— codes & keys.

rocking back and forth on converse cladded feet, val chuckled to herself. “i’d say the original significance makes sense. celebration of the birth of christ or whatever. lighting up the christmas tree and waiting for a jolly fat man in red to come down the chimney is where you sort of lose me, but i’ll play along.” the girl pursed her lips and her eyebrows furrowed in thought. “well in my family we have football playing pretty much all day. are you much of a sports fan ??”

Carter shrugged, what else could he do? He wasn't in the mood to have a debate about the veracity of Christmas. "I guess you are right," he said instead, before nodding at her next question. "Yes, I mean, sort of," he paused to think better of his answer. "I don't really watch football, but I do enjoy a good soccer game." He winced at that word 'soccer'. "I used to play tennis and that's the only sport I really follow. What about you?"

Perking in her seat slightly as Carter pulled the same face once more, Magda leaned forwards and sat her elbows on the edge of the table in front of her. “There it goes again. Am I living out a fanfic about the bad boy and the pastor’s daughter? You keep smirking. Didn’t realise seals having their skin sucked off by a walrus could do it that much for anyone.” Ignoring the fact that she’d just randomly made fun of him for no particular reason other than her notorious lack of a filter, Magda’s eyes flit back towards the Biro she’d forgotten she was drumming. “Who’d you think killed Jonbenet? Or Madeline McCann? I think that one was the parents. They smiled as much as they did in their wedding photos at one of her fundraisers.” Pressing her lips into a line now that any sign of a smile had died on them, she expertly swallowed around the sudden knot in her throat and continued. “Anyway,” she began with completely natural calm, capping her pen and tugging her bag strap onto her shoulder. Within the next three seconds, she’d slipped up from her chair and stood a few feet before him, eyes expectant. “Are we going?” Ignoring the fact that it was currently only the late afternoon and she barely knew him, not even his name, Magda shrugged a shoulder. “I feel like a whiskey.”

Having had enough of this topic for the next years to come, Carter repressed the urge of replying to her comment with sarcasm as that would have only continued the conversation about seals and walruses.  "It's not that," he was quick to clarify with a low laugh. "I just didn't expect to spend my afternoon talking about this particular topic," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest as he pondered of her next question. "I guess my first instinct would be to say the parents for both cases, but I still have my doubts with the JonBenet case as I still think there's something off with the brother." He shrugged, blue orbs moving up toward the blonde as she stood up before him. As much as he tried to anticipate her reaction, she always found a way to make him have a puzzling expression on his face. He didn't know anything about her, other than she could possibly be one of the most unpredictable people he had met. Not thinking it any longer, he grabbed his stuff and stood up. "I've never been one to reject a drink."

“I don’t know,” she told him, shaking her head. This was so hard–how can someone go from spending nearly every day together, being in love and having fun to barely even looking at each other in a single moment? Gianna had no idea, and that was why she was struggling so much. When he stepped towards her, her breath got caught in her throat, and she sighed. “I don’t know, Carter,” she whispered.

Watching her struggle to find an answer to his questions made him feel overwhelmed with guilt. If he weren’t so selfish he might’ve even wished things had gone differently, he would've cut ties with her before things got too serious between them. "I'm sorry, Gi," he finally said, not just apologizing for putting her in this situation but for being who he was, for not being able to give her what she needed. "You deserve so much, more than I ever gave you." Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath to brace himself before his next comment. "I think we should stay as far away from each other as we can."

The drifting in and out of focus was becoming too common in Greer’s day-to-day. As soon as she set her sights on a goal, the reminder of another obligation sneaks in and her stream of consciousness followed suit. “Have you ever weighed the pros and cons of teleportation socially and economically? It’s like the physical destruction of those superhero fights in movies, you know? An afterthought. We’d lose a ton of jobs, huge matter of worldwide security, but nature would probably take over the roadways eventually. That’d be pretty neat.” By this point, she was spiraling and in need of some reigning in. “Selfish, right? I could do more than the message with a power like that. It feels very supply and demand at the moment.”

"Uh, no, not really," he replied with a shrug. "You asked me a question and I replied, but no, I haven't made a thorough investigation of teleportation." Carter looked at her as she continued talking, he had always enjoyed when people were able to refute rather than just accept a response. "Now I have a question, in this world of yours, does everyone has a superpower or just a few? Because if it's just a few, then I don't think we'd lose jobs as I would be one of the few people that could be able to teleport." He began to ramble, biting his lip to stop. "You really have given a thought about this, right? Is that what you do with your free time?" he teased with a smile that turned out warmer than his usual one. "Everyone should be a bit selfish, once in a while."

“I mean, ignoring someone who’s trying to help people who are fleeing from war and being met with an army is a pretty asshattish thing to do,” Dorothy said, not skipping a beat. She gave him a pointed look when he asked about the goal. “It’s to show the administration that we’re not going to give into their blatant fear mongering and we also want to show the migrants that he doesn’t represent us. We’re not going to give into the hate like he wants.  The protest will aim to sign people up for the pledge and show support for the exodus of thousands of people who not only are fleeing violence and poverty, but also powerfully asserting their human right to migrate and leave exploitative conditions very much caused by US policies.”

"Well, maybe not everyone has the time or to be honest the interest to spend hours of their day in that," he retorted. As awful as it was, he had never had the spirit of altruism, and it also didn't help that he had the idea of protest not achieving anything drilled in his brain. "That all sounds very nice," he said and meant it but he couldn't help but question the method. "Do you think that would work? That the administration would just be like 'yeah, let them in, no problem' or is it just a way to show support for the immigrants?" The not so secret negative side of his came out in full splendor in that last sentence which made him feel uncomfortable as he understood her actions and respected her beliefs. "I don't think I'm going to make it, but I wish it all turns out good for you and the others." He meant that wholeheartedly even if the tone didn't make it seem like it.

“We both know, you don’t want me to pick the activity for us for tonight.” The two friends seemed to have very different ideas of what a fun night out could be. “Actually now that I think about it, there is that gallery preview in Soho I was invited to, I didn’t plan on going, but if we want to mix my world with yours, it’s probably what we both would enjoy.” Nate offered as he took his phone to look through his emails in order to find the invitation. That was the kind of things. “I’ll be your ghost writer. I’ll create those shitty inspirational quotes, just for you.” He replied with a chuckle. 

He was not entirely wrong about that, but he had already made the compromise of letting him choose the itinerary for that night and backing out was not an option. Carter felt pleasantly surprised about the plan, sure it wasn't a bar or a club, but at least there would be alcohol and some interesting people in there. "I'm in," he said, welcoming the idea. "I mean, if the art sucks at least I'd get free alcohol, fancy and free alcohol." He smiled, leaning back in his seat. "I think this is the first time I didn't have to beg you to go out, maybe I should let you pick the plans more often." He shrugged before a laugh escaped from his lips. "Just don't make them too corny, I have a reputation to uphold."

“don’t be mean,” she whined, slapping his arm playfully. walking past him and through the door frame ”psa, chivalry isn’t dead” she joked. “wait a minute, you don’t trust me? but…you trust me enough to advise you on how to fix your lack of trust in me?” tapping her finger on her chin as she turned back toward him. “oh boy,” she mumbled under laughter.

Thumb halting in its fidgeting, Magda narrowed her eyes with slight scepticism. Reading him was like trying to pick a clear picture out of a foggy crystal ball. “The skin off of seals. There’s a difference. And no, actually. I do a whole bunch of things with a whole bunch of people. I’m kind of like Count Olaf. Lots of lives. Various personalities.” Idly twisting her ankle in a slow motion one-eighty clockwise beneath the table before switching it up and reversing it, she found her brain crackling like television static over the memory of her hemmed up in a tattoo parlour considering what to stick and poke over the thin flesh there. She’d ended up settling for “FORGET ME” in small, toddler doodled letters. She’d never told anyone what it meant or why she’d chosen it, but it was a convenient clue that her father had just missed her birthday again that year, making it two since she’d seen him last at a mere fifteen. Even the memory of him was blurred now, corners vignetted like an old and worn out photograph. “Crime ones? I love those. The gruesome shit. Unsolved murders and whatever.”

Carter couldn’t help the smirk that began to cross his lips as he watched her speak. This was not exactly the kind of conversation he was expecting when he first talked to her, but for some reason, he found the whole interaction entrancing. "Now I wonder with which one of all your personalities I'm talking, I hope there's more than just gruesome stories of animals eating each other." He teased, this time allowing that smirk that mustered up over his lips to shine through. Noticing how her attention had drifted away prompted his curiosity but in the really short time he had of knowing her, he could tell that he would only get know about her what she allowed him to know and for some reason, he was fine with that. He snapped out of his thoughts as the sound of her voice brought her back to reality. "Yeah, crime, history, whatever seems mildly interesting," he said, lips curled up into a coy smirk. "I preferred serial killers over unsolved murderers. I like to see the psychological aspect of it and also I hate not having the closure of the unsolved ones."

“I don’t know–something?” she stood up again, shaking her head. A sigh escaped Gianna’s lips. She knew he was right, knew that there was no way for them to go back to the way they were without there being even more heartbreak. But she desperately needed to not be in this situation anymore. “I just know that I miss you and I want to fix things–maybe not go back but just… not be like this anymore.”

Clearing his throat to rid himself of the effect even thinking about her had on him, Carter focused on her words. "Why do you want that?" he asked, not understanding why she would want to at least attempt to fix the current state of their relationship after everything that had happened. Standing up, he approached her but still keeping a safe distance between them. "Do you want us to be friends? Because I don't think I could be friends with you." If he could go back and do things differently maybe he would, but there was nothing he could do about it now.  

“really ?? it’s rare that i come across someone who doesn’t love christmas. but at least christmas… makes… sense ??” she didn’t really know how to explain herself but while comparing the holidays mentally val realized that thanksgiving was kind of just a big excuse to eat. all real historical significance stripped from the holiday. “not typically, no. my parents get a ham for our dinner just because they know that a slew of complaints will come from me if they don’t. a small compromise, really.”

"We are a rare kind, but we do exist," he joked, glancing at her and then back to the phone that alerted him of another text. "Does it? I mean, does it really make sense?" Christmas to him and his family was nothing more than a formality, there was no exchange of presents or tree. "It's nice that they do that for you, it's not your fault that you don't like turkey. So, what other things people do during Thanksgiving, you know, aside eating."

“Well, compared to him you’re likable. My ex’s just a fucking irritating asshole.” Kash put his things back inside his bag and he nodded, “She cried to me about you, told me about what you did, I know it’s some festering wound, so I don’t really mention it that much. She can be sensitive. Honestly, she’s definitely loved you more than she ever did me.” He said, “So that really fucking hurt her, a lot. For all I know, Gi’s still in love with your ass.”

looking disbelievingly between him and the sorry excuse for a caramel apple in her hand, she raised a brow at him. “ oh, carter, you’re so cute when that fanciful idealism shines through. ” patting his cheek familiarly with her free hand, she shook her head in feigned sympathy. “ i’ll still eat it, of course. not one to let things go to waste, me — be it a snack or an opportunity, as you well know. ” vindictive joviality proving to be short lived, she found her smile slipping into a light scowl. “ well, whoever’s got that job clearly isn’t doing such a bang up job. ”

I do not consider myself a good or a bad person. Maybe something in the middle, but then again, I don't think you can classify people as good or bad.

hot chocolate