Felixentric

Scene 2

"So, you want to stay now?" Janette said, faltering.

"No. I don't want to stay, exactly." Here of all places? With puking teenagers, most of whom double as criminals? "Just do a quick search for that kid, talk to him if we can, and leave as soon as possible. It's not staying if we're only here for five more minutes to look around. And if we don't see him, we should leave immediately." The more he talked, the more difficult it was for him to make a raw decision. His social anxiety was itching at him. But his gut twisted and his mind screamed, What if you never see that bister-haired oddity again and your curiosity isn't satisfied?

Discernibly, Janette could read his mind purely from his expressions. "You don't look too sure. Er, you just-. That fight... and then a gun?! It's a lot for one night and, really, I should have listened to you earlier when you said you didn't want to come along."

He took a step forward, not sure whether to hug her or give a gentle touch on her arm for security. He did neither, but did say what would make her stop flustering her hands. "You aren't a bad friend, if that's what you mean. It was a good night. Really."

It wasn't even a question that he was lying about that last part. His discomfort with human interaction was more evident than the sun was on a clear day. He hadn't spoken to anyone other than the bully and Janette and That Guy. He hadn't yet walked into the factory, where the actual party was.

"And you really want to go in there?" she asked. "What if that kid is dangerous? He's at least unbalanced."

"Understatement." Felix nodded. "But aren't you at all eager to figure out who he is?"

"He's a kid with a gun and a boner for causing situational headaches. I'd rather just go. Go home, not inside." Janette's fingers glided over her hip and she went rigid, like she was being dunked in a tank full of ice. "I think I dropped my purse. When someone said there was a fist fight and you were in it, I think I just dumped it on the floor and ran out."

"Uh-." Felix tensed up.

She took hold of the sleeves of his sweater, just because they were so loose and kong and easy to hold onto, and led him through the front doors.

Inside of the factory, Felix could see the branches and vines spiralled through the windows - or rather giant, square holes. The climbers were like the fingers of a giant, gripping at the building and tearing it apart as its fingers grew.

She dragged him through waves of people. As they slithered past, beer drenched his arm, and he tried his hardest not to do what he'd done to the bully. They exited the swell of people at the back of the joint, where a metal grate stood in front of a set of stairs to the upper platforms. The second and third platforms - like floors to a building - lined the walls in a square perimeter, with big holes of space in the middle, but the third had a long plank on one end. It dropped off into the open space in the middle. A group of boys were messing around on the plank. Felix could imagine one losing his balance and falling to his death.

For how spread apart the floors were, with the third on an equivalent height off the ground to a usual fifth, they would die instantly. Their necks and spines would crack. Their limbs would seize. And they would die.

Felix could save them from that right then if he could just withdraw their souls.

As the journey continued, he pretended to be scanning for Janette's pleather purse on the floor or in someone's arms. He failed to mention that he was actually, meticulously searching for that certain flaming hair and a dark jacket.

Though, not paying perfect attention to his steps, he almost tripped as Janette dragged him up the stairs. The huge stairwell consisted mostly of smoke, flamboyant clothing, people with their shirts or dresses being dragged down their chests, and wads of money passing between hands. There must have been fifteen people loitering there, taking up enough space to nearly block off those trying to get up.