Speaking Terms
Just mere moments before, Faith had considered all sorts of topics and phrases and witticisms to dazzle Ramona with, but when actually finding herself face to face with her friend, all she had to draw on was an empty mind and cotton-dry mouth.
"I mean, I know Sister Mildred is the very epitome of feminine beauty." Ramona's words held a sarcasm the weight of a twelve-ton brick. "But you and her - I mean, what would the children look like?"
Despite herself, Faith let out a loud, appreciative laugh that melded with Ramona's chopped-short chuckle.
"No. No, fortunately I have no inner romantic feelings toward Sr. Mildred," Faith said, welcoming banter after her stressful night.
"Probably healthy," Ramona commented.
"I ran into her earlier, and I mean, actually plowed her over, not just bumped into her. But I had actually been talking to Chad," Faith admitted.
"Oh," Ramona said knowingly. "Chad."
She looked behind herself. "Not that he heard me, of course."
"Of course. Ran into Mildred the Ripper, huh? Any scars?" she asked, distinct smirk in place.
"Oh, no. Just got signed up for music ministry. Being an alto," Faith said, rolling her eyes facetiously. "Something like that. Apparently, I'll be expected to go to meetings for it from now on."
"Oh, no, you've been recruited," Ramona let her know, faking an ominous voice. "There's no turning back now. You just signed yourself up for to the army of darkness." She put up her hands. "Minus all the fuss of mass destruction, weaponry, and death, while adding singing and harmonizing and tambourine-shaking to its resume."
"I can see where they're similar," Faith replied, giggling.
"Who wouldn't? Same mortality rate. It's like the mafia. When you're here you're family.and nobody leaves the family."
"I thought that was the Olive Garden."
Ramona lazily threw her hand forward, brushing the thought away. "Olive Garden. The Mob. Same thing when you live in Jersey."
Faith laughed, realizing how much she had missed Ramona and her endless banter. Becoming comfortable, she traded her epic speeches for sincerity.
"I'm sorry about the other day, Ramona," she apologized. "I just don't know what's going on with me right now." The words were earnest, and the honesty sat well with her. "I'm just scared."
In a mother-like fashion, Ramona neared attentively. "Bad news from Dr. Bizzaro?"
The humor lasted but a second. Faith nodded and found herself suddenly overcome with emotion. No one had asked her about the news yet. "Yeah," she got out, her voice quivering. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."
Ramona lowered her gaze. "Faith."
Though Faith had been sure she could explain what had happened simply and methodically, her body began to panic. In an attempt to stop her tears, her hand pressed hard against her mouth and her back slid against the nearest row of lockers in the abandoned hallway. Eyes wide, Ramona reacted, going onto her knees to clutch onto her friend.
Just mere moments before, Faith had considered all sorts of topics and phrases and witticisms to dazzle Ramona with, but when actually finding herself face to face with her friend, all she had to draw on was an empty mind and cotton-dry mouth.
"I mean, I know Sister Mildred is the very epitome of feminine beauty." Ramona's words held a sarcasm the weight of a twelve-ton brick. "But you and her - I mean, what would the children look like?"
Despite herself, Faith let out a loud, appreciative laugh that melded with Ramona's chopped-short chuckle.
"No. No, fortunately I have no inner romantic feelings toward Sr. Mildred," Faith said, welcoming banter after her stressful night.
"Probably healthy," Ramona commented.
"I ran into her earlier, and I mean, actually plowed her over, not just bumped into her. But I had actually been talking to Chad," Faith admitted.
"Oh," Ramona said knowingly. "Chad."
She looked behind herself. "Not that he heard me, of course."
"Of course. Ran into Mildred the Ripper, huh? Any scars?" she asked, distinct smirk in place.
"Oh, no. Just got signed up for music ministry. Being an alto," Faith said, rolling her eyes facetiously. "Something like that. Apparently, I'll be expected to go to meetings for it from now on."
"Oh, no, you've been recruited," Ramona let her know, faking an ominous voice. "There's no turning back now. You just signed yourself up for to the army of darkness." She put up her hands. "Minus all the fuss of mass destruction, weaponry, and death, while adding singing and harmonizing and tambourine-shaking to its resume."
"I can see where they're similar," Faith replied, giggling.
"Who wouldn't? Same mortality rate. It's like the mafia. When you're here you're family.and nobody leaves the family."
"I thought that was the Olive Garden."
Ramona lazily threw her hand forward, brushing the thought away. "Olive Garden. The Mob. Same thing when you live in Jersey."
Faith laughed, realizing how much she had missed Ramona and her endless banter. Becoming comfortable, she traded her epic speeches for sincerity.
"I'm sorry about the other day, Ramona," she apologized. "I just don't know what's going on with me right now." The words were earnest, and the honesty sat well with her. "I'm just scared."
In a mother-like fashion, Ramona neared attentively. "Bad news from Dr. Bizzaro?"
The humor lasted but a second. Faith nodded and found herself suddenly overcome with emotion. No one had asked her about the news yet. "Yeah," she got out, her voice quivering. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."
Ramona lowered her gaze. "Faith."
Though Faith had been sure she could explain what had happened simply and methodically, her body began to panic. In an attempt to stop her tears, her hand pressed hard against her mouth and her back slid against the nearest row of lockers in the abandoned hallway. Eyes wide, Ramona reacted, going onto her knees to clutch onto her friend.
