dancing with the flames

She knows exactly what Marilyne’s face will look like, can envision the pursuit as if she’s got eyes in the back of her head. Like a predator locked in on pray, but with more fiery vengeance in her eyes, with the hint of an exhilarated smile slicing her features open, lighting her up like a bonfire. Because as angry as she is, as furious and hurt and vengeful, deep down Hadley knows this is fun. Mar is having fun. Because a story with plots and turns and twists and conflict is the best kind of story. And that…that was why she’d woken up one day knowing they needed to be shaken up. Mar was becoming too comfortable, to snug against her side, had stopped seeing other people as often. As flattering as that was, if she couldn’t pull characters from a wide array of outside sources what would happen to her delusions, to the hysteria bubbling beneath her mind? What would happen to her if that more structured outlet was lost? Breaking up with Marilyne was…the most selfless thing Hadley had ever done in her whole life, a protective act, gasoline to fuel her precious little firestarter.

Hadley isn’t aware of how far she’s run until she’s slamming through the fire escape door. The echoes are magnified, ominous, vibrating against concrete and metal. Mar has hands on her, is pushing her through, their breath collides into a catastrophically beautiful symphony as Hadley is pinned against the wall. It would have hurt, maybe it did hurt, but Hadley laughed nonetheless. Laughed as Marilyne gripped her jaw, eyes molten lava and adoration.

“Who says I ruined us,” she challenged, voice slick and slithering. “I’m hardly responsible for your weakness, pet. You broke the rules. You broke our agreement. Broken rules lead to consequences in any and every story, do they not?” She turns her head with suddeness, grins as she bites down on the tender spot between Mar’s pointer finger and thumb. Not hard enough to draw blood, but oh there would be a bruise, there would be blossoming throbbing pain. She takes that chance to push forward, to wrap one arm around the curve of Mar’s waist and spin them around as if they were dancing. Her free hand works into those soft teasing curls and yanks the woman’s head sharply to the side, so that she can tease her tongue along the curve of that slender neck. “But do go on and be a good girl. Tell me how much you missed me.”

She had returned to that dock many, many times since that fatal night. She had even made friends with a few of the others in town that had become frequent new visitors to the peer. But, she hadn’t even gone there for the same reasons that they had. She wasn’t there to try and explain away some guilt for taking a life, oh no. She hadn’t thought twice about those souls her knives had taken that night. In fact, she could barely remember any of their faces anymore. They were basically... Extras... Weren’t they? That night was just a hell of a story, and they were just little pawns. That was why she returned over and over again. To write that story in her mind, to figure out all of those plot twists and turns to everyone else’s stories, because at the time she’d been so blindsighted by her own personal narrative. How was she supposed to keep up with her own story, if she had no clue as to what was happening with all the little secondary characters in this town as well?

But, tonight, tonight was going back to that big disruption in the narrative. In Hadley Hopewell and this part in their story where they were seperated, painfully seperated from each other. This wasn’t supposed to happen, it wasn’t supposed to happen again. The arch of them seperating and coming back together had already been written and carried out, Hadley had already left her back in New York, and she had made such a trip across the country to rejoin their bodies and souls. They were supposed to be happy now, weren’t they? Their story was supposed to be the rare happy ending in literature... But, happy endings were just stories that haven’t finished yet.

“Our agreement was broken when you broke our story, Hadley-- when you left me behind in New York, to wake up so alone and cold...” She breathes out and then gasps for air as the other quickly spins them around and she’s pinned against the wall face first instead. “You haven’t faced any consequences for breaking the story, so why should I face the consequences of breaking the rules, darling?” Her breathing gets heavy as she pulls her hair, as she handles her roughly, Marilyne can feel that surge of love for the other warm her up from the inside out. She almost shakes when the tongue runs up her neck. “I did miss you... I do-- miss you...” She whispers breathlessly as her hand slides up her own thigh and takes the knife from it’s holster. Then, her heel stamps onto Hadley’s foot, and she pushes back, sending the two staggering backwards into the door they’d just burst through and slamming it completely closed. Mar turns to face the other again, pulling the knife up and holding its edge against her throat. “You should die for what you’ve done... You know you should, don’t you?” 

…

dylan narrowed her eyes at the other woman. there was something unnerving about her that she didn’t trust. sure, everyone in the town had something suspicious about them. but someone who said things like this couldn’t be trusted. after everything that happened that night, dylan couldn’t trust anyone. not that her circle of trust was big to start with. the other’s words take her off guard again. how did she know about that? the only people who knew what dylan did wouldn’t go around telling people about it. “where did you hear that?” she asks through gritted teeth, purposefully not giving her an answer. 

Marilyne had really learnt to zone out the judgemental looks that she often procured from others on first meeting, and every meeting after that. In fact, she quite enjoyed their fear, their confusion, their aprehension. It made the game more fun, the way they would look at her as if they were wondering if she was real, if she was all there was fuel to her own delusion that she, in fact, wasn’t. “I’m not here to arrest you or turn you in for murder, though-- I’d find it quite difficult to see how any law enforcement could possibly try and convict anyone of anything that happened on that night. Chaos is lawless, after all.”. She taps her fingers across the wood of the railings before moving her gaze back out to the ocean. “I would have done the same thing, you know. Better we’re taken out of the world quick and fast than slow and painful, right?” Mar’s eyes narrow just a little before turning back to Dylan. 

There is a part of Hadley that has always been intensely jealous of Marilyne. Hadley has had to learn to function a good deal of the time on a façade based autopilot. Sociable, a businesswoman, earning favors, staying on people’s good sides. Her darker inclinations were not something she felt like she could just impulsively let out in front of other humans. Her firestarter, however, suffered from no such inhibitions. There was no risk, nothing to lose, when you believed nothing was real. She had no one to impress, no reason to feel like she needed to protect herself. Hadley knows what is coming the second she hears that laugh, that laugh that might as well be the pin coming out of a grenade. Metal goes flying, a loud thunk as the knife hits the service door. There are gasps, there is chaos, it’s fucking beautiful, she is fucking beautiful.

Hadley has to cover her mouth to keep from laughing when Nikolai, one of her regulars, gets a new addition to his hand in the form of a fork. The blood stains the table, the men scramble, half of them look on the verge of pissing their pants. Hadley is statuesque, save for the quivering smile that keeps trying to launch across her features. Now the men at the table are fair game, but Gregory is the most competent server she’s ever had. As the top button of his shirt is severed, Hadley heaves a sigh, heels clicking as she steps out from her hiding place. She crosses her arms, tilts her head and clears her throat waiting for Marilyne to turn around and face her. This allows Gregory time to dart out of harms way. “Goodness what an awful lot of fuss. You could just leave me a Yelp review, you know.”

She takes a few steps forward, and she finally loosens the reigns on the grin that has been pulsing inside of her. Lips curve, wicked and seductive, her gaze undresses Marilyne with intimate knowledge as she takes her in. “Anger does look so attractive on you, darling. I take it you’re still a wee bit cross with me.” She steeples her fingers, pressing the sides of her pointer fingers against her lips. “I heard this rumor, you know, that the gentleman who bought my old restaurant in New York had a very very bad turn of luck. What a shame that is, it was such a lovely venue. I’ve been having a grand adventure here though, cooking more and running the kitchen less, it’s been a delight to focus more on my clientele.” She gestures widely with her hands. “But hear I am rambling away, and I’m sure you came here wanting a tour, didn’t you? All you had to do was ask, precious. This will be…a very special tour.” Slowly she reaches back to work her left heel off her foot, then the right. “It’s the kind of tour where you have to catch your tour guide.”

Hadley lets out a wild laugh that is rife with challenge. She hurls her shoes at Marilyne and then turns and takes off, bobby pins that had been holding her hair up lost their hold and dark strands tumbled out behind her as she raised along the third floor landing, heading for the staircase.

Her delusions were a double edged knife, razor sharp no matter which end stuck her. They set her free, liberated her from the need to fit in, from the need to water down her personality and conform to society. Her mind gave her the power to act without consequence, the lawlessness of a town like Santa Ysabel only fuelling this madness further. Back in New York, things were different, her stories were much easier to write, because everyone around her stuck to the staus quo. Everyone, even Hadley, even herself, conformed. But, everything had changed in the past few years. She had become unhinged, her mind spiralling and she was deeper in the illusion that she’d ever been before. There was proof in everything that nothing was proof; that nothing was real. Things didn’t even hurt these days, nothing, save for the pain that coursed through her when Hadley would destory their story. 

On other days, during other times, said delusions and thoughts would weigh her down. They would make her feel as if she were suffocating, drowning at the bottom of the ocean of reality with a thousand weights strapped to her ankles. It was during these times that Marilyne would fall deeper, consumed in her own insanity. Everytime she came back from an episode of drowning she was darker than she was before she had fallen, less whole, less in touch. The boy in front of her seems to notice the nothingness in her eyes, the black darkness of her soul, the kind of energy that made people realise that there was no rationality behind her actions. There was nothing scarier to human kind than a lack of rationality; a lack of an explaination. 

She turns, almost instantly at Hadley’s cough, knife launching from her hand and skimming past the chef’s face to lodge in the wall behind her. Was she sure that the knife wouldn’t go into an eye? No. But, that was the fun, wasn’t it? “You don’t know the half of my anger, dear,” she bites back as the server scrambles away out the service door. The room appears to have been vacated now, the only ones who remain are them, and Alexander who appears to be stuck on his seat like a dear paralysed in the fear of the headlights of an oncoming truck. She listens to Hadley’s ramble, a sinister smile appearing on her features as she recounts how easily that restaurant went up in flames a year ago today. How poetic was it that it was the anniversary of that occasion? Yet again, more proof that this was all set up, that this was all staged, that it was meant to happen, that it wasn’t real. 

“He had plans to change too much inside, he wanted to entirely ruin the image you had worked so hard to leave behind-- I did that for you, Hadley, I did it to preserve your image. You should have seen his color scheme, you would have prefered it in flames, I know you would have,” she says as she watches Hadley take of her shoes with curiousity. Then, the shoes come her way and the woman takes off. Oh no, no no no, she was not running away again. 

Marilyne chases after her, reaching down and ripping her dress so her movement is easier as she catches up. Her eyes drift to looking behind at the bobby pins littering the path they had taken until they burst through the fire door into the stairwell, Mar grabbing hold of Hadley and pushing them through. She continues their force across the landing and pins her against the cold, concrete wall with a force that would wind most people. “You don’t run from me, Hadley. Tell me, when has that ever worked in your favour, darling?” Her hand gripping onto the others jaw. “You really ruined my night on Halloween... You don’t get to ruin us. You know that we are meant to be together, that the world deems it so, that it’s written in the stars. I know you know that.”.

closed starter: @burnmarilyne​

“What do you want from me? You want me to be nice to my ex wife yet you don’t know the entire story. What’s your end goal here?” Friday was beyond confused at the womans involvement in Peaches life. Telling her to be nice like she knew the full story.

“I want you to stop living in this delusion that your story with Peaches is finished,” Marilyne practically pleades with the other. “I haven’t got an end goal, Friday. You think I don’t know the full story, but I think it’s you that doesn’t know half of the story, you’ve not lived half of your story. You pretend like you are not in love with her, but it is so clear to me that you are, Miss Pierce. You don’t need to pretend around me.”.

“Yes, you’re always right Mar, you’re so smart.” Peaches confirmed with a vigorous nod as she looked back at the woman. The destruction to two of them could get up to knew no bounds and Peaches had figured that out pretty quickly. She just didn’t want to scare her new friend off yet, she might need her and she liked having someone who didn’t think she was crazy around all the time. It was refreshing. As soon as Mar was close, Peaches lent into her side a little, her pinky linking with the other womans. “You’re going to have to say sorry, or we might have to make you and you won’t like that.” Peaches didn’t want the man to get hurt, no no, but if that’s what he needed to learn his lesson then who was she to keep him from what he needed to know? “Pretty please say you’re sorry.” 

Marilyne’s sweet smile had such sinister thoughts behind it. If you were watching this interaction from across the room, with no knowledge of who either of these women were, you’d probably assume they were flirting, that they were being kind and having a good time. You wouldn’t be able to get much further away from the truth. “Men really ought to start watching how they talk to women in general, don’t you think? It’s almost as if they think we’re still in the 50s,” she says as she circles a finger around the rim of her glass. As the man is distracted, practically sweating with fear, Mar’s hand slips into his back pocket and steals his wallet. “You really do need to say sorry...” She batters her eyelids, head tilting to one side as she sits back down and reaches across, taking hold of Peaches’ hand as they look at him. He clearly realises they are absolutely serious about hurting him because he quickly complies before backing away with his hands up. “Let’s let him go, for now...” Mar says quietly, watching as he disappears into the crowds before turning to her new friend and producing his wallet, sliding his ID card out onto the table with his address on. “I really don’t think he learnt his lesson with that sorry. Something more lasting-- perhaps?” Was her mind on burning down this man’s house? Absolutely.

Hearing the woman talk almost made her think of spiritual motivation speaker trying to guide a group of people into meditation- or a villain from a book. She wasn’t sure really if she should trust her. The young girl felt rather uneasy. “I would hope not,” she admitted. Avery truly didn’t want her nightmares to be something that came true. Her hallucinations… She desperately wanted those gone. To stop looking into every single reflective surface and see him standing there. Though she did think about her question: what was real? Her son was real. How he giggled and smiled, was shy with new people yet full of so much love, truly a manifestation of all the best parts of herself. Monroe was real. How her brilliant mind was always running with great ideas, how she was able to love her far better than anyone else ever had, how her eyes and touch and voice and smile and everything about the DJ radiated with warmth and home. Avery may be having troubles differentiating things lately… But she did know one thing for sure: her family were real, they were here, and they weren’t going anywhere. “My family sort of helped convince me that there could be such a thing as destiny… Sorry, I shouldn’t be taking up your time. We both should probably head home and be on our ways. The carnival just… really shaken me. But I’ll be fine; I always am.”

Marilyne never really paid much attention to how intense she could come across. The way she saw it, she was giving this young girl some life coaching that most people paid good money for. She could feel that the other felt uneasy, she could see how her shoulders were tense, how her mind was giving her those intutive warning signs. But, she wondered whether she was the type to listen to the sirens, or to be consumed instead by mystery and suspense. “You don’t believe that,” she replies when Avery says she will be fine, that she always is. Mar is intutive when it comes to reading people, it is her skill, above all else. Reading people. Manipulating them. “You know, the quickest way to get over fear is to become entirely engulfed in the thing that scares you. If you have a fear of heights, to overcome it you must climb higher and higher, more and more. Then, eventually, one day, you find yourself being able to look over the edge of the ledge and there’s not a flutter in your heart...” She looks out to the ruins. “Coming here and staring at the ruins from a distance is only teasing your brain into thinking that you are dealing with what happened. You want to get over it? You should go and walk the same places you were that night. I have nowhere to be-- if you feel you need company to do so.”.

The shop was Knox’s happy place. It didn’t matter how rough his day had been, who had pissed him off or how anything else was going when he was in his shop he felt at ease. It was entirely his see, the art on the wall, the couches that had just needed a little TLC from a vintage shop, his designs people came in for and he was in control, no matter what. With the chime of the door Knox quickly finished up the call he was on, sketch pad abandoned as he made his way out of his office, greeting the woman in the waiting area with a smile and a small chuckle. “Yea, Knox, what can I do you for?” 

She enjoyed the aesthetic of the shop, she enjoyed that little knowledge in the back of her mind that this places was littered in sharp objects. Mar enjoyed the bad decisions and impulsivity that was oozing from the walls from past clients. She enjoyed that the art made no effort to conceal itself or to be pleasing to everyone’s eyes because as long as it’s owner enjoyed to look at it it didn’t matter. It was a place of creativity, and if there was one word you could use to describe Marilyne Green, it was most certainly creative. Though, most opted for another word beginning with C, but she didn’t much care for that five letter phrase. Knox introduced himself and she stood up. “Well, I’ve never had a tattoo before, but I feel like I should have one before I die-- I would have to go out of this world without experiencing everything, you know?” She muses as if talking about death is nothing, because for her it really isn’t anything. “I haven’t a particular design in mind, more of an idea. I’d like something that tells a story, something that marks freedom, something that really translates to a fire when it breaks free of its constraints and begins to burn everything it licks... Where this tattoo is, how big it is, the intricate details, the location... That’s all up to you if you want the business, Knox.” 

There was an imperceptible change in the air, the hairs on the back of her neck rising to attention. Hadley could feel Marilyne enter a room before she ever saw her. And oh she looked magnificent, like death glittering with caught and trapped souls cradled against her lithe frame. “That won’t be necessary Gregory,” she mused as the waiter beside her started to collect a menu to bring out to the new addition to the vip table. “I know her order.” She hasn’t stopped peeling potatoes, her fingers skilled and swift, nothing in her outward demeanor reflecting the shift that has happened inside of her. Hadley is excited, desperately so, practically quivering inside with anticipation. Marilyne is cross with her, she expected that. No one else would spot it in her casual place at the table but Hadley can see it in the shift of her shoulders, can practically hear the blood boiling under her skin. Understandable, considering the abrupt way Hadley had broken up with her. A dark smile blooms at the memory. At the thrill of it. People who broke with Marilyne’s storylines got hurt, they got murdered. Hadley knew, she knew deep down in her core that she was an exception. And she wanted that sense of power, wanted to see how even her firestarter’s darkest delusions would part and make a space for different rules for Hadley. Oh the other woman might hurt her a little, but she won’t kill her. The breakup only served to bind them closer together. She wants to smell the fire and brimestone before they reunite though, she wants Marilyne to be out of control with desperation.

The plate is sent out, and Hadley disappears from the kitchen, removes herself from Marilyne’s view. Perfectly rare filet steak, the best cut, the best quality. Only the best for her girl. A side of seasoned to the gods dauphoinoise. The plate is a taunt, it is the beginning of a game. It says I see you, but now you cannot see me. What will you do next little firestarter?

There had been no other disturbance in her stories that had caused quite the level of pure wrath that Hadley’s had caused. Hadley hadn’t just messed with the smaller characters in life, she hadn’t made a decision that only impacted the small plotlines that ran through Marilyne’s head. No, she had destroyed an entire franchise in those two words. It’s over. No. It wasn’t. It was never going to be over, because their story didn’t end. Not until they both went out of this world together; that was their only escape, wasn’t it? That was the endgame here. But, this was not the way it was supposed to happen. This is not what she had planned out. She got angry when things didn’t go the way she planned; when people diverted from their fucking paths. But, she had never been so angry, so enraged, that she was still and calm. As her eyes locked onto the reason she was here, she felt like she was in the eye of a hurricane. Focused. Deadly. That hadn’t been the case at first though, had it? Dozens fell to her wrath during that carinval massacre, and she felt no remorse for any of them. They served a purpose that night. 

The cards were dealt, the game was underway. A blackjack on her first hand, proving once again that lady luck on her side tonight. Proving, to her deluded mind that this was exactly how this night was to play out. If this wasn’t written, how could she have got so far? How was she sat in a room she wasn’t supposed to be in, winning a game she had no real idea how to play? But, what was in store once this game was over and the real game began? Was she here to kill Hadley? The knife strapped to her upper thigh burned against her skin as she thought of driving it through her heart. But, then if she did that she would have to die tonight too. There was too much left to understand before she left this strange place... So, she wasn’t going to kill her. But, she needed her to feel that level of pain she had felt when her story had been collapsed in nothing more than a sentence. 

The meal comes out, and Marilyne’s features take on this darkness they’ve not had for a long time. As if the fire inside her suddenly exploded. As if hell lived inside her. So this is a game to you too? She thought as she picked up the steak knife and cut into the perfectly tender meat, its bloody jucies spilling out onto the plate. A moan escapes the woman as she tastes her meal. She devours it, before going all in. $10,000 on a 14. The men around the table look at her as if she’s lost her mind, even the dealer asks if she is sure. She just smiles. She smiles and looks back to the kitchen, slowly licking up the knife with a flat tongue, it’s sharp edge drawing some blood. Oh, she knows Hadley can see her even if she can’t see the Chef anymore. 

The dealer draws his cards. The dealer busts. She doubles her money. Oh, how she laughs as she turns and launches the knife at the swinging service door. It lodges in the wood, the force swinging the door slightly. There’s a sense of panic in the men around the table, one of them even calls her a crazy bitch. Then, as if it’s nothing, his hand becomes the new holder for her fork, his screams echoing around the room. “Alexander, would you please watch my money? Thank you, sweetheart,” she smiles sweetly before standing up, brushing her dress back and heading for the kitchen. Of course, no one challenges where she is going. They just stare, in shock, in fear, as this woman glides across the room, as she takes the knife from the door and steps through the doors, into the heat of Hadley’s kitchen. 

“I’d like to give some compliments to the Chef. I know you’re a clever enough boy to tell me where she might be...” She speaks to her server, squaring up to him with a sultry sway in her hips, tone of voice practically fucking him as the tip of the knife runs up his white shirt. “Hadley, dear!” Mar calls out as the knife cuts off the server’s top button.

There weren’t too many that understood her level of crazy in this world, people were always so quick to judge her. Well fuck them, she didn’t need them, she only needed the love and fear of people that really mattered and she would make sure she got it no matter the costs. She didn’t have to worry about that with her new friend though, not Mar. Peaches and Mar were made of the same stuff see, they got it, each little tick in the others brain only seemed to edge something along in the other and Peaches loved it. “You know what Mar, you’re right…you owe me an apology sir.” Peaches giggled though there was something far to sinnister about it. 

There were very few people who ever really understood Marilyne. There were fewer still who entertained her ideology, and fewer than that who came to become a friend. Her list of connections was wealthy, but those with labels were few and far between. In fact, she rarely remembered anyone’s real name, but Peaches was different. She knew that the moment they met and even though it had only been a week, well, it seemed like they were going to be fast friends. No, they were fast friends. This was already written. “I am right,” she nodded, a warmth flooding through her; how she loved being told she was right. The man scoffed, and Mar shook her head. That just wouldn’t do. She slid out of the booth and walked to him, sultry sway in her step. “I’d like you to apologise to my friend now, Sir. I’d like it to be sincere.”.

She knows she shouldn’t be here. That she should be far… far… away from this place. After all the nightmares and hallucinations lately, it was becoming too much. It took everything inside her not to call Magda and to tell her that she needed her. That she needed to be held by her mother one more time. To just sob over what had happened. God, how would her mother look at her knowing that she took someone’s life? Ranveer doesn’t know yet about Halloween. In fact, she hasn’t spoken to him since Mars’s birthday. She was scared to tell him that her mother was back in her life, sort of. She held so many questions and needed the answers. But those were terrifying. Standing near the wreckage, her eyes looked over the abandoned carnival. And where she stood, she had a perfect view of where she beheaded the man who could’ve killed her wife and her. Fuck, she was ready to turn around and go home, go back to Monroe, when a voice caused her to jump. She hadn’t realized she’d been watched. Or that someone has witnessed her coming here a few other times. “Just… So much has happened the past few weeks, it’s hard to tell reality from fantasy. If this is real life or some dream or story,” she admitted. Dark eyes glanced over at the older woman. “Were you there?”

What happened here on Halloween wasn’t really something that shook Marilyne at all. In fact, once all was said and done, and the workers ran away, retreated and left her stood in the middle of the complex dripping in blood, her only last thought was how Hadley had broken up with her. How that just wouldn’t do, how that entirely messed up the plotline. So, no, she couldn’t really relate to all of these people who were traumatised by what happened. She couldn’t understand how no one else seemed to understand that it didn’t really matter, because nothing really mattered. Life was just a game, a complex web of stories all written out and waiting for them. Those that died here that night just weren’t the main characters. “You don’t need to jump, I don’t mean any harm,” she said calmly, slowly. Her head tilted to the side when this young girl spoke about things becoming harder to tell apart. “What if they are one and the same? Reality and fantasy?” She questioned, probably dangerously given the others clear mental angish right now. “I mean, what is ever real? What is just fate? Most people would think you losing your mind for saying such things, but perhaps you’re just edging closer and closer to the dark reality that this world, this life, these people are just-- canvases, blank storyboards to be filled... Do you believe in destiny?” 

…

this wasn’t the first time dylan had come back to the scene of the halloween massacre. she wasn’t sure why exactly. partly for dom, but for what? she wasn’t sure. but when that familiar itch crept up her spine and her head was filled with the memories of what happened, dylan would go to the pier and walk the length. the sound of her boots against the old wood and the waves of the ocean washing up underneath. it was almost calming to be in a place that so much death happened. she didn’t notice the other woman there until she spoke up. “have you?” dylan asks with no interest in having a conversation. “and why would you want to hear what a stranger has to say about this place?”

“Mmhmm, I have. You have a distingusing face, hard to forget.” she replies slowly as she looks down at the dark ocean waves rolling underneath the pier. If only they would rise a few feet and wash these ruins away, right? That’s what most people in this town wanted? For this scene to be washed away, struck off and consigned to obilivion? “Well, I think everyone has a different story to tell about what happened that night, and I do believe yours is one of the more interesting ones of them all-- or were you not the one who ultimately killed Dominique Hawthorne?”  

Marilyne sat in the corner and watched the interaction between Peaches and this other person run its course. The other person was much less than polite, in fact, he was rather rude. Mar was going to step in, but she was too busy in her own head, peircing eyes taking in his features, wondering about who he was and where he came from. He seemed to be a bit of a broken man, if she was being entirely honest, but that was still no way to talk to her friend. When he turned and walked back into the crowds, she looked to said friend. “You know, I really don’t think he should get away with talking to people like that, much less a wonderful woman like you.”.

Marilyne was sat in the waiting area of Tit4Tat, which she greatly appriciated the name of. It made her think of the old phrase and eye for an eye, she lived her life by that motto quite a bit. She wasn’t even sure what she was really doing here, the almost-40 year old had not one piece of ink on her body, but something about today drew her inside. When he came out she looked up to him. “Well, I wasn’t expecting such a handsome artist, but I’m certainly not complaining-- you are the artist, aren’t you?”

There was something so very alluding about rooftop bars. This building wasn’t too high up, there were others that reached up into the sky and shadowed over them, but they were still a good distance off the ground. Marilyne had been stood staring out at the distant ocean when a young chap came up to her side. “You know, I’d say you’re much more likely to survive a fall from this height than you are to die from it. In fact, you’re probably more likely to die from almost anything else... But would you ever take such a leap of faith?”