It wasn't said aloud, but it was heavily implied that Hopes new foster sibling was less than fond of the idea of taking Hope with her to the carnival that had rolled into town. In circumstances like these Hope usually tried her best to keep the peace with the family she was staying with, she would usually claim to not want to go, or to feel sick just to lessen the stress on her new foster family. But on this instance she'd already been with them a week and she knew the strain was already there. The family was struggling with new broken appliances already and Hope knew this was only the beginning. So to get out of the house was for the best. Take herself and her bad luck elsewhere. Not only that, but she wanted to go to the carnival. Even if this feeling was an afterthought. It wasn't long before her foster sister got a text and was more than ready to ditch her. And ditch her she did. A little bit of money was stuffed into her hand to amuse herself and not snitch to their guardians before Tori was off between attractions and into the arms of her new boyfriend. Hope left in her wake, upset for herself but not able to hold onto that feeling as nausea from someone getting off a nearby ride overtook her. Curling up to let the feeling pass she didn't realize she'd stopped dead in front of another person. Potentially toppling them over. 

Taylor relished in her Dad’s trust in her, and his trust that this small town was safe. It meant she was granted with freedoms a lot of kids her age wouldn’t dream of. She had a couple friends that still had babysitters at age 15, or at least always had to go somewhere with another friend, but here Taylor was, off on her own to the annual town carnival, driving a truck she technically wasn’t licensed to drive to get there. She liked being off on her own. It meant she wasn’t being forced out onto the boat with her Dad at least. Or getting educated about the fishing business like that was all that ever passed through the man’s mind. Even surrounded by people, she could be at peace being alone among others. If it just meant getting away. Munching on her corn dog slathered in mustard, Taylor wasn’t watching where she was going, and a mistimed step sent her right into the back of someone in front of her. She was able to keep her balance though, and at the cost of her corn dog hitting the hay-strewn ground, she reached out to catch the girl she’d ran into as well. “Shit! I’m sorry. You okay?”

Hope stumbled when a body collided with hers, arms flying out to catch herself if she fell. Luckily for her the person who'd bumped into her had caught her and they both steadied each other. The first thing Hope noticed with the corn on the ground and she almost reached for it before thinking better of it. Whoever it was would definitely not be eating any more of that off the ground. Especially with all that straw sticking to the sauce. "I'm sorry!" Hope says turning around to apologise properly. "Felt sick for a second, didn't think stopping would be so wasteful!" She looks down at the corn and then back up to the person she'd denied food. "I can get you another?" She tries a smile.

When the girl turned around to apologize, any ill will Taylor might have had for the accident drained from her body. She looked uncomfortable and she was being so polite and kind anyway. Taylor took her hands off the girl once she was steady, glancing at the corn dog but mostly focusing on the girl’s smile. “What? Oh, no, don’t worry about it. It was like my third one today I probably didn’t need it,” she joked, shrugging her shoulders, the flannel shirt she wore over a tee-shirt blowing back in the light breeze, her ponytail joining suit. “I hope you’re feeling better?” Taylor asked. “Was it something you ate? Or you think you need to eat something?” Her instincts took over. She’d always been a nurturing person, even to strangers. “I’m Taylor, by the way. You here with anybody?” She didn’t know why that suddenly felt like such a weighted question.

Hope wasn't one to argue, so she simply smiled a little bigger at the other in thanks for being understanding. She really had to get better at crowds, she'd forgotten that out and about could be just as overwhelming as home with the stress that something else might go wrong. "Still a shame, I really am sorry." Hope intoned still. Given that the boy with the nausea had moved well out of her way Hope had no trouble perking up trying to show the other that she was perfectly fine, nothing to worry about. "Oh, yes. I feel much better I just needed to stop moving for a minute I think." she fibbed easily. "I'm Hope. I was here with someone but-" she laughed then, trying to show that it was okay. "She ditched me for her boyfriend. It's okay though, we don't know each other all that well so I understand. I'm not holding you up from going somewhere am I?"

“Hope. That’s cute,” Taylor commented with a smile. “Most people around here have those God fearin’ Christian names,” she added, emphasizing with an exaggerated southern accent, before ditching it just as quickly. “I know like five Marys and four Matthews and that’s just in my class.” She smiled again, suddenly feeling awkward about what she’d just said. “But I like Hope.” She cleared her throat then, kicking at the ground with her boot. “Uh, no! I was just walking around checking out what all they got this year. Ferris wheel is new. Didn’t have the budget for it til now I think. Had a bad bout of fishing last year and that’s basically what runs the town. Live for die by the ocean currents, ya know?” Was she rambling? She felt like she was rambling. “You want some company?” Taylor asked. She’d come out here to be alone but the question had slipped out before she could stop herself.

Hope wasn't from anywhere near here. But she'd bounced around so many of the available foster homes that the closest open spot had been out of state. So it was funny to hear a local perspective, in a just as fun put on accent. Hope laughed a little and beamed. "Well I'm not really from Rhode Island so maybe that's why I'm not another Mary." Taylor was rambling a little, and definitely about a topic Hope knew absolutely nothing about as well. Small town like this she might pick up a few things about the ins and outs, but it was unlikely she'd be here that long. All she could do was smile vaguely at Taylor and nod when she felt it was the right moment. "I'd love some!" Hope answered as soon as the words left Taylors lips. This was a person she had a shot with, someone who didn't know her from before, didn't live with her, and was maybe a little closer in age than her foster sister Tori. "I mean if you don't mind? I just really like having people around." Taylors presence was calming, Hope herself not yet sure why, but would later reflect that maybe it was the dulled emotions, and her open attitude.

One month later

She bounced into the bathroom and hopped up on the counter with an excited grin. Taylor had agreed to help her bleach her hair and she couldn't have been more excited. They'd bought dye, they had toner and she was more than ready to get this show on the road. Hope didn't quite know what her foster parents would think, but she wasn't really worrying about that, she was far more concerned at the time with Taylor walking into the room as well. "Do you think it'll be okay? I mean even if it turns straw yellow that's okay right? Schools not in for ages yet, so it'll have time to not be so mad."

Ever since that night at the carnival, Taylor and Hope had been inseparable. They'd had an instant connection. Two loners out looking for someone to understand and support them. Lift them up. It was a no brainer. Taylor loved spending time with Hope, and she'd stayed at Taylor's house already that summer more often than she was with her foster family. Taylor didn't mind. She felt like she'd never get tired of the girl. And Taylor's Dad was out fishing more often than not, so the girls had the house to themselves. Domestic bliss in their early teens. It was...really nice. That Saturday evening, Hope had commented on Taylor's currently bright blue hair (she was constantly dying it different colors), saying she wanted a cool color too. And now here they were in the bathroom, Hope up on the counter and Taylor's hands shaking as she approached, not really sure why. "It'll be fine, don't worry. I'm an expert, remember?" she joked, mixing the bleach powder up with the developer in a small bowl. She looked up and flashed Hope a crooked smile. "If it's straw yellow we'll just add a little color to it and say we wanted pastel all along. Easy peasy."

Hope kicked her feet with nervous energy, but there was no going back now. She'd spent what little allowance she had from a previous foster home on the developer and she definitely wanted to see what she'd look like with anything other than black hair for once. Feeling a tingle down her spine Hope tenses and her eyes catch sight of the shower curtain fluttering slightly. Her chill was back, goosebumps erupting on her arms as Taylor mixed dye. Hopes eyes followed the movement of the curtain and then hopped down off the counter to put herself between the chill and Taylor. Hoping to deflect any intent it had. Smiling like nothing was wrong as the light flickered a little. "My shirt is white, that'll be fine right? We won't have to throw it away or anything?" she said casually.

It was cute how nervous Hope was, kicking her feet as she sat on the counter. The medicine cabinet behind Hope was open, hiding the mirror because, well, Taylor didn't like to look at herself. And by herself, she meant the weird monster she always saw in her reflection. She was used to it by now, but avoided it when she could. Taylor felt a chill in the air as Hope hopped down off the counter, but just chalked it up to the nervous energy in the room. "Oh, uh, I have a couple towels I used specifically when I'm dying my hair, but you might want to take your shirt off just in case." The moment she said it, Taylor felt a lump form in her throat, and she did her best to swallow it down. "It's, uh, all mixed up! Come sit down when you're ready," Taylor said, clearing her throat and gesturing to the folding chair she'd brought into the bathroom, a towel already thrown over the back of it. She set the bowl of dye down and pulled on some gloves, biting her lip to stamp down her nervous energy.

The suggestion didn't strike Hope as anything to be worried over. She was more focused on what her foster family would think if she had ruined a shirt doing something that she already likely wasn't allowed to be doing. This family were stricter than most, but not about anything Hope felt was important. She had been spending so much time just out of sight and out of mind, staying at Taylors house when her dad was gone. But she was confident that a ruined shirt would go down like a ton of bricks. The chill rose up her back and then it was gone. The light stopped flickering and Hope instantly set about continuing on as if nothing happened. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and sat down in the chair quickly. Hope drew her knees up and she crossed them where she was seated in the dining chair. "When did you dye your hair the first time? What colour did you go?"

Taylor felt a very soft gasp escape her as Hope removed her shirt. It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other change in all the time they'd spent together. She'd even seen this bra before, the one with the red stars on it. They were girls, after all. Nothing weird about changing in front of each other, right? But something about this situation just struck a chord. A beautiful one, allowed to ring out and echo around the small tiled room. As Hope sat down, Taylor picked up the towel and draped it over Hope's shoulders. It was an ugly shade of brown and spotted with orange bleach stains and lots of splatters of color. Like a tapestry telling a story of Taylor's rebellion and insecurity. She picked up the bowl and the brush and started at Hope's roots, slathering the bleach on as she spoke. "Two years ago, when I was thirteen. It was my birthday and my Dad was feeling guilty because he had to go out on the water, so he told me I could 'break one rule' and I chose to dye my hair purple." She shrugged as she continued to work. "I was getting teased a lot then. Shitty friends from elementary school decided to turn on me for no reason. It felt like a shield. Like a helmet to keep all the negativity away." She bit her lip, chuckling awkwardly. "It's...stupid. I know."

Her knees bounced as they talked, her eyes on the bottles in the medicine cabinet just for something to look at while Taylor set about putting the bleach on her hair. Hope bit her lip when the first brush stroke cemented what was to be done and then relaxed back into the chair after that. It was too late to go back now. A whole head of blonde would surely be better than a panicked one singular stripe of orange if she were ti back down now. "It's not dumb I like it. I think coloured hair is so cool, I've just never had the opportunity to do it before. Never stayed anywhere with friends who had hair coloured like yours." she admitted. Though it was no secret that Hope had bounced around, her non accent and obvious lack of personal belongings showed that just fine on it's own. "School is really terrible for mean people." Hope then adds. "I've been to loads of schools, and there are always people who just complain and moan." She might be a bit of a gossip herself, but she tried not to be malicious with it. She just liked to know things mainly. To know things was a nice safe way to be. She lived her life in an avalanche of uncertainty after all. "Well I'm 13 now, so it's my turn." Hope beamed at the wall, not moving her head so that she didn't bother Taylor who was busy.

Taylor instantly felt bad complaining. Hope had it so much worse than her, and here she was complaining about some mean ex-friends when Hope didn't even have a permanent home. She knew it wasn't a contest on who's life was worse or anything, but still. At least Taylor still had her Dad... "Wait, you're younger than me? I wouldn't have guessed that," Taylor admitted, surprised this hadn't come up until now. "You're so mature." Probably because she had to be. "I...really admire you. Like, a lot. Even with all the bullshit you're still so positive and bubbly and full of like, joy and good vibes and shit. It's fascinating to me." She started working the bleach out into the strands of hair now that she was done with the roots, already seeing it lightening before her eyes. "Your hair is gonna match the ball of pretty sunshine I see you as..." God, that was stupid. "I mean...I don't know what I mean. Ignore me." Why had she said that?

They'd spent the first half of summer together constantly, and yet Hope still felt a small little paranoid pit of dread sink into her stomach when she heard Taylor point out that she was younger with surprise. She felt she knew the other girls so well, and still a little part of her braced for the worst. The speech her foster sister had given not yesterday about not wanting to hang around with 'children' so much younger than herself. What followed was far from her fears however and her face broke out in a smile once again. "I don't know. I do get sad sometimes, but you're so much fun. It's hard to be upset when I'm having such a good time." Hope admitted, taking a moment to shift her head just sightly to the side so that she could look at Taylor out of the corner of her eye. "You think I'm pretty?"

The silence rang in the room like microphone feedback, almost throbbing in her ears as she tried to just focus on getting the rest of Hope's hair covered in bleach and stacked up on her head. When Hope finally did speak, Taylor couldn't help but smile to herself. "It's okay to be sad," she said quickly. "You can be sad around me to, if you need to be." She worked her gloved fingertips into Hope's scalp. There was something weirdly intimate about the whole ordeal now. "But I'm glad you're happy around me. That like, means a lot..." When Hope turned a bit to look at her, Taylor retracted her hands, thinking she might have pulled her hair or done something wrong. But the question Hope asked made Taylor's throat go dry. She'd told lots of people in the past they were pretty. It was like, a thing people did to boost each other's egos, right? Why did this feel so different? "Uh, yeah, I do. You're beautiful, Hope," she practically whispered. "Your bright soul shines in your eyes every time you smile." What the fuck was that? She needed to abort mission and fast. "Oh, your hair is done. We need to let it sit for a bit though.”

Maybe Hope was a little too absorbed in how that made her feel that she missed the expression on Taylors face as she said it. Her heart felt light at the admission. She'd never really gotten a compliment like that before. Usually you'd hear things like that from your family when you were young, with no one to really say as much she was rather taken in that moment with the words. Hope slides to sit sideways on the chair beaming up at Taylor. "You're beautiful too." she responds. "Really cool. You're my favourite thing about this town, about this state actually. I hope I get to stay a long time here with you." she admitted not realizing how upsetting that might sound to the other girl. It implied that she would be going at some point. but to Hope that was just an inevitability. Distracted easily by her hair being done, Hope hops to her feet and swings the mirror of the medicine cabinet around so that she could see, but what she saw behind her caught her attention much more than her hair. Her heart races and she freezes in place. Was this a manifestation of her chill? She didn't know. But that wasn't Taylor behind her, or at least it didn't look like it.

Taylor's stomach knotted up as Hope called her beautiful, and she reached back to rub the back of her neck with a crooked, sheepish smile. "Heh, thanks. Not many interesting things in this town though. I don't have a lot of competition," she joked, trying to defuse the weird tension mounting in the room. She had caught the bit about leaving one day, but was just trying not to think about it. "No, wait--!" But it was too late, Hope had already swung the mirror back and she'd definitely saw Taylor's reflection. Until now, she thought she'd been the only one to see it. Her Dad had never mentioned it, and he'd seen her in the mirror plenty of times. She ducked down, out of sight of the mirror, hitting the floor and falling backwards into the shelf behind her, extra bottles of shampoo and body wash crashing to the floor. "Shit," she spat as the tops flew off a couple of the bottles and they started to leak onto the tile floor.

Hope's mounting fear over this being what had been haunting her since birth fell apart when Taylor reacted like she could see it too, like she knew it was coming. It couldn't be her ghosts, no one ever believe her about her ghosts. But Taylors reaction brought about a new nervousness. She continued staring in the mirror just to make sure the image wasn't lingering with Taylor ducking out of the way, but there was no other way about it. That had been Taylor. A little bubble of fear took hold of Hope but she stayed put. Unsure what to say or do next. Her best friend. The girl dying her hair, letting her sleep over every week. Was there something to fear? She was frozen, battling with herself. Hands gripped to the sink Hope felt herself pale. "What..?"

Hope's reaction had been exactly what Taylor had feared. Well, not exactly. She'd expected a bit more screaming and freaking out. But Hope was frozen in fear, and Taylor didn't know if that was worse. "You saw it too, didn't you?" Taylor pulled herself to her feet, the monster appearing behind Hope again in the reflection. And when Taylor's spoke, its lips moved as well. "This isn't what it looks like. Actually, I don't...I don't know what it is at all," she admitted, moving to sit on the edge of the tub, out of sight of the mirror altogether. "Please don't be scared of me. I'm already scared enough for the two of us," she said, tears threatening her eyes, but she tried her damndest to hold them back. "As long as I can remember, my reflection has been that...thing. That monster. I don't know what it means. What it makes me...especially now that I know it's not just all in my head." She held her head in her hands, covering her face. Right next to her ear, the timer she'd set on her watch started to go off, and it made her jump before she quickly pressed the button to silence it. "You, uh, you need to rinse your hair."

Hope stared into the mirror as 'Taylor' reappeared in it. The second glance wasn't any less terrifying as the first, but at least this time she was expecting it. She stared with wide eyes as it spoke, in exact timing with Taylor and then ducked back out of sight. She didn't understand. She didn't know what to do. But she felt Taylors sadness, it was muffled as per usual, but it was still there. She was incredibly upset. She didn't feel like she was lying, like she had malicious intent. Maybe this was why her usually so clear indications of what someone was feeling was so blissfully dull around the other girl. She was something else entirely. Loosening her hold on the sink she glances over to see just normal Taylor sitting on the edge of the bath. Normal. Regular. With a freaky reflection Taylor. "You don't know why?" she echoed tentatively. Her hair was the last thing she wanted to worry about. "I uh......right." she said unmoving.

"I always thought it was just in my head. Like an imaginary friend that just wouldn't take a hint once I grew up," she said quietly. There was no point in hiding any of it now. "But you can see it, which means it's really. It's out there, in the world, whatever it is. Whatever I am? Fucking hell..." She held her face in her hands again, letting the tears leak out now, wiping them away as quickly as they fell. "No. I just know I'm a fucking freak..."

Their stories were so similar yet so far apart. Both of them had something they couldn't explain, both of them hoping that one day whatever it was would just go away. Both of them still living with it. Both just as terrifying admissions. Hope sees the tears, and feels a fraction of the sorror from the older girl and she was unable to do anything but approach her. Hope moved towards Taylor and reaches out tentatively to admit with a shaking breath of her own. "I'm haunted. I'm not...... completely normal either."

As Hope approached her, Taylor flinched just a little, not really sure what to expect. But a gentle hand rested on her and she quickly and quite greedily took it in her own. She needed the contact. The reassurance she was still touchable. Lovable. Worth having around. "Haunted?" she asked, confused as she looked up at Hope finally. "You mean like, metaphorically with all the shit you've been through or like...legit ghosts?" She tried her best not to sound judgy or anything. Now wasn't the time for her usual sarcasm. Her eyes flicked up to Hope's hair, still piled on top of her head as the bleach was starting to crust. "You really need to rinse that out, dude," she said with a little nervous chuckle.

Hope didn't quite know how to answer so she decided to save her hair before they really got into it. She shook her head a little and gestures for the sink. "Help me wash this out?" it was a tentative ask. Taylor looked like she could break down, she felt like she was on the verge as well. But Hope's confidence in her grew in that moment. She still felt the same, she still felt -even if it was a little blurry- like she wouldn't do her any harm. She was willing to trust her gut as she leaned over the sink and turned on the tap to start washing her long hair out. It felt like such a bad moment to be doing something so trivial but there she was.

Taylor took notice of the lack of answer, but she simply nodded as Hope asked for help, getting to her feet and opening the cabinet again so she wouldn't catch her reflection. She ran her hands through Hope's hair, feeling shivers up her arms as she did so. Being trusted to touch her again, after what she'd just seen, it meant more to Taylor than Hope would ever know. Once it was all rinsed out, Taylor handed her a towel and moved to sit back on the tub out of sight, swinging the mirror back in place for Hope to see herself. "It looks great," Taylor complimented. "Even without the toner."

She didn't even glance at her own reflection for a moment, smoothing her hand over her head and wiped the water out of her eyes to look back at Taylor, as if to make sure she was still the same. Although she was still a pre-teen girl, so she did spare a glance when she was complimented. She'd forgotten she was nervous at all, but she was glad that it did actually look good on her. She'd rather have the toner, but she was relieved to find it worked out well. Hope ignored herself again and wraped her hair up in the towel to dry and bites her lip looking at Taylor again. She opened her mouth to start out by saying that she wasn't crazy, but stopped herself when she remembered what she'd just seen would also constitute as crazy in anyone elses eyes. "I'm haunted...like..........ghost haunted I think."

Taylor had never believed in ghosts. It seemed to far fetched, even with her weird monster friend in the mirror. But something about Hope made her believe, even if only a little. It was hard not to, seeing the distress on her face, feeling it coming off her in waves almost. "I believe you," she said softly, reaching out to take her hands. "That's what friends are for, right?"

Yet another month.

It was coming up for the end of summer when Hope finally found out. She'd had an inkling, but something about Taylor had lead her to dream bigger than her life usually was. She'd been gearing up for a new school, maybe even a school she'd manage to stay in for the whole year. But on a Sunday morning, with no warning from her foster family, her social worker appeared at the door with a sad smile and a soft hand. But this wasn't like the other times she'd been sent away from a family, she'd noticed her ghost activity had really picked up since her and Taylor had dyed her hair but she'd really been hopeful that this time it'd be different for the better, not what she was getting now. Hope started to panic and upset herself, her social worker thought she'd been told a week ago when the arrangements were made, and so as not to stir the pot Hope didn't correct him. Instead she let the tears fill her eyes and wandered upstairs to 'collect her things'. In actuality, Hope swung a leg out the window and was off like a shot towards Taylors house. She frantically knocked and as soon as she saw her friends face she started to speak, making no sense. "PROMISE YOU'LL WRITE TO ME."

Taylor herself had been preparing for the school year. The thought of starting high school was scary, but it was nice to know that she’d have a friend to fall back on in Hope, even if she was at a different school. Friends before now had always been hit or miss with Taylor. She had a couple, but she always felt like an afterthought. Not with Hope though. Hope was always on Taylor’s mind, and she could only imagine Hope felt somewhat the same, especially after what they’d admitted to each other. The knock on the door was so frantic it scared Taylor a little. Per usual, her Dad was on the water, and he’d asked her to come with him but she’d refused. Fishing with him had less and less appeal as she got older. Hoping up from the sofa, she tugged the door open to see Hope peering back at her, eyes wet and voice desperate. “What? What’s the matter?” Taylor asked, confused, as she ushered Hope inside.

Hope rushed in and wrapped her arms around Taylor. Her arms wrapped around the other and she starts to explain. Her voice hurried as if she was being chased and had to get it all out before it was too late. Which was sort of true, back in her foster familys home they'd discovered her missing, they were searching the house. Her social worker very concerned as she'd never done this before. "They're taking me away. The Davidsons didn't say a word but it was all finalised last week that I'm to be going back to Maine to a new family. They didn't even tell me, and I'm supposed to be packing right now but I climbed out the window and I'm going to be in so much trouble but I needed to know if you'd write to me, please say you'll write to me!"

Taylor instinctively wrapped her arms around Hope, holding her tight. Why did this feel like it had such a finality to it. And then Hope spilled the beans and Taylor felt tears springing to her eyes. “You’re leaving?” she asked dumbly, backing up to get a good look at Hope’s face. She wished it was some sick joke, but she could feel in her bones it was true. “Of course I’ll write to you!” she assured her, pulling her back into a hug, burying her face in Hope’s shoulder as she sniffles back the sorrow that had pierced through her like an arrow to the heart. “I’ll write so much you’ll get tired of me.” Taylor mentally noted she’d be giving the Davidsons a piece of her mind later, one way or another. But right now her focus was on Hope. “Fuck, I’m gonna miss you. I knew this would happen, but not so damn soon...” and before she could have another thought, before she could even think about hesitating, she pulled back and then leaned in, pressing her lips against Hope’s, doing the only thing that felt natural, because she probably wouldn’t get another chance.

It was a lovely sentiment, and it eased a little of Hopes anxieties about having to move to yet another town, yet another family, yet another school. To know Taylor was going to stay in contact meant everything. Hope clung to the other girl tightly, as they spoke her foster family were already directing her social worker towards Taylors house. She'd been there so often it was unlikely she'd be anywhere else after all. So they didn't have a lot of time. "I'm gonna miss you too." Hope responded, although her teary eyes widened in shock as Taylor presses their lips together. She's flabbergasted when the older girl pulls away. Shocked and unsure how to respond. That had been her first kiss, and amongst all the stress she felt that moment she was dazed and confused. "Wha-?"

Taylor pulled back quickly, her mind finally catching up with her actions and slapping her in the face with them. “I—I’m sorry, I—“ But words were lost in her throat, barely able to squeeze past the lump forming there. “I just, I thought—fuck...” Just then there was a knock at the door, a hard rap that startled the both of them. That sort of angry patience that was somehow scarier than pure anger. The social worker called to Hope through the door, and they knew their time was up.

Radisson had barely sat down before this was thrown at him. “Why? And why are you looking at me?”

“Because. We're gonna end up ruling the school, anyway, so getting in with them will only speed up the process. And then we'll have longevity.” Jace leans in to jab at the table. “They'll graduate but if we're already on their level they'll be leaving it all behind to us for another two goddamn years.” He leans back into his seat, hands linked against the back of his head. “Someone's gotta do it, and it's not gonna be Prior.”

“Hey! Why not?”

Jace turns his head to Prior, cocking it with an eyebrow raised. “Come on, man. Aren't you going after Beckett, anyway?”

Prior blinks, as if somehow that slipped his mind entirely. “Oh yeah...”

“Why not you, then?”

Jace glances back to Radisson. “Nuh-uh. My reputation hinges on being too cool to even give a shit. This kind of long con won't mesh with that. You, though? You were fucking made for it.”

“Was I?”

“Cut the bullshit. You're a heartthrob in the making. Silky blonde hair~ dreamy blue eyes~ That quiet confidence that surrounds you that makes you seem grounded yet also untouchable.” As Jace goes on Prior raises an eyebrow, watching for a moment before turning his gaze to Radisson himself, squinting. Radisson purposely disregards this, hoping Prior will decide for himself that Jace sounds as ridiculous as he does.

If only he'd stopped there. “Even the fact that half the time you look like haven't you slept in weeks is kinda of endearing. ‘Maybe he wasn't born with all that perfection? Maybe he works and studies like the rest of us plebs!’”

The odd string of 'compliments' would have been more embarrassing if Jace didn't somehow find a way to make it sound like one big insult. “Fuck off. As opposed to doing no work and just expecting to have everything handed to you?”

Jace's grin doesn't falter for a second, merely twists into another wide smirk before turning into a laugh.

“So, what?” Radisson asks, knowing that was all the reply he was going to get. “Just any senior of my picking?”

The look on Jace’s face turns smug for a moment before answering. “How about a Morse?”

Prior's eyes widen. “Dude.”

Jace just rolls his eyes. “They're not that intimidating. Rad's totally got a chance with the boring one. Shit, maybe even the little one.”

Radisson doesn't say anything yet, pretends that he's thinking about it.

“Come on, man.” Jace leans back down, folding his arms on the table, staring hard at Radisson. “I know you want to.” He says, calling the bluff.

He had a chance with 'the boring one.' 'Maybe even the little one.'

Radisson knew that it wasn't that Jace didn't know their names. Jace just had a thing about names in the first place. Him using your first name formally was some kind of Special Status that Radisson never quite understood, but had grown used to.

Amaira or Esmara, respectively, Radisson decoded. He'd picked up on the implication at the time. ‘Not Sidera’.

He didn't exactly take it personally. Though Radisson couldn't deny the appeal of the plan, it was, he was the first to admit, a haphazard one to begin with. A line of possibility had to be drawn somewhere. Sidera, or as Jace would might call her, 'the leader', was that line.

But there she was, sitting, for the first time he'd ever seen her, by herself. She took up two seats within the bleachers, feet resting on the row in front of her. She watched the Lacrosse game before them with mild interest. Her elbows on her knees, one hand holding her chin in it's palm, the other with a cigarette between it's fingers, obviously dyed blonde hair falling over her shoulder.

This could cost Jace his entire scheme, and he would be livid. But, personally, Radisson was much more about going with the flow of things, and this seemed like an undeniable opportunity.

He approaches, casually. “Have an extra one of those?”

She glances up, already smirking lightly without remark as she regards him. After a moment, she pulls out another cigarette and hands it over, then turns her attention back to the game. That ought to be seen as the end of it.

He catches her glance back for just a second, and on that alone he makes the decision to keep going. He sits beside her, pressing his unlit cig against hers to ignite it.

If she had taken offense, he would have apologized and left. If she continued to ignore him, he still would have left, quietly. But instead she smirks again, wider, and turns her attention back to him with a nod that seems to read 'good one'.

At a normal school they would have immediately been in trouble for even possessing the things, let alone sharing them, but PSA had a habit of turning a blind eye to 'minor offenses'. Jace once said it's what they paid for. Maybe for Berlin Petrov it really was.

“Sports fan, are you?” Sidera asks, suddenly.

Radisson shrugs in response. “My friends are on the pep squad.”

She laughs. “You mean cheerleaders.”

Radisson smiles, too. “Yeah, cheerleaders.”

“My baby sister is on the team.”

He glances back to the actual game being played. “I thought you were triplets?”

“Yep. She's still the baby.”

At that very moment a body gets slammed, crashing onto the ground, seemingly right on their head. Sidera stands abruptly, and for a split second Radisson expects concern.

“GET BACK UP, BITCH.” Sidera yells instead, and despite there being no possible way for her sister to hear so far, Esmara still does as she's told, springing right back up, holding her stick above her head triumphantly.

While Sidera stands, he notices the figure approaching from her other side, carrying nachos and a soda. Simultaneously, Sidera and Amaira sit, Amaira not regarding Radisson in the slightest, even while Sidera efficiently moves to steal, dunk, and eat a nacho with one hand, and pull the coke from her sister and offer it to Radisson with the other. He accepts, naturally.

The situation he managed to find himself in should be the perfect opportunity to have conversation, to get to know her, to 'pave the way'. And yet instead they sit in relative quietness, sharing snacks and drinks and watching the game as if they weren't complete strangers.

The game ends up ending with a win for them, and Sidera and Amaira standing again to cheer, and when Radisson does the same he appreciates more fully the apparent length of Sidera’s legs. Without a word she locks arms with him and pulls him off.

Eventually they locate Esmara, phone pressed to her ear, sweat and dirt covering her face. “Daddy! Guess what!? Yeah I did! We KILLED it!” She catches sight of them and beams even brighter, waving quickly. “I gotta go, we're gonna go have victory burgers! Sidera's even bringing her boyfriend!” Radisson glances to Sidera for some sign of protest, but she keeps standing, smiling, arm still linked with his. “Me either! Anyway bye! Love you!” And just like that she hangs up and bounces off.

“What are you thinking about, my hawk?” A voice drawled from behind him and he let the thread of thought that he was chasing wander away from him. “Nothing sir.” He murmured, and the god looked at him thoughtfully. He didn’t believe him, that much was obvious, but he didn’t look mad.

Thank God too, since they all had seen what happened when Loki was pissed off. Despite most of their loyalty, no one wanted to get at the wrong end of him in case they burst into flames like the last guy.

“Well, in any case, I have something I must discuss with you if I may.” Loki made a motion for Clint to walk. He did, and the god followed behind him for a moment before coming to walk by his side. “Was there anyone in that forsaken place you worked in before that you liked?” It sounded like a simple enough question, and Clint wasn’t about to deny his boss the knowledge he sought.

“There are two, actually. Agent Natasha Romanoff and Agent Phil Coulson.” Clint replied, glancing at the god to see what his reaction would be. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but for some reason the look that Loki had given was not it. It was contemplative, but there was a glint in his eye that was almost evil.

It made something in the archer’s heart stir in excitement. What could he possibly be thinking? Whatever it was, it was going to be the best idea that he’s had in a long time and how could he not go with that?

“Those people that you like, they must have been best friends of yours?” Clint simply nodded his head as Loki went on. “Well, you are in my company now, I hope you know, and I want you to show your loyalty in a different light.” The god paused, as if thinking of something, but they both knew what he was going to say.

“I want you to kill them.”

Clint grinned, the blue almost overwhelming in his eyes by now. “That was the best idea I heard from you all day, boss.” Loki smiled, before going about his business.

It was almost a week later, when they were preparing for the attack on the Helicarrier that Loki said it. Said the words that would later trigger Clint.

It would trigger him because he was angry, and he didn’t know why or how it had come out so easily. He had been so good at hiding it, so good at letting it all go.

Loki had grabbed his shoulder, and turned him around to talk about the plan. Clint would go after Natasha and if he could he would go after Coulson. If it came to it, Loki could kill either or both but it would be better if he did it.

After the eager talking between the two, Loki laughed. “You are so filled with the kindness of a hero, but down in there, there is anger, Agent Barton. I bet with a few hours we can harness that anger and use it to our advantage don’t you think?” Clint had laughed, and nodded at the statement.

And then…