Yoshi! Here's the next chapter…quite long, so get comfortable.
PLEASE READ: I did not realize until very recently that most Jeeps don't have bench seats. You know, where there is one long seat instead of two individual seats…So, for this story's sake, the Jeep that Spike and Faye are using has a bench seat. I will go back and specify this in the previous chapter. But for those of you who are reading as I upload, I thought it was necessary to make a clarification.
* * * Ch.8 – CLOSER (Nine Inch Nails) * * *
Even if I've become conscious of the way I see Faye, I should at least be more controlling of myself. I'm not a kid with an attention deficit disorder so this is something I should be able to handle without difficulty. Being distracted so easily, I don't see how it would benefit either of us.
I sigh heavily, locking my sight at whatever lies ahead. Faye glances over as if she was going to speak, but she bites her lips before turning away. It only makes things uncomfortable. I don't want to stare at her, so I feel that I can only allow myself to hear her. However, she doesn't say anything and she doesn't move anymore.
I begin to doubt that she's okay, that maybe she's stopped breathing again. I hesitate and say as casually as possible, "Do you see the tracks?"
"Yeah," Faye says quietly. She shifts forward, sitting at the edge of the seat. "Do you think…it's an ATV?"
"Probably…" I say shortly, glad that she is able to respond effortlessly. She doesn't say anything else, so after a few seconds I continue, "the tracks are too small to be anything else."
She exhales slowly, "I don't see anything ahead. How fast do you think she's going?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if it's at least something like fifty. Some of those ATVs can run up to seventy."
"But at least, we have this much…" She slides in her seat so that her back is resting. She crosses her arms and legs, intently staring at the sand. "…How fast are you going?"
"Not much faster…it feels like there's something wrong with the axle of this thing so it's hard for me to speed up without loosing too much control…Damn Jet, being so cheap."
"Then…how come you were going faster before?"
"It wasn't as bad on the road. But the sand here is the problem."
She laughs teasingly, "Spike's making excuses."
"Would you like to drive instead then?"
"No thank you," she responds sarcastically. "Isn't driving supposed to be more of a guy's thing?"
I laugh a little, "Who's making excuses now?"
Suddenly, there is a back and forth between our conversation that seems nearly unstoppable. I don't think that Faye and I have ever talked so much in a hunt. Or if it's even appropriate for us to do so.
But there is no immediate need to stop either. Damian is not around. Jet is not around. Ed is not around. Not even Ein is here. So why would I deny time that appears to belong solely to me?
Through this, time passes swiftly and the sun begins to set. There is no apparent transition from day to night and it becomes dark quickly. It becomes hard to distinguish the tracks Pittman has left behind. And worse yet, I have to force the jeep through very loose sand, fearing that we'll get stuck in the middle of nowhere with no hope of ever catching up to Pittman.
There is nothing out here. Nothing but sand and dead little shrubs and Pittman's fading tracks. I know that we can definitely catch her…It's just a matter of time and luck.
Since it's dark, I'm forced to turn on the lights. I know its unfortunate because now our location is clearly exposed. But if I don't do it, there's no way we can keep searching for the tracks. As if that wasn't enough, I begin to worry about the amount of gas we have left. The tank is getting low quickly and I don't even know if we'll have enough fuel to catch up to Pittman.
Suddenly, Faye points at something. She tilts her head and, for the first time in a while, doesn't say anything. She scoots forward on the seat and leans towards the dashboard. She crosses her arms and rests her chin over them. After a few seconds, she slaps my arm and points ahead of us. "Spike, do you see something there?"
I stare at the distance and I can easily spot it, "Lights."
"That must be her!" Faye says excitedly, "Hurry up, catch up to her."
"I don't want to go much faster than this."
"This is frustrating," she mumbles.
"Stop complaining," I say apathetically, "we'll catch up in a minute."
But even if I don't let it show, I also feel frustrated. Gradually, I start to speed up, fully aware that it isn't safe for me to do so. However, I am able to control the vehicle well enough and it doesn't take long before I clearly hear the motor of the ATV. From the way it revs, I can tell that Pittman's already going as fast as she's willing to, and much faster than 50 miles an hour too. I speed up again, straining my arms to keep the vehicle stable. A few seconds later, I see Pittman's silhouette.
Faye stands up from her seat. "Don't do anything stupid," she tells me.
I smirk, "I don't guarantee it."
Faye rolls her eyes and leans outside of the passenger's side. She holds up her gun and waits to steady herself with the top frame of the Jeep. Then, she shoots. Pittman swerves. The ATV's speed decreases a great deal. However, Pittman is able to recuperate her stability.
"You missed..."
"Don't point out the obvious," Faye says frustrated.
"Shoot over the front," I direct her.
"I don't find it as comfortable as this," Faye responds. And as if to prove her point, she leans a little further out and holds the gun ready to shoot again. She stays still. Then, she shouts back at me annoyed, "Damn it Spike! Go Faster!"
I decide that I can't miss seeing the expression on her face. I break my sight away from the path and look at her for the first time in a while. "What's the matter," I tell her smiling, "afraid you'll miss again?"
She turns away from me, but I can see her looking in my direction through the corner of her eyes. "Stop being rude and just drive faster."
"You're the one who told me not to do anything stupid."
"And since when do you listen to me?" she says sardonically, choosing to face me again. "If you're going to tonight, then listen now, I'm telling you to go faster."
"Fine, fine," I answer. "I'm getting bored of this anyway."
I speed up once again and it doesn't take long for us to catch up to Pittman. Faye shoots nearly immediately. Pittman's back, left tire goes out. The ATV swerves. Pittman jumps off. The ATV spins. It flips. And flips. And flips. And comes to a stop. Pittman stays on the ground. The track that her rolling body made has left a pattern in the sand. Pittman squirms in the dirt, digging her body into the sand. I can hear her moaning and cursing under hear breath.
I stop the jeep a few feet away from her and both Faye and I jump out quickly. However, as we near her, Pittman swings her arms and legs around so that it's nearly impossible to get any closer. "Don't come near me!" she yells. "Get away! I don't want her anymore!"
Faye's body goes stiff. She sighs and says pleasantly, "Unfortunately for you, it's me who wants you this time."
Pittman's limbs freeze momentarily, just long enough for me to catch her hands. "Get off of me!" She says struggling, "Don't touch me."
She kicks and tries to throw her arms away from my hands. I kneel behind Pittman and force her arms to her back. She continues to resist, but it seems that as soon as the handcuffs lock, Pittman gives up. She stops moving and falls on the ground, sniveling against the sand as if it were her pillow.
Faye kneels next to me, the roll of duct tape worn as a bracelet on her wrist. She asks, "You didn't read very far in the bounty report, did you?"
I don't answer and instead ask, "What's with you and the tape anyway?"
"If you'd answered I would have told you," she says disdainfully. But she doesn't respond to my question either. She begins to unroll the duct tape, tearing it into small strips. In order to keep them organized, she tapes a small section of each to her thigh.
I watch as the strips begin to line her thighs. Faye places the strips carefully. Once, a strip's entire adhesive attaches to her leg. She peels the corner and the tape pulls on her skin aggressively. If my initial intention was not to see her skin, it's inevitably what I end up noticing the most.
"Stop staring," Faye says passively.
I meet her eyes, "It's hard not to stare at a crazy woman dressing herself in duct tape."
"Really Spike," she responds, "if you like my legs so much you should just says so. Plenty of men have told me so before, so I'm used to hearing it."
"Tsk…You're really conceited to think that I'd be staring at your legs just because I'm a man."
"You're a man?" Faye says faking surprise. "I was unaware of that."
Although I know this is nothing but a joke, it angers me easily. And even if I'm not entirely sure of what it is I mean by it, I say, "Do you have the right to claim something like that?"
I see her eyes shifting uncomfortably before she says, "Whatever…it doesn't make any difference to me." She tears one more strip of tape and then says, "…Help me hold her hands in place."
I do so just to keep myself from saying something I'll regret. Pittman groans as I pull her hands away from her back. I carelessly push the sleeves of her heavy jacket closer to her elbows. I stop and notice that the hand that I had shot earlier was clumsily bandaged. I lift her hands up a few inches from her spine. Then, Faye tapes the thumbs in place against Pittman's palms. I watch her quietly and she continues to secure the remaining of Pittman's fingers into pairs using the strips she'd just finished cutting, removing them away from her thighs as she works. When all of Pittman's fingers are taped in pairs, Faye grabs the roll of tape and covers Pittman's hands by taping all the fingers together. When Faye finishes, she let's Pittman's hands fall heavily and Pittman winces loudly.
"You think she's that badly hurt?" Faye asks, yet there is no concern in her voice.
"I don't know."
"Why not? You're the one that shot her hand."
"…you should have killed me…" Pitman interrupts quietly.
"And what good would that have been, eh?" Faye says irritated, "We need you alive to collect the bounty."
"Bounty!" Pittman says surprised. Abruptly, her features change entirely away from a pitiful glance into disgusting disappointment. "You guys don't look like bounty hunters at all. I seriously thought that you were criminals!"
I stare at her while she laughs, feeling somewhat insulted. Why does she find it so amusing? Is she not aware of her position in this? But I don't worry much and her condescending laughter assures me that if she can laugh so much, she probably isn't as injured as she made believe.
Faye stands up, shaking the sand away from her legs. As Pittman continues to laugh, Fay rolls her eyes and her sight ends on me.
"Why so much?" I ask her, quickly shifting my glance at Pittman's duct taped hands.
Faye sighs. "When I found her shirt in the women's restrooms, I looked through the pockets and found all sorts of makeshift tools for opening locks. Then, I remembered how most of the records mentioned something about Pittman breaking into homes. That's how I knew it was actually her and not some guy…by doing this, I figured it would save us some problem later on…She's already given us enough trouble and I don't want to worry about her unlocking the cuffs."
"Still." I respond aloofly, "Seems a bit extreme…" I don't mention that I think she's doing it out of scorn for Pittman. Instead, I watch Faye shrug her shoulders uninterestedly. I wait for a second before saying, "We should call Jet. I don't think we'll have enough gas to get back."
"Seriously," Faye replies, "…what's with our luck today?…I guess…I'll take care of it."
Faye walks back to the jeep and finds her communicator. She sits on the passenger's side of the seat with her legs resting over the open door. It seems Jet answers quickly and she begins to tell him about the situation. Through this, Pittman won't stop looking at me. I glance back at her but don't say anything. After a few times of the same thing repeating, I finally stare back without reservation. Pittman doesn't shy away at all and just keeps staring back.
Pittman asks, "So, how am I listed in the bounty reports?"
"Like a man," I answer rashly.
"What!" she says offended. "A man! Why would they list me like that! I've worked so hard and they don't even bother to check the information they post about me!"
"I can't hear Jet," Faye shouts at me. "Make her shut up."
I stare at Pittman again, "You heard her."
"No! I want to know why they would do that to me! I'm ve-."
"It's your profiling," I say, dismissively cutting her sentence short. "You can't blame them for your behavior."
"So just because of that. That's horrible…" she stares down, I think, glancing at her body. When she speaks again, she's not shouting anymore. "I'm a woman."
I don't say anything.
"I have a chest. And I have hips. And I don't think it's a bad thing at all." She glances at me. "Right?"
"Sure."
"Don't just say it! Look! Right? You can tell I'm a woman?" She waits for an answer and when she notices I'm not paying attention, she rises on her knees and pushes on my legs with her shoulders.
I ignore her and instead grab her shoulders to force her to stand. I decide that, maybe it will be better for me to put her in the back of the jeep and have her become Faye's responsibility. But, even as I move her, she asks me again. And again. And again.
"I can tell," I say to her briefly. And it's not like I'm lying. Underneath the heavy clothes she's wearing, I can tell that she has wide hips. Although she has a small chest, I had noticed the front straps of her coveralls digging into her breasts before.
She smiles. "…You know, it's after something happened…I'm just a bit afraid of men…that's why…I usually can't even get near them."
I try to push her forward, but she digs her feet in the sand so that her back touches my body. She turns back at me and smirks. I look into her mischievous eyes and all I can think about is that she's starting to annoy me. As if I didn't hate women, children, and pets enough. I feel like I have to deal with a woman that thinks like a child and behaves like a dog in heat.
"You don't seem afraid," I tell her.
"Didn't I tell you earlier? It's because you remind me of my brother."
"C'mon, move."
"I don't want to," she says stubbornly. "You hurt me this morning so you should feel sorry for me and cure me of my phobia."
"Don't confuse yourself," Faye says as she walks around the jeep to where we're standing. "Didn't you hear him earlier? No matter what you may think, he's not your brother…He's still just a man."
"That's exactly why!" Pittman answers.
"Don't encourage her," I tell Faye crossly.
But Pittman continues smiling at me, "Will you then? If you're really a man, you'll do it, right? Or what, should I beg?"
I don't answer and continue pushing Pittman forward. I glance at Faye, her expression completely unreadable. I nearly feel like saying yes to Pittman just to see if I can at least make Faye a bit angry.
Just then, Faye says calmly, "…You don't have to be so eager to turn her offer down."
I can't help it and I smirk at Faye. Is it okay for me to think that she feels a little aggravated? Faye smiles back shortly and forcefully, as if saying that she doesn't even care what I do. It leaves me unsatisfied and I want to pry more out of her. I want to figure out how bothered she actually had been. But to my surprise, Faye tears Pittman away from my hands, forcing her against the body of the jeep.
"Where's Anna?" Faye asks demandingly.
"What are you talking about?" Pittman answers quickly.
"Anna McCaskey," Faye responds just as rapidly. I watch in confusion as Faye pushes Pittman's face against the hood of the jeep. "Stop bullshitting," Faye says angrily. "They found her purse in a car you sold recently."
"You crazy bitch!" Pittman says struggling against Faye. "What the hell? What makes you think I know?" Faye takes a hold of Pittman's arms, shoving her violently against the hood one more time. But Pittman continues shouting for help and ordering Faye to release her, or more often than not, cursing.
Faye glares at me. Her expression softens seeing the puzzled look on my face and she says evenly, "What should we do? Jet just told me that a woman's been missing for a week and he's sure it's Pittman who's responsible. They've got a reward on the girl. So, even if it's a bother, it'll end up being good for us."
I ask uncertainly, "How did-?"
"Jet talked to one of his police friends this morning and he mentioned a bit about Pittman and our hunt. Well, Jet got a call from him a few minutes ago asking us to search for Anna if we were to find Pittman."
I curse quietly. Why had today become so difficult? I feel tired, not just physically, but mentally as well. I sigh. "As stubborn as she is, how do you think we'll get her to admit anything?...We can't even get her to shut up."
Faye smirks before turning away from me and saying, "That's simple. Why don't you just find a way to keep her mouth busy?"
I laugh to myself, noticing that, this time around, there's definitely a tinge of bitterness in her voice. I know it's immature of me, but somehow, it's a bit relieving having her behave at least a little concerned of my actions.
"Why?" I say lighting a cigarette, "What you're doing is much more entertaining."
Faye doesn't say anything for a while.
Suddenly, "Damn it! Just shut up!" she shouts at Pittman, who, even through our silence, had still been screaming. Then, she forces Pittman's body to turn and pushes her back against the hood. She puts her weight onto Pittman and, before I can prevent it, shoves her gun into Pittman's mouth.
I stop mid-step. Faye is visibly irritated. And from past experience, I decide not to interrupt whatever it is she's doing. I stand back again and smoke, enjoying the sight of a Faye that Damian will never know.
Just then, Faye shoves the gun deeper into Pittman's mouth. "With what you did to me," she says sternly, "what makes you believe I won't shoot you?"
Pittman's body goes stiff. Her jaw jerks forward and her stomach moves irregularly in discord with her choppy breathing. She tries to swallow the spit building in her mouth. But she chokes and her gagging becomes uncontrollable. Her eyes get wet and the tears begin to roll down her dirtied face.
I think I should feel sorry for her, but her condition elicits nothings from me. And I continue smoking.
"I'm sick of dealing with you," Faye says, "so tell me where Anna is before I decide that I really can't stand you."
Pittman shakes her head in submission. But Faye holds the gun in place for a few more seconds of silence. Slowly, she retreats the gun from Pittman's mouth. Pittman's saliva drips on the corners of her mouth and the gun leaves little trails of spit in the air. Pittman desperately gasps for air as she coughs and stretches the muscles of her neck. Faye's sight never leaves her.
"In the back," Pittman forces out, "the building in the far right. In the second floor."
"See?" Faye says coolly, "That wasn't so hard."
Pittman shakes her head again but it's impossible to tell whether she is agreeing or not. Pittman sobs and mumbles. She moves her jaw as if trying to clear the taste and feel of the gun away from her mouth. Then, she says disdainfully, "You didn't have to shove that in my mouth, it's disgusting."
Faye laughs before getting close to Pittman and whispering, just loud enough for me to hear, "And here I thought I was helping you get over your phobia."
I grin a little.
Pittman stares at Faye with clear fear and anger in her eyes. Faye looks at her as intently, revealing hatred that I had not seen her display in years. I take one final drag of my cigarette before letting it fall to the ground. I walk over it as I give a step forward.
Faye finally moves away from Pittman. I walk over and take a hold of Pittman's arm, standing in between the two so that Faye will be unable to reach her. It's not that I feel bad for Pittman. It's that I don't want Faye to get angrier than she needs to, and then decide to take it out on me.
This time, Pittman doesn't struggle as I move her; she even shudders against my touch. Though she had been familiar with me before, I feel her body shaking now. I lead her and she willingly cooperates, even squeezing herself in the space behind the seat of the jeep that is reserved for small cargo.
I unlock one of the handcuffs and I have Pittman hug the frame of the jeep before locking them again. It's a simple task, but Faye makes it more difficult. Her sight follows me closely, intently watching every little movement I make. I feel as if Faye's expecting me to make some sort of mistake, to catch something wrong so that she will be able to scold me for it later.
I don't think it takes long for me to have Pittman detained, but Faye's sight is so intense I feel like I'm not moving fast enough. After I'm finished, I move away quickly. Faye steps aside and watches me give a few steps away from the vehicle. She turns again and looks at Pittman. Pittman shifts her gaze away from Faye and looks at the floor.
Pittman says coldly, "I should have killed you. You're nothing like I thought. You're hideous, even more so than me."
Faye doesn't tell her anything. Instead she picks up the roll of duct tape and pulls a few inches away from the roll. She shifts close to Pittman and gently puts the tape over her mouth. The way Faye moves her body, it's as if she's challenging Pittman to realize how feminine she actually is. Even the motion of her fingers is elegant and gentle as she tears the roll away from the section covering Pittman's mouth.
When Faye speaks, her voice is pleasant, reminding me of the tone she often uses with Damian. She says, "You look much prettier when you're quiet." Then, she pats Pittman's head a few times before jumping out of the vehicle.
I know I'm staring again. But her behavior is odd enough to justify my doing so. And in fact, she doesn't even question me for it. She continues acting as if nothing had happened. She calls Jet and informs him about what Pittman had just told us. Jet asks her to stay on the line so that he can trace our coordinates; and afterwards, he asks us to stay put.
After telling me, Faye sits on the passenger's side, crosses her arms on the dashboard, and lays her head down. I walk around to the driver's side and assume the same position with the steering wheel as my support. Behind us, Pittman weakly knocks the back of the seat, but not much of anything else.
I don't know how long we stand in silence, but it's long enough for Pittman to fall asleep. It's very quiet, save for the wind that blows roughly once in a while. I watch Faye from time to time, wondering if she's also fallen asleep.
I lift myself away from the steering wheel and watch as the wind blows the sand through the desert. I look up at the moon and follow the lines created by the stars. It's getting late. I wonder how much longer we'll have to wait before Jet finally finds us.
"It's cold."
I look away from the sky to see Faye peering at me with her eyes half-closed.
She repeats herself, "It's cold."
"I know," I say, watching her eyes slowly open.
She lifts her head away from her arms and sits up. She stares at my coat lying in between us. She glances at me and stretches her hand towards it.
"What're you doing?" I ask her quickly.
"I'm cold," she says, taking the sleeve of my coat and dragging it to her side.
"I didn't say you could borrow it." I reach out to take it away from her hands. But she yanks it out of my reach and shields it.
"You're not even using it!" she responds exasperated.
"It's still my coat…"
"I don't care," she says putting it on hastily. "I'm using it now. Besides, I doubt you'll even need it. You're like a damn heater."
"What?"
"I said you're like a damn heater."
"Huh…I never thought I'd hear something like that…"
Faye shifts her body to face me. "Really? No one's told you that before. But you're…" She suddenly loses her confidence and she says awkwardly, "…really warm."
I glance at her and look away.
"Don't do that!" she says embarrassed. "It was weird enough for me to tell you! Acting like that, you're so tactless."
"Who's being tactless? You're the one calling me a heater."
"But….but look," she stutters stretching out her hand towards me. "…Just touch my hand."
I stare at her fingers but I don't move. She grunts in annoyance and reaches out for my hand. I try to pull back, but she holds my wrist in place with her left hand and wraps her right hand over my palm.
"See," she says, "my hands are really cold but yours are still warm."
"…you're right…" I say thoughtlessly, trying not to indulge in the coolness of her skin. After I answer, she moves her hands away swiftly. I fist my hand, as if that would somehow keep the feeling of her skin from leaving my palm. "…When did you notice this?"
"I don't really know…," she says casually returning to her side of the seat, "but it must have been a good while ago. Like when we caught…what was his name?" She holds her temple as she thinks. "It was…something...bell?"
I have to think for a second before I say, "Was it…Tarbell?"
"Yeah, that's him…That night we caught him, I remember putting your arm around me to confuse his guards since that's how I was carrying him. But, it was kind of cold that night and it also helped keep me warm."
"So that's why…" I mumble, but she doesn't hear me.
She says, "And that night you found me at the park, when I was…I noticed it again."
"You notice weird things."
"Who are you to talk?" She says rashly. "You remembered which of my dresses had a broken zipper."
"Eehh…That's more like…" I don't know what to describe it as, and I end up saying, "…common sense."
Faye considers it. But she responds, "I don't think so. What I notice actually has some benefit. Like…if somehow I end up feeling like I'm freezing, I just need to find an excuse to get near you and I won't be so cold. Remembering that one of my dress zippers doesn't work really has no application for you. It's just plain stupid."
I want to tell her how useful it really is. That I could think of one very good reason where knowing I would have a hard time undressing her would be very useful. I get distracted trying to figure out a way to respond to her without revealing my thought and I don't speak.
My silence must have bothered Faye because she says, "Are you mad just because I said it was a stupid thing to notice? I know you've been acing weird, but this is still so unlike you."
"…That's not it, I'm used to hearing that from you." I begin slowly, "it's just, what you said before that, it sounds like you want to get closer to me…"
"I didn't say that!" she responds quickly.
"I know you didn't," I state easily. "It's just what it sounds like…" Mid-sentence, I have to cover up my mouth to yawn. I realize how tired I am and, since the opportunity presented itself, I decide to test my luck. Although at first I had meant it to remain a joke, now I say, "Well, that's a shame…I was hoping you'd say it was."
"What? Why?"
"Don't make a weird face," I say, trying to remain as casual as I can. "I'm really tired and I was hoping I could sleep before Jet got here. I'm going to have to drive all the way back to town after all…And if I try to lay down or something, I'm bound to end up taking your space as well."
"Wait. Then aren't you the one who wants to? That's a weird thing for you to ask…"
"Why is it weird?" I ask.
"Coming from you, I'm not sure what to think of it…"
"I don't see why it's weird for me to want to sleep."
"…I guess seeing it that way…" she mumbles. Then, she starts drifting her gaze away from me. And without having to ask her, I know whom she is thinking about immediately.
It bugs me, and although I could keep quiet about it, I don't hesitate to speak. "Oh, I get it. You just don't want Damian to find out and get upset."
"Idiot," she snaps back. "What makes you think I care if Damian get's angry. I'm still so pissed off at him, it even made me angry when you mentioned him this morning."
I smirk, just to cover up the discomfort of seeing her lie to me. "Is that what that was? I thought it annoyed you that I made it sound like he's your ex."
"It doesn't matter. I'm mad at him…even if he is or isn't my ex."
"You mean you don't know?"
Faye answer quietly, "…He isn't…" Then, she says frustrated, "But I'm still mad and I can't decide what to say to him until I figure out a way to get rid of my anger."
She looks at me with resentful, green eyes and I have a sudden feeling of déjà vu so I carelessly say, "That reminds me of something."
"What's that?" Faye asks, quickly regaining a less aggravated state.
I'm unsure of how much to say and I simply state, "I met this woman once…she was angry at her husband for cheating on her."
"And?" She asks.
"And what?"
"Well, it seemed like there was some sort of point to it."
"I guess there is…"
"And what is it?"
"She got back at him," I respond shortly.
Faye asks offended, "And that reminds you of me?"
"Of course it does," I say assertively. "You said you wanted to get rid of your anger and I'm telling you how she got rid of hers…In any case, she looked much happier afterwards."
"How do you know she was happier?"
"Because…I could tell. Or I guess, in my situation, that's just what every guy wants to believe."
"Why do you say that?"
I stretch my neck, deciding whether it's worth mentioning my involvement in all of this. Though I had initially wanted to keep it undisclosed, it doesn't take me long to decide otherwise. More than anything, it bothers me that Faye keeps pretending that she never even saw me as a man.
I slouch back on the seat and cross my arms behind my head. Then, I say, "Because I was the one to help her."
"You did what?" She asks confused.
"I helped her cheat."
"You mean you—"
"I slept with her," I say meeting her gaze straightforwardly.
Faye looks away and awkwardly clears her throat before saying, "You're weird telling me things like that. I don't want to hear anymore of it."
I could easily stop, but it would waste what I've already started. Instead, I say, "Yet, before, you've been the one to ask me how often I had sex. Aren't you contradicting yourself now?"
"That was entirely for a different purpose." She says, "Besides, you were lying to me that other time, right? Because I haven't seen you go out at all now that I've been living with you guys again."
"I don't see why you would think that means anything. I haven't been able to go out very much at night, but that doesn't tell you what I do during the day." And I'm not lying either. Even though she has moved in with us, I haven't stopped doing things with other women just because she's there. She and I are nothing, so even if I care about her, I don't see why I should stop or feel guilty about anything I do.
"Alright," she says, "I'll try to believe you. What was her name?"
"Lillian," I respond effortlessly, "….and her husband's name is Mick if that serves for anything."
"What's her last name?"
"How would I know that? It was a one-night thing. The only reason I remember her is because she was really good at—"
"Don't tell me things like that," Faye interrupts.
Her reaction is peculiar. It's as if she honestly had never considered I really did anything of the sort. It's interesting to see this, so I say, "I've had to listen to your personal life so much, I don't think anything you tell me will surprise me anymore. Yet, you're acting like this just because I want to say that I remember a woman who could kiss."
"Oh, kiss…" she says and her face seems to relax.
"Well, other things too." I know it's a bit much, and I'm really not going to tell her anything, but I say, "…like she did this thing—"
"Stop that," Faye says covering her ears. "It's weird hearing you say things like that."
"I don't see why," I answer. "Because, whether you want to hear it or not, it's still something that happens. Kind of like, I don't want to know that you and Damian have sex. But I still do anyway."
She glares at me, "Just go to sleep. That's what you wanted to do from the start."
"You don't mind if I take up your space?"
"I don't care anymore."
I'm about to lie down when I notice that at our distance, my head will halfway fall on her lap. I know I'm pushing my luck, but I'm curious to see how much Faye will let me hassle her. I say, "Faye, since you're wearing my coat, move closer so I can lie on your lap."
"No way!" she says moving further to her side of the seat. "You sleep forever and my legs will end up going numb."
I can't come up with any other reason and end up saying, "It's getting colder and I'll take my coat back if I feel like it." Faye closes my coat tightly around her body. "I'm serious," I continue. "I can bundle it up and use it as a pillow."
"You jerk," Faye says bitterly. "You're going to let me freeze just so you can have a pillow."
"I'm not doing anything of the sort…Aren't I actually giving you the choice? I'm a nice guy like that." The wind blows again and I smirk, "Ah, it's getting colder." I face Faye and find her all huddled up in the corner, her hands clutching the shoulders of my coat. "Don't take too long to decide because I want to sleep before Jet gets here."
A minute passes before Faye speaks. "…okay…," she says defeated.
I hadn't actually expected for her to agree, so I extend my arm towards her, waiting for her to take off my coat.
"…no…," she says, "I'll lend you my lap."
It takes a while for the phrase to register. And when it does, I can't help but laugh. Coming from her, the words sounds so awkward. I lean on the wheel trying to stop myself from laughing out loud. Faye gets angry and leaves her corner of the seat.
"Idiot," she says as her fisted hands land on my shoulder. "Idiot!" She repeats herself, letting her hands land even harder on my body.
It hurts, so I stop to grab her wrists. I try to control myself, but I grin as I see her expression. "You're blushing," I tell her.
"Who wouldn't!" She replies yanking her hands away. "I said something that sounds so embarrassing and you end up chuckling about it like an old man. It's not like there's a different way of saying it, bastard!"
"Sorry, sorry," I say ironically. "I just wasn't expecting that you'd choose that."
"No," Faye says, "I take it back. You can have your stupid coat." She pulls off one of the sleeves and her body goes stiff. I glance at her skin and notice the goose bumps.
I contain my laughter this time around and simply ask, "You sure?"
Slowly, she slides the sleeve over her arm again. She doesn't say anything and simply moves closer to the middle of the seat. It takes her a while before she says, "If my legs begin to feel numb, I'm going to push you off."
"You're legs wont go numb," I tell her.
She moves her hands away from her lap and she glances at me a bit bitterly. I assume this means it's okay for me to lie down, but I'm not too sure either.
"Hurry up," she says looking away.
I get a little nervous, but it's easier now that she's not watching me anymore. Slowly, I lay my head on her legs, my body resting on its right side. I close my eyes, but I remember something. Because I'm this close, as if the situation wasn't awkward enough, I feel that I should look at her while I speak. And worse yet, the only thing I have to say is, "Wake me up in twenty minutes."
"Uh…yeah…" She says blushing again. And it's obvious why. She looks so odd, holding her hands up next to her shoulders as if she didn't know what to do with them.
"What's wrong with you?" I say forcibly closing my eyes, trying to remain calm and not laugh although her behavior is entertaining me so much.
"…my hands…but you've been bugging me about how much you hate to have them close to your face."
"It doesn't matter," I say quietly. "You've been doing it so much, I think I'm getting used to it."
"Then," she says, "You said twenty minutes, right?" And before she's even finished speaking, I feel one of her hands resting on my neck and the other on my hair.
I want to clear my throat out so that I can speak correctly, but I'm concerned that she'll be able to tell. To keep myself from having to do so, I whisper, "…yeah…twenty."
I think it will be hard to fall asleep. I think that no matter how comfortable and warm I am, my pulse drumming in my ears will keep me awake. But as it turns out, I don't even realize when I lapse into rest. It seems like only a second passes before I hear Faye again.
She says, "Spike…wake up…my legs are going numb. Do you hear me? I'll push you off. Wait, first I'll pull your hair if you don't wake up."
I don't want to wake up. But she's serious, and soon, I feel her tugging at my hair.
"I'm awake," I tell her lethargically. "Stop doing that and I'll get up." She pulls my hair once more, a little rougher than before, and I sit up slowly. I'm still tired, so I can't even open my eyes correctly. "It's getting colder…" I say, for the first time feeling the chilly air trouble me. I cross my arms and ask, "Has Jet called you or anything?"
"Not really," Faye says stretching her legs. She pulls out her lip gloss from my coat pocket and passes it over her lips. I can smell it when she says, "Pittman got up…but she fell asleep again soon after."
I glance at Pittman to keep from staring at Faye's lips. Before, I didn't think there was a special reason for Pittman to be wearing such light clothes under such heavy coveralls and coat. But with the crazy weather changes from day to night, I finally understand. As I look at her, for the first time, I notice a small chain hanging on her neck. The necklace is made of delicate gold links but instead of a charm, it holds a rusted toothed washer. It lies between her collarbones, and fits perfectly in the space as if it is a piece of her. I can't help but wonder why she would have such a thing.
Faye says, "If you wanted to try something with her you could have…"
I decide not to deny anything and instead I turn back on the seat, cross my arms over the steering wheel, and rest my head. I keep my eyes closed, just to keep myself from staring at anything.
"Hey," Faye says quietly.
"What now?"
"Didn't you feel bad for sleeping with that woman even though she was married?"
I hadn't thought about it much before. But I answer, "Honestly…not at all."
Then, Faye asks, "Didn't she feel guilty afterwards?"
I don't understand the roots of her interest. Is she merely trying to define our lack of morals?...In the end, it doesn't worry me much so I say, "I don't think…I mean, she invited me again that same night."
"Did you go?"
"I couldn't," I say shortly. "We left for Mars that morning."
"Would you do it again?"
"Probably…" I answer. I hear her moving again, rewrapping herself in my coat. She's too quiet and so halfway jokingly, I say, "Why do you ask? Do you want to get back at Damian?" I open my eyes, but when she sees me doing this, she looks away.
Faye catches herself avoiding my glance and she faces me again. She says, "No, I was just curious…"
I say, "…but if you're curious, doesn't that mean that you're at least a bit interested."
She sighs. "…if you keep making me think about it, maybe I am…" She chuckles lightly, "And in that case, it's your fault for putting the idea in my head."
My fault…What's with that?
I decide to look away and let the topic change. But just as I'm about to do so, the wind blows through again. The lose strands of Faye's hair cross her features and a couple cling to her lips. The scent of her lip balm reaches me quickly. And suddenly, I become obsessed with figuring out what flavor she wears. I don't understand the guttural drive behind it. And I don't care. I honestly don't care what comes out of doing what I want anymore.
I stretch out my hand towards her face. She jolts. But I don't stop moving. My fingertips trace her skin and I move the stray strands of hair away from her face. Slowly, I place them behind her ear and she laughs nervously, shrinking her shoulders as I do this.
Faye says warily, "What are you—"
I let my hand slide from behind her ear to the back of her neck. I smirk and pull her in closely, teasingly saying, "So it's my fault?" And abruptly, I feel her skin becoming warm. I move closer to her, making it impossible for her to do anything but look at me.
"—that—" And then Faye freezes.
"Should I take responsibility then?" I ask, holding her with both hands and moving forward, touching her forehead with mine.
Faye tries for a second time, "—that is—" Then, she seems to panic and her hands shoot to my wrists.
"Should I?" I ask again.
But I don't bother to wait for an answer. Casually, as if it were something I did everyday, I let my lips touch hers briefly. She tightens her grip on my wrists and her eyes grow a little bigger. I do it again, letting my lips rest on hers for a second longer than before. Faye shuts her eyes and digs her nails into my skin. But it's not like she's pushing me away either. So I repeat the motion for a third time, and I allow it happen again and again until, eventually, we become stuck repeating a line of minuscule kisses.
The stiffness of Faye's body disappears and she loosens her hold of my wrists. And gradually, Faye begins to meet my mouth more often, extending the time we have before separating. Yet, even with that, it still feels as if we're much too far apart from each other.
I don't want her to know. I don't want to reveal to her how badly I want to feel the softness of her skin against mine. I try to control myself, to not be too hasty and become frantic. But I want to really kiss her. To taste and touch every single part of her body. I try and I try. But there's only so much I can do. So slowly, I slide one of my hands behind Faye's neck and I lean further into her body while kissing her deeply. Our position shifts so that Faye is reclining against the passenger door, her head resting over my right arm and my body encircling hers. The motion allows our distance to lessen. However, the changes in such a cramped space also causes or kiss to be broken.
I immediately notice her blushed face and the redness of her cheeks extending to her ears. She looks nervous and embarrassed, like she'd just been caught doing something she wasn't supposed to be seen enjoying.
I laugh quietly, resting my forehead against hers for a second time. At that instance, I smell the remains of her lip balm and I remember that I had completely forgotten about identifying it. The curiosity begins to build in me again and I say mischievously, "Not so bad, right?"
Faye doesn't answer. Instead she leans forward, slowly closing the gap between us again. The closer she gets, the clearer I can smell whatever it is that's on her lips. I focus myself on trying to figure out what it is so that I won't be concerned with the instant in which, by her free will, Faye's lips will touch mine.
The scent is appetizing. It's something like strawberry, but not so sweet. Maybe it's raspberry or blackberry. But, no. It's a certain something much more…provocative. And bittersweet.
She moves closer. And closer. And then. Faye's lips are cold. I nearly shiver as slowly, and uncertainly, I feel them over mine. She presses them softly. And then. Just a little at a time, she becomes more aggressive. I respond to her, feeling my chest tighten and a pressure building in my body.
Her hands glide forward across the length of my arms until they rest on the blades of my shoulders. I let my lips slide away from hers, kissing her cheek until I find the nape of her neck. Faye buries her face against my chest. I pull my coat away from her body. I kiss from her jaw to her shoulder and I let my caresses travel back. I rest my lips on the area between her jaw and her ear. Then, I kiss her earlobe. Faye forces her lips shut and shrinks away immediately, her hands clutching the shirt over my back.
"Don't do that," she says breathlessly.
I kiss her jaw again and whisper playfully, "Do you not like it?"
She doesn't answer.
I bite her ear. Faye reacts exactly the same as before. I laugh a little.
"I'm serious Spike," she says annoyed.
"Why?" I ask smiling, well aware of her response.
"…I don't want Pittman to wake up…," she whispers hiding her face on my shoulder.
I place my left hand on her chin, lifting her face towards mine. I kiss her lightly and say, "Doesn't that make it more interesting?"
Our lips get caught. My question is left unanswered. Faye's fingers burrow in my hair. And her lips gradually become warmer and warmer. Her mouth. Hot. And moist. And incredibly skilled.
The physical sounds of our mouths deafen me. The pleasure of our skin meeting leaves my body numb. I can't even hear or force myself to think. I forget that there is a Damian. I forget that there was a Julia. I forget about everything and anything. I …can't think at all. And just when I know I won't be able to suppress myself anymore, Faye breaks our kiss.
I force my eyes to remain shut for a second while I arrange my conscious back to some normalcy. Then, I open my eyes and see Faye's lips again. She continues to linger near me, even as we try to catch our breath. Slowly, our coordinated breathing change from deep inhales to subtle quiet breaths. She passes her soothing fingertips over my lips, removing the traces of the lip balm whose flavor I had completely forgotten about identifying.
Faye sighs slowly, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me closer to her body. "I was right," she says assuredly, "I'm not cold at all."
I rest my lips on her shoulder, "Should I warm you up more?"
Suddenly, Faye sucks viciously on my neck. I groan and face her quickly.
She looks at me forwardly and says, "You damn heater."
I pin her down, letting the weight of my body fall on her.
She gasps, "Spike, you're heavy."
I kiss her ear.
Faye squirms, "No, don't!" She tries to use her hands as shields. But before she gets the chance to do so successfully, I pull one of her hands away, leaving her left side exposed. "Don't you dare," she says seriously.
I smirk and kiss her ear again. Then, I whisper, "What was that? I didn't hear you." She tries to retort. But I bite her earlobe. She squirms again and exhales sharply. I laugh quietly, playing with her ear—kissing, biting, licking, sucking—doing whatever I can to make her twist her body and bite her lips.
"Spike!" Loudly. Breathless. And indulgent.
I grin with satisfaction and whisper in her ear, "Shhh…"
She's about to say something, but I catch her mouth mid syllable. I kiss her slowly, trying to extend the time in which I can enjoy her lips. She doesn't reject me and time becomes insignificant. I lose track of how long we continue to kiss. And I don't remember when Faye's body slid down so that she could rest her back on the seat. I forget when she first began to kiss my chest. Or when my fingers began to crawl under her shirt.
Everything feels so natural that it's impossible for me to define when it is I'm supposed to stop. If I kiss Faye, she kisses me back. If I shift a little, she will do the same so that our bodies won't have to be separated. If I caress her body, she will also touch mine.
Our movements become so coordinated that if feels that they're impossible to be out of sync. But just as things begin to appear unstoppable, a communicator rings. It upsets the quietness of the dessert. And it completely makes whatever connection Faye and I had to break.
"Fuck," I curse quietly, the tip of my fingers just barely digging under the wire of her bra.
Faye looks away from me to the direction of the ringing. "Answer."
I force my hand to leave her skin and extend towards the communicator. I just barely catch a glance of the screen. I immediately stop. Just seeing his name makes me bitter.
"Here," I say handing her the communicator, "It's your boyfriend."
She pushes me away quickly and forcefully.
I don't try to hide my displeasure, and somehow I feel really upset. "You don't have to do that," I say soberly.
I take her hands away from my chest, moving myself away from her. Faye stares at me confused, obviously unsure of what it is she's doing. I extend the communicator towards her again. She watches it ring in my hand but doesn't move.
"Take it. Or what? Should I answer for you?"
"Don't," Faye finally says, clumsily taking the communicator away.
I sit on my side of the seat, again reclining against the wheel of the jeep. The communicator rings one more time. But then Faye denies the call. She holds the communicator tightly over her lap and glances at me. She sits there, right next to me, with a tension around her that manages to make me feel uncomfortable. I want to say or do something that will make things normal again, but I can't manage to think of anything.
The wind blows roughly and I feel my lips drying out. After the gust passes, my lips desperately crave the moisture of Faye's mouth again. But I know that it won't happen anymore, and I'm left with having to lick the traces of her touch over my lips. As I do, I catch a hint of that flavor I have been unable to make out.
I clear my throat silently and ask, "So, what was that on your lips anyway?"
"Pomegranate," she says slowly.
"…That makes more sense," I say. "I thought it was some sort of berry."
"No," she says shaking her head a bit, "it's pomegranate." Then, she adds hastily, "But what you said earlier reminds me of something. I was thinking about getting Ed a cake for her birthday. Do you think she'd like something like strawberry shortcake?"
Though I already know the answer, I can't get it off the tip of my tongue. Just as I figure out one of the words, I loose it in the remnants of Faye's actions. While pretending to think, I dig through my pockets and find my cigarettes. I light a smoke quickly and try to cover the taste of Faye's mouth with nicotine. Otherwise, I don't think I will be able to think about anything else.
Finally, I'm able to get the words out, "Probably. But I'm sure she'll be fine with it so long as it has some amount of sugar."
Gradually, the awkward silence and tension disappears. For the rest of our time waiting for Jet, we continue talking to each other as if nothing had happened. And it seems like our time waiting ends much sooner than expected.
As we spot the lights of the jeep, Faye moves back to the other side of the seat. We wait a few more seconds and Jet finally arrives in a green jeep. As he gets nearer, he dims the lights and then turns off the engine. I spot Ed sitting strapped to the passengers seat and on the backseat there's a woman wrapped in blankets.
Jet steps out of the jeep and goes to the back. I hear the sloshing of liquid and I step out of my spot to uncap the fuel tank. Jet walks next to me with a container of fuel. He says, "How did it go?"
The way he asks, I'm unsure of what exactly he's referring to. Although I'm doubtful, I say shortly, "Fine."
After Jet is finished, we go back to our respective places and start the engines of the vehicles. Because Ed is in charge of the coordinates, I follow Jet back to the main road from which we diverted. The night is quiet and the time it takes for us to reach the Bebop feels passive compared to the day's events.
By the time we finally arrive, it's too late and we are forced to shelter both Pittman and Anna. The next morning Jet and I go return the vehicles. By the afternoon, we are on our way to the nearest police department. However, it isn't until five that we are able to turn in both of the girls.
I can't get rid of my foul mood. And even finally getting to turn Pittman in doesn't make me feel much better. Of course, it doesn't help that Pittman is no longer wearing duct tape over her mouth.
She says, "Last night, I witnessed something interesting, didn't I?"
It surprises me. But I'm able to remain calm and respond, "Something interesting? I thought it was rather uneventful."
"Liar," she says resentfully. "You and her. You're both liars. The way you behave towards each other…it's just a big lie."
I don't have a particular reason to care for what she thinks. But somehow, I feel obligated to defend myself. I say, "But you're the same aren't you?"
"How dare you!" She shouts, trying to jerk herself away from me.
I pull her arms down and force her to stay still. She struggles a little longer but stops, noticing she's not progressing at all. I speak quietly, to ensure she's the only one that can hear me. "You say you have a fear of men, but yet you wear that rusted thing around your neck. I couldn't find a reason for a girl to wear such an ugly thing, but it's because someone you love with gave it to you, right?"
"No it's not."
"A rusted washer on a gold necklace…that's just odd…if you really didn't care about it, wouldn't you wear it with something like a cord. But no, it's a toothed washer on a gold chain…I know. Your brother was a mechanic, right? When he gave that to you, he said something like, doesn't this look just like a flower?"
I feel her body becoming stiff and I feel the blood pulsating quickly underneath the veins of her arms. She lowers her head and I hear her swallow. I smirk, knowing that I'm right.
I continue, "And since he was your brother, you couldn't tell him you loved him. So you just pretended to hate men so that he wouldn't think it was odd that you didn't date any guy. But one day he finally left with a woman who was beautiful…someone he actually gave real flowers too. Right? Because, the way you hurt your victims, disfiguring them like that, isn't it because you're jealous of them? You're brother never even considered you a woman. That's why you're so obsessed with being seen as one. When he left, he must have found someone curvy and feminine. You said you wanted Faye, but it's really that you wanted to have her body…you're just jealous. What you do is not unique. Except, you're smart enough to make your attacks look like some man's disgusting sexual fetish."
She doesn't say or do anything, as if she was well aware of what her actions revealed. We walk closer to the turn-in point and she remains silent. I see the officer at the counter waving me forward. But before we're close enough for anyone to hear, Pittman finally says, "But you didn't figure that out until now."
I'm able to answer quickly, "Haven't you heard? Better late than never." Then, I turn to the officer and give him Pittman's bounty ID number.
The officer inputs the information on the computer. As I see the screen reflected on the man's glasses, I also see his eyebrows jump in confusion. He rubs the bridge of his nose and says, "Are you trying to pull my leg, son? I'm at least twenty years ahead of you for that. It says here Pittman's a man."
I sigh in annoyance and restrain Pittman's new attack before speaking. "Listen, she really is Pittman. I'm tired of dealing with her, so, just run whatever check you need to so I can get my money and leave."
Pittman says innocently, "You want to get rid of me? But I'm growing quite fond of you."
The officer rolls his eyes at Pittman. He says to me, "Well, there were some partial prints lifted off from the scenes, but they didn't find a match yet. I guess we could run a check. But…" He clicks on a few things and his eyebrows jump a little higher still. "What's this? They found Anna McCaskey."
"Yeah, my partner brought her to the Missing Persons Department a while ago."
"So that was you too…Well…the information's just been updated…still…I wouldn't have believed it. Sam Pittman's a woman."
I want to make Pittman uncomfortable so I say, "And a pretty one, right? It seems like a waste to have to turn her in."
The officer laughs, "But all the pretty ones are like that."
I snicker, watching Pittman's face become flushed in both discomfort and anger.
The officer says, "We'll need to take prints anyway and confirm her identity. For now, we'll give you a voucher and if the prints match, you'll be able to cash it in."
He asks for my ID and begins the transaction. Then, he calls someone and, in a matter of seconds, a second officer comes. As she's about to put handcuffs over Pittman's hands, she notices the worn duct tape wrapping. She stares at me confused, but I dismiss her with, "Be careful, she's good with locks."
The first officer hands me the voucher and I don't bother watching Pittman being dragged to the back of the offices. She yells after me, "Timing is everything!"
But I continue walking. Did she expect to shock me? Does she think I don't know this? Hearing this from her, it's kind of insulting.
I open the main doors of the building and step outside into the mild-weathered evening. I instinctively yawn. Weather like this always makes me sleepy.
I begin making my way to the Missing Persons Department, pushing away Pittman's words. Then, I hear my name being called. I lift my eyes from the concrete sidewalk and scan the crowd before me. Suddenly, my arm is yanked backwards and I feel a cool thumb against my palm.
I turn around quickly. "What's that for? I was already waiting."
But Faye takes a hold of my wrist with her other hand, pulling my arm down to maintain her balance. She takes a deep breath and says, "Already waiting? How many times do you think I called after you? I even had to run to catch up…Didn't you see me waiting for you?"
"I didn't…Besides, I told you I'd go find you after I got done."
"Don't be like that," she says uninterestedly, "I was done first so this makes more sense." She takes one more deep breath and releases my hand. Although it should feel like I'm being relieved of extra weight, it feels more uncomfortable.
She stands besides me and we begin making our way back to the Bebop. I say, "Before you even ask, they didn't give us the cash yet. Because of the issues with Pittman's gender, we only got a voucher."
Faye grunts in annoyance. We try to talk to each other, but it seems like we've suddenly run out of things to say. So, we walk quietly, through a comfortable silence amidst the busy street.
I don't know whether it's the crowded sidewalk pushing us together or whether Faye's getting cold again. But, from time to time, I can feel her walking closer to me. I don't try to move away. I don't try to move closer. Sometimes, our arms and hands bump against each other. But Faye doesn't seem to notice.
I glance at her. She looks at me for a second and then turns back to the street. And unexpectedly, I realize that I have zero control over my feelings. If I could only manage to make myself ignore her, then I wouldn't be locked to the outcome of her choices. As we are, I will never be any closer to her than what she'll allow for me to be. I'm stuck in the middle ground that results in nothing.
* * * Ch. 8 End, Continued on Ch. 9 * * *
About this chapter: A very hard chapter to write. How should I say this…I've always written the intimate interaction between Spike and Faye to be something relatively serious. For this, I really wanted to write something different, so I'm left with a relative casual and awkward situation. I think it works out for the plot, but I curse the weeks I spent trying to make it work.
Next one is chapter 9, please be patient for the update! And thanks to those who have been supporting the story so far!
Until then!