“ better terrible truths than kind lies. ” // @sharcarters
By 2099, paranoia was a way of life. Everyone treated everyone with suspicion, expected to be stabbed in the back even when there was no blade in sight. It was never a surprise when someone threw you to the wolves, no matter how awful it was to find that your boss had drugged your scotch or your coworker had messed with the controls on your machine in an attempt to force you to kill yourself. Miguel saw most things coming, even if he never saw much of a way to stop them.
So he knew someone was in his apartment the moment he turned the key in the lock.
It was a feeling, really, a hair-on-the-back-of-the-neck-standing-up kind of thing. He didn’t have a spidey sense in the traditional sense, but he had more than enough paranoia to make up for it. The lock clicked in a way that was just off, the door opened just a little too easily, the air in the apartment was a little too unsettled... There were a thousand tiny things that brought it all home. His talons were out as he stepped into the apartment, his breath faltering in his lungs as he prepared himself for a fight.
Instead, he was greeted with words.
Miguel paused in the doorway, studying the unfamiliar woman who looked a little too at home seated on the lawn chair currently occupying the space where his couch used to be. “Hard to give either to a stranger,” he replied, not taking his eyes off her even as he made his way into the kitchen. “If this is Ty’s idea of a job offer, I’m not really interested. He kind of turned me off Viastone with his whole... personality thing. Plus, my feelings are still hurt. Getting fired’s a real kick in the ego.” He took a glass down from the cabinet, still watching the woman warily. “And if you’re some kind of cop, I’m pretty sure you need a warrant to be in here. And I haven’t broken any laws.” He was pretty sure. “Glass of water? Don’t have much else to offer here.”