mindhunter

Ed shrugged. He guessed that he was a bit more then just down. The expression was rather vague. He frowned to her deeply before replying. “Yes, well. Do you really expect me to open up to a stranger about something that’s upsetting me this much?” He asked her with a small huff. It was a little too difficult to talk to anyone about Isabella. His crazy ex. “You should go to bed at a decent hour. Nice and early.” 

Betsy shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone who doesn’t have a personal stake in whatever you’re going through,” she replied. “It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me,” she added. “I don’t mind.” Betsy got a strange feeling from him, however, something sinister in the way he spoke again, and her brow furrowed slightly. “Yeah, maybe I should.”

Iris offered the young woman a smile. “Well, I was just on my way to get some coffee,” she said. “Maybe some caffeine will perk you up. Wanna join me?”

Daisy wasn’t sure who the girl was or why people seemed to be either following her or watching her with an obvious desire to talk to her. A part of her wondered if she might’ve been an unregistered hero or something, and the people might have been the radicals. She doubted that theory though, at least on the basis that most of the radicals didn’t tend to be that obvious, at least not in public. Although Daisy didn’t know that the girl could read thoughts, her psychic shields prevented the woman from being able to know what she thought as she approached her. “Hey, are you alright?” She asked carefully. 

Betsy looked up with a slight start before plastering a smile across her features. “I’m fine,” she replied, nodding once. “I just—” She glanced back at the gaggle of girls who had been following her before. “I’m not quite good with that,” she explained. “Even my mild amount of fame is a little bit too much for me to handle,” she said with a chuckle. Betsy didn’t seem unhappy about it—she knew that it was just something she was going to have to deal with.

Though she didn’t want to use it, Isabella couldn’t stop dwelling on the chloroform. It had arrived on time, to her shipping container, as her contact had said it would. It was a brown medicine bottle, innocuous, but she trusted without any doubt that it was what he had promised. She had slipped it into her duffel bag, and tried to put it out of her mind. The opportunity to use it hadn’t arisen yet. From surveillance, she knew that Oswald wasn’t healed enough to leave his home, so Edward wouldn’t be unaccompanied for a while. But still. She dwelt.

I hope he doesn’t fuss, she thought. And then, as if on cue, the woman beside her spoke. Isabella turned quickly, and stared at her. She was quite sure she hadn’t spoken out loud. Immediately, automatically, she assumed the worst. This woman was a psychic, or a mind reader. She pictured shutters closing over her mind, protecting the images of the chloroform bottle, and the perfect farmhouse, and Edward, from this stranger.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said, calmly, though her heart was beating fast. Perhaps she was mistaken. Maybe this woman hadn’t heard her thoughts. Perhaps she had just heard something, and wasn’t gifted. But, as much as Isabella wanted to believe that, her self-preservation told her that she was wrong. She managed a smile. “I think you’re hearing things.”

Almost immediately, Betsy got a bad feeling. She carefully put up her mental shields, wanting to make sure that there was no way for the other’s mind to grab a hold of hers. Betsy’s psyche was strong, scarred over from years of hard work and abuse, but she knew that it would be too easy for her to slip back into a dark spiral. She was out of practice. Honestly, the moment that she started feeling that something was off, she should have just walked away rather than trying to engage further, but she couldn’t. Her sense of right and wrong was too deeply ingrained for her to just shake the bad feeling off and pretend that nothing was wrong. 

When the other woman’s thoughts changed, she knew that if she didn’t know for sure that Betsy was a psychic, she must have suspected it. Still, Betsy continued on like nothing had changed, not wanting to arouse suspicion just yet. She wasn’t about to drop it so easily, but she also didn’t want to get into a fight here in public. She pressed her lips together for a moment, her expression neutral and thoughtful. 

Warren let out a soft scoff at the casual dismissal. Of course he’s staying. He couldn’t help himself and she knew as much. “I’ll be on the roof.” he remarked, suddenly needing an out from this, from her. At least in open sky he could breathe, and leave the claustrophobia of their tattered relationship behind. He could never have imagined this. Every word was blood wrung from a stone and every conversation, a struggle. Yet, here they go again

As he waited, Warren peeled off the jacket, letting feathered wings unfurl slowly. He sat at the edge, specs of rain gradually dotting his white shirt.

Once she was finished with her work, she made her way up to the roof, carefully puling bobby pins out of her hair and approaching him slowly. She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know what you want from me,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what we want from each other anymore.” She folded her arms over her chest. This felt like pulling teeth, but she had been aching to say it since she had left that morning. She just hated that she didn’t know what the outcome would be. “I still love you, Warren, but...”

The feline had been balanced on the rope line between the buildings, her lower lip sucked in between her teeth while she easily thumbed through the large stack of cash that she’d taken from the bank just a few moments before. A soft huff comes from the feline’s lips while her emerald gaze moves around the city below – Until she noticed the magenta light that illuminated the woman, and the action of her sword plunging into the man. Dropping from the line, she makes a careful note to mind her arm as she leans against the chilly brink wall. “I would lose the bright glowing sword – It draws attention.” Felicia muses, her gaze flickering over the woman.

Betsy’s head snapped up, her eyes glowing. “A lot of things about me attract attention,” she replied, letting the glowing sword dissolve from between her fingers. Betsy felt like she didn’t have a personal life these days, thanks to her burgeoning career, and with her abilities as well, there was no way for her to keep the anonymity she had once enjoyed. “It’s probably better to lose some of my anonymity than let the likes of him get the best of me.”

He smiled back with care, He hardly minding the distraction the other was providing. “ Good, I just worried that maybe something was wrong..” His smile faltered at her question. He wasn’t sure how to answer..he’d never been truly fine after his parents had passed away but he still he had to live. Also dropping all that on a completely strange wasn’t something people did. “ I-I’m better, there was a party a couple days ago it wasn’t the greatest” His mind then raced to him getting shot in the arm protecting his date from the armed gunmen that seemed to just pop up from nowhere.

“A lot of things are wrong these days, but I don’t think you need to worry about them,” she replied with a quick wink. She nodded, almost flinching at the thought of the gunshot—she could feel it, just as he could feel the pain in his memory, but thankfully, Betsy had seen a lot worse. “I heard,” she replied. “It’s a good thing that you got out safely.”

As excited as Guy is for the wedding, he’s trying to spend as much time on Earth as possible before it happens. He knows they’re gonna wanna be anywhere but here for the honeymoon, and after all his time with the Reds.. well, he missed this place. He was just counting through how much booze they need to restock in Warriors for the reception - all of which he’s gotta take back with him, just to make it a fun trip - when someone snaps him out of his thoughts. “Uh - what’re ya apologisin’ for?” He asks, a slight frown on his face. “Y’alright? Look a little out of it.”

Betsy shook her head. “I thought you said something.” He was thinking of space, of galaxies she had never seen before, and she couldn’t help but let herself get slightly lost in his thoughts. It was beautiful there. There was a solace that came from thoughts like these that weren’t hers, from wandering through people’s minds and finding that they had something beautiful and unique there rather than the darkness and destruction she had become accustomed to. 

Iris offered the woman a smile, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I was on the phone,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was being so intrusive.” She held up her phone as evidence, though the call was ended now. 

“No, no, it’s all right,” Betsy replied, waving a hand. “Water under the bridge.” She dropped her hand back to her lap, crossing her legs lightly. “I was out of it, anyway.”

Karolina looked up, shaking her head with a soft little smile. “I didn’t say anything,” she said. “That girl over there is watching a YouTube video, though, I think.” She pointed to another young woman who was bent over her phone, giggling away at something on the screen. “It sounds pretty funny, whatever it is.”

Betsy raised an eyebrow, looking over at the girl staring down at her phone. “No wonder I think I’m hearing things,” she replied, her face relaxing into an easy smile. She shrugged once. “Though, I’m of the opinion that if you’re in public, perhaps it would be better to watch something quieter.”

Was he really that transparent? Ed thought he did at least somewhat of a decent job hiding his emotions. He openly scowled to her. Now that it was too late to bother pretending he wasn’t upset anyway. “I’m not in the best of situations right now and it’s bringing me down… a bit. What about you? You look…” He gestured towards her vaguely. “Just as bad as I probably do.” He probably shouldn’t tell her what was going on in his life. Hell… Ed doubted that he’d be able to explain it very well anyway. The less people involved in this twisted mess, the better. 

“You seem a bit more than down,” she replied, though she didn’t say anything else. She didn’t want to push anyone and it wasn’t like she was being driven by her own curiosity. Instead, it was just small talk to keep her out of her own and others’ minds, to make sure she stayed grounded and level in reality rather than floating off into some distant, unknowable place. “I’ve just been tired,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’ve been working a lot.”

“By what?” Bucky asked, looking over at her. He had a hood drawn up over his hair, his hands shoved deep into the front pocket of his hoodie. At least now it was cold enough outside that this strange appearance didn’t throw up red flags.

Betsy shrugged. “My thoughts.” And others’ thoughts as well, though she didn’t mention that. She tilted her head to the side, withdrawing her mind from the area around her and putting up her defenses again. “You never get lost in thought?”

He could probably do it. It didn’t sound that hard really, making a tower out of beer bottles. People did stuff like that all the time, right? The question really was just how many he could stack before thing fell down on its own, or at least until someone else crashed into it just to mess with him. He wondered if it would work better if he was drunk or sober. There were some things that, for some unknown reason, were easier somehow when he was drunk. He was drawn out of these thoughts when he heard a woman’s voice. She was sorry? Did he say something out loud? He hoped not. “Um, sorry for what now?”

Betsy shook her head. “I thought you said something,” she said coolly, replacing the slight shock on her features with expression of cool impassivity. She always had an expression of indifference on her features, even if it was feigned, if only because it helped shield her own mind. She was cool on the outside, she was cool on the inside. She placed a hand on her waist, letting herself relax her posture and sink her weight into that hip. Betsy rarely let herself relax, but these days, she was trying hard to give herself that luxury.

Warren gave a shrug. “You don’t want to stay, don’t stay. I don’t expect you to.” The hand that held the scarf was tucked in his pockets, the forced apathy all too clear. Silences dragged between the two now. Empty voids they would stuff with sex and alcohol. It was the sober inbetween moments that were the hardest - for life in general, but especially with her. It was too late for them. Too many skeletons left in the closet. Too many unspoken horrors to confront. The end had already come and gone. He was just dragging his feet accepting it. Warren nodded at the background of lighting, crewmen and impatient photographer. “He’s waiting for you. If you’re wrapping up the shoot soon, I can give you a ride when you’re done.”

It was so hard for her to stay like this—to keep this barrier between them, as if it was impenetrable, as if it had always been there. She knew that she couldn’t go back to the way things were, not after what had happened. It didn’t matter how badly she wanted it. An assistant came over and pulled the scarf from her neck, hurriedly touching up her makeup. She kept her features impassive, her gaze flickering away from him and towards the woman in front of her now. “I’ll be done in an hour,” she replied, pausing. “You don’t have to stay.”