entrapments | (no subject)

[he isn't sure what he was waiting for, if he's honest. he just looks at her, remembers what she'd looked like bleeding out on the floor, and steps passed her into the room like he belongs there.

or like he knows it better than he should.]

Isaac doesn't really strike me as a kid that keeps his mouth shut.

I know. But I said I'd take care of it, and I will.

[ she keeps still as he passes by her, and is acutely aware of how solid the door is when it closes. that she's willingly cut herself off from an exit. maybe that says something about her character- given their last two tangles ending in each of them dying.

huh.

Hayley moves to her dresser all the same, and crouches- pulls open the bottom drawer to rummage around. ]

[he doesn't look at the closed door, even though he's aware of it. Hayley has a habit of placing herself near the exit, and though she's still closer to the door, she willing closed herself in with him. that door isn't often closed when he's around unless she's sleeping.

instead, he watches her.]

You really want to start a Scooby crew? [because the implication there is that, they'll find out about him, too]

[ she almost laughs. almost. not for the first time, she's tempted to tease that he doesn't know her very well. but that's her choice, always has been- and why change what works? ]

I'd rather have the kids blindly trusting each other and scoping on the rest of the passengers. Which is kindof the plan, at the moment. [ Hayley only stands once the fabric is in hand, and when she turns to face him- the leather mask extended between them, her eyes don't leave his face. ]

Just keep playing creepy normal kid.
I'll take care of the rest.

[his gaze lowers only after she's finished speaking (like sometimes, it's safer to keep looking her in the face, if Tate had that kind of self preservation), and he feels everything around him grind to a halt. like the crushing of bone.

he hasn't seen this mask in months, and looking at it hanging, black like oil, from the tips of her fingers- he's not sure what to make of it.

blackmail? forgiveness? manipulation? a plan? he cycles through everything it could possibly mean and comes up empty.

when he reaches out to take it, his fingers touch hers and his eyes go back to her face.]

Why?

[not why should he keep playing. why this? why now?]

I didn't trust you. [ she doesn't shy away- though Hayley has never honestly done so in a conventional way. but there's a tell in that too. in the privacy of her own room, in Tate's company, she finds that she isn't pretending to be anything anymore. she isn't a highschool girl, and she isn't an all-powerful merciless killer. she's something else.

whatever that might be.

Hayley's expression remains vacant, without being empty, and she allows the contact, minimal as it is, before her hand lowers to her side. ]

Now I do.

[the words are heavy in the air between them, like a physical presence. when she lets go, his chin lowers, with his hands, and his fingers press across the nearly slick fabric of the rubber. now i do. he has a strange sensation that he isn't quite sure what to label. he shifts his weight, kind of like a shuffle, and his voice is a mumble when he glances up at her through his pale lashes.]

Thanks.

Don't make me regret it.
I don't do regret.

[ it's maybe a tease and maybe too honest, but it comes out as a convoluted order just the same. Hayley takes one step back, then another before she turns her back on him, pads over to her desk to find search for a mug. she needs a cup of coffee. and space.

offering her back to him is just an extension of her earlier statement, and she doesn't need to see Tate's face to know he gets it. ] Now get going. You don't have to hang out with me all day.

[he can still remember a time she would have shot him in the face before turning her back on him, and Tate brings the mask against his stomach, holding it between both of his hands like something precious instead of just a piece of fabric.]

I wouldn't mind. [a beat.] Hanging out with you.

[ she doesn't freeze- because Hayley never stops being in motion. not really. regardless of the heart that does or doesn't beat in her chest (metaphors are for people that can afford them. she isn't one of them.) but her fingers find the mouth of her mug regardless, and go still.

i wouldn't mind. hanging out with you.

in the otherwise darkness of her room, with a ghost at her back- holding his mask like a lifeline (holding a world of things he doesn't need and desperately believes he does) Hayley smiles. ]

Yeah?

Okay.