1995, April
Her feet were crossed at the ankles, flashing off a pair of ratty looking Converse shoes with the soles all worn on the inseam. She wore them every day he noticed, and he knew for sentimental reasons, as they were one size too small, hence the wear. "What about him?" Sally asked pointing, gesturing to one of the other patients wandering around before them.
They were the outcasts, he couldn't help notice, but he didn't mind. Not really, as nobody seemed to mind them either. They were there, but they were always on the other side of the room, or the other end of the garden used for fresh air or the occasional cigarette (the no smoking indoors rule was hard to swallow on occasion, not that he didn't break the rule repeatedly).
"Celebrity father, obviously."
She crinkled her nose at him, "What celebrity?"
"I don't know that."
"...How do you know he's got a celebrity father then, if you don't know who his dad is?"
"Cellular phone. They're keeping it for him. He's expecting his father to call. Not come around. Why not just use the landline? Oh no, has to be special then, again you'll say - it could be someone in the government - I've seen the model. It's a test-model. Celebrities are the ones who usually receive those to boost the word of mouth... Also, several of the others tail after him, as if they know him. Though you don't, so clearly, the name of his father doesn't matter in the end... Are we done now? They're hardly interesting subjects."
"Nah. You're enjoying this," she said with a grin, though her grin wavered, her lips drawn into a thin line. "You're not making this up right?"
"Why would I make it up?"
"Yeah... You're right. You don't seem like someone with a lot of imagination."
"Why do you say that?" he said frowning.
"You wouldn't need drugs if you did."
"I don't need-," he begun, drawing a breath instead, and releasing it through his nostrils.
She stared at him again, lips pursed this time as if in thought, but he stopped her before she asked, she was apt to do so, he knew it would happen eventually, as it always did - "I don't do - - people."
The look on her face, eyebrows raised and disbelief etched into every inch almost made him laugh. "What do you mean people?"
"...People usually don't like it when I do it to them."
"Right," she said shaking her head at him. "You know you could just call me your friend freak, really, it's not that hard..." Sally begun laughing, "People!"
"So why are you here?" he hated that question, but he didn't recoil when she asked. Probably helped that he was holding one of her detestable menthol cigarettes, and that they were shielded away from the rain, his mood was inclined to be at ease.
"Enjoying the scenery," he said limply waving his hand at the rest of the drenched garden, the patter of the rain frightfully calming, especially since they couldn't hear the self-obsessed mumbles of the rest of the patients who were all bunched indoors, clinging to the television like it was their lord and saviour.
She gave him a look, "Come on."
"Do you want a sob story?"
"I want the truth."
"You don't deserve the truth."
"Nobody deserves the truth in here, doesn't mean they don't like hearing it once in a while."
"... Avoiding people," he quipped with a drag of his cigarette, lightly letting the ashes from the end drift onto the ground.
"Ooh, is it a girl... or a boy?"
"Neither."
She knew when not to push, he couldn't help but notice, she dragged information from him in small swallows, and it annoyed him, yet he admired her tactics.
"She was a friend," he added and she smiled in return.
He'd let her win that, at least.
A/N: So you're probably wondering where Molly is? SCOTLAND! Anyway, we'll get to that when we get to that. Again, remember 'slow burn' hell, so basically 'have patience, kids, you're in for a ride'.