Every good party has an ending.
This was no good party - and Evan was glad to see it end.
Pieces were gathered and neatly tucked away, the game lid gently slipped over its box, sealing away entertainment for another night with a soft sigh.
They weren't kind enough to clean up their empties or the cigarette butts left on the porch railing, Evan didn't care, nor did he expect any better of them. Legion had yet to grow out of that rebellious, anarchist phase and he doubted they ever would.
Except of course, Susie.
He could never compare her soft heart to their vicious crimes. Even with blood on her hands, the red seemed so much more ... pink.
"Don't be a stranger" Jed gave a wink at the door, smiling at Honey like a shark.
Amanda offered a nod.
"Be seeing you," Frank said, his entourage nodding with all the enthusiasm they could afford.
They closed the door behind them, creeping fingers of fog severed by its latch.
There was quiet, a sweet and empty nectar, decorated in empty beer cans and mismatched chairs where the ghosts of killers once sat. It was difficult to say the night had come to a close, when daylight was a precious memory saved only for the living.
Honey had come to terms with that rather quickly, as time didn't move quite as it should and dawn never broke on the horizon, only more night, absolute and unending.
She swallowed it down like a hard shot of whiskey, never letting the flavor touch her tongue, knowing the burn would turn her. The moment she stopped, so too would the world, and that meant acknowledging the truth of the matter.
"Well..." she said with a huff, "they could have at least picked up their trash."
Evan was silent, no surprise there, but Honey had gotten used to that too and had already begun picking up the pieces of their night.
"I can see why you don't like them," she said.
Evan furrowed a brow as he watched her.
She had been so genuine in her hospitality, joining them in their games, laughing along with them at their jokes, and yet...she shared a similar sentiment in distaste.
"That Frank's a piece of work," she said, "Julie too. They're not too good at hiding it either. Guess I shouldn't have really expected much different," she shrugged, "they're all killers," she paused, "oh...I suppose I am too."
She looked at the empty Unbranded beer can in her hands.
"Yes," Evan said.
"I did it so easily too," she said, "I didn't even think about it, I just did it. I've never been like that. It's not like that guy, uhm, David, did anything particularly terrible..." she gathered up the rest of the empties as if the work might distract her thoughts, surprised when the Trapper's hand gently stopped her.
"Oh..." the sound escaped her.
For the most part the dark aspects of this realm had only been violent and brutish, manhandling her about their trials in unkindness. A monster among monsters. There was no need for pleasantries.
Yet...here stood one of the Entity's wolves, offering his sympathy in the only way he knew how.
"Ah well," she mustered up some of her cheer, "I guess it's just something I'll have to get used to ... yikes. Never thought I'd say something like that. Ha!" She chuckled. "Guess I'll have to get my coat back at some point too," she said, looking down at the oversized flannel she had borrowed, "I love your shirt, I really do, but I can't really play up the whole Candyman thing with it," she grinned, "don't worry, I'm not going to ask for your help," she waved, "I can handle the big bad Bogeyman all by myself," she puffed up her chest.
"That so?" Asked Trapper.
"Mhm," she marched her way into the kitchen with Legion's trash clutched to her chest, "he's scary, but slow. I just have to be quick."
"No," he said, "You were lucky to escape his trial. You go to Haddonfield now - he'll make sure you don't come back."
Honey pouted as she dropped the trash into the bin, "What? You don't think I could do it?"
"And survive?" he said, "No."
"Laurie did."
"You're not Laurie."
"You're not Laurie," she mimicked and was surprised to hear Evan chuckle. It made her smile - and then - she laughed too.
"I'll make you a deal," the humor dropped from his voice as Honey clapped the crumbs from her hands, "I'll get your coat back. Tomorrow. If-"
Honey craned her neck to look up at him, "If?" She asked with a suspicious squint.
"You don't ever do that again."
"Deal!" She exclaimed, "no take backs!"
He allowed a small smile to grace his lips and it didn't feel entirely out of place. "No sabotaging trials."
Honey nodded, "No sabotaging trials," she screwed her face up in thought, "though, my last one is with you. So it's not like I'd do that anyway."
He replied with only a raised brow.
"What? I like you," she shrugged, "you've been really nice to me. I don't know how many times you need me to say that before you believe it," she stuck her tongue out at him.
"You shouldn't."
"You know, it's ok to have friends," she said, measuring the filth of the room around her, "even here." For the most part they'd collected up the trash and stray crumbs, what remained was only a memory of a home, poked in cotton tufts of torn couch cushions and frayed rugs.
Just about as home-sweet-home as a murderer's house could be.
"But I get it, we just met and I kind of ruined your trial the other day," she paused, "or was that today? I can't tell."
"Yesterday," he affirmed.
Honey brushed her bangs out of her face as if they'd cooperate.
They didn't.
"Hmm," she thought, "well, either way, I promise I'll do better. Tomorrow we kill them all," she planted her hands firmly on her hips and gave a confident nod, "it's kind of fun - if you think of it like a game," she said, "no one's really getting hurt or dying."
"No, they aren't dying," said the Trapper.
"Oh come on," Honey sagged with exhaustion, "why'd you have to say it like that!"
"I'm not going to lie to you," he said curtly.
She squinted at him as if she might be able to discern something of his impassive visage.
He didn't allow her a moment too long, passing her by and dropping down on the couch with a heavy sigh.
He didn't meet her eyes, content to stare up at an oddly shaped stain on his ceiling. It wasn't avoidance, it was comfort in the absence of company, embraced by silence and the presence of a friend.
He felt her follow after him, the gentle rest of her gaze upon his face, unmasked, but unafraid. There weren't many he could say he felt at ease with, always on edge, a creeping annoyance up his spine that whitened his knuckles and clenched his jaw. Honey was nothing like that, she was as sweet as her name and perhaps just about as much naive, a pillow cloud amongst a thunderstorm, desperately trying to bring rainbows to bloodshed.
If she could walk into the eye of the storm with a smile - he supposed he could knock on the Bogeyman's door for a coat.
And he wanted to.
He felt the cushions beside him sink ever so slightly with her weight as she sat down beside him.
"How long before I'm like them?" She asked.
Her voice seemed so far away, quieter, resigned to that future they all were destined to.
His eyes shifted to her, then back to the ceiling. "Like them?" He asked.
"Yeah."
"Never."
Honey quirked a brow.
"Legion has always been like that, even when they first walked into the Fog."
"Were you always like this?"
"No."
The answer was curt.
Honey knew not to chase it's reasoning.
"You'll be fine," he said and felt her head lay upon his chest.
This time, he didn't grit his teeth.
"Thanks," she said.