera level pissing match, more people now circling like it mattered.

But when she said it, to take a truck and go. Felix looked back, fast and all of him locking in. She was in his space now, closer than anyone else ever could be. And he didn't hesitate. Felix's arm went around her shoulders automatically, keeping her closer. "Rox, you know that's pretty much what's gonna end up happening." he said, quiet and just for her. "But it's fucking dumb right now. It's too soon." not enough fuel. Not enough time or cover. They'd be roadkill before they even hit open highway. But once that was handled? Felix knew he wouldn't hesitate.

He didn't try to stop the storm unraveling behind her eyes. Didn't even think about it. The grin came back. Sharp, disbelieving, someone's-about-to-get-fucked-up look. It was his favorite one. He wasn't there to pull her back. Just to be the one she always came back to. His fingers lifted, brushing a streak of hair from her face, knuckles grazing her cheek with a touch so at odds with the war building between them. His grin answered hers. Subtle. Practically conspiratorial. "Let you?" Felix mumbled, voice full of dry amusement. "Roxy." he said her name slower this time, like it meant more. Like it always did. "Since when have I ever been able to let you or not let you?" He nodded faintly toward the rest of the base. "You wanna go ape shit? Go. You know I'm not stopping you." and he meant it. She could tear it limb from limb. And he'd pass the knife over.

But he also knew she wouldn't. Because no matter what people thought about Roxy, how she was like a loaded weapon with a busted safety...he knew her. He knew what loving Bowie had done to her. The way it had shifted something deep and wordless in her. She still bit. Still bled. Still burned bright. But she thought more now. Played the long game. And she was fucking good at it. "I think we should go to Bouse." Felix finally said, quieter now. His eyes met hers, sharp with something else now. The barest flick of a smirk threatening to form. Not a command. Not even a suggestion. Just something knowing in his tone. Let's get on that truck to Bouse. And maybe we don't go to Bouse at all.

The second Roxy feels Felix take the knife, she lets it go without a fight. She lets their fingers brush like a secret handshake no one else gets to see. Her eyes are already on him, scanning every inch of his face while he talks. Sedona's off the table. No, no, no, no. Her whole body is screaming what the fuck do you mean, but her face just twists, slow and mean, a scowl crawling across it like poison. Sedona made sense. It made fucking sense. She could be there.

"So no one fucking knows what they're doing. That's what we're dealing with." Roxy spits, teeth bared like the words are daggers. Not aimed at Felix. Aimed to him. Because he gets it. Because he's the only one who does. And goddamn it, she can see it in his face. That same thing sitting behind his eyes. That fractured, hollow ache that matches the one inside her chest like a fucked up little mirror. Bowie might be a chaos gremlin, sure, but Felix? Felix is the only one who can get her to breathe. Nap, even. Which is insane. It's like watching a raccoon curl up in a drawer just because he said please. And now that same man looks like he's about to snap clean in half.

"Felix." she breathes, voice dropping as she steps in closer, close enough that no one else can hear her over the buzz of bullshit leadership still bouncing around the base. "We should take a fucking truck and just go. You, me, Jakob. That's it. Gone." she waves a hand near her neck. A slice. Like cutting off a rot. She's all adrenaline and impulse now, fingers curling around his wrist like a fuse has just been lit. "Bouse?" she scoffs, eyes wide, grin sharp with disbelief.

"Are you serious? Bouse? Wasn't that a fucking ghost town before the world went to shit?" she laughs once, sharp and humorless. "What, are we planning day trips now? Little scenic tours of apocalyptic Arizona?" her voice is still a whisper but it crackles with anger. "Why don't you let me do what I said I could do?" something in her tone sharpens, and for once, it's an actual plead and not a demand. "Let me fucking go ape shit until I get my own way." it's always worked.

[manybcdthings]

It'd be too fucking easy to say loving Roxy Rose was like loving a wild animal. Teeth, claws, blood on the tile. People liked metaphors like that. Feral girl. Danger in a miniskirt. And yeah, sometimes it fit. But most people weren't close enough to see her like this. Not when the rage was just pain with nowhere to go. Felix had clocked it early, learned it like a second language. Roxy Rose wasn't a wild animal. She wasn't just chaos. She was aftermath. He remembered the exact moment it hit him. Ten years ago, give or take.

They'd been sleeping together for weeks and according to Roxy, not together. Felix agreed because it was easier to agree when you didn't want to look too closely at what you felt. So he flirted with someone else at the bar the next night. Watched Roxy's eyes go cold and shark black just seconds before the girl's head went through the window. That was it. After that, no declarations were needed. She just broke someone's face and smiled through the glass dust in her hair, and he knew. Roxy laughed when the violence was natural. When she didn't laugh, it meant something worse.

And right now, there was nothing funny about her rage. She was containing it, and Felix didn't interrupt. Just nodded a little, let a small grin drag across his mouth. Not for any other reason than the way he saw it all happen in real time. The way she glared at him. The way, just for a second, she took a breath. And then those blue eyes rolled at him like he was an idiot. The way she moved to the kitchen, silhouette slicing through neon pink light like a blade through cotton candy. "Nah, not a plant." he muttered, mostly to the phone as he popped the back off. "But, a plant makes more sense than coincidence." he pried the battery loose, and the shell creaked like it hadn't been touched in years.

There were a thousand questions clawing around this burner. And knowing Roxy, she'd want answers to all of them. Every last one. And Felix? Well, he was already trying to find them for her. "Not sure why someone would fake it being his, either." he added just as the SIM card slid free between his fingers. It was a miracle it was even there. Or a mistake. And neither sounded like Michael fucking Rose. Felix sighed, glancing to the kitchen just as Roxy stood in that cracked halo of pink light, downing cherry vodka like it was holy water.

He was grinning again. Softer. The kind of grin that wasn't sympathy, but was considerate. Gentle in a way that probably didn't suit his mouth. Then, he held the SIM card up to the light like it might confess something. Scratched. Like it had been switched out a million times. "What if he wanted you to find it? You and Dom. Your mom. Gave it to someone, said 'wait, not yet.'" as soon as he said it, he almost wanted to scoff. That'd be nice. It'd be cleaner. Easier. But nothing ever was.

Grief's a weird one. It shapeshifts fast into sadness. But sadness doesn't have a place in Roxy's world. Not really. Around here, sadness is just the scenic route to anger. All roads lead to Rage. Or whatever the fuck the saying is. She's hunched over the tangled graveyard of chargers like she's been sitting here for eighty years. Spine coiled. Jaw clenched tight enough to creak. The pill she swallowed twenty minutes ago hasn't kicked in yet, but her molars grind like gears. She can taste blood. The inside of her cheek is raw, bitten through without even noticing.

Another cable gets shoved into place with too much force, and her hand slips, yanking the whole mess with it. Felix is somewhere on the couch beside her but she barely registers him. All her focus is pinned to the burner in her lap. The one she knows was her dad's. No doubt in her mind. That torn playing card? Michael all over it. Classic Rose move. Mark the trail, hide the trap. Her fingers tremble. She hates that they tremble.

And it's strange because...Roxy can't remember if she ever cried. No one would ever call Michael Rose a good man, either. Nothing to really miss. He was cruel. Mean, too. He taught her how to strip a pistol in thirty seconds flat. Taught her to swing a bat like it was a part of her, for Christ sake. That shit matters. Felix's voice breaks through like it might stitch her back together if she lets it. She doesn't look at him, but she feels his fingers ghost over hers, and something in her chest shifts just enough to breathe again.

Until he mentions DJ, and her eyes snap to him. Rage. Rage. Anger. Sad. Grief. Love. Three, two, one. Roxy exhales and then her eyes roll dramatically. "I'm not going to DJ fucking Anderson." she bites out, quiet but no less certain. "He won't say shit on purpose, but he'll say shit by accident. That's worse." her gaze drops back to the phone still clenched tight in her fist. Like if she lets go, it might detonate or maybe she will. "Think it's a plant?" she mutters, and suddenly her voice softens just enough to sound human again. Then, without ceremony, she tosses the phone toward Felix like she doesn't give a shit if it shatters against the floor.

She's already moving to the kitchen space where's half a bottle of cherry vodka waits for her. "Or he just left it there in that fucking warehouse for some reason?" she scoffs as she yanks open the fridge, the sound popping like a KRAK. "Yeah, right. Real on brand for Mikey Rose. Leave loose ends, walk away from a burner." her laugh is bitter and sharp and she's already chasing vodka down her throat before the sound even fades. It's almost impressive, how fast grief circles the drain and comes back up swinging into rage again. Love. Greif. Sadness. Anger. Rage.

[manybcdthings]

At first, Felix felt relief. Roxy declared her disdain for chihuahuas. Good, he thought. He had no intention of ever getting her one. He had lied. She was not to be trusted with a living thing under her care. He didn't have the heart to tell her but he didn't judge her for it, either. Actually, he found it oddly fucking endearing. Like the time he brought her along to interrogate some dipshit dealer pushing too close to Saint territory. They agreed not to hit him too hard. Roxy even behaved. They got their answers. She forgot to let him go. Two weeks later, Felix had to clean up the rotting, putrid mess of a man who starved to death in a shipping container. And she just blinked at him, all wide eyed and innocent. Oh, right. That guy. Felix never asked if she did it on purpose. Some things were better left unanswered.

But then. Pizza. Felix blinked. Did a double take between the slice in her hand and her actual fucking face. She was serious. He was smirking. Though, it faltered slightly. Because the thing about Roxy was that she never reacted the way normal, sane people should. Never had. Never would. One of the main reasons he was drawn to her in the first place. She was like an absurd concept come to life. A fever dream of a person. And right now...crying about pizza.

Honestly, it actually made sense. Really, wasn't everyone one bad pizza away from a complete fucking breakdown? Imagine coming home after a long day, exhausted, too dead inside to cook. Ordering delivery. Opening the warm box, just to bite into a slice of cardboard, burned cheese, and disappointment. The kind of thing that could break a person. Now, Felix was going to forever see tourists on the strip, grinning to himself. Yeah, keep laughing. You're one bad pizza away from ruin.

So no. He wasn't surprised Roxy had tears in her eyes over this. Maybe it wasn't even about the pizza at all. Probably wasn't. Either way, he was fighting his smirk as he gently stopped her from wriggling away. He knew she wouldn't really pull back, but he tightened his grip just enough to angle her back toward him. Forced her to meet his gaze. "If it makes you feel any better..." he murmured, hands lifting to wipe a tear from her cheek, smirk still twitching over his lips. "There's no guarantee there'll be anyone left to sit around eating shitty pizza when we die." his tone tipped into something warmer, only slightly teasing, before he pulled her in, just a little closer. Nose brushing the tip of hers. "You also don't have to eat it right now, either."

Admittedly, it was taking all of his concentration to not laugh. Felix reached for the napkin from her plate, taking his time to swipe off the weird cheese that she somehow managed to literally fling off the slice. Impressive. She was now defying cheese physics right before his eyes. Or, the pizza really was that shitty that the cheese just...fell off in one clump like a Lego hat. But, Felix took his time, let Roxy sit a little in her pizza-crisis, crumpled up the napkin and gently slid the slice out from her grip. "Is it really the pizza, Trouble?" his voice was quieter, but not careful. It was still a little teasing though, he couldn't help himself.

Roxy doesn't feel things the way she's supposed to. Wired up wrong, that's what her father used to say. Like someone took a knife to her nerve endings and rearranged them for fun. Anger for a heart. Laughter where pain's supposed to be. Excitement instead of fear. Enjoyment in the most unthinkable situations. Face to face with enemies, so fucking feral at the thought of making them scream that the first blood spilled is always her own. A nosebleed, sharp and hot, just from the thrill of it. Sadness? Nowhere to be found. Like a language she never learned to speak.

She tried. She tried to cry after her and Dom found him. Michael. Throat cut, body wrecked, blood dried black. They'd put him through hell before finally ending it. Roxy stood over him, waiting. Nothing. Not a single tear. Just rage and grit teeth. A fury so far past anger it turned into something monstrous. Now, she's staring at a picture frame on the wall, a paper plate of pizza in her lap, the sting of tears in her eyes.

But not from grief. It's not sadness, not loss. Roxy thinks you join a life like this knowing exactly what you're signing up for. You live fast, you die violent, and if you're not willing to take a bullet for it, you're a fucking coward who should crawl back to the gutter. So, no. She's not sad about the dead. Not the way she should be. Wired up wrong. Wired up wrong. Wired up wrong. But she'll miss Tio, that much she knows. She'll miss strutting past him just to say Oh, if I was 100 years older, Tio and hear him choke on his own laugh. Back when she was fresh blood, he called her crazy and it was the first time the word didn't bother her.

And then Felix notices her sniff and she groans, already annoyed. She turns her face away before he can get a good look, like that'll erase the evidence. "I don't want a fucking chihuahua." she mutters, scowling, swatting his hand away in a lazy swipe. There's a moment of resistance, shuffling, twisting and refusing to let him see but she doesn't move away completely. Finally she snaps. She yanks the slice off the plate, the movement sharp enough to send a glob of cheese sliding onto her fingers. More tears fall. Ones that almost seem and feel real and suddenly the words come spilling out, fast. "It's this fucking pizza." it's loud, almost furious. "We used to get tamales, and now when we die, people are just gonna get pizza!?"

[manybcdthings]

The base still hadn't settled. Two weeks and too many people pretending they were in charge. New leadership showed up in shifts. Everyone with a plan, everyone looking for someone to listen. Felix didn't. He walked past makeshift strategy boards, a half assembled weapons station, a kid barely out of his teens being told how to run comms. It was noise. Background. Not what he cared about. His attention tracked further ahead to Roxy, posted up against the wall like she hadn't moved in hours. Knife in hand, posture loose, eyes far away. He didn't need to guess where her head was. Same place his was. Boomie. The base could burn. Leadership could rip itself apart. None of it mattered as much as the fact that Bowie wasn't here. And every second that passed, that unhelpful voice in his head kept offering possibilities. The kind that made his jaw clench.

Off to the side, a werewolf and a witch were arguing loud enough to draw attention. Something about rations, or shifts, or who got to pretend they were more essential. Felix didn't care. Roxy wasn't even looking, either and that told him everything. Then someone said teamwork. Loud. Confident. Like it was a real fucking word that mattered. Felix almost scoffed, his eyes catching Roxy's at the same time. That one look was a whole conversation between them. There was no teamwork. Just them and Jakob. He had no interest in helping anyone else here. No intentions of making this easier for people.

Felix closed the distance just as Roxy pushed off the wall, already talking about Sedona. His head shook once and his hand lifted without thinking, going to the knife in her grip. She didn't need to be holding something sharp when she was given bad news. Not that it bothered him, but it was habitual, second nature, fingers brushing hers. "No. They changed their minds," he said, voice flat but simmering with a new animosity for the batch of self declared leaders.

"Said the energy could be veil shit. Probably more things that crawled on through there." Unsafe. Supposedly. Like he gave a shit. He cared more that it sounded like a place witches would be. That meant something to him. "I'll talk to Jasper," he added, already done with the conversation he hadn't even had with the shifter yet. "Think we're heading to Bouse now. But maybe he'll think logically, who fucking knows."

@manybcdthings roxy x felix - base

Everything smells like old blood, bleach, and bullshit. Roxy twirls a knife between her fingers like it's a fidget toy, barely paying attention to a werewolf arguing with a witch. Something about perimeter patrols. Blah blah blah. She zones out around "team work." That's usually when she starts thinking about fire. Or stabbing. Three weeks and everyone's acting like things are are buildable. Like the base isn't held together by duct tape, unresolved trauma, and war lunchables, as she calls them. Boomie wouldn't sit still for this kind of place. She'd be climbing the walls. Literally. Roxy misses the chaos. She misses the sound of her tiny goblin child screaming because she was told "no" and decided that meant war.

Roxy doesn't look up when she hears Felix. She knows his footsteps and she knows his presence. That brooding intensity that's always won her heart. Right now, it's the only thing keeping her steady. "Sedona, right?" Roxy says, flipping the knife a final time. "That's what I heard. Something about energy forces. Probably witches." she adds, unable to control the hint of bitterness slipping into her tone. Next she pushes away from the wall, a sharp gaze flicking over Felix in a quick but silent check. Like she's analyzing just how much of the thread is left that they're holding onto. Then, her gaze softens. "Lia's an energy forces kinda witch. So. That's where we're going."