so it goes.

I am not a person to say the words out loud I think them strongly, or let them hunger from the page: know it from there, from my silence, from somewhere other than my tongue the quiet love the silent rage.

Sentence meme (Torture my character version)

She gave a nod in understanding about the news. Whatever it was, she was sure it would be great. Though she didn’t know Stephanie that well, she liked the girl and had immense support for her already. Lillian shrugged slightly at the girls question, “It was pretty dull really. Made a fool of myself in front of a guy I like. Got put in my place by an asshole, and spent the night trying to explain technology to my boss. All in all, a dull night.” she said. “What about you? Get any old governors numbers?” she teased.

Well, well, well... That certainly piqued her interest. Perhaps it was juvenile, but in all honesty, Stephanie hadn't had a pure girl-esque conversation in a while. Even if it was just about boys. "A boy you like?" Stephanie all but squealed, eyes widened as she leaned in closer for the secret. "Oh, Lily, you must tell. Come on! If not, that's like dangling the chicken in front of the alligator and expecting it to just float around the swamp the entire time!"

Well, she was right about that — Donovan didn’t care, although it wasn’t because he thought himself above her or anything or that he was a Grant but more so because his sphere of genuine concern was restricted to immediate family. Everyone else was simply treated with apathy. 

"I don't try," Her words hung in the air, poised and steeled, ready to take whatever he was ready to bring. After a few moments of silence, Stephanie stood to her feet and began to pack up her belongings. It was going to rain... She could feel it. And white blouses when wet weren't always the best combination. What with the weather beginning to warm up, she hadn't brought a jacket. "You'd do well to remember that." Slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, laptop, journals, and everything else packed neatly away, she shot the stranger a saccharine smile before heading to the door.

Of course Logan could had easily gotten up and left the cafe because he honestly didn’t know what he was doing. He only went to the cafe for a glass of water and a moment of peace— he rarely went to cafes. Yet, here he was— at a cafe… with a fair-haired beauty who wouldn’t tell him her name. He respected her choice… in fact, he was quite impressed by it because he really didn’t mind working for it. He immediately sensed a sliver of hostility in her response and leaned towards her, trying to hide his devious smile. He was always ready for fun— and he would never miss his opportunity to cause trouble and wreak havoc. “I already have nothing of you,” Logan whispered, “And I don’t think I ever will… have something of you.” He paused for a moment and looked down before he fixated his gaze on her. “You know who I am.”

There was one thing that Stephanie hated, she realized, in that moment. Out of them all--Ashton, Alexandra, Emery, the lot of them--Logan was the only one she knew absolutely nothing about. So quiet, so secretive; he never really spoke much, a man of minimal words, and perhaps that's why she remained interested. Unlike the others, she actually had to do some digging here. Learn something. Obtain it and bend it to her will. As he leaned forward, Stephanie leaned back, one arm hanging over the back of her chair, legs crossed, and a tendrils of blonde waves framing her face. She was radiating sunshine, didn't she know? "You can have anything if you want it enough. Unless you don't have the courage to take it." His next statement drew out a genuine laugh from Stephanie, her lips pulling up into a grin before a scoff rolled over her lips. "If that's what you'd like to believe, then go for it. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing I know is that you're a man in a coffee shop who lacks what many like to call empathy." 

"Play," the man demanded as he angrily jammed his finger on the button for the nth time. "God dammit, why won’t it fucking do what I say?" He could get man, woman, and beast to bend to his will but when it came to technology Theodore was hopelessly lost.

"Perhaps it's because you keep hitting the pause button," Stephanie commented, a smirk on her lips, as she appeared beside him as if from a puff of lavender smoke.

A burst of giggles left his lips in sighs. He was losing his mind. “Fine, Stephanie, just keep touching it.” Another giggle, another wince. There would be worse ways to go, lying in some alley being prodded by an unfortunately pretty girl. The fact that he could still laugh meant things weren’t so bad. Sure, it hurt like hell and brought bitter irony to the phrase “laughter is the best medicine”, but it was a good sign. Coughing through another chuckle, Cameron lifted his eyes to hers and attempted to shrug. “I’d tell you why, but it’s… not worth it…” 

And there he went--laughing on, coughing from the pain, and giggling with a light blazing in his eyes that she had never seen with him before. He could tell her, but it wouldn't be worth it? What was the point in that anyway? She was crouching beside him utterly terrified, and he still lay there on the ground laughing as if she had just told him the funniest joke in the entire universe. Yes, her opinion had been solidified in that moment: Cameron Lusk was by far the strangest and most abhorrent man she had ever met; he was irritating and nauseating and she didn't want to have anything to do with him. ...After this, of course. Stephanie wouldn't be able to live with herself if he died with his blood on her hands. The irony of this entire situation wasn't lost on the girl, but she was trying her best to push it from her mind, instead focusing on the face of the man before her. 

"It’s quite lovely. Very scenic and peaceful for the most part. Though you do have your suburban house wives with too much money and time on their hands. But it’s not so bad. There’s a few good skiing resorts there as well." Roslyn also saw the crowd of teenagers as they came in. She laughed a bit to herself. They all looked like they were enjoying their day, a lot more carefree than she felt now a days. "Seems like those kids are having a lot of fun." Ros twirled her hair around her finger absentmindedly. "I will have to definitely keep that in mind when summer rolls around. You will definitely save me a lot of salon visits." Roslyn cheered and clapped her hands together. "Great! You definitely need a break. Even if you don’t think so. You’ll feel better after that. What do you want?"

"That sounds a lot like Bartlett," Stephanie joked, feeling her mood slowly begin to lighten as her conversation with Roslyn deepened. "Minus the ski resorts, of course. There really isn't much snow in Tennessee to go skiing." For a moment, the blonde wondered what it was even like to go skiing. How badly would she do? She wasn't an athlete, but she did have substantial balance... For the most part. Pulled out of her thoughts, Stephanie allowed the end of Roslyn's statement to wash over her. "A burger," she said suddenly, not even realizing she had been craving a nice, juicy burger with a thick milkshake until that moment. "Oh, what do you say, Ros? We hope on the subway--take the D-Train, I think--and go to the Shake Shack. It's on 8th Avenue, but it'll be worth it despite the trek."

Deduction. He raised his eyebrows at her as he rested his arm on the table. Sarcasm was evident in her voice and he (kind of) appreciated it, trying to contain his smirk. He was never a fan of small talk, but— at the moment— he didn’t mind it. He opened his mouth and then he closed it because he really don’t know what to say. She was undeniably eloquent. Of course Logan didn’t need eloquence to get by— to survive. His fingers stroked his cloudy glass of water as he processed her words. Lines of clarity immediately appeared. “The city offers tours. I’m sure you’ll have a better experience.” He shook his head as he grinned. What a bold statement. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t want to get into your pants.” She wasn’t wrong— Logan was definitely intrigued. His eyes met hers and he returned her smirk. “May I have your name?” He disregarded her question because he honestly didn’t know what he wanted, so he decided he would wait for her answer— her move.

Coffee forgotten, computer hidden, and mind alert, Stephanie found all her attention focusing straight towards the fellow blond in front of her. Imagine how all this might have looked: Stephanie sitting with yet another Billings in a coffee shop, the two leaning in close and talking amongst themselves like a pair of lovers sharing the secrets of their endeavors in the frightening world; a pair of friends spilling words off their loose tongues and flapping lips in an attempt to win the prize as the biggest gossip leech; close and intimate. The Upper East Side would have a fit. And then there was that word--sweetheart--and Stephanie felt her jaw clench. How poisoned that word was... Sweetheart. She was not sweet, nor did she have a heart; when would they learn? "If you call me sweetheart again, you may have nothing of me," Stephanie responded coarsely, her blue eyes brimming with a burning light. 

Diego shook his head, “Don’t even worry about it. They’re ruined from the snow, anyway.” He gave her a reassuring smile, moving out of the way as a staff member began to mop up the mess. Diego would’ve given the poor guy some help if his hands weren’t full, so instead he just stood back and thanked him before the male shuffled off again. “You’re Stephanie, right?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

Thank God, because I don't think I could afford new shoes of that stature, Stephanie thought to herself for a quick moment. Of course, she most definitely could--just grab a little money from the Daddy fund and she'd be good to go--but she had heard enough shit about money from her parents to use anything other than her own. When he spoke her name, Stephanie felt surprised--a feeling that most could not get out of the girl--and her eyes suddenly brightened. "Yes, I am," she responded, trying to figure out if she had told him during their last encounter. She didn't think she did. "And who's asking?" 

"True. Tomorrow it might be a heart attack, who knows?" she shrugged idly, taking a sip of her own coffee. "That’s a good way to see it." she commended with a smile. She didn’t want to pry into the girls work so she kept her attention away from the computer and focused on Stephanie. "Oh? Should I be worried then?"

Mustering a small smile, Stephanie attempted to put herself in a better mood. The past week had beaten her down and though she was adamant on returning to her feet, she couldn't shake the feeling that something may be broken. Oh, the metaphors. "No, nothing to be worried about," Stephanie chuckled, twirling her pen like a mini baton between her fingers. "It's just news... Anyway, how was the ball, Lillian? After we got separated I couldn't seem to find you again."

"I believe it's the best way to go. Although, you could catch me on another day and I'd say something entirely different. As long as I get my piece of mind out there, I don't really care," Stephanie commented, murmuring the last bit to herself; a signature on her own personal declaration of independence. "I won't spare you the gory details," Stephanie continued, smiling a little. "But I can agree with you on one thing: the tabloid's have nothing on this."

When he realized she was at least in control of her breathing, Cameron removed his hand from her back. Once again, the desperate need to separate himself reared its ugly head. Whether she was perfectly fine— or as fine as she was originally— was no longer his responsibility. Straight faced and silent, he rose from the ground and crossed the small space between them. The walls were no longer so close. For her, anyway. The only constriction he felt was the obligation to save her from hell. Now that she’d officially crawled her way from the depths of her own mind, he could go back to his own. 

I'm always angry. It doesn't go away. I just hide it better. Her heart gave a little as those words reverberated around the small box, Stephanie suddenly feeling so far away from him when he crossed to the other side of the elevator. There was only about three feet or so between them now, but it felt like three miles. He was always angry; he had a damn good way of hiding it, that was for sure. Given, he was usually irritated around Stephanie--a special effect she had on people--but she couldn't quell her curiosity. He had given her a little treat and now she just wanted more. Who was he? Who were his parents and where did he grow up? How many scars decorated his skin like constellations of his past? What was the cause of his behavior? More importantly: was he entitled or was he entrapped?