hell in heels

Swallowing hard, Ace followed as she made herself at home, crossing his arms with impatience. Get to the point, he voiced in his head as she yammered about. He didn’t care too much, watching Mona steal a cigarette. What he found amazing, was the tolerance he had for even being able to withstand her entire being for what felt like an hour. The mere few minutes they shared dug deep, dragging time itself. At the mention of betrayal, he breathed in deep, staring to acknowledge to direction she was going in. Another threat? Plan? Blackmail? Using his smoking habit as such was weak. Lara didn’t approve, but that didn’t mean it was a deal breaker— on account that he was trying, at least. 

Clenching his jaw, he stood his ground, preventing himself from lunging at her. Mona was… evil, all of them were. He, himself, had his own intimidatingly fearful traits— but Ace would never resort to using someone for his own personal entertainment. Whether this be revenge, or out of personal pleasure, it was inhumane. It made him sick. He spotted the pepper spray at hand, smirking from the lesson she’s learned. “If you think your measly spray could beat me from getting to you first, you’re making a death wish.” Ace surprised himself, every time a threat slipped without his consent. It was Mona; something evil came out of him with every push she made. “Can you get to the point?” he added. “I’m not interested in your games.”

Her smile stayed on her face as she reached up to her neck. She unzipped her turtleneck running jacket, revealing the dark bruise in the shape of a hand that wrapped around her neck. She stood up and approached him, though shorter, she met him face to face, close enough to make him uncomfortable. "See this? I don't put up with this shit, Ace." Her smile quickly shifted into a glare. 

"I don't take it. If I wanted to kill you, I would. Maybe someday I might, if I feel like it. But for now, here's the deal. You're going to jail. You're going to jail for assault. For drug possession. For attempted manslaughter on a minor. This isn't a threat anymore, Ace. This is a done deal. Tomorrow, police are arriving to pick you up.” 

“You're not going to run. You're not going to hide. You know why? Because if you do, Lara is going to the hospital. She'll have a food tube shoved down her throat. She'll live there for three months minimum-- but there might be a technical error. She might be there for eight months. A year. Maybe they'll put her in the adult ward, with the crazy men. You never know what could happen, Ace." Her voice was low, teeth were clenched, her hands were shaking--  god, was she fucking furious. No one leaves a mark on Mona Page and lives to tell the tale of anything other than her wrath.

"This--" she pointed to her neck. "This I don't fucking accept. I don't take it lightly. This-- This how the legacy of Ace O'Hearn dies."

She stepped back, suddenly composed. She took a drag of the cigarette, zipped her jacket back up and her friendly smile appeared back on her face. “I just thought it would be nice of me to let you know. So you can say your goodbyes and whatnot.”

Sat comfortably in the corner of the room with the window wide open, his piercing green eyes stared blankly out the blinds with his legs sprawled out upon his disheveled sheets. He hadn’t a single thought or worry, letting the heaviness of the past month exhale with the smoke. Ace was desperate for stillness, even if it meant killing two more boxes. Though, that didn’t mean an interruption would come sooner or later. Already annoyed, Ace tapped the stick against the edge of his ash tray before setting it down to answer the door. Pulling it open, he heaved a heavy breath to be met face to face with Mona. “What the fuck do you want?”

She sat herself upon his bed-- or was it his roommate's? She didn't know nor care. She made herself comfortable, crossing her legs upon it. Her eyes fell upon the cigarettes that lay out-- not that was difficult to find, he wasn't particularly great at masking the scent. "Givenchy's Spring 2016 collection, an invitation to next year's MET Gala," She pulled a new cigarette out of box and placed it between her lips. She picked up his lighter and lit the cigarette, breathing it in and placing the lighter back where she found it. She took the cigarette out of her mouth, exhaling smoke into the room. "My friends to stop betraying me, to stop being forced to give so many merciless consequences-- it really takes over my schedule." 

She took another drag of the cigarette, not an unfamiliar feeling to the girl. Though not a habit of hers, she used to smoke every once and a while because she saw some badass in a movie do it. She eyed it with some suspicion before shifting herself to face Ace. "Most of them--" She nodded towards the direction of Atwell-- "hate cigarettes. You know, heat melts Plastic… wonder what it does to Lara?" The smile appeared on her lips again. "Speaking of, we were thinking, the poor girl really needs some help. You know, with the--" she mimicked sticking her fingers down her throat "-- thing. I was thinking of taking it to her parentals, thinking it might be best if she was put in Chicago Psych. Heard the ED patients stay for at least three months." With her free hand, she fiddled with her keychain (one that now held pepper spray.)