𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘦𝘳

begging and boggarts

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Camden practices saying no.

No, no, no.

She is going to look Evan in the eye, and she is going to say no. No, I'm not going all the fucking way back up north and then some. No, I'm not doing you another favor. No, I don't care about your stupid friend. The answer is no.

She won't explain herself because she doesn't have to. She shouldn't have to. Anyone with even a fraction of their brain still intact could understand why Camden wouldn't take Evan back up where they came from. She has no reason to, and she can't imagine any sort of argument that Evan could come up with that would change her mind. Nothing she couldn't argue away. She doesn't like him. She doesn't care about his stupid friend. She wants this over with.

Evan hasn't asked yet. After the little fox faded, he provided her with a very brief, not very informative explanation of exactly what it was, a patronage or something. Camden couldn't be arsed to remember. Then, he told her that Regulus is his friend; he was Lachlan's friend too. And that he knows he needs help.

Then, without another word, he tucked himself into the makeshift bed he had thrown together on the floor.

He's been eerily silent since then, keeping his head down and moving his lips as if he were speaking to himself, but nothing ever loud enough for Camden to catch. He stayed in the inn as Camden made her way back to the garage with Bear, likely working on whatever pitch or argument he'll spring at her later.

It was all Camden could think about as the technician, proudly and loudly, informed Camden that he did manage to get her a once-in-a-lifetime deal on a 1967 Chevrolet pickup, forest green, and in excellent condition. The previous owner's gotten a bit older, he had informed her, and has no use for the thing, and is a bit eager to get rid of it. Camden didn't really care, either way, as long as it goes and stops when it needs to. So, she wrote out a check in her messy, wiggly penmanship, handed it over, (completely decimating her inheritance), and climbed into the car.

It wasn't until the key was in the ignition and Bear was stretched out across the leather that she realized it's a three-seater front, no back. Her head fell against the wheel at the realization.

All the more reason not to drive Evan up to fucking Everton to get this Regulus wanker.

The name Regulus keeps bouncing around in Camden's head. She knows that Evan's mentioned him before. He was, it seems, the whole reason that Evan even ended up in Camden's home. But the familiarity seems to run deeper than that, like it's a name that Lachlan has told her, and probably one he said more than once. But she's coming up short on any sort of connection, any sort of memory.

Camden's in the shower, again, because she can be. The water's as hot as it can possibly go, leaving her skin red and raw. She's washed her hair and body twice already now, but she stands under the water, letting her skin burn and just saying no in her head, over and over.

She wishes she could just stay there, in that shower, for as long as she wanted, and when she got out, she'd be home. Not in London at her cousin's flat, but at her home. Her intact home, free of ash and soot and burnt memories. Her heart thuds, heavy and resentful. 

Evan asks too much of her. It doesn't matter that he hasn't asked yet, she knows he will. He asks too much of her with no consideration of what it is he's asking of her. She shouldn't have to say no to him-he should know what not to demand of her. But he doesn't think. Not about her, not about what any of this means for her, not how it impacts her. No, it's very clear to Camden that the only thing that Evan has ever thought about from the moment she met him has been himself. Camden hates him. She hates him.