private dances were something meg loathed more than most, but she sucked it up for the sake of the money. cost of living was not cheap anywhere, even evermore, and she had to keep a roof under her head since it wasn't just for her anymore (thanks to her bright idea to adopt a cat). the people who normally requested these dances were...an unusual bunch and when she had to set her sights on francis she flipped her hair just so she could hide the roll of her eyes as it moved away from her face. yeah, he was a real fun one to have. he never really wanted more than...well nothing. so she supposed a freebie would be fine for tonight.

"what's the request for tonight, handsome?" she said silkily, only allowing the smallest traces of her natural sarcasm to leave her lips. "you know i never know what to expect from you."

"of course you're here," thorn said with a roll of her eyes as she leaned on the wall near the bathroom. hse had been here for a bit and just consumed enough party favors to have a decent night but now that she knew francis was here she wasn't sure if that was going to be possible. he always saw her at her worst and she was sick of it. the music was blasting loudly and she thought about running off to go dance with someone, literally anyone, to lose him in the crowd, but instead her hands were crossed over her chest as she tried to carry herself like she wasn't doing the same shit he was. hypocrite. but in her mind if she ran, she looked weak. and she was not gonna do that. "was hoping this place was too weird for you. good to know."

‘    if you’re going out,    i’m coming with you.    ’      it isn’t a tone out of suggestion.    no,   francis may be tall and lanky    (    even after so much adjusting,   there’s still so much to him that needed to be filled.    still that warboy that mourned over a passing father,    still that kid didn’t grow right because there’s a fight that needed to be won.    )    ,    but his posture isn’t one of fragility.    he stands there,    uniform in place,   and brows furrowed to show his seriousness.    he can still fight.    he’s not useless.    he can protect.    that’s what dad had raised to be   ...   isn’t it ?    that’s what he was left with,   anyways.      ‘    you know i’m good.    you   -   you’ve seen me.    ’      /   from francis for @luckedout​ !

𝚅𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙹𝙾𝚈 𝙻𝚈𝚁𝙸𝙲𝚂     ,     𝚂𝙴𝙻𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙻𝚈 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶  !

         ‘      i don’t know what to say.     ’       his voice is —     francis isn’t sure how to describe them.    he thinks about a world,    maybe,    out there,    that he doesn’t have to grow up hiding underground and always away from ultron’s grasp.     he is    -     an animatic child.     if there isn’t anger splattered right across his face,    it’s satisfaction,    it’s pleased,   it’s worry and concern and,   sometimes,    just sometimes,    when things aren’t so bad and the scavengers are singing around the fire,    he’s even    -    happy.     but right then,   just now,    his voice is    -    nothingness.    empty.     he doesn’t even look at clint barton.   he couldn’t.    in his head,   he sees the same face:    older,   rougher,    and he’s smiling at francis for the last time before him and his troop disappears over the horizon.     there was no body.    nothing to even be burnt or buried.    just that memory.   again and again.       ‘      i had a dad,   i lived in a messed up world,   and i didn’t grew up okay.    i don’t know a day in my life when i wasn’t holding onto a weapon.    i didn’t think this was what my parents wanted me to be,   but it’s what i become.   i’m tired and confused and paranoid,    and i feel like all i can be from now on is something that kills,   if that’s how i can protect,   but every time i look at you,   i want m - more,   but i can’t have that,   i can’t,   because that’s not who i am.      ’