#role play.

"I didn't steal it, I just found it !" The words were blurted out before she could even register what the real question was, or who had spoken up to her. The only signal her brain sent to her body was that SOMEONE had walked up to her, which was enough to initiate a series of unconscious responses, starting with a sudden tension stiffening the muscles of her shoulders, followed by a rapid vocal answer. Startled, her hand had slipped, causing the blade she was using to pick under her nail to dig into the flesh of her thumb. "Shit." It was a mere cut, nothing to be anxious about, really. These past few years, she had gone through way, way WORSE. In fact, that one small incident annoyed her more than it actually hurt ; an insignificant pain compared to the hole that kept digging deep inside of her since Peeta had disappeared. Since he had been taken away from her so easily. She could've, no, should've done something about it. In fact, she could be acting right now, instead of sitting alone on the floor of a supply warehouse of District 13. But the wounds inflicted on her body from the last Games were healing way too slow for her taste. She'd rather put the fault of her self-isolation on her physical health than the bundle of emotions turning and turning within her head. There seemed to be no way out to the constant anger and sorrow which yet begged to be exorcised. The issue was, there was no one she could talk to, no one she trusted anymore.

Eyes squinting slightly, her head leaned back against the wall behind her. As much as she would've loved to avoid it, Katniss let her gaze cross his. The eyecontact didn't last long, however. Soon, she was looking away in what could be identified as shame as well as some sort of disgust. Not of his person, but of what he had DONE. "Oh. It's you." The tone of her voice was flat, devoid of enthusiasm nor hatred. It was simply ... empty. Ironic, wasn't it ? To sound so emotionless when her head was constantly buzzing with strong, sometimes contradictory feelings. Having acknowledged him, her focus went back on the hunting knife she had "found", resuming the aimless picking, though this time at the cuticle of her already damaged finger. "You can try to take it away, I don't care. Like I said, I didn't steal it, I just found it." Perhaps her voice had begun to betray a tad of frustration from his question. And she didn't feel sorry for feeling this way, just like he probably wouldn't sorry for resenting her after the way she had attacked him at the hospital. At least they were more or less even.

"You are the smartest person I know !"

The words had slipped past his lips, the tone of his voice coloured by a smile and the chuckle which had previously escaped him. Now, it hadn't been thought through ; like most of what he'd say around her presence, it just HAPPENED to be said. However, he wouldn't eras it, not for the whole damn world. Because he meant it, just like everything he'd tell her, whether it'd be when they'd hang out in real, or over a phone call. While he had always been a honest person - lying was fine by his standards, but only when necessary - he'd never been as honest as he was with her. Somehow, she had eased a way to his heart and brain. Her small, pale hands held the key and for the first time ever, he wasn't afraid to let himself open up to someone who wasn't direct family. Well, he was pretty much ALONE, except for Ash, his grandmother and recently, the kind Faye, so it wouldn't make much of a difference. Though, for him, it did. Because she made him feel accepted. Better, she made him feel SEEN. Although, it wasn't just about what she could provide her, but what she was, generally speaking.

Fezco had seen all kind of batshit insanity. He had witnessed the worst of humanity, could it even be called that at this point. It seemed safe to state that Lexi was the purest, kindest soul in this world of brutes. She was almost too good to be true, and a huge part of him wished so desperately to protect her, and hold onto her, despite the lingering voice inside his head whispering him that he was not GOOD enough. That, if he wanted her to be safe, he shall let her go instead of clinging onto her. She was the one saving him, definitely not the only way around. But it had come to a point he NEEDED her, and honestly, it sucked. Maybe that was why he didn't, until now, have any friend. When you have friends, you always are risking their loss.

The doctor was still out of breath as he unceremoniously fell into his chair, top hat dangerously tilting in the process. With a huff, he took it off, threw a quick glance at the thin layer of dust covering it, and put it aside, on the nearest table. Running around the streets of London wasn't originally the most pleasant experience he could've had, but add Sherlock Holmes to the mix and you get an exhausting chase. A dangerous one, even, oftentimes leading to combat. Yet, Holmes had seen right through him : the thrill of said chose felt exhilarating for the retired soldier. A hum escaped him, eyes closing for a second as he leaned into his seat.

ALONE. A word that had entered his vocabulary at a far too young age. He had known its meaning for a long, long time. Throughout his existence, he'd tried not to hold any resentment towards the fact that he, in fact, was alone - or at least, felt lonely. Don't people say 'it is what it is' when situations go beyond their control ? Yes, well, that was pretty much Jesse's everyday life. And yet, it didn't seem like he had learned his lesson just yet. He continued wearing his heart on his sleeve, continued to care for others more than he cared for his own well being (which kept deteriorating with the use of pretty much anything he could snort. That was why those words cut deeper than they should have.

The words of Benvolio and Mercutio held no lies ; in their attempts to appease the burning passion within his hearts, they had spoken an undeniable truth. Of course, he could have decided to run into the arms of Rosaline, or any other fair maiden who'd lie their loving gaze onto his thin figure. The charms of the young Montague were known, even by himself while never becoming an object of boastfulness. Yet, none would carry such beauty as effortlessly as the lady who had stolen his heart. A hole dug deep within his chest, for this heart shall never be returned. It was now owned by his beloved, and to his beloved it always will belong. Such love must be frightening as it stripped him of all his defenses, but frightening it was not, when joy never ceased to overcome his entire being. From toe to head, the young man felt light, lighter than ever before. All it took was a kiss, a delicacy offered by warm, soft lips he would feel and see at night, in the deepest of dreams. With this love came the thrill, a challenge he would never refuse himself. Recklessness might have been present in his existence since he was a little boy. These habits remained, called for more, kept growing and growing once he understood that what he, what they were doing, was forbidden. It was not the reason behind his powerful feelings for her, however they must have played their part in the delicious sensation of floating off the neatly polished floor, knees weak but refusing to give up under him.

Oh, yes. He knew the price to pay for coming so close to a Capulet. Exile, worse even, DEATH. Yet, when the safest action he could have done was to pull away, Romeo slid both hands down Juliet's waist. His fingers were careful when gently squeezing her, inching her into the warmth radiating from his own body. Juliet ... such sweet, wonderful Juliet, whose beauty remained unmatched in spite of the many women his eyes had rested onto. How could such a delightful touch be seen as sin ! Sinful it could not be, but if it was, he shall trespass morality and become a proud, unrepressed sinner. His heart was beating rapidly against her palm, desperate to be felt and heard by his other half. It ached to sing her the most romantic song, a song with lyrics that would celebrate her never ending tenderness. In this moment of FORBIDDEN passion, he hoped his sentiments could make their way into her, until sinking into her bones, carving into them vows he could not whisper to her with that much proximity to the crowd.

Honestly ? Fuck Nate Jacobs. Fuck him and his cocky smiles and his smug attitude. It wasn't like she had some personal VENDETTA against him, far from that. But he was a despicable human being, one who had made too many girls cry without ever showing an ounce of remorse. It could make her go so insane to see Maddy or Cassie destroy themselves and each other for some dude who absolutely was not WORTH IT. Truly, she'd try to get what was the appeal of Nate fucking Jacobs, but she couldn't find anything that didn't repulse her. And with what he had done to Jules, the sight of his face alone was enough to send her right into a burning burst of rage. Yet, without actually meaning to, Rue had started to attempt a process of understanding him. Why he was the way that he was. Why he was such an ass. NO, she felt no empathy for him ; perhaps a bit of pity. Just looking at him and thinking : oh, so that's what you chose to be. And like, yeah, sure, whatever, she was THE LAST person who could actually judge anyone's shitty behaviour because she was one of the WORST. However, she wasn't like him. While there were some weird resemblances, she would NEVER be like him.

One of her eyebrows raised. Oh boy, if he thought she thought she was a saint, well, he couldn't have been more wrong. Perhaps it was kinda cliché for a teenager in crisis to say this, but she hated herself. She hated what she was becoming, what she had been since that summer forced into rehab. She had lied, to her friends but also to her family. She had gotten high way too young to actually comprehend what "high" meant or what drugs entailed. She had used people, her friends actually. She had taken so many different stuff, most of the time without even knowing what the hell it was she was taking. If she was a saint, then the world really was going to shit. "Yeah, that's what I've been talking about ... " She replied while pointing a finger towards him like pointing the words he just said as if they were written. Said finger then wrapped back around the glass bottle she was holding with the rest of them. Maintaining the eyecontact, she took a swig, definitely not afraid of confrontation. Although, she knew it was not exactly the best idea. But whatever. She was drunk enough to dare and not too high to get this through without losing tracks of what she wanted to say.

It didn't matter that she had seen the way he'd look at Tara. Most might mistake it for some sort of brotherly love, but she knew how much he liked her just by the lingering glances he'd throw her way. Yet, the obvious crush wasn't the main reason why Mindy decided to approach Wes. First of all, she hated the look of complete POWERLESSNESS that seemed to stick to his face. Clearly, this boy was far from being weak, but the toll was hard on everyone, which led to her sudden urge to stay close to him : in such rough, terrible time, they all had to stick together. While she had and always would have her brother by her side, Wes seemed to be ... more alone. Just by glancing in his direction, it was OBVIOUS that a never-ending train of dark, worrying thoughts was going on inside that head of his. Honestly, it was fair because who wouldn't be freaking out when pulled in the middle of a freaking requel of a famous horror franchise ? At least, that was a common ground between the two, something she could safely relate to about him while he could also rely on her. However ... NO, she didn't want to think about the possibility that HE could be a killer. She'd look at his face, see the clear rummaging thoughts making a permanent frown, and there was no possibility for him to be the bad guy. A little voice, though, a deeply buried one inside her, kept whispering her she should be careful. Keep her walls down. But, even if there really was a possibility he was the one the police was looking for, it wasn't in her to refuse lending a hand to a friend.

"Of course I'm not wrong. Instinct." The girl replied with a playful tone, slightly poking her own nose before she decided to sit down next to him. In her right hand, a can of overly sweet cherry coke. In her left one, a pack of sour patch kids. Definitely a bad combo for a healthy heart but, damnit, with a killer on the loose, any second could be their last. So, fuck it. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Mindy leaned her head against the wall, gaze going from the candies on her lap to Wes's face, who was watching her expectantly. An answer. He wanted an answer. A positive one ? Probably. The truth wasn't what he sought, it was comfort. She could tell. Was it smart to feed him lies or uncertainties ? This wasn't exactly the easiest situation to be dragged into. As a friend, she wanted nothing more than to see a smile creep up on his face. Sometimes, she'd be a little too invested in making EVERYTHING right, even when she couldn't. Thinking for a second, pondering what might be the most pleasant thing to hear, she ended up slowly nodding. "Physically, she'll recover. She's getting the best treatment, even if the process hurts. Mentally ... it's something else. I don't know ... I hope so. If you and I and everyone else stays close, it can only help."