Bad Blood (6Questions)

Day 12

The last two days were quiet and full of work. No objection on my part. The goal is to get our gang out of prison, the meantime is about surviving - nothing more, nothing less - what would it matter after all...

I spend days watching Marianne work. And she's been working with much more enthusiasm lately. It's clearly better than talking to me, or just looking at me.

It's fine by me, that's her job, she'd better do it well. After another two days in a row, it's just a little tiring. And I'm literally choking in the damn room, feeling like a lifeless piece of trash who's, well, surviving, but that feels like a real freakin drag recently.

That's until I put on a fresh ironed shirt and a tie, and just this little detail, the reassuring grip on my neck, the starched fabric holding my shoulders back, it makes me feel alive again, actually wanting to survive.

I wanna feel more of it. Better is not enough, I need the best now.

"Where you going?" Marianne stops me with first curt look at me in two days. First, and pointed already. She's getting even with me, I can see. Though I have no intention to answer to her.

She stands up as I reach the door. "We're getting closer, Damian," she speaks up urgently. It takes two thoughts to get the right meaning. "Don't risk you expose yourself out there in the streets. Someone might recognize you and..."

I give her a silent frown and open the door. She sucks in a breath. I've got her attention again, and what's more, is it care now, worry? How amusing.

I tilt my head in the doorway, examining her concerned face. Good lord, sweetheart.

"Is there something more you wanna tell me?" I sound rather annoyed. But deep down, a slight sly interest beats my anger from her telling me what to do.

"Um..."

Um?

"Fine, I'm sorry," Marie spreads her arms after an awkward moment of silence, "I'm sorry for what I said. I don't know why I said it."

Don't know, hey? "To save your honesty," I initiate her. "And you nailed it. I promise it was the last time..."

"Damn it, Damian," she catches the handle. I could be out long ago, but for some reason I let her hold my time. I've got plenty of time, why not spend some on the girl in my shirt. "You surprised me, okay. I thought... you just wanted to hurt me. Kill me perhaps... Well, laugh at me. Don't you realize how you treat me ever since you found me? And before that, as a matter of fact? ... Intimacy doesn't really match you well."

Oh, for god's sakes. "I'm sorry, darling," I smirk ironically, "but I have better plans tonight than listening to your whimpering."

"Yes, I know how better," her round eyes shine in the growing dark, making her face... kinda appealing. "There are hundreds of girls out there far better than me. But if you could... settle with me, please don't put our damn plan in danger when we're so close to making a rock-solid case for the appeal court."

I can't believe my ears she suddenly cares about her case. Or is it something more - why does her fired up eyes not tell me?

I pucker my forehead a little and lean in the doorframe. "Derby, hm?"

She looks away and runs her hand across her face. "Chris Drake told me."

Bastard. "What did he tell you?"

"Just to say the word when..."

"When what?" I urge.

"When you try something... When I get scared."