She meets the boy a few days after she snaps – the boy with the pink hair and crooked smile, and her with her too-short skirt and crushed, fluttering hopes.
It's there, that day in Hargeon, when she sees Bora again; it's hard to believe that the resident creep at her father's dinner parties is "charming" women on the ports of Hargeon… oh, wait. No, it isn't.
At first, she sees him and the bitterness in her chest stirs a little. This is why I left, she thinks. Even now, he still haunts me. Well, if he's watching, then I'll show him. I'll prove myself. And he'll realize that he never really knew me at all.
She doesn't care much for Bora, particularly, and when he approaches her with a "Lucy, sweetheart, what are you doing here?", she doesn't even bother pulling a tight smile. She has no need to fake it anymore, not now that she's out of her father's sphere of control.
"Bora," she says, by way of greeting, and tries to push past him.
She wonders if he knows about what she's done, whether her father has even bothered to concern himself over her absence. Whether he would even think to mention it to anyone.
Would he be upset that an asset of his was gone? Would he be angry that she wasn't there for a business-transaction marriage?
Would any part of him care that she had left?
Bora's hand is a burning snake around her arm, squeezing its prey in a harsh grip. She tries to jerk away from him, but he holds fast.
"Hey! Let go of me!" she yells, and passerby stop to look for a moment, but none of them make a move to help her. They avert their gazes, walk away.
"That's Bora, isn't it?" she hears someone whisper, and she has just enough time to wonder what kind of a reputation the guy has built for himself here.
"Lucy, darling, not so fast," grins Bora, his hair shockingly purple and his outfit shockingly disgusting. Normally, she'd want to laugh at him, but right now all she feels is the rapid thrumming of her pulse. "Your father promised you to me ages ago, remember? He told me about how you'd left, and I was crushed, you see. So many days gone by, all for nothing. And now I come across you, here, in my territory."
Bora's breath smells like cigarettes, and his lips curl up like she imagines the smoke would. Her heart is trying to jump out of her throat. "Your territory?" she repeats, incredulously, yanking her arm back. Or, at least, trying to.
"I'll take this as a sign of fate," concludes Bora, ignoring Lucy's struggles. "Destiny, really. You are my bride, and you are here with me."
"Let me go!" screams Lucy, electric currents running through her blood. She aims a kick at him with her tall boot, but someone else has already beat her to it.
"She said to let her go, you bastard," spits the teenager with the bright pink hair. Brown hair is growing up from the roots, and his hair gel is clearly no match for the wind. He has a tattered everything – stained basketball shorts, a too-loose T-shirt, worn sandals, and a fraying white scarf. His skin is so tan that he looks like a surfer.
He has the body for it, too.
Bora has released Lucy in favor of clutching at his kicked stomach. "You little shit," he hisses.
"You had it coming," the teen says back, his face creased with anger. "You're supposed to treat people with respect."
Bora's already straightening back up, and Lucy doesn't know what he's going to do next. He's an unpredictable spider ready to strike, and, reacting on instinct, Lucy grabs the arm of her rescuer and bolts, dragging him with her.
"Hey, hey! Hold up!" says the person, stumbling after her without much resistance. "I was gonna kick that guy's ass!"
She doesn't stop or slow down, just wordlessly keeps yanking him along. She's breathing fast already, and oh God she's only been away from home for a few days and already her heart is leaping into her throat.
Maybe she really wasn't cut out for this – no. No.
"Bad thoughts, Lucy – bad thoughts," she murmurs to herself, stopping to catch her breath. She wipes her forehead, releasing the guy's arm, and pants because she's really out of shape and can't remember the last time she ran so far.
The person seems pretty unaffected by their sprint, although his hair looks even more rumpled than before. "I could've taken him," he says, affronted. "It wouldn't have been that hard to beat him up."
Lucy ignores him for a little, in favor of breathing in more oxygen. Finally, she says, "Thanks."
He blinks, surprised, before relaxing his face into an easy smile. His grin is laid-back and comfortable, like he uses it all the time. "Yeah, well, no problem. I was just doing what everyone else should've," he shrugs. "Apparently the guy runs a drug cartel here, though. I guess you'd know that better than me, huh? 'Cause you're actually from here and all."
Lucy grimaces. "No, I'm, uh… I'm really from Acalypha."
"Oh… so that guy just grabbed you randomly?" he asks, surprised.
"Yeah." She stops, then repeats herself for reassurance. "Yes."
The boy rubs the back of his neck. "So… what are you doing out here, then?" he asks, just as she says, "So you're not from here, either?"
He laughs, the kind of laugh that makes her giggle a bit even though she hasn't even smiled in ages. "You go first," he tells her.
She looks at him – at his wild hair and open stance, at his dirty clothes and wide smile. Biting her lip, she makes a decision.
She has a large wad of money in her pocket from home, and it'd be okay for a little bit, right?
"Actually… why don't we go out for lunch? I'll pay – as a thank you for helping me," she says, all in a rush.
He pauses for a moment, then flashes her a thumbs-up.
"Sounds good," he grins, and takes her hand.
A/N: Went back and looked over some old FT stuff, and it reminded me of the beginning a bit.