...

"The usual, miss?"

The whole atmosphere of the cafe is one she's gotten so used to, but she can never decide whether or not she likes it. Soft jazz plays through the speakers, the aroma of coffee and pastries permeates every corner of the establishment. The staff are all dressed in needlessly fanciful uniforms, they all speak in flowery patterns. Actually, she can't stand the latter bit, but she smiles and accepts it.

"The usual." She confirms, as she goes to crack her knuckles and scan the hordes of other patrons, all shuffling about and talking about inane things that will never concern her. The largely built manager nods, raises his notepad, and clicks open his pen.

"Name?"

She would roll her eyes if he wasn't staring dead at her. He knows well who she is, there's hardly been a day that goes by when she doesn't come here. She supposes that it's a formality or rule they have to follow.

"Medusa." She responds, folding her arms. He nods and gives a familiar smile before jotting the order down on a pen. Even with the hundreds of people that flock to the store every day, he found it remarkably easy to remember her order: the darkest roast of coffee, black. Before either of them can walk away, an assistant of the manager nervously taps him on the shoulder and hands him a note, followed by a hasty explanation of something that his superior only responds to by nodding and waving Medusa down as his assistant fumbles with a horde of machines behind the counter.

"Yeah… apparently we had someone come in earlier and queue an order for you." He begins to explain, squinting at the lengthy order on the note.

Medusa raises an eyebrow as she pulls up the sagging shoulder of her jacket. "Who? What did they order?"

"Didn't leave a name, paid upfront though. Specified that it was for you… a latte. Wanted art done, too-Tsugumi!" He calls mid sentence to the girl with twintails fumbling with paper cups, trying her best not to spill the hot liquid. She finishes snapping a lid on before running it over to the manager, who smiles as she runs off to her other duties. He slides it across the counter along with her original coffee elegantly.

"Hope you enjoy, do come back again!" He exclaims before walking off, leaving her to collect the mysterious cup and gently open the lid, moving off to the side to lean up against a wall. Her amber eyes scan the liquid, caramel colored, traced with gentle white lines of foam. They form a very simple symbol: the letter "M" with an arrow following the right side of it. It takes her a minute of retrospection, combined with dodging the bustling yuppies that frequent the cafe, before she comes to a realization. Scorpio. Medusa rolls her eyes to no one in particular, before retreating from the counter, content to slink into the table at the edge of the store that she usually sits at.

Her eyes finally fall upon her usual sanctuary: a small table for two, with chairs sitting opposite a rickety, barely functioning table. One of the legs is basically broken, the whole damn thing wobbles, but really she doesn't mind. After all, she muses as she sits down in one of the stiff wooden seats, it provides her with the one nice thing still left in her life: peace and quiet. No, the cryptic message doesn't even concern her, the point slipping her mind as she lays her head back, content to just let the soft jazz rock her to a different realm of consciousness.

The greatest things, she comes to find, don't always last.

She's snapped out of her reverie by the loud clacking of heels against the tiled floor, as she finds her eyes glaring at the wooden ceiling, awash with soft yellow lights. Medusa sighs, before waving in the general direction of whatever interloper stands near her.

"Yes, what do you want?" She inquires dismissively.

The figure near her shuffles in place to cross it's arms, before sighing purposefully loud, enough to where Medusa is forced to move locks of her golden hair out of her face to slowly turn her head in the general direction of whatever seeks to ruin her morning.

"Oh, is that really the most polite of a greeting you can give to me? Dear sister."

Medusa's annoyed gaze widens as she falls upon the lady standing in front of her, their eyes leveling as soon as the other identifies herself. Medusa recognizes that voice; bratty, arrogant, wild. She sets the coffee cup down on the rickety table, lucky enough to find that it doesn't slide down just yet, before crossing her arms again.

"Shaula."

Shaula leans her head, almost as form of counter to Medusa's palpable passive-aggressiveness.

"Medusa."

Medusa shakes her head, rolls her eyes, before internally wondering why this had to happen today of all times. She slept horribly, and, really the last thing she wants is an impromptu family reunion in the middle of one of the few calm moments she has to herself.

Shaula doesn't acknowledge the slights of character against her, before slowly placing herself in the seat opposite of Medusa, and placing her arms on the ragged table, as she turns to let her chin rest on her open palm.

"Ah, I see you got that little gift of mine." She states, tilting her head in the direction of the eggshell white cup. Medusa simply returns a flat glare.

"Yeah, I got it. Real cute." She snarks. "I don't even drink lattes. Sugary shit, can't stand it."

Shaula responds so quickly she's on the borderline of interrupting, although she never truly crosses that fine border. "I don't disagree, I like the espressos, myself."

"Why are you doing this?"

The sudden inquiry by medusa is enough to make Shaula frown in an exaggerated manner and rest her head against the top of her right hand, a feign of innocence. "Oh, what do you mean by that, sis'?"

"Stop that. The fake friendly thing, please stop. You don't care about coffee," She continues to muse, jutting a finger at Shaula. "You always drank those energy drinks that tasted like paint thinner."

The younger woman can only smirk. Of course, Medusa isn't wrong. Nice, perfect, intelligent Medusa. Borderline sociopath Medusa. The same Medusa that bullied her throughout childhood. She suppresses the memories, before lowering her arms to lay flat against the table.

"I'm doing this because you're so cute when you're angry." She explains, lowering her head to lay against her arm.

Blood rushes to the elder's face, the heat radiating out from it almost matching that which blasts out from the coffee cups.

"You're a pest, you know that? And stop trying to out bitch Arachne, you're not as threatening." She demands, firmly racking her knuckles against the table, inciting Shaula to frown again. Really, Shaula had done her best to distance herself from both of her elder sisters; yet, every time she found herself finally truly accomplishing something, she would find those supports kicked away by some event. So, she eventually became complacent enough to stay close to the side of her eldest, what was the alternative? Mother wasn't around, even if she greatly preferred her to her siblings. Her eyes close lazily in an attempt to remember her, as Medusa impatiently taps the table.

"Hey, hey, snap out of it. What do you want? Why are you here?"

Shaula sighs absentmindedly. "You still braid your hair like that?" She questions, pointing to the entwined segments of hair that rest over the blonde's chest. Medusa grits her teeth angrily, before exhaling in a frustrated manner.

"Shaula. What do you want...?" She restates.

"Alright, alright..." Shaula mutters, adjusting the unnatural length of her hair to rest over her shoulder. She reaches into a small handbag she has resting near the chair she sits in, before triumphantly pulling out a beige folder, a bunch of nonsense legalese jotted all over it. She throws it over the counter, as Medusa leans over to catch it.

The folder contains nothing Medusa can decipher on the outside, and it remains a mystery until she opens it at Shaula's insistence. The first paper, printed up elegantly on delicate card stock,has upon it hundreds of sentences and abbreviations, and she barely skims over it before looking at Shaula annoyance born of confusion

"What the hell is this?" She asks, holding it by the edges in one hand.

The smirking pest simply shrugs her arms in a feign of innocence. "An application."

Medusa rolls her eyes in an even more exaggerated manner, before reminding herself that causing a scene in public would be a bad idea. "What KIND of application?"

"For a job!" Shaula shoots back, giving a lazy thumbs-up. "I heard you were unemployed, I figured it was a decent offer-"

The elder waves her hands rapidly to get the younger to shut up. "What kind of job? Where the hell did you learn about me being unemployed? How is that your business anyways?" She demands, slamming the slip of paper back down onto the table, nearly sending the furniture crashing down. Shaula shirks back from the commotion, and only can respond my mimicking the hand waving, except in a defensive manner.

"Please calm down!" She begs, most of the former sense of superiority melting away in Medusa's glare, "I was curious if you wanted to join me… it's office work." Is all she can say before doing her best to avoid looking her sister in the eyes, finding the constant staring to be too nerve wracking. Medusa takes notice of the others' collapsing sense of confidence, before rolling her eyes.

"I'm a researcher. I don't do 'office work'. Typing meaningless numbers in a spreadsheet for hours a day? Please." She concludes. Something takes a hold of her, an idea; she jutts a finger at Shaula for the second time.

"Did Arachne put you up to this?"

Shaula responds by doing her best to brace against the onslaught of Medusa's personality. "N-no! Look, I got accepted, and I figured you would want a job. It's a take it or leave it situation, I'm not forcing you to do anything. It's 'office work', they'll assign you to something whenever you get there, I guess." She concludes, regaining some confidence that was only briefly shattered.

Medusa shakes her head before taking another purposefully lengthy sip of now lukewarm coffee. "Four years of college for this shit… My division got hit by layoffs, if you were curious, although I suppose you already know that, huh?"

Her comment bounces against Shaula, making little of a real impact, to her mild surprise. Her mind jolts back to college, years of delicate studying in the library, dealing with her bratty yuppie classmates, more concerned with getting wasted rather than doing anything productive. Science. She repeats in her head; that's why she went. Sure, they taught her little she didn't already know, and she had to abide by their silly rules, and when she finally obtained her degree she quickly forgot about all the weasel professors. For her efforts, she was allowed to work in a nice little lab on the outskirts of a rural town, far away from the constant pestering efforts of bureaucrats to limit their work. She and her coworkers were brilliant, some to a fault. They skirted ethical bounds, and Medusa often felt as though she was with people who understood her. Many times did they come so close to groundbreaking discoveries, ones that would send shock waves throughout the ranks of the old dolts in charge, truly, they would be the ones to make the world a bit more chaotic.

"Funding problems..." She says unnaturally loudly, trapped in her trance to where she fails to notice Shaula's confused expression. It all came down to cash, and they weren't exactly producing marketable materials. So, they were just quietly let go. Left to drift among the winds, to float wherever they were needed, destined to one day find their place in the world.

...At least, that's what the prissy "therapist" stationed with them said. All Medusa had done since then was run around the city she now lived in, smoking cigarette butts and doing odd jobs. She shakes her head before running through the application, filled with various lines where one would write self-congratulatory fluff about oneself.

"You okay over there?" Shaula inquires, raising an eyebrow and adjusting the collar on the sailor uniform she always could be found running around in. Medusa waves her hand dismissively.

"I'm fine. I'll look into it. Not like I have anything better to do..." She bargains.

"Good. Coworkers..." Shaula nervously proposes, a hint of airy disdain flying along with her words; Medusa chooses to ignore it. "Well… good seeing you! Uh, call me if they accept, you know…?"

Medusa nods in response, just desperate to get her out of here so she can go back to basking in the nice quiet atmosphere that she is barely afforded these days. Shaula sense that she isn't really welcomed here anymore, before slinking off, her purse handing off her shoulder. Medusa finally gives a genuine smile for the first time in a week; finally, silence. She leans back in her chair, her feet propped to where she won't fall over. It's nice, really. The calm music, the nice aroma that wraps around the cafe… it all blends together to create the only nice thing she has nowadays. One hand holds the now cold coffee cup, the other taps against the folder, with the application sitting atop it.

New job, huh? No way Arachne isn't involved in this somehow. She thinks. The eldest of all three of them has a way with words, silken ones, laced with lies in venom. Shaula had stuck by Arachne's side ever since mother had left, or died, or whatever the hell happened to her, Medusa had stopped caring years ago. The youngest was born a follower, even if she despised being compared to the two her elder. She means well, I guess. Medusa figures, still well aware that Shaula probably has no real desire to talk to Medusa on a daily basis again. She rolls her eyes. Bullying… cry me a river, that girl needed to toughen up. She internally argues, remembering the do-goody whining of those who considered themselves superior to her.

Nothing really phases her anymore. She stays like this for a few more minutes, before deciding to go steal a pen from some unsuspecting patron.

...

You think she'll submit the application?

Shaula sits on a bench on the corner of a street, fumbling with something in her purse as she tries to talk on her banged up flip phone.

"I-I mean, I guess. Why the hell wouldn't she? I get that she doesn't like me but-"

Stop saying that, she doesn't hate you, dear.

"Yeah? Well I hate her!" Shaula snaps, only noticing the overly hostile tone after she says it. The domineering voice on the other end sighs in a way that makes goosebumps rise on her skin.

Calm down, you're going to need to get past that if we end up working together.

"But Arachn-" Shaula attempts to counter, before being cut off.

'But Arachne!' nothing. Medusa is an ass, I agree, but we kind of need her right now; we're not out of the woods just yet.

"You think she'll do alright with working at the office?"

I hope. Look, I have things to do, I'll talk to you later. Love you.

Shaula doesn't even get a chance to respond to the passive display of affection before the line is cut, and she's left to angrily rummage through her purse; where the hell is that damn eyeliner?

Arachne, for her part, sits in her overly luxurious study, idly sipping on champagne. She's gambling a good bit with that decision, and she only hopes it will pay off. Maybe "gamble" is a bit strong a word, but Medusa is a tad… unstable.

...