Wild One

“Good for you.” It was more of a mutter now, too annoyed with the fact that she couldn’t seem to ruffle him. He’d been upset at first, and if she’d been smarter, she would have just walked away. Or refused the drink. But now she was there and her pride wouldn’t let her tuck tail and run out of the apartment. “Twentyish?” She questioned, starting to move forward, meeting the coffee table with her shins just about as he issued the warning. “Helpful.” 

“Well at least you’re self-aware.” She wasn’t even certain why there was so much venom in her tone now. She was embarrassed, that was for sure. More than anything she wanted to turn around and walk about, but that would be even more humiliating than dealing with it. So she forced herself to continue forward towards the sound of his voice, taking slow steps and trying to fool herself into the thought that he wasn’t staring at her, judging her. “Fuck off. I’m fine.” She added emphatically, half-hoping he would get angry and kick her out. 

“So you’re easily distractable. Not my problem.” She smiled briefly, the kind of smile that said she didn’t want to be smiling at all. “Good.” Maybe it wasn’t. That meant she had the opportunity to drink far too much. She generally avoided drinking altogether. Ella stepped inside warily at his prompting, trying to step carefully without her cane to guide her. A few steps in she gained confidence, then she ran into something hard. A wall. “Shit. Fuck. Who the fuck puts a wall there?” She demanded, feeling her away around it. So much for passing herself off as an able-bodied person.

“You’re welcome. I’m a sensitive person.” She wasn’t sure what he wanted her to say, anyway. She couldn’t change things. She wasn’t the person people went to when they were hurting,, she was the one people went to when they wanted someone to get hurt. “Yeah. Real fu-” She stopped herself, pressing her lips together. “Whatever.” Thankfully, nobody in the marines had ever found out about her past. She didn’t have to answer those questions, deal with the stereotype she would have been slapped with. The preppy rich girl who expected the best, because that’s what everyone assumed she had grown up with. “I cuss in front of them. They’re gonna hear it somewhere, and I figure it’s better for them to hear it from someone who can explain when it’s okay to use it.” She shrugged. Kel seemed to agree with her, or at least he hadn’t told her to quit. Then, it was probably because he knew telling her not to was a pointless endeavor. “If they’re shitty nachos, I’m making you pay.”

“I haven’t been wearing the hood the whole time.” She retorted, unwilling to let him bait her into pulling it off. She still hated for people to see her eyes, even if she couldn’t watch their expressions. “If you drink something else.” She had no intentions of actually drinking half a bottle of whiskey. But she did enjoy making people question her, wonder if she actually planned to do it. “Get used to disappointment.”

“Holy fuck,” Kira leaned into take a closer look at the woman, she noticed light scarring and that the disgusted look that was meant to be directed at her was slightly off key, “how the hell did you know I was blonde?” Kira said, astonished more than anything. 

She missed being able to roll her eyes at people in a more pronounced manner. It made sense, this girl coming from California. Hell, she’d probably heard of Ella in passing, on a magazine or on tv, back when Ella had still been playing her part. “Orange County, San Diego.” She responded in a bored tone. 

An unladylike snort escaped her mouth. “I’m twenty five, you hippopotamic land mass.” She shot back. He had to be big, after all. His voice was coming from well above her. “If I have to suffer through that much, it had better be a decent amount.” She could put up with cheap whiskey, but to get through introductions, she needed more than a few sips. Typically she would never allow herself to be talked into something like this, but she couldn’t sleep anyway, she hated her sleeping pills, and the idea of going back to her empty apartment made her stomach sink. So she would drink a little and get tipsy enough to convince herself back down to her own apartment. 

A younger version of her might have blushed, with no intentions of implying that he actually found her attractive. Now she just didn’t care. She couldn’t see herself, but she knew what she looked like, and it wasn’t the perky blonde with a bright smile that men liked, which she took as an advantage. She wrapped the long sleeves of her sweatshirt around her waist and jutted her chin out. “If you have whiskey, I’ll take some to go.”

“Thank you.” Her words were still a snap, unsure of what had incited the sudden change in his voice. It felt unlikely that her words had somehow gotten through to him; she usually only succeeded in pissing people off more. “Really? A drink? What, are you trying to get in my pants now that you failed in chasing my off by being an ass? Excuse me if I don’t swoon at the offer.”

She drew back a little at his comment, doing her best to remind herself that strangers did not know her past. But that didn’t stop the burn, or the swell of anger. “Fuck you.” She responded sharply, all her lines now taut with anger. “No, and last I checked, attempting to conquer insomnia is not a sign of insanity. Most of the general public does rely on sleep to get through the day.”

“Yeah, that sucks for you.” Ella said with a snort. Anger gone, she would be the first to admit that empathy was not her strongest suit. “At least I don’t have to deal with mine following me.” She had been lucky enough to disappear off the face of the earth, and she somehow doubted that her father would put any effort into tracking her down, unless he wanted bad publicity. “You only tell them PG stories? I’m fucked, because I’m pretty sure Abigail curses because of me.” She actually chuckled a little at that, wondering if Kel had gotten complaints about his daughter saying the wrong things at school yet. But Abigail was smart, she probably knew when to filter her speech. “Right, that’s totally what I was thinking. Not just about how to keep her busy and tire her out to actually sleep. It was smart, parenty stuff.” She was slowly gaining a side of herself that hadn’t even come out much in the marines. With no impending doom, humor came a little easier. She bit back a comment that she had a screen reader on her phone to read the menu, setting for just sitting back. “I’ll just have whatever you’re getting. I hate picking food.”

“Oh my god, are you fucking high right now? Or do you just have a height fetish?” Who got so fixated on height when someone was attempting to yell at them? She reached back and pulled the oversize hood over her head, letting it droop enough to cover her eyes, not caring how strange that looked. At least it meant she didn’t have to keep her head bent over like she was staring at his feet. “I’m the person who lives directly under yo and is attempting to sleep. It’s a little difficult with this shit blaring through my ceiling.”

Until then, he had music going, and was pounding on the punching bag he had hung in the middle of his shitty apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and he hadn’t had to burden his parents with helping him. And most people didn’t care when he turned up his music. Except the dwarf he opened his door to see. “Jesus, don’t have an aneurysm. And my music isn’t shitty.”

Her head rocked up when he spoke, realizing that whoever this man was, he was probably about a foot taller than her and big. Not that she was worried about her safety; even without her sight, she could fight her way out of just about any situation. She might have to resort to some dirty tricks, but that was not her worry.

“It’s incredibly fucking shitty.” She replied, trying to even think around the sound of it playing too loudly in the background. Her hand touched her face and the realization that she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses hit her. “Shit.” She said, head going back down. She never went without them. She hated the thought of people looking at her eyes. “Whatever, just turn it down, alright?”

“A couple months, I think. It’s been good for them.” She did smile, listening to him talk about his kids. She was used to Kel going on and on about his, so it felt natural to her to listen to. And she always appreciated hearing from parents that actually gave a shit about their kids, made her feel like maybe there was some hope for the world. “Probably good. It was rough enough trying to explain why I was so different to Abigail. But you should tell them stories. Let them know who you are.” She shrugged. What did she know about parenting? She played the aunt often enough, but she didn’t know if she was even doing that right. She wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a kid. “I mean, it’s mostly me playing a dragon and telling her she has to save herself instead of waiting for a prince, but I try to get those tactical things in there.” She stepped up quickly when he spoke again, wondering if she should have said anything. Kel was the only one who knew she did that, and he only new because he’d walked in on it. She stuck to merely following his guidance, then gratefully wiping her hand on the side of her pant leg as she sat.

Ella wasn’t even sure what time it was when she dragged herself out of her bed and pulled one of the sweatshirts she’d stolen from Caiden over her head. The sleeves fell well over her hands even as she twisted the knob to her door, marching indignantly up the stairs (as quickly and menacingly as she could while she couldn’t see where she was going). She ran her fingers along the wall on the next floor, counting the doors until she came to the apartment above hers and pounded on the door. “Open up, fucktard!” She yelled. “Turn down your shitty music before I decide to beat your ass for it.”

She nodded a little, feeling more wary the more they walked about not being in control of where she was going. She wanted to reach the restaurant and not have to rely on someone else to get her where she needed to go. With Tate she was willing to trust him because she’d been forced to trust him with her life before. But she still had her limits. “I know that Abigail and Little Ella would love it. They haven’t made many friends here yet.” It felt terrifying domestic to even consider; the feeling of family turning her stomach into knots. Already her feet were itching to run from it, but she knew that she didn’t have a choice. She needed to get over herself. “God, I hope you haven’t told them any stories about me.” Ella frowned. She didn’t want them to expect someone better than her. Then again, that was making an assumption that Tate would tell stories about her. “Abigail would already make a great marine. I’ve taught her some strategies.”