A gold light was encircling her head and he couldn't see her properly, sunblind. She was a feminine chimera for a moment, featureless and white; a faded, coffee-stained polaroid. Then she stepped forward and it was gone, pale blue eyes narrowed.
"Why're you here?"
"I live here," he answered abruptly, shaking his head.
"Shouldn't you be in school?"
He clucked the air with his tongue. "You should be at work."
Pris looked about awkwardly, lips pursing, fingers curling at her sides like a lemur. She watched the little girl across the street for a while, giving Murdoc a view of the side of her face, hair neatly shaved around her ear. After a moment she turned back, uncomfortable, confrontational.
"Where's your brother?"
"I dunno. Not in, anyway. He left –"
"I know, he came to see me," she nodded once. "Will he be long, d'ya reckon?"
"I doubt it, he usually gets back for about two. Dad's always out by then, and he puts on Carpenters," Murdoc chuckled. "Sappy stuff. A Song For You, over and over. Fuckin' annoying. But I've got the house to myself before then."
Pris smiled fondly. He used to hum songs like that to her, always Carpenters: in the dark lying in bed as the night was bright behind the curtains, fluttering, the cold, the crack in the glass where the wind whistled. The first days.
She laughed – an odd, low, boyish sound – and then cocked one knee up and rested it atop the small garden wall. "The house to yourself?"
Murdoc attempted to roll his eyes, but the pain and the fat bruise made them well and glitter. He blinked a few times, hissing, and then scrubbed his eyes viciously. "Don't do that, Christ. It'll hurt ya," Pris muttered, her voice static. He did not hear her.
He said, "Yeah."
"I won't ask," she replied knowingly.
"I just sit around, put my Kate Bush stuff on," he shrugged, feeling the need to explain himself and having no idea why. Pris frowned.
"She that one with the big eyes and the high voice?"
"She's more than that," Murdoc huffed. "She's an absolute cracker."
"I like that one she did, actually. You know which one I'm on about? In that glittery leotard?"
"She wears them a lot."
"Well, it goes," Pris began, and then waved her huge hands above her head, strangely graceful in her gangly, ape-like fashion. "Ooh, he's here again!"
Murdoc nodded his understanding, "Yeah, that's my favourite at the moment." He was grinning at her again. Birds would probably fall down dead from their trees when she sang, he mused, and then was thankful that the only birds around here were fat pigeons and dusty crows that screamed in the wind.
Pris smiled back at him warily, the rest of her face scrunched. She needed lighten up, Murdoc thought tiredly. No wonder everyone hated the sights of her, she was so abrupt and cold and bloody up her own arse, so it seemed.
"D'you mind if I sit down?"
"No," he said immediately, and then wished he could have backpedalled somehow. Her presence was weirdly kind of exciting, like she might spit on you or kiss you at any moment. He understood why Hannibal liked her; but other than that she was plain and nasty. "I mean, you're someone to talk to, I suppose."
"I suppose," she said.
He decided to bring up the last time they had spoken subtly, as it was clearly the issue here. Hannibal would probably find them together and bite her tits off and break his jaw, but for now he wasn't here, and Murdoc hoped he wouldn't be for a long while. He didn't know why. He should have, and probably did, hate her: but for now it didn't matter. She sat down.
"So, you -"
Then the little girl playing hopscotch let out a yelp. It was faint, but painful, like a crushed kitten. She was lying on the floor, skirt hitched up around her white knickers, blood dribbling down one yellowing cream sock.
Murdoc was cut off. Pris raised an eyebrow and shot back up to her feet, squinting across the pavement.
"Oi," she snapped. "You alright?"
The girl sat, snot sparkling on her upper lip, glaring through tears.
"Yeah," she said though ragged breath. "I fell over. I-I need my - I want my Mummy."
"I can see. Do you want me to go and get her?" Pris asked nonchalantly. She hadn't flinched once at that crying baby-face; and it just wasn't right for a female human not to react to something like this, Murdoc thought.
"No!" She squealed, "Go away! Mummy!" She vaulted to her feet and the blood seeped into the cracks of her chubby knees.
Pris scoffed, sat down, and snarled, "Fine, whatever. God, the fuckin' little shits around this place."
Murdoc watched the girl run back inside of her house, wailing. He shrugged, "I don't know 'em."
"You don't wanna. I hate kids, man," Pris chuckled, shaking her head. "'S like, they're all so fuckin' stupid, don't understand anything you try ta tell 'em, do they? They don't get anything. I hate kids."
"I don't think I'm stupid," Murdoc said slowly, twirling his rosaries around three fingers. "I'm a kid."
"You're different, though."
She didn't look at him when she said it, but he decided to push her for an explanation anyway. Her chin tilted away from him, and it was clear she was watching the tiny stream of blood slowly steam and evaporate off the pavement.
"What do you mean by that?"
She answered immediately. "You look after your brother for me, don't ya? You haven't got much choice. Can't afford to be a stupid kid."
"I don't look after him. He can go fuck himself for all I care," Murdoc spat, staring at the smooth, white curve of her cheek.
"I know he's a bastard to you, but he likes you really, y'know, your brother."
Murdoc felt a pang of happiness. That had to be one of the nicest things anyone had said to him; aside the things girls said, whispering in his ear, licking his throat.
"You don't know him," was all he replied. He didn't want to have to deny it completely, although in his head he knew it was utterly the right thing to do, the truth. He liked pretence and romancing as much as anyone, if it meant numbing bad feelings down. He supposed they were the same in that way.
"I do, and even if I don't, I know he likes you."
"Funny way of showing it."
"It's just how he is. Don't be a prick stick."
"I'm not being a prick stick, I'm just saying, kickin' the shit out of me by a bus stop is a very weird way of showin' affection," he smirked. "That what he does to you when you're alone in your bedroom?"
"Oh, God, you're so fucked up," she huffed, and rested her head back against the door. "I'm not talking about that."
"Why?"
"You want to know about your brother's sex life?"
"Now, wait a second -"
"I rest my case, mate. You're fucked up," she laughed, tapping her temple with her fingernail. "I don't tell people about that sort of stuff. I don't tell."
"You don't tell?" he challenged, enjoying this now. She looked quite nice, close up – all soft and peach and white and pink.
"No, I don't. I only swap my secrets," she said. "Much more interesting."
Murdoc wet his lips and nodded.
"Why?"
Pris sniggered, and said, "Because then I'll have something on you, and you'll have something on me." She looked at him directly, something predatory curling her face. "I wouldn't get yourself involved with me, if I were you. Does that make sense?"
Murdoc frowned. She was a girl. What could she possibly do that might hurt him? She didn't look stronger than he was. And what could she say? Hurtful words simply slithered off his skin now – and if they sank in, he could shed it.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Well, let's leave it at that, then."
"I don't think you could 'urt me anyway."
"I'm ya brother's girlfriend. I think that says it all."
"What if I don't care?"
Pris looked at him once again, but the hungry look trickled out of her and she seemed cold and spongy. She shook her head.
"You what?"
"I don't care," Murdoc shrugged. He didn't know what he was talking about, but it felt right.
"Well ya should," Pris snapped. "'Cause your brother came to find me this morning and he made a real fist o'what you told me. So, I think -"
"He only did that because you stopped fuckin' talkin' to him afterwards," he interjected. "Nothing would have happened if you hadn't done that, gettin' all bloody dramatic about it, bloody numbskull skinny bitch, you -"
"Don't talk to me like that!" She barked, and her palm swatted the back of his head, popping his head forwards. "Learn some fuckin' manners!"
Murdoc stood up, rubbing the back of his head. "'Ey!"
"I only stopped talkin' to him because I wasn't 'appy when I found out he hurt you, for cryin' out loud. I didn't think it was right to do that. I was just makin' a stand for you. It was wrong of me to stand there laughin' so I was just making it up."
Murdoc's bruised eye made him look like a shade of his brother, and she hated it. She had to leave.
"When you get in, rub some TCP on a cloth and dab it over them cuts. An' clean them. Tell ya brother to ring me or somethin', because we really do need to talk."
She left him standing there, fat mouth as agape as his pain threshold would allow. He felt a stab of sweetness and pushed it down, because he only liked sour boiled-sweets, never sugary ones.
He did, however, like her now. It only took that moment. No-one had ever 'made a stand' for him before, and he didn't quite understand her reasoning behind it, but somehow the idea of it washed away the dirt on his memory of her face. He liked her. It only took a moment. A blinding illumination. A ray of sunlight encircling her head...
Now he fucked it all up again, a good thing; his eyes screwed closed.
Face stinging all over, he crossed the road at the sound of the little girl walking back through her house. He found her messy, crudely drawn hopscotch in the coloured chalk and raked his foot downwards and over it, rainbow dust clouds floating into the air. He did it twice, grunting. The only things left of it after a while were violent, colourful scratches across the grey pavement.
A/N: Once again, I apologise for the lateness of this update. Finally, my exams are over! :D Party time, people! That phrase meaning, for a geek like me: reading books, drinking coffee, and writing silly stories. xD
MUCH LOVE AND HUGS AND CUDDLES AND THAT to: SweetCherryCandy, Grimm2, cherry-magpie-x and Salekdarling. I seriously don't know where I'd be without you guys – you are my motivation for writing. Unfortunately it seems I can't reply to any of your reviews at the moment, I'm assuming because of site layout changes. Apparently all links are broken. But regardless, love and thanks to you all for your lovely words, encouragement and lulz. :D
Equal love for all of the favouriters and alerters – thank you for supporting and enjoying this little fic. It really does mean a lot.
Hope everyone enjoys this one – and please let me know what you think! ;)