#freakadot

He wasn't trying to keep his dog a secret... The white pitbull was a shy rescue, one that cowers around strangers. The pittie was just a big baby, a baby that didn't deserve to get kidnapped. "Well I do." His answer is short and to the point. He's never been a talker.

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helena’s pale gloves were slick with blood, and she hated the sound it made when she peeled the fabric back from elora’s arm; the sopping, sticky, slimy kind that promised nothing good underneath.

‘deep lacerations. missed the fence, hit the ground hard. forearm’s a horror show; knees don’t look any better. no obvious fractures, no bones trying to make a dramatic exit, but still bleeding like a waterfall straight from hell.’

she was focused with the eye of a huntress: continuously assessing, unflinching, unmoving, and maybe a little too intense for a run-of-the-mill injury, but you would be worried too if you watched your friend— acquaintance hurt themself real bad in real time.

‘prioritise the arm. clean, compress, prevent infection, minimise blood loss, stop the flow. quick.’

she stripped a length of elastic and cinched it high, just enough pressure to slow the crimson flood without killing the limb entirely. she worked with ample efficiency to disguise the SLIGHTEST QUIVER in her hands; it was convenient that elora was looking at literally anywhere else but.

“it’s not stupid,” she countered flatly as she wrapped gauze around torn flesh. “that FENCE? oh, brother, just look at that mess – angled metal, rust, terrible spacing, spikes at the top. whoever put that up clearly had it out for us… and a vendetta against paying better contractors. what a poor excuse for a DIY project.”

a corner of her mouth twitched. “… talk about hostile architecture.”

she finished the arm, securing the wrap before reaching for something from the utility belt she’d laid out earlier like a surgeon’s tray: a folded, fresh microfiber cloth, likely meant for wiping optics — the markswoman pressed it into elora’s good hand without ceremony. “here, wipe your face – or your pride, whichever needs it more.”

only then did she rock back on her heels, exhaling hard. the latex gloves came off with a SNAP, discarded to the side, freeing her hands. when elora spoke again, helena’s eyes cut back to her.

“have you seen yourself?” her voice cut clean like a blade, but there was no malice in it, only the truth and concern alike sharpened and cold like steel.

“you look like a leaked audition for the TWENTIETH SAW movie. of course i helped out.” a pause, then softer: “why wouldn’t i?”

huntress reached for a thing of water and took a swig, like it was a cue for a change of subject before vulnerability could creep in.

"—I do not know."

Beck has no trouble saying this at all. There are a lot of things he does not know. He is learning that more and more with each passing day out in the real world.

"I think—"

He furrows his eyebrows, thoughtful to an immense degree. He really is trying to find the right words.

IT'S NOT EXACTLY THE QUESTION YOU WANT TO BE ASKED THREE-FOURTHS INTO A DOUBLE SHIFT FROM HELL.

Juniper puts most of her body weight on one leg, cocks her hip to the side, and sighs. She holds her notepad in the hand balled into a fist against her cocked hip.

Look, she doesn't usually express exasperation this profoundly, but it has been a loooooong freaking day.

"I don't know," she says idly, scribbling down something on the notepad like Elora's even placed an order yet.

want  to  hide  out  here  for  a  minute? @ kara!

Multiple conversations, the sound of registers, cars outside, some tv program, and various other cafe sounds stab into her ears. She clenches her cane tight and her right leg jiggles as she tries to focus on eating and talking. She stumbles over her words and she's struggling to even hear what Elora's saying over the bustle of Noonan's. She doesn't understand how it's possible for her to be more overwhelmed by sound now when she doesn't have the ability to hear absolutely everything on earth. Maybe she lost her ability to block out the world when she lost her superhearing. Whatever it is, it causes a deep panic to settle inside of her and take over.

Being surrounded by so many people and being unable to see who's around her... any of them could be Cadmus or just want to hurt her for no reason other than the fact that they want to. She wouldn't be able to tell the difference between their footsteps and and an innocent stranger's or be able to counter an attack. They could just hit her over the head and take her... Her chest tightens when that thought comes her to. She's defenseless. Weak. The perfect victim.

That's right, it's been another one of those nights. Max had spent about whatnot hours getting cupcakes done for tomorrow (there was no way that she was actually gonna count). Caroline's already made a comment on how much faster she'd get her work done if she wouldn't spent half of her time taking "breaks" sending weird texts back and forth to people. To which, of course, she wasn't listening to even though she knew that her roommate was in the right as always.

And then, just right after she finished up

[ TXT from Elora ] : i tried to be normal today. didn’t work.

"Ha!" She must've looked like some grinning idiot when receiving the message.

"You don't have to be good, Elora."

Cate, gloves on both hands (it helps other people, and sometimes even herself, forget the presence of the prosthetic), reaches for Elora. She squeezes around Elora's palms and smiles, reassuring as reassuring can be. She doesn't even have to push—she thinks she can convince Elora the natural way.

@freakadot said : 'i don’t think we’re alone. i really don’t think we’re alone.'

the words sound like a taunt, rather than a warning, in jessica's eyes. ( she's not easy to scare, she likes to think. sure, sam or matt or mike would say otherwise, but what the hell do they know? jessica, through it all, is always the one that can sleep the easiest at the end of horror movie marathon, while those babies are cuddled up on the couch with a flashlight for protection. morons. )

so, with her brows creased, jessica looks to elora a little incredulously.

❛ be so for real, ❜ she starts, head shaking. ❛ i mean, i know you think that people are always coming after you, and like, ❜ she pauses, hands raising in a silent surrender, ❛ that's on you, babe, but that doesn't mean someone snuck into my apartment to give you the business. can you imagine how freaky that would be? plus, ❜

she presses on, beginning to walk towards her tiny kitchenette, ❛ how the hell would they even get in? i'm on the eighteen millionth floor. and before you start, ❜ she turns, threatens her friend with a wooden spoon, ❛ there's no way in hell everyone can fly. ❜