++++++++++++++++Chapter 5 : Talk It Out Alredy!
Upon being released Taylor Hebert's first words were: " Fucking Bitch!"
Her next 20 words were variants of the same message. She was never one to curse, but since meeting Morty a few months ago the act became more and more part of her modus-operanti. General annoyance to deep revolt and casual excitement... curse words help one express themselves.
At the moment she was feeling a storm of bad emotions as, yet again, a girl she trusted and felt friendliness toward betrayed her in a more than fucked up way. Seriously - what in her attracted the most psychotic bitches possible. Stinking coffin of toxic waste? Delivering her to a Villain?
Was the world telling her something with this? That trusting again would only lead to worse and worse fates?
" Ahmn... Taylor?" A familiar nasal voice called. If she had any doubt on whom the golden-clad Tinker was, she did not anymore." As cute as you are when you are trying to curse, we kinda have to get out of here."
Her cheeks, already red in anger, became even more red still. She shrunk a bit within herself. "Look I get that this is pretty intense and inconvenient but I promise you be home by tonight and after that not Scion himself will dare to bother you."
That... was pretty ridiculous... But reassuring in a way. Since Mom died, no had just been there for her before Morty arrived. Just there defending and supporting her... Making her feel safe.
... Was it so bad she wanted to believe him ?
" Okay... let's get the fuck out of this place."
###
30 minutes later, she was sitting on Morty's couch. Or rather, on the couch in the lab under Morty's house. It was so surreal, she probably would be freaking out If she had not exhausted all the energy on freaking out about being kidnapped earlier.
The whole thing felt bigger than a airplane hangar. Machines divided the space in conceptual sub-sections. There was a corner full of human sized glass vets. There was a corner with mechanic parts that she would later found belonged to robots ( Although Morty insisted on calling Decoys ). There was a corner with what looked like a spaceship from that old Si-fi franchise her dad loved.
He was freaking 15 just like her but seemed like a greater Tinker then was insane to her how Morty - her skinny, bored unassuming Morty - could be so... Awesome.
For how long was he around the cape Scene? If there were such an amazing teen Tinker ( hero or villain) she would have heard about it ... wouldn't she?
" Dollar for your thoughts?" Morty cut her out of her thoughts. He had finished dressing out of his golden armor and returned, looking like the guy she saw almost every day for months.
He seated himself at her side. His same old chill self, eyes half-open, hair disheveled and without his Eye-patch.
" I ..." What should she say? How does one talk about this kind of thing? " I... " What does she want him to know? What does she want to know? " I..."
" I want you to tell me everything !" She said, as assertive as she could.
He looked at her with his classical, unimpressed face. " Everything... Why Exactly? Why would you want to know-"
" Do not do your cynical bullshit! Not fucking now!" She yelled at him, getting up.
" Ok, Ok I am sorry. " He moved in placating gestures.
" I just... am a bit tired, too. I had being dealing with assholes, mass murderers and wannabe-masterminds for years now...
I thought I was free of people trying to put me on a leash now, but...I guess that is asking a bit too much" The boy chuckled, and, for a moment he looked way older than he was.
Morty always sounded older and more mature than a 15 ( or 30) year old should be, but now..
There was too much in those eyes.
What kind of horror have he lived through?
with a mental chuckle she realized this was one of the few times she saw both of redish-brown irises. He had some pretty scary eyes... but she found them familiar in a calming way.
She has read about soldiers who had such psychological baggage that one could feel it on their presence. She wondered
"You... We should... talk?" She tried uncertain but not retreating. She took his hand in hers. A bit to little considering the pain she could feel under his gaze, but the boldest thing he dared at the moment.
He answers her attempt with a smile. Not one of his calm smiles, or one of those sarcastic smiles. It was something more honest.
"Yeah, I... I would like that!"
/
The ancient forgotten art of talking shit out.
