Hello! A quick reminder that King's name isn't canon, though I would totally love it to be. Onward~!

By the time two A.M. rolled around King was legitimately exhausted. Finally alone, she locked the door to the bar and leaned back against it as she unfastened her bow tie and unbuttoned her collar, thankful that she made it through her first shift without any real issues. Aside from one somewhat disorderly patron, and a few brief moments where she came dangerously close to shrinking into herself, things had gone pretty smoothly. She was relatively certain that she had everyone - employees and regulars alike - convinced that her bout with mono was real, and that she wasn't completely dead on the inside. Hell, there were some points where she almost believed it herself.

...Almost.

King made her way to the office so she could count down the drawer and get Monday's deposit ready. She finished with lightning speed; the only thing left to do was lock up and go home. As King walked outside into the unusually warm night her newfound anxiety began to set in. The trek home wasn't a big deal: she only lived a couple of blocks away, and she was more than capable of defending herself should anyone try anything. At least, that's what she kept trying to tell herself, but the fact of the matter was that Mr. Big's men had successfully broken through her defenses once: somebody else could do it again.

King swore under her breath as she started in the direction of her building. She easily navigated the streets, walking past throngs of drunken bar hoppers. She kept her head down while trying not to give in to all of the negative thoughts coursing through her mind. Soon, she was far away from the clubs and restaurants: The well-lit buildings and merrymakers tapered off as she entered the more residential section of the city. She felt a pit beginning to form in her stomach as she found herself thinking back to a time when she was much younger, when Jack Turner and a couple of his gang mates had come after her. They were drunk and she was pretty - a bad combination. That fight, and the almost-outcome of it, instilled in her a deep fear she had spent years trying to suppress. She was mostly successful, but her recent experience brought all of that bullshit screaming back to the surface.

As much as King hated to admit it, she was genuinely afraid out there.

Just then a dark, unmarked police cruiser slowly pulled up on the curb beside King. The window rolled down, revealing "Blue" Mary Ryan sitting in the driver's seat in all of her perpetually tired glory. She looked like she hadn't slept in days, but flashed a brilliant smile nonetheless.

"Get in, loser, we're taking you home."
"Mean Girls?" King asked with raised eyebrows. She climbed into the car, relieved that her walk was cut short by a friendly face.
"You know it. Buckle up."

King removed her vest and untucked her shirt before fastening her seatbelt.
"How'd you know I -"
"Because you're a creature of habit. Are you hungry?"
"Not really."
"When's the last time you ate something? Other than a spoonful of sorbet."
"Hmmmmm..." King furrowed her brow as she realized she hadn't eaten an actual meal in a little over two days.
"Okay, we're gonna go eat first."
"Mary, I just want to go home."
"And you can - after you eat something."
"I can eat something at home."
"Like what? A carrot?"
"What's even open right now?"
"There's that all-night place on 6th, remember?" Mary beamed. "Come on, it'll be good for you."

###

King halfheartedly stabbed at a rather large Belgian waffle as Mary watched her from across the table. The short car ride had been quiet except for the sound of the police scanner, but once the pair got to the restaurant Mary began unloading the details of a case she was working while she scarfed down a hearty breakfast meal. Meanwhile, a somewhat distracted King glanced around the small diner as she played with her food: It was oddly crowded for almost three on a Sunday morning. It was loud - too loud, really - and full of people, all lost in their own worlds, the din of their conversations drowning out the music that played over the speakers embedded in the ceiling. King found herself wondering if any of them knew what it was like to suffer. She also found herself wondering if she was being dramatic.

"You're not eating."

Mary's observation derailed King's dismal train of thought.

"I had… some."
"Okay, but, like, you need to eat something and I'm paying and you shouldn't let my precious money go to waste, bro."

Those were all really excellent points. King forced herself to take a bite of the waffle; it was good, but she just didn't feel motivated to finish it. Instead, she started drawing little patterns in the syrup with her fork as an intense wave of self-loathing washed over her. Mary rested her chin on her hands and watched her intently, concern woven all over her freckled face.

"Are you okay, bb?"
"That's a loaded question," King answered as she continued to draw little curly cues.
"Okay, then I'll ask you something else, like… How'd it go today?"
"It wasn't… bad." A pause. "I mean… I've always been good at lying. It seems like people bought it."
"But…?"
"But what if I make a mistake somewhere along the line? Everyone will see that… that I'm... useless…! And repulsive, an -"
"Hey! You are not useless or repulsive!" Mary told her. "And no one's going to find out. Even if they do, you're still you."
"Yeah - useless and repulsive," King scoffed. She could feel herself going from despondent to irritated. Why couldn't Mary see her for what she really was? She was being too goddamn nice.

"No." Mary said firmly. "You're a badass, remember? You just can't see it right no - don't make that face."
"What face?"
"That one -" Mary pointed a piece of bacon at King - "The one you're making now."
"Well what face should I make, then?!"
"Not that one."

King narrowed her eyes; she honestly didn't understand what Mary wanted from her. Being told she was a "badass" wasn't going to change anything: It wasn't going to get that son of a bitch out of her head, and it wasn't going to undo any of the horrible things she had been put through. It didn't matter what she did or what anyone said; she was still a complete failure of a person. All of a sudden King was irate: She fiercely jammed her fork through the middle of the waffle; it stood straight up before slowly toppling over.

"What should I do then, Mary?! Should I smile more?! Should I just… I don't know - be happier?! More laid back, like you?! I mean… maybe I should just get over it already!? Because a month is a long time to stay so upset about being ruh - you know what?! Maybe I should just stop caring about everything altogether - because I'm such a badass!"

King impulsively snatched the bacon from Mary's hand.

"What are you -?"
"Je mange!" King snapped. She took a bite out of the crisp pork: it was the first piece of meat she had eaten in years, and it wasn't bad. A little greasy, but actually really tasty.

"So... does this mean you're not a vegetarian anymore?" Mary asked, completely unaffected by King's outburst.
"J'en ai rien à foutre!" King angrily replied as she finished chewing. "Okay?! Fuck it!" She tossed the remainder of the bacon on the plate and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Calm down, killer," Mary held her hands out in front of her. "I know what you're doing, and you're only going to make yourself more upset."

King leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath. Her anger was beginning to fade just as quickly as it had taken over, leaving her drained. She wished Mary would see that she was a lost cause and take her home, where she could curl up in the dark and wallow in peace.

"Cécile."

Mary leaned across the table, her face and voice very serious. King sprung forward in her seat, eyes wide with disbelief. Why on earth was Mary addressing her by her real name? Her real name that she never wanted to hear again because of what he did with it? And in public, no less?!

"Have you considered seeing someone about this?"
"One: don't call me that," King growled. "And, two: yes, but there's no point."
"Of course there's a point!"
"I don't want to talk about it, Mary. Ever. Therefore, no point."

Mary frowned.

"Okay, so you don't wanna talk about it - I get that - but someone who's trained in this sort of thing might be able to help you deal. I know a really great cou -"
"I already said no."
"Bb. This is tearing you up! Everyone is worried about you, and we're here for you, but you can't go on like this!"

King nodded slowly as a lump formed in the back of her throat. Mary was right - she couldn't go on like this. However, the idea of opening up to somebody new about the heinous encounter was far from appealing. She had talked about it exactly twice: once when she gave her statement to the police, and again when she ended up venting to Kyo Kusanagi, of all people. The two weren't strangers by any means, but their connection wasn't exactly a close one. Everything had just poured out then in a weird, stream-of-consciousness rant that ended with King feeling terrible and passing out from sheer fatigue. She never wanted to be that vulnerable around anyone, no matter their relationship to her, or their credentials, ever again.

"I… need to go home," King said tersely. "I have to open up tomorrow, and I promised Jean that I would call him before I went in, so…"

Mary nodded. "Of course, bb. I didn't mean -"
"It's fine," King cut her off. "You're... I'm just an asshole, that's all."
"No you're not," Mary told her while she combed the restaurant for their waitress. "You're the best."

King let out a bitter laugh. She didn't believe that for a second.

You know what's up:

* I mentioned this in the notes to MLS, but there's a book called All About SNK 1991 - 2000 that has all sorts of character info. One of the tidbits is that, prior to the first Art of Fighting, King was defeated in a fight by Jack Turner and his gang. Remember, in King's likes/dislikes it specifically says she hates guys like Jack.
* Mary has taken a job as a detective for Southtown PD because she wanted more stable hours, paid vacation, and benefits. (Also mentioned this in previous notes, but eh.)
* Mean Girls, for any who are unfamiliar with it, is a movie starring Lindsay Lohan and Tina Fey. It's fucking hilarious, and the "Get in loser" scene has become something of a meme, I guess.
* Idk if I mentioned this before, but I've based Southtown loosely on San Diego. I mention this because there is an all-night diner on 6th that does serve Belgian waffles.
* "Je mange" = I'm eating
* "J'en ai rien à foutre" = is a super vulgar way of saying "I don't care." Basically it's akin to "I don't give a FUCK."
* King is canonically a vegetarian, in case you thought that was something I came up with.
* The line about Kyo is directly referring to MLS's final chapter (in case, for some reason, you didn't read it but are reading this instead? And if that's the case, Y tho?)