the lynx.

He paused at the sight of her, the sound of her voice, freezing almost like a rabbit confronted by a predator. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Wednesday wasn’t a predator, not to him, right? She was his friend, she understood what he wanted from life, knew how to help him, knew him arguably better than friends, than his own roommate; she was the only one, after all, that helped him get what he so desperately wanted.

“Hey Wednesday.” He greeted, meeting her eyes for a brief moment before looking away, around them both, at the wall, her shoes, the stairs beyond her, only meeting her eyes in the first moment she spoke, quickly turning them away one more one he’d met those sharp eyes, eyes like knives that pierced right through him.  

“long time no see.” wednesday gave a fake smile, open-mouthed and plastered on her face like an advertisement for a dentist’s office. jamison looked the same as he ever did, the same as they all do, but it pleased wednesday somewhat to see him in her territory -- wardlaw. he was out of place here, and she was completely in control. not that she wasn’t, always.

“i’ve missed you,” she lied, and just for the added effect: “how’ve you been getting along without me?” not well, she hoped.

To the untrained ear, combat boots on cobblestone is hardly distinguishable from heels, or any sort of shoe with cleats. For the girls of Wardlaw, the slight difference is all the importance in the world. The latter meant that a teacher, or some other student was coming. The former? Oh shit, it’s Mallory. Run.

Her response was prompt but not hasty, an understated perfection that came from nonchalance and also years of experience in ruining the days of others. “Look what the dog threw up.”

“Afternoon, Watanabe.”

Mallory Armstead. If nothing else, Wednesday deemed the girl worthy of her presence; she was one of the only other Wardlaw students with enough bite to match her bark, so to speak.

“Good one,” Wednesday said. She let the sarcasm drip from her voice. Mallory, for all her wonders, did not particularly interest Wednesday -- and while she was no stranger to confrontation, she wasn’t very much intrigued by something (or, rather, someone) so true.

             The door swings open. Wednesday Watanabe looks up with a smirk in her eyes, but her face stays steady, and she continues to hum. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

mallory: ... or people. ^_^

In all truth, he’s really not sure why he’s brought himself to the women’s washroom — Lee is pretty sure he’s not some sort of pervert, and so without that motivation, the decision seems a strange one.

Sorry. ( He says it aloud, before he can stop himself. ) He feels the need to appease her, to not be an utter disappointment, though Lee barely knows her — but he’s so very average and unimpressive in comparison to her.

“Hey, Wednesday.” His voice is gentle, cracking just a little when he speaks – Lee takes another step inside, watches their skin as it turns a sickly green under the lights. He moves closer, closer, to look at his green self in the mirror. Lee digs through his back pocket and pulls out a half-finished pack of cigarettes, sets them down on the counter, and then a small dime bag — green pills, purple pills, white pills. Lee’s flying high already, but they want to keep it going, doesn’t want everything to be quiet and right-side-up again. Not yet.

Lee picks out a green pill, and drops it on his tongue, swallowing it down quickly. “I like those yellow ones you gave me, by the way. So — thanks.” He leans back against the sink, and flicks at the dime bag. “D’you — have anything on you? Don’t mean to bug, but — running low.” He taps at the cigarette carton with his fingernails ( bitten down too far ), and turns his head to Wednesday. “D’you mind?”

“Hey, handsome.” Wednesday’s legs begin to swing.

She watches him enter, letting her mouth curl up into a sinister smile all too reminiscent of the Grinch. She is absolutely thrilled that Lee’s decided to visit her. He looks small. He looks terrified, or enchanted. She loves how they look under her wicked gaze.

Wednesday pushes herself up and scoots across the sink, closer to her new companion. She slides his pack of cigarettes out from under his hand and, without asking, delicately extracts one. She looks at him expectantly, waiting for his argument, while she places the filter carefully in between two stained lips

“I’ve got some yellows back in my dorm,” she says quietly, using her thumb to prop up the cigarette while she speaks. “If you want to come back with me later. But first --”

She leans in too far, the cigarette dangling dangerously close to him. “Light me?”

Elliot had been delighted to finally have the room to himself, Alfie being off god-knows-where. He should have known, of course, that barely ten minutes after he’d started studying, another distraction would come along. Fighting the urge to ignore whoever was knocking on his door, Elliot stood and opened it, his frustration instantly evident from his face, voice, and general body language. “What do you want?”

If she was taken aback by Elliot Daniels’ words, Wednesday Watanabe didn’t show it. If nothing else, she had trained herself well.

“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself,” Wednesday said. She stood in the doorframe, too close for comfort, even though she hadn’t been invited in. She craned her neck to look him in the eye. “Elliot, right? I’ve heard so much about you.” She lets her words marinate, her voice deep and carrying a meaning that isn’t relevant. “I’m Wednesday. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Isabella enters the restroom, and upon seeing Wednesday, instinctively turns on her heel before the other even can speak, and walks right back out the door that is still open from when she entered.  Not wanting to hear Wednesday’s potentially haunting voice, she switches her hearing aids off and plans on relying on her ability to read lips instead.  Drawing in and letting out a deep breath, she enters a second time and speaks a response to what Wednesday’s lips had said.  

“You um- you need a whole restroom to yourself?  No disrespect, but how much of a b-bother would it be for me to be here? I won’t be but a c-couple of minutes..”

Wednesday raises her eyebrows. She is perplexed. She is intrigued.

She doesn’t know Bella very well, and never saw a reason to befriend the younger girl. Wednesday Watanabe had much more important things to do than make nice with the fifteen year olds -- unless, that is, they had something to offer her.

Imogen just rolled her eyes leaning around Wednesday to peer into the mirror. “I’m just checking my makeup quickly” she said before pausing to touch up her lipstick. When she’d finished she glanced sideways at Wednesday, looking her up and down suspiciously.

“What are you doing in here? The party’s in A12. I swear you’re so weird sometimes.” The words might have been affectionate out of someone else’s mouth but the disdain in Imogen’s voice is clear.

“Don’t bother,” Wednesday said. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself up, hopping off her perch on the sink. “That’s the best it’s going to get.” Wednesday was feeling harsher than usual, but no more vindictive. “Might as well go back.”

“Just waiting,” Wednesday said honestly.

wednesday, barely recognizable in the bathroom’s odd, luminescent green lighting, sits on the edge of the sink, almost like she’s been waiting for the door to swing open. she looks older than her few years – there’s no telling if it’s the skyscraper heels, the villainous, dramatic cat eye, or the challenging look in her eye staring her new companion down.

“it seems there’s only the one in this part of the wing, and it’s currently – ahem – occupied.”