Lazy Lizzie

One

Based on his dark hoodie and comfortable jeans, the tall man was a friend of Dale's. The only thing worse than that would have been Dale himself, with his signature skinny walk, like even his legs couldn't stand him. Or each other.

It was a long path that led to her spot in the park and Confident Walk would be visible for all of it, before reaching her, so it gave her enough time for a plan. First step: take off the useless sunglasses.

Disgusted, she remembered how Pizzie threw away Dale's gun, now suddenly the only thing standing between her and her wonderful night of not talking to another human being. He would have questions, probably debt related. Just like all other "friends" of Dale's, he'd take one look at the trailer and understand there was no money to be taken. Being frugal had its advantages.

She would still have to have some type of conversation. Did people still talk or did they finally invent text speak? Lizzie considered for far too long to stay silent throughout the entire encounter but decided it might encourage unwanted attention. A voiceless girl would find it more difficult to describe who harmed her, it might cross his mind. What was she doing, all alone in the deserted Park?

Lizzie had two plans that worked against everything, especially when deployed together.

Plan A was The Asterisk. It was called that because it was optional. Its best description was "Try to fight as hard as you can. Maybe it's not worth it and they leave." It worked with Dale, although most of the time she didn't try that hard. It was just not worth it to her. Let the other get away with whatever they want.

So the joke was on Tall Dark Guy, there was nothing he could do to her that'd make her think too much about him. Her best attack remained The Barracuda. Unlike Dale's survivalist plans, it required no preparation, no money, no customization for the type of danger or the level of the threat.

Lizzie could always count on Plan B: "Just when they have you down, you stop giving a shit. Making their hard-earned victory pointless." The hard part came afterwards. Because in order for Plan B to work, she had to actively not care. Maybe Fizzie will be in a better place.

The man had his hands in his pockets, hood over his head. He had trimmed facial hair, its stylings discernable now: two parallel lines where the skin was visible, on the left side. He saw her studying him so he took off his hood, reuniting dark beard with hair, all same minuscule length, kept neat. It was true that Lizzie hadn't been with a man since Dale, nor had she seen one since the last time his loser friend Trey tried to borrow a few dollars from her, but he struck her as way too pretty to be friends with her ex. All Dale's friends looked as if they were related to him.

Dale did something serious, clearly. Not that she was judging Neck Tattoo, but there was something about the quality of his ink that made Lizzie think about prison. Especially in the context of Dale's limited circle of friends, all based on proximity and life stage: neighbors, drinking buddies and jail mates. While her ex did have a lot of diversely tempered buds, none of them would just silently approach her. They all liked their own jokes too much.

"Dale's not here," Lizzie had to say something, despite herself.

Plan A ended right there, her best efforts deployed. It was time for The Barracuda. Relaxing in her seat, she waited to hear why someone else hated Dale. Someone with perfect eyebrows, each following the eye in a parallel line.

"This property is the only thing he owns," he smiled showing white teeth, all aligned, launching him even further outside of Dale's smelly orbit. Maybe it was not related to Dale personally at all. Maybe she was imagining things. Like a mirage, only while other people saw water or the meaning of life, Lizzie's hallucinations were all about some hot guy.

"You must be Dale's girl. Miss...?"

He encouraged her to introduce herself, his hand over-courteous. A small move, enough for Lizzie's trained eyes to detect the outline of a gun left unattended in his pocket. It didn't change anything: there was nothing that the six-foot-six man could do to her with it that he couldn't do, without it. If anything, it made her think that he came for Dale personally.

"Taylor. Lizzie Taylor." Before he could try anything, because he looked amused by her Bond approach, she added, "Yes, my name is Elizabeth Taylor. But no one calls me that."

He took too long to get it, "Ah, like the actress." As if unimpressed with the contrast, his eyes didn't measure how Lizzie fared in comparison. It made her like him more. "It's not a connection I would've made," he looked around searching for something, then came back to Lizzie, "I know who she is, but I don't watch a lot of movies. Not old ones. I'm Leo," he said. No last name -- make the police work for it. Lizzie ignored the bright advertising of his teeth:

"And I'm Cancer."

With that, said in a harsh tone, he closed his way too practiced smile, understanding the small talk was over. "And Dale I assume is not hiding in that trailer?" Now that he was serious he sounded more threatening. Still, his talents were wasted on Lizzie. If he really wanted to hurt her he should compliment her.

The man moved, not towards her but to his left, where the generator and the water pump shined under a neon light. Dale warned her not to keep it on overnight, it was visible from far away, inviting danger. Lizzie hated darkness so she opted for Plan B.

The intruder touched the impeccable metal, handpicked by Dale as indestructible. "He just left his fifty thousand dollar installation with you?"

She was more comfortable now that she knew Prison Guy was after money or payback. Whatever it was, there was nothing she could do to help him. She was the last thing on Dale's mind, and she only had a few dollars cash, crumpled in the first drawer anyone would look. They were his if he wanted them. She might not even have to move from her chair.

"He didn't have a choice," her voice went placid. "The police cared less about his hobbies than you do. It was probably because they arrested him for aggravated assault." With a deadly weapon. "Over a taillight bump."

"I know, he told me that story," dark eyes shone at her. "It was the government. "We shared a cell at Radford. I got out a few months ago. Two weeks ago, he did too."

So Dale was confirmed to be out.

"You two must've had a blast if you put his release day on your calendar just so that you can be reunited," Lizzie sounded bitter even to herself.

Her nerve left her interlocutor silent, so he compensated by walking to her, not stopping until she fully understood that he was still tall. Next to the trailer's entry steps, he looked like he didn't need them, that he would have to crouch to fit through the door.

"Where is he?"

Because she didn't answer, Serious Voice tried to reason with Lizzie, "Listen, I know you're not involved," his tone was calm. The anger she thought she saw was not there. "All I want is the money. And I'll go."