Opinions

Who: Brett and Lila
When: Afternoon
Where: The Kitten Club

It was early in the day - too early to be on her way to work, really - but Lila couldn't bring herself to sit around at home any longer. With no errands to do and no other obligations until her scheduled shift that evening, she'd been stuck spending most of the morning trying desperately to entertain herself while her mother slept off the effects of last night's binge. She'd cleaned their small apartment until it shone as well as it could for such a low-rent, dingy place, spent two hours knitting, gave up on trying to read and eventually scrounged together enough ingredients for a small batch of cinnamon muffins.

She'd finished bathing and dressing and, after her mother woke up and settled herself with a muffin, decided she might as well leave for work. Hardly any other employees would be there, but it was safer if she made the walk while there was still a little light - though the gray day meant there was little light from the start. She was saddened and scared by Stella's death; while she hadn't known the woman well, they'd been coworkers, and that hit uncomfortably close to home.

Leaving a few muffins for her mother, Lila packed the rest and left. She made the walk quickly, head down save for quick, darting glances around every now and then. Though it was the middle of the day and she likely had nothing to fear, she was tense enough that by the time she'd reached the Kitten Club's employee entrance, she was nearly running.

Brett hadn't been home. He'd left early that morning, and between one thing and another, he'd managed to avoid going back. After all, he didn't know what he'd find there - whether she'd still be there or not, or which he'd prefer. He could feel the marks she'd left on him, especially the ones on his neck - occasionally the cold wind would blow against the scratch marks she'd left there, on the right side of his neck, ending up beneath the collar of his shirt. He imagined they were still pretty fresh and red - he hadn't even looked to see how bad the lovebite bruise she'd left on him was. it had all been pretty intense. It hadn't been meant to end up that way at all. Really, he was trying not to think about it.

So, instead of heading home, he headed to the Club instead. he was down to be there for the early evening shift anyhow, and there really was nowhere else to go. he needed somewhere he could think anyhow - plan out his next move. That had been the idea, at least, but when he walked into the club he expected to be empty, the first person he saw was Lila.

Lila didn't have anything more to do at the club than she did at home, but that was at least one walk she wouldn't have to make in the dark. She would have contemplated a nap if it hadn't seemed rude to sleep at one's place of employment, but decided against it. Last night's thunderstorm had brought on its usual panic attack, leaving her jumpy and on edge. Tired, but sleeping here was out of the question.

She'd set the muffins out on a little table in the back for anyone who might come in and want one; they'd keep well enough in the few hours before things really started to pick up. She wasn't prepared for the sudden appearance of another employee, however, and when she turned around from the table to see Brett suddenly in the club, she couldn't quite help the way she twitched in surprise. "Brett," she murmured, chasing adrenaline away with a deep breath. "Hello. I didn't expect anyone else to be here so early."

"Could say the same for you," Brett observed, appearing to ignore the muffins, the way he generally did whenever there was food around. he'd only take things from other people if he was certain they weren't being offered. Or, of course, if it was clear that taking what was on offer was good for his continued health. With the O'Malley's that was always a possibility. "Keen to get started, are you?"

Lila shrugged slightly. "I didn't have anywhere else to be," she said quietly. "I thought I might be able to find something to keep me busy." She didn't know what, but she was pretty good at finding tasks for herself. "What about you?" she asked, drifting a little closer for easier conversation. "You're welcome to a muffin, if you like. They're cinnamon." She noticed something on his neck - a shadow, some lines, and looked closer. "What happened?" she asked, eyes widening a little with obvious concern the second she realized she was seeing scratches and some sort of bruising. "Are you all right?"

Brett took a half step back, ducking his head slightly - it felt strange to duck to the right rather than the left. Usually when people took a close look at his neck, it was at the burn scars on the other side, but he knew exactly what she was looking at today. "It's nothing," he told her, dismissively. "Really - fine."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Lila pushed, but only a little. She didn't have it in her to argue for long or very strenuously. "Were you attacked? Those look like they could become infected if they're not cleaned properly." She thought she remembered a first aid kit back in the dressing rooms that he could use if he hadn't done it already.

Brett chuckled lightly, and there was actually some humour in it. "No, darling - I wasn't attacked," not in the way that she meant it, anyhow. "And it's fine, really. Not gonna come infected," he added, again brushing her concern off. He didn't need to be taken care of.

Now, Lila may have been inexperienced, but she wasn't stupid. She'd read that book that one time, and even if she hadn't been able to finish out of sheer embarrassment, it clicked when she considered the marks in the face of his rather uncharacteristic good humor. "Oh," she said, blushing bright red. "Well. I'm glad you're not hurt." Flustered, she turned briefly back to the table and pointlessly rearranged muffins, working on pulling together her composure.

Brett shook his head at her as she clued in - which, actually, wasn't what he was aiming for. He'd just not wanted her going on with her insistence of cleaning him up. He didn't let people get that near, as a rule, and he wasn't gonna start with her just cos she was the harmless type. "You doing okay, last few days?" he asked, instead.

"As well as can be, I suppose," Lila said, frowning slightly as her hands stilled. "Poor Stella... it's frightening. Her family must be devastated." She worried about something like that happening to her, for obvious reasons, but almost more for her mother's sake than her own. The woman didn't have anyone else. "What about you?" she asked, turning back around as her blush slowly faded. She didn't know if they'd been close, but a fellow coworker dying had to come as a shock to everyone.

"What about me?" Brett asked, challengingly, as if it should be clear that he was fine. He wasn't going to admit just how much Stella's death had spun him for a loop yesterday. He didn't admit o weakness, after all. "If you girls had just fucking listened to me, it would never have happened in the first place," he pointed out. After all, it wasn't that long ago that he'd talked to her about not walking home on her own, about the girls organising to see each other home.

Lila flinched at that, the movement tiny but still visible. "I know," she admitted in a soft voice, eyes downcast. "And some girls did." Her hands clasped together and wrung in an unconscious nervous habit, knuckles pale. Perhaps she did blame herself a little for not insisting harder that everyone leave in pairs or groups, and had wondered yesterday if that might have made a difference for Stella. "I'm just-- It must have been a shock, that's all."

Brett noted the flinch and it drove him on, twisting the knife to make up for her suggesting that he had weak spots, for him possibly even showing them, for him betraying the possibility of a sense of humour, for everything that wasn't actually her fault but he could lay blame at her door for. "I'd say it was a fucking shock for Stella, that's for certain."

Lila couldn't help the way she flinched again, more noticeable this time, and she paled. "That's cruel," she murmured softly, vision going misty with tears she prayed didn't fall. She thought she could understand a little of what motivated his animosity and couldn't get angry. Likely he was grieving just as everyone else was who'd been impacted by the murder.

"It's not cruel - it's the truth," Brett told her, taking a step forward, slipping into the familiar skin. "She was a stupid bitch - she knew what was out there and she still thought that it would never happen to her. You all think that, don't you? that it'll never happen to you?" Eris had thought that last night, when she'd tried to leave. That just because she had a need, she could be invulnerable on the streets. But that kind of thinking just ended you up with your throat slit in a gutter somewhere. And they never learned.

"I know bad things can happen no matter who you are," Lila whispered, wiping at her eyes as a few stray tears fell. Good God, did she know - her father, her mother, the women being killed, numerous others in the city, in the world. Most of them probably didn't deserve it, either. She took a deep breath. "That doesn't make what happened any less awful. I just don't think we should speak badly of the dead, no matter how sad and angry we are."

Brett ignored her tears. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd made a woman cry on purpose. At times he could turn it into an art form, almost. He knew just what buttons to press to get them to spill, and it was like stress relief for him. "I don't think the dead are listening - they're dead. What do they care? they didn't suddenly gain some kind of saintly status where they could do no wrong, just because they're six feet under, petal."