Chapter 4: Stubborn Ice Queens and Hiding Bodies

They don't speak for several days after the ridiculous fire incident. Friday comes, Homura attends her stupid college class that she really doesn't like, then the weekend's upon her and she's thankfully not working on those two days. She goes about her business like usual: tidying up the house, buying groceries, doing her homework, all that fun stuff. It's enough time for her sparking fury to simmer down about the whole thing, but she's still fairly bitter about it all, and most certainly not ready to dish out any sort of forgiveness. She'd been banned from the concession stand for an indefinite time period, her boss was incredibly pissed off, and somehow she's supposed to share the blame for being a terrible teacher or something. She's thankful he's so desperate for work, or else she and Kyouko may have both been fired on the spot over the whole stupid thing. But, well, at least it got her out of having to endure that awful concession stand. When he had delivered his verdict, she'd been strangely torn between the temptation to internally beg for mercy or to get on her knees and scream, "Oh, thank god!"

Unfortunately, Monday comes. The dreaded Monday. Homura can understand why everyone hates it with such a burning passion. It'd been somewhat okay before, but with her having college scheduled on that day for this current semester, it'd become even worse. What had she been thinking? Apparently, according to her two months ago, a seven 'o clock class on the same day as a long theatre shift was a perfectly acceptable arrangement. She hardly sleeps the night before the dreaded doomsday, opting instead to spend her sleeping hours typing up an essay she'd been neglecting. Indeed, it's a terrible arrangement.

Homura has to rush to catch the train to the college that awful morning, having accidently passed out on the floor right after finishing her assignment and ended up waking up rather late. Much to her chagrin, she's stuck wearing her work uniform to class due to having work right after, and of course once she finally gets to the irritating institution of higher learning, those stupid kids in the back of class continue to snicker about her apparently "lame, dorky outfit" like usual. She doesn't understand how it's funny, nor will she even begin to comprehend how such a running joke doesn't get old, but she honestly couldn't care less. She turns in her essay and takes notes, and that's all that really matters. At least, that's what she's tells herself — her eye admittedly twitches when one of those obnoxious boys throws a wad of paper at her head, but she just grits her teeth, squares her shoulders, and soldiers on like she's always done. Even though she kind of wants to wring their necks. But she has to focus. Right. The professor's going on about…. something about something. Damn it. She swears they do this to her on purpose just for this effect. What bastards.

Much to her relief — and dread, actually — class finally lets out. Last semester she might have been a bit more enthused on such an occasion, but with work right after she can't muster up anything more than a sigh as she shoves her books in her bag. Normally she's a bit more careful, but today she's honestly just really, really, done and doesn't care that her notes are getting all smashed up under the textbook. Well, okay, goddamnit, it's bothering her now that she's actually thinking about it, and she has to crouch down next to her desk to rectify the arrangement and save those stupid notes she doesn't care about all that much from a wrinkly doom. Wrinkled papers just really bother her for some reason.

As Homura pulls out her now bent notebook — oh, the sight's just awful to her eyes — she feels several more wadded paper balls whack her in the skull, harder than they usually did. She twists her head to send a death glare in the direction of the lanky, smelly idiots that had thrown the projectiles, but they just grant unto her a barking sort of laugh — a harsh sound that grates upon her ears and really pisses her off for some reason — and hoist their bags over their shoulders as they trot out of the classroom with an obnoxiously pretentious, wide-legged gait. A low growl bubbles up her throat as she watches them leave, and she makes sure to bend her notebook back to a straight angle before shoving it in her bag and following their leave out the door. She tries not to think about the irritating white crease now marring the front of her admittedly really cheap, flimsy journal. How troublesome.

Homura boards the train once more, and sets off on foot for the theatre the rest of the way, keeping an eye on her watch so she doesn't drag her feet too much. It's rather hard not to, actually, for more reasons than one. A deploring sigh passes her chapped lips when the worn, unimpressive brick of the theatre building comes into view. She licks her lips — damn she should have brought chapstick or something. Blinking rapidly several times, she shakes her head at that thought. God, she's way too scatterbrained today for her liking. If she doesn't get some caffeine in her soon, she's probably going to be found draped across the theatre seats passed out again like that one time, and she might not be lucky enough to have Madoka be the one to find her again either. She sighs at the memory. Finals week. Those had been dark times indeed.

Suddenly, her movements are halted when her forehead knocks against a cold glass surface. Startled out of her reverie, Homura stumbles back a moment before grabbing onto the door handle to balance herself. She shakes her head, breathing a sigh of relief for her snail-pace walking, or she might have ended up on the floor again, and that would've been embarrassing. A moment later she hears laughter bubbling up from beyond the glassy panels. Scratch that, it's already embarrassing. Ugh.

Homura angrily wrenches the door open and stomps inside, her countenance twisted into a grumpy frown that only intensifies when she catches sight of Sayaka grinning at her with the most insufferably cheeky visage upon her features. The blue-haired girl stands behind the concession stand counter, propping her head up on her hands as she leans against it. Homura sighs heavily as she stops right in front of the counter, already guessing that she's going to make some sort of stupid quip—

"Those glass doors are pretty tricky, aren't they? Just so hard to see and all." — and there it is.

"Just shut up and hit me up with a soda," Homura gripes moodily in reply, folding her arms over her chest as she does so. Sayaka snickers and pushes herself off the counter.

"Sure thing." She pops open the refrigerator and grabs a Pepsi, then proceeds to spin around and toss it over to Homura, who deftly catches it with surprisingly good reflexes. "Honestly, you really look like you could use it."

"I feel dead inside," Homura grumbles in reply, pulling the tab back with an audible sizzle and automatically bringing the cool metal against her parched lips as she leans against the counter. Sayaka returns to rest her weight on the counter right across from Homura, nodding her head in understanding.

"Yea, normally I would be too at this time but I drank… more coffee than I honestly should have this morning so I'll probably be good to go for a while," Sayaka replies exuberantly with a lively grin.

"In other words, I can expect to find you taking a nap on the boxes in the storage room again later in the day?" Homura remarks blandly, taking a greedy swig of her soda right after the words leave her mouth. The other girl raises an eyebrow at her.

"You know, didn't Madoka find you passed out on the theatre seats last seme—"

"Okay, we don't need to talk about that," Homura quickly cuts her off, a little flustered at the memory. It most certainly hadn't been one of her best moments, and she isn't keen on being reminded of it. Sayaka laughs heartily at her response, which only serves to increase her own embarrassment. She jumps to rectify the situation by a swift change in subject.

"Anyways, speaking of Madoka, isn't she supposed to be working the stand with you at this time of day?" Homura asks, eyes darting around for a few seconds before managing to settle on Sayaka's face. The taller girl just shrugs in reply, standing up straighter as she does so.

"Yea, she was a little earlier, but then she went off with Kyouko when she came in. I think I can sort of guess what they might be talking about," Sayaka answers, frowning. She looks to the side a moment later, and Homura follows her gaze to rest on the two figures in question standing a good way's down one of the halls adjoining the lobby room. Kyouko's leaning against the wall with her shoulders hunched, looking fairly troubled, while Madoka stands directly in front of her with her hands clasped behind her back and a reassuring smile gracing her lips as she tells Kyouko something Homura can't hear. The sight immediately causes a grimace to distort Homura's features, and she turns her face away from the sight with a disgruntled snort, swallowing the Pepsi she'd had in her mouth quickly. Sayaka's eyebrows curl up in sympathy and she automatically puts her hand on one of Homura's bony shoulders, causing the girl to immediately stiffen.

"Look, Homura—" she starts, but Homura quickly shrugs her hand off and pulls away from her grasp, refusing to look at her.

"I don't need your advice," Homura growls, cutting her off, and she takes one last giant swig of the Pepsi before crushing the can in her hand and tossing it into a nearby trashcan, landing a perfect shot. Sayaka stands up straight and looks a little startled at the sudden burst of emotion, but she says nothing as Homura storms away from the stand, shoulders coiled up like a snake.

The black-haired girl can't resist stealing a glance back when she's at the threshold of one of the adjoining hallways, however, and she sees Kyouko throw her arms up in the air in frustration and say something angrily to Madoka, who flinches back at the outburst. Ugh, don't tell me she's fucking everything up again, Homura thinks right as the fiery redhead hurriedly takes her leave into one of the auditoriums, snatching up a broom leaning against the door in one fluid motion along the way. The heavy door slams shut with a thunk! loud enough for even Homura to hear it. Madoka stands there staring at the steel construct for a moment like she's not really sure what to think of whatever the hell just happened, before her shoulders droop and she begins heading back to the concession stand.

Something about the exchange has Homura gritting her teeth and her hands wrapping into tight fists at her sides — just who does Kyouko think she is, pushing Madoka around like that? She looks over at Sayaka, whose attention is also similarly focused on Madoka's returning figure. Her gaze is hot and fierce, and she's gripping the counter hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

"Are you okay? What did that bitch say to you?" Sayaka quickly asks as soon as Madoka re-enters the lobby. By this point, Homura's long since abandoned her retreat and now stands as a mere spectator to the spectacle, her hand gripping the corner of the hall's wall as she looks behind her. Madoka shakes her head hurriedly when she reaches the concession stand counter, placing her delicate hands gently on Sayaka's shoulders.

"I'm fine," the diminutive girl reassures her, smiling to dissuade the concerned frown tugging at the corners of Sayaka's lips. "Really, I am," she adds when Sayaka's face hardly seems to change.

"But—"

"I just pushed her buttons on accident, I think…? She didn't really mean anything by it, so I'm not hurt or anything," Madoka cuts in before Sayaka can finish her sentence. Her hands slide down the blue-haired girl's arms to gently pry her fingers off the counter, her touch lingering a second longer than necessary. "It's okay, really."

"Alright, alright," Sayaka sighs in defeat, raising her hands in surrender. "But I swear, next time she does that, she's going to pay, you hear me?"

"Oh, don't do that, Sayaka-chan!" Madoka pouts. "I think she's nice! I mean, sure, she kind of flies off her ladle a lot… er, is that how you say it? But I don't think she's a bad person or anything."

"Okay, but consider this: you're a terrible judge of character, Madoka."

"W-What? No, I'm not! You're the one who's always— oh, hey Homura-chan!" Madoka cuts herself off and blinks rapidly a few times when she finally takes notice of Homura standing at the edge of the hall. "S-Sorry, I didn't see you there! What's up?" she adds nervously, looking embarrassed that the black-haired girl had seen her bickering with Sayaka. Not that Homura really cares; she's seen them disagree on things before, after all. But she's really not in the mood for any more conversation today, and hearing talk of Kyouko of all people isn't helping her mood at all.

"Nothing. I was just taking my leave," she replies brusquely to Madoka's inquiry, and turns away before the other girl can say anything in return, hurrying down the hall at a brisk, snappy pace so she won't be engaged any further.

"Uh, well, okay then, Homura-chan…" she hears Madoka reply awkwardly.

"What were you about to say to me, Madoka?" Sayaka huffs immediately after.

"W-What? Uh, nothing!" Homura can practically hear the jump in her voice. "Let's just get back to work."

"Jeez, that'd be a great idea if we ever had any goddamn custo…" Sayaka's voice fades out and Homura doesn't catch the rest of her sentence as she rounds the corner of the hall on her way to the broom closet, but she really doesn't care much for their conversation anyhow.

Moments later, Homura reaches her destination — miraculously not with her skull. Maybe today would be a halfway decent day if that's happening. It would be indicative that she isn't deliriously sleep-deprived quite yet. Pepsi could do wonders. Though, another can or two might've helped a lot. Oh well. It'll have to do, she thinks as she pries the closet open and drags out a trashcan and other cleaning supplies. She's more of a coffee and tea person anyways. Swinging the broom atop her shoulder, she turns around to start her day of usher duty. At least it isn't the concession stand.

The day drags on fairly dully with Homura spending most of it cleaning up people's disgusting messes and the likes. Sayaka and Madoka continue to man the nefarious food stand, actually getting some sort of business when the afternoon sun starts to pour into the worn glass doors of the theatre entrance, and Kyouko…. well, Homura's not sure what the redhead's been up to; she most certainly hasn't seen her crossing the lobby or the halls throughout the day. Which is a bit odd, considering the rather minuscule size of the theatre, but Homura wouldn't be surprised if it's an intentional effort on the other girl's part. She didn't really want to see her either anyways.

When the clock's hands are hovering around four o'clock in the afternoon, Homura drags her trashcan into Auditorium Three — Sayaka had suggested naming the auditoriums something a little more creative than numbers, but everyone else thought it was a stupid idea, herself included. She doesn't really care what it's called, honestly, but she'd feel a bit ridiculous saying some sort of obnoxiously snazzy name, the likes of which Sayaka would definitely come up with. But she's getting a little off topic. Not that there's much of a topic to begin with, considering how boring cleaning usually ends up being. Except for when she'd done it with Kyouko, that hadn't been so bori— Homura immediately shakes her head, roughly dispelling that train of thought. Even if the girl does make cleaning interesting, she still makes popcorn machines explode badly enough to make any pyromaniac proud. What a terrifying force to be reckoned with.

There's a sudden BOOM! right as that thought crosses her mind, and she actually jumps in the air a little in fright, hair standing up on the back of her neck as she assumes the worst, but a single glance up tells her that it's just the movie playing on screen, and she automatically relaxes. Shifting her eyes warily, she comes to the conclusion that none of the auditorium's denizens had noticed her little spaz attack, much to her relief. Sighing, Homura makes her way up the aisle to the main chamber of the room, wherein she proceeds to drag her cleaning supplies up to the back to wait out the end of the movie. She's a little early this time, but there's really not much left to clean at this point in the day after her meticulous efforts had been focused on such a task for the entirety of her shift thus far.

Homura leans against the back wall, crossing her arms over her chest as she passively watches the movie play on screen. Explosions, gun slinging cowboys — oh, it's some sort of typical western. Definitely not her sort of thing. She yawns a few minutes into the senseless action, and vaguely recalls that she's supposed to check for tickets and cameras whenever she scopes in like this, but none of the employees ever bother going that far, including herself. It's not like they're some sort of hit theatre anyhow, and she honestly couldn't care less. At the thought though, her eyes lazily dart across the rows to find no glowing screens to speak of anyways. Perhaps everyone else finds the motion picture just as unremarkable as her.

Her assessment proves to be true some fifteen minutes later, much to what would soon be her disdain. She's hoisting her broom over her shoulder in preparation for her grand garbage annihilation mission as everyone files out of the auditorium when one of them breaks off from the crowd to approach her. It's fairly unusual for anyone to pay her much mind in this type of setting, so the man's approach doesn't fail to catch her full attention. She turns to regard him with a wary look as he waddles up the aisle with a heavy, lumbering gait, his torn, ragged boots clunking on the rug like the steps of some sort of dinosaur — which isn't a very reassuring comparison. His appearance reminds Homura of some kind of fat little toad. He's oddly sweaty, reeks like he hasn't taken a shower in a week — the fact that she can clearly smell it all the way from her makes her feel sorry for whoever sat near him — and his stained clothes hardly seem to fit him, exposing vast rolls of skin that Homura finds a little unnerving. His buggy, beady eyes stay intensely trained on her the whole time, and Homura shifts uncomfortably as he draws near. She's getting some pretty bad vibes already, and it isn't because of his long greasy hair — god, does he know what shampoo is?

"Excuse me ma'am," the man intones when he's about five feet away from her. His voice is gruff and congested like some old bear with the flu, with a notable drunken slur to it that doesn't escape Homura's notice. Great, a drunk, she thinks as she adjusts her grip on the broom hoisted on her shoulder, arm tense like she's ready to use it.

"Yes? Do you need something?" she replies politely, voice strained from the effort it takes not to grimace when she gets a strong whiff of liquor from his breath.

"Yeshhma'am. This a'movie right here fucking ss-ssucked! D'ya think a pretty lil' lady ss-suuch as yerself might could get me a refund? 'Tis only fair fer showing that fuckin' bullshit on s-ssscreen," he slurs out thickly, swaying slightly in place like he's about to tip over. His eyes bulge out of his face grotesquely as he speaks, spittle flying from his thick red lips and barely missing Homura's own. Her eye twitches as she leans to the side slightly to dodge a stray air-borne glob of DNA, but she otherwise manages to maintain a neutral expression somehow. Asides from her eyes darkening, of course. She can't really help a bit of malice slipping through. Her hand tightens around the wooden handle of the broom. Don't beat the customers upside the head with a broom, Homura. You don't want to get fired, a voice in her head warns. She sighs quietly.

"I'm sorry, sir, but our establishment offers no refunds for movies. We can't help that your enjoyment of our entertainment was more than lackluster," she replies smoothly, voice becoming increasingly chilly. Sure, judging from the last fifteen minutes, the movie is pretty bad admittedly, but she doesn't think it worth making a fuss over by any means.

"Ye call that ss-shit entertainment?" he barks out, more spittle flying from his lips. His burly, beak-like nose scrunches up in anger, and Homura takes an involuntary step back. His eyes dart down to her feet and then rake back up her body to her face, and Homura automatically regrets the move.

"Well, I'm just using the technical definition for that brand of media—"

"I'll tell ye what, lil' lady, why don't I persuade ya otherwise?" he cuts her off with a leer, voice deepening in a grossly husky way as he steps closer, effectively trapping her against the wall. Homura's entire passive look automatically drops into a snarl the moment the words (and the spit) leave his lips, and she foregoes all thoughts of civility and not-getting-fired-for-murdering-the-customers as she lifts the broom threateningly.

"Okay, no. You don't get to do that," she growls firmly as she jerks her arms back in preparation to crack the broom across the man's thick ugly skull.

Just as she's about to deliver doom to this man's doorstep, however, a familiar pair of burly, strong hands accompanied by similarly strong arms have the bravery to wrap around the man's large middle and yank him backwards. He yelps in shock as his feet leave the ground, and the instigator of his demise chucks him backwards, sending him rolling down the aisle like a wayward tire on a bumpy road. He crashes into a wall soon after though, where he lays still, presumably unconscious. Homura blinks in shock a few times at the sudden development, lowering her arms from their battle position as her eyes rest on her 'savior'. Kyouko stands before her, shirt looking a little tousled from her admittedly rather impressive display of true weightlifting. There's a visible look of concern on her face as the redhead steps closer, assessing her appearance with worry.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kyouko asks. "I didn't come too late, did I?"

Homura sighs heavily upon the sight of her former work partner, and she jabs the butt of her broom into her chest to push her a few steps backwards.

"I'm fine," she huffs, lowering her would-be weapon to the floor after the action is complete. "Don't think that just because you 'saved' me I'll forgive you. I didn't even need your help to begin with."

"What? That's not even why I did it, you dumbass. And how was I supposed to know that?" Kyouko replies indignantly, obviously offended. She balls her hands up into fists for a moment before roughly shoving them into her pockets. Homura merely rolls her eyes, not really caring if the redhead's offended or not.

"Well, you've done it now, so I guess your job is done here, right? Why are you even here?" she grumbles, leaning against the wall and refusing to look the redhead in the eye lest she become too angry about the last time they'd interacted.

"I was just going to clean up this auditorium. I didn't expect you to be here," the taller girl replies evenly, still looking more than a little miffed. Homura raises her eyebrows at that, and finally looks at her — or more accurately, looks behind her — only to find no cleaning supplies to speak of. Kyouko's hands are bare of any brooms or dustpans, and the only trashcan in the area is the one she'd dragged in herself. Something about that fact really irks her.

"Really now?" she hisses, deciding to call her out on it. "Then where's your usher duty supplies?" Kyouko's eyes widen at her accusing tone, and she looks behind her only to confirm that yes, she hadn't even bothered to bring any.

"I…" she trails off, seemingly at a loss for words.

"You're a terrible liar," Homura sighs, glaring at her. "What do you want?"

Kyouko stares at her for a few long moments, looking both like she's trying to gather her thoughts while also being at a loss for words. A minute ticks uncomfortably by, and Homura frowns, feeling awkward at the sudden lapse in conversation. She's about to repeat her question when Kyouko finally says something.

"Look…" she starts, crossing her arms in a way that makes her seem slightly vulnerable as she looks off to the side. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry about last time, okay? I just kind of chickened out about saying so just now because you still seem pretty pissed off, and that's not exactly encouraging." She gives a little awkward chuckle at the end there, but it seems forced. Homura raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything in case the redhead wants to continue. Kyouko seems to be struggling with her words, like as if apologies are difficult for her. There's another brief lapse in speech before Kyouko seems to catch onto her train of thought again.

"But, uh…. anyways," she finally continues, "I, well, I agree that I was a fucking idiot, as you so eloquently put it last time. I probably should've mentioned I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't want to seem stupid or anything. But I guess I ended up making myself look even more stupid. Which isn't what I was going for, trust me." She cracks a small smile at that, finally looking Homura in the eye, but it drops quickly when she sees Homura's cold, neutral expression still firmly fixed in place. The redhead reaches a hand behind her head to awkwardly rub her neck, blinking a few times as she looks away.

"So… yea. I'm sorry about that whole thing. And sorry for kind of freezing up there and kind of making you do all the work…"

"What was that even about, anyways?" Homura cuts in, raising an eyebrow. She'd been wondering about the bizarre reaction for a while. Kyouko jumps a little when Homura suddenly speaks, dropping her arm back to her side in surprise and maybe a little fear. It's brief, though, since she regains her momentum a moment later.

"I… have bad experiences with fire, so to speak," she responds vaguely. But then she shakes her head. "But that's not really the point I'm trying to make. Just, okay. I know I screwed up, but I promise I'll actually listen to you next time. If you'll let there be a next time," she finishes. Surprisingly enough, her face is flushed slightly in embarrassment and maybe even a bit of shame. Kyouko's hands clasp behind her back, and she looks to the floor. Homura actually finds herself feeling a little sorry for her. But not sorry enough. It's her turn to speak, and she knows her next words are going to hurt, but it's for the best.

"Kyouko," she begins, catching the redhead's attention. Kyouko's head lifts up to look at her, and now Homura's the one finding it a bit difficult to look her straight in the eye. "Okay, you're pretty weird, and I think you're kind of funny, but the fact still stands that you almost cost me my job. And I really need this job, if you didn't know. If I didn't, there'd be no way in hell I'd be working here. And we don't exactly get along all that great anyhow. I personally think it would be better if we didn't work together anymore. You should direct your questions to Madoka, or Sayaka — er, actually, maybe not Sayaka; no offense but she doesn't exactly seem to like you all that much, so maybe just Madoka. I'm sure you'd get along a lot better with her than you would with me."

Homura taps the fingers of her hand not holding the broom against her thigh as she speaks, knowing that what she's saying isn't exactly nice, but she tells herself again it's for the best. She doesn't want to be held responsible for the crazy enigma standing in front of her in any way, especially not with her job on the line. The boss may be incredibly short-handed, and he may value her as an employee already, but she's sure if she pisses him off enough he might just find it better if she isn't around anymore, and then where would she work?

"Oh…." Kyouko mutters after a brief silence, snapping Homura out of her thoughts and her focus back to her. The redhead tries to maintain a neutral expression, but a dejected look still slips past the cracks in her features. Homura can feel the guilt setting in.

"Hey, it's not that I hate you or anything…" she adds uselessly in an attempt to dissuade that crestfallen expression, but her words only seem to add insult to injury considering the way the other girl winces when they reach her ears. Kyouko tries to cover it up though by shaking her head, eyebrows scrunching together as she forces a smile on her face.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I understand. I guess I'll catch you around then," she replies, but there's an unmistakable hint of heaviness to her voice. Before Homura can say anything though, Kyouko turns around and takes her leave, making her way down the aisle with a sag to her broad shoulders. It's when she's halfway down that Homura's eyes catch sight of the downed man a ways down the aisle.

"Wait! What are we going to do about him?" she calls after the other girl, painfully aware of how awkwardly out of place her inquiry is after what they'd just been talking about. Kyouko pauses, and looks down at the greasy creep laying passed out on the floor with a surprised look on her face, like as if she'd completely forgotten about him.

"Oh, uh. I guess I'll just throw him outside or something," Kyouko replies lamely, looking just about as awkward as her.

"Won't that raise questions?" Homura asks, raising an eyebrow. Kyouko shrugs.

"Er, there's a side exit on this hall, isn't there? I'll just toss him in the alley. Don't worry, I've done this before."

"Uh, what?" Homura blinks. Did she just say what she thinks she just said? Kyouko jumps, confirming that yes, she had just said what she thinks she just said.

"Nothing! We're not working together anymore anyways," she replies, a hint of bitterness poisoning her tone. "So don't worry about it." Kyouko hoists the man up over her shoulder, and Homura's amazed she can even lift the bowling ball of a creature. The redhead makes her exit, and Homura watches her retreating back with mixed feelings until Kyouko turns the corner into the little hall leading to the door, her figure disappearing altogether save for those heavy footsteps. There's the creak of the door being cracked open, and the slam of it being shut reverberates throughout the large room.

Homura's alone now.

She sighs heavily, leaning against the wall and letting the broom clatter to the floor. The sound grates upon her ears. She tilts her head back against the wall to look up at the ceiling, wondering if she made the right choice. After Kyouko's sincere apology, she'd be lying if she says she's still angry. But it doesn't change the fact the insufferable girl's still a complete blockhead. It's weird — a few days ago she'd have jumped at the chance to jump ship from the other girl's very rocky boat of questionable sanity. But now… she's not so sure. Homura shakes her head. Ugh, what is she even thinking? Despite Kyouko's words, the other girl still strikes her as a stubborn person, and she just has a feeling tangling with her would only cause her a heap of trouble. And Homura would think she'd rather avoid heaps of trouble. Right?

Her thoughts are interrupted when she hears a commotion out in the hall. She stands up a little straighter at the sound of loud voices.

"Kyouko? What the hell are you doing with a body?"

"Look, Blueberry, it's not what it looks like—"

"My name is Sayaka, you idiot!"

"Okay, Sayaka, just let me through—"

"God, I knew you were trouble. Put that man down this instant!"

"You're not the boss of me! And you don't even know the situation!"

Homura hears the sound of heavy footsteps thudding down the hall at a rapid pace.

"What the—? Hey! Kyouko! Get back here!"

"Never! Just let me dump this guy outside and I swear I'll explain—"

"You will do no such thing!" Sayaka's voice is quickly followed by the speedy thrum of what Homura presumes to be her footsteps, and their voices fade until Homura can't hear them anymore. There's a part of her that's amused by the exchange, but she's still weighed down with the thoughts of earlier. Sighing, she bends down to pick up her broom. She's got an entire auditorium to clean, and she isn't exactly sure when the next showing is.

It's when she's already halfway through the first row, though, that it strikes her that this is the same auditorium she'd cleaned up with Kyouko.

Homura sighs again.

A/N: Huzzah, another chapter! Sorry for the wait. But hey, it's longer than usual, if that makes up for it! ^^ I feel like I just wrote a break-up scene, and they aren't even friends yet! Somebody needs to bring our precious babies back together! Oh right, that person would be me. It was angrier and crueler in my head, but I guess Homura's really just a softie beneath all that ice. I'm thinking of introducing Kyouko's POV sometime around somehow, what do you guys think of that? So far we've only gotten what Homura sees, and there's plenty of things hiding on Kyouko's side of the equation I'd imagine. *cough* and I might've snuck a little MadoSaya in here, by the way... *cough* But, enough of my rambling. As always, thanks for reading, and thanks for the reviews!