Plane rides were really, really boring. She didn't like reading-even when she looked over the books he had laying around in anticipation of the flight, she could have sworn she was made more drowsy by reading the titles. On the Aesthetic Education of Man? The Nature of Art? Aristotle and Immanuel Kant? He didn't have the decency to own a Gameboy so she was left without any sort of entertainment to speak of. But she survived the boredom and finally landed in her home country. She was greeted with the wet, overcast weather she expected and had even grown to love. Or maybe she was romanticizing it due to her predicament.
They'd arranged to meet in public so as to make the other party feel a bit safer. She wouldn't put it past Bison to attempt to keep her detained until their problem was sorted out-and maybe, even beyond that. She shuddered at the thought of being turned back into a brainwashed drone, and vowed that if she was going down, she'd do irreparable damage to Vega's body before it was over. He in turn wondered if she'd invite along some friends of her own-that Delta Red squad, or maybe even Chun-Li. But no such plans were held by either party. They met at a cafe a few blocks from Cammy's home. She picked it-she knew she'd be starving given the lack of edible foods in Vega's home. She'd even picked up some candy on the way out of the airport just to tide herself over.
She was a bit startled to see herself from the outside like this. She didn't look different, of course, but it was still bizarre. How many people got the opportunity to see how they looked through another's eyes? Her body was sitting at the table, looking bored, head leaning into one hand and the other resting on the table, fingers drumming against the metallic surface. So she approached, took the seat, and Vega barely batted an eye. "Hola, señorita..." she said, admittedly having fun with being able to speak Spanish. And his voice did sound undeniably sexy. "Eres tan linda como una flor."
"Chupame la polla," he muttered back irritably. It took a second, but the brain she was using caught up to translating, and she blushed instantly, eyes widening a little. He'd just said, 'blow me'. She'd been momentarily impressed by how Spanish her voice sounded but then finally reacted.
"It was a bloody joke you ass!"
"It wasn't very funny," he responded. He eyed her critically, seeming concerned about something. She fidgeted with the bag of candy, nervous under such intense scrutiny, and the noise seemed to draw his attention. The bag was yanked from her hand quite suddenly and slammed to the table. "No! You do not put this junk into my body!"
"What's the matter with you?" she cried, trying to pull the little brown bag out from under his hands.
"This is bad for you, and I don't want it in my body! If you eat anymore junk food-!"
She cut him off. "How are you going to stop me?"
He crumpled the bag in frustration, knowing he couldn't exactly do anything about it. "I'll think of something," he muttered.
"I'm not going without good food for a month or however long this lasts," she said with a shrug, and leaned back in the chair. "And I looked around your house this morning for normal food. That little mutant fruit was disgusting!"
He wrinkled his nose, trying to think of what she was referring to. She elaborated a bit, complaining about the weird texture, and he smirked, shaking his head. "That's a pomegranate. They're fantastic for making juice," he said with a slight laugh. He couldn't stand the way the fruit felt in his mouth either, and he wondered if her reaction to it was really just his own.
She blushed, but wasn't going to let him get to her like that. "Pretentious jerk. Why don't you drink orange juice like the rest of the world?"
He rolled his eyes. A waitress made her way to the table, and asked for an order. Cammy hadn't needed to look at the menu to know what was good here. Vega asked for water, she asked for a soda. But then Vega shook his head, and said, "She-He'll have water, too."
"Soda tastes better," she said.
"He's watching his sugar intake." The waitress raised an eyebrow, unsure of who to take the order from.
"Aren't you too kind, looking out for me like that? But I think it'll be okay this time," she said, waving her hand at him. She glanced up at the waitress and winked, a little startled when the woman blushed and smiled. In her own body, the gesture would've been taken for some kind of platonic, amicable gesture, but when she looked like Vega, it was no doubt interpreted as flirtation. The woman was gone with the order-one water and one soda. Cammy smirked back at a furious Vega, delighted with her victory. Then she let her eyes wander as Vega started complaining again about the dietary guidelines she would have to follow while in his body. There were a lot of people here. Although, she realized, it was dinner time. But why did it feel like so many more customers than usual? And why was there a sudden upwelling of anxiety? Or maybe paranoia was a better word. She inhaled in an effort to calm herself down, finding it unreasonable. It became even more unreasonable as bizarre thoughts began to creep into her head-the people here were watching her, studying every move, judging every little thing she did, ready to strike out when the moment was right.
"Are you even listening to me?"
She shook her head, snapping out of the weird reverie. "I'm...I'm sorry. It's just-This place is so crowded," she whispered, glancing around. He raised his eyebrows, and she elaborated. "I'm having these thoughts-stupid ones-that these people are really judging me hard. Or maybe someone's going to attack me. I don't know what's the matter and-"
He shrugged. "Just ignore it."
"What?" she said. "You're used to this?"
Again he shrugged and nodded.
"You know this isn't normal right?" she asked, glancing around. Was she still being stared at? She could feel every pair of eyes on her until she turned to look towards them, and then, they weren't looking anymore. She sighed. "Great. I have to put up with mental instabilities, too."
He looked up at her, appearing hurt for the briefest of seconds, but the expression was quickly replaced with irritation. "I don't have mental instabilities," he practically spat. "And I have to deal with your...thing."
She balked at that, unable to imagine what he meant but knowing it had to be something fairly sensitive if he couldn't even name it. "What?" she asked, panicking a little. "What thing?"
"Your...monthly...thing," he muttered, glancing away.
"Oh my God." She groaned, burying her head in her arms on the table. "Why, why, why." She tried to look on the bright side-at least she'd be missing out on the experience. But the reality was horribly embarrassing. She inhaled deeply. She didn't need even more to worry about on top of this bizarre paranoia. She forced herself to sit back up, but it was almost impossible to look him in the face.
"It isn't any picnic for me," he said. "Do you know how long it took me to figure out what to do down there? Have you ever tried searching for something like that online?"
"Stop, stop, stop," she whispered, shaking her head frantically. People were staring again. She was sure of it. She glanced around quickly, and sighed, frustrated. No, they weren't watching her. She was just crazy now. "It'll be over in a few days, but just...don't look down there, you know?"
He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I would never in my life."
For some reason now, she felt offended. It wasn't that she wanted him to look. But he should've wanted to. Not while she was on her cycle specifically, but in general. "What, am I ugly to you?" she said, irritated at the implication. So maybe she wasn't a supermodel or actress or whatever someone of his caliber's usual fair was. That didn't make her unattractive.
"What?" he asked, drawing his eyebrows together. "I never said that."
She sighed angrily. It was obvious he didn't get it, and she wasn't going to explain it to him. "Never mind, just shut up."
"But we're here to talk," he said. "To lay ground rules. Which you've already violated twice now-I don't consume excess sweets, and I don't eat anything fried." He was referring to the order she'd put in for fried fish.
"Look," she snapped, pointing a finger at him. "I'm already dealing with having my private bits on the outside and being a crazy murderer who the world thinks is this perfect little buttercup. I'm not giving up the only comfort I have through all of this."
"Food should not be a comfort, it's just a necessity," he said back through gritted teeth, frustrated with her refusal to cooperate.
"It's a comfort to me!" she cried. "And you know what, how is this for a ground rule-I saw your creepy little drawings of me, and I'm not flattered! So stop it!"
He raised an eyebrow, at first confused. Then, the realization dawned on him, and he shook his head slowly. "That isn't you," he said. "It's someone else."
She blinked. Really, she'd just used that as an excuse to yell at him, and now she felt embarrassed for being wrong. Especially now, when everyone was watching. "Well who is it? Because it looks just like me," she said, still trying to keep it up.
He frowned. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I'm asking you now, as politely as I can-don't eat a bunch of junk. Don't look through my things. Make sure to exercise. I don't care what sort of money you spend, but try not to attract attention."
She considered the rules he was laying. For a moment, she considered telling him to go stuff a sock in it, that she would do whatever she wanted. But then she thought there were certain things she'd rather he not do, too. It'd be unfair to ask something of him and not do anything for him in return. And he was being fairly hospitable, with the offer of getting to spend his money, which was certainly surprising. Did it make sense to placate a murderer just because he was being nice? "Fine," she said on exhaling. What good did it do to argue and struggle? Maybe she could go a little while without junk food just to ensure the safety of her body. "But here's yours, okay? The cats get fed twice a day, once for breakfast, another for supper-they each have their own dish, by the way, and they know which ones belong to them. Give them even amounts, I love them all equally and don't want to make anyone jealous." He raised an eyebrow slowly, but she was too busy thinking to notice. "Ummm..." She trailed off, eyes headed skyward as she tried to remember what else was necessary. "I have a few weeks of vacation time saved up. I didn't have plans for it, so put in for time off anyway. I don't want you messing up my relationships with people. Be nice to my friends if they talk to you. And don't-don't-let that creep Bison anywhere near me or my home. I don't want him to know where I live."
"If he wanted to know, he already would," Vega said with a shrug.
"Still stands," she said. "And, well, I don't really have a whole lot of other rules. Just don't be a jerk to anyone. Don't do anything illegal while you're me. That sort of thing."
"As long as you do the same for me," he answered, crossing his arms. She smiled, happy that they could reach an agreement. Maybe it wouldn't be so awful after all. She wasn't hurting for money, but now she could loaf around all day doing nothing and still have cash to burn. Not that she planned on abusing this privilege, exactly, but if she just so happened to stumble across a good deal on something she wanted...
"You know," she said, picking at her food as she spoke, "I probably don't want you looking through my memories either."
He drew his brows together. "I can do that?" he asked. She blushed. Now she'd just outed herself as having picked through his. Though it hadn't been much.
"Oh..um..yep, thought you knew," she replied, smiling and rubbing the back of her head. "Sorry."
"What did you do?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"Nothing!" she said quickly. He looked ready to punch her in the throat. And she knew that her body wasn't exactly weak. "I just needed to know the password to your desktop to order plane tickets! And I use it to understand the Spanish I'm hearing, obviously, but I haven't exactly tried remembering private stuff, which is what I'm asking you to do for me." She left out the bit about the memory of his step-dad, too embarrassed to mention it. It was only one small thing, and she wouldn't let it happen again.
He seemed to relax a little, and sat back in the chair. "Fine. If you need to know something, I'd prefer you call me," he said. He knew that it was unlikely that she would accidentally think of some of his more private memories while trying to remember something mundane like a password, or how to get somewhere, but he didn't want to risk it. It was easy to start thinking in tangents.
"Ummm, if you want," she replied. He cringed. Her manner of speaking was unbearably feminine. It made him seem very strange, like he was mocking someone almost. He tried to think quickly if he had any upcoming interviews or other public appearances, and found it difficult to do so. He frowned at that. This morning, he could've remembered what he had planned, and even now, there was a feeling of something important. But he couldn't figure it out. Each time he tried to remember, the brain he used to do so was only dredging up Cammy's future plans, which worried him greatly. He'd need to speak with Bison about it. This time he was sure it was something related to the soul-swapping.
"Think for a second, and not too hard, but can you remember if I have anything important planned for the next few weeks?" he asked her.
She raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, 'can't you do it?' but obliged anyway. "I'm thinking...ummm..." He sighed but she was too focused to notice. Then she stopped, eyes going wide as she realized something. "Ahhh! The Fallas festival in Valencia!" She only knew what any of that was because of Vega's brain, and she shook her head frantically.
"That..." he said slowly, eyes also getting a little wide. "...is going to be a problem."
"I can't fight a bull!" she cried at him, shaking her head again. Her heart was racing at the mere thought of it, being alone in this arena with the huge, angry, fast and deadly animal, taunting it, dancing just out of reach of its piercing horns. She knew she couldn't do that, and she couldn't kill it, that much was certain. She'd be such a disappointment, and was everyone staring at her again? No, she was sure of it this time, she could hear them whispering, picking out her name-no, it was Vega's name and she looked around, breathing a little harder. "Why is everyone so interested in me now?" she whispered. "Why are they all talking about us?"
"Calm down," he said, holding up a hand.
She couldn't though. Not with everyone trash talking her like this, judging every small move she made. This was just unnecessary! "I have to get out of here," she breathed. Pay, pay first, then get into a room where no one else would be able to keep staring and talking and just be left alone.
"Don't make a scene. Calm down, and follow me." He took her by the wrist, leading her out of the building without stopping to look back. She kept her head down, staring at the floor as she walked, trying not to glance around at the peering eyes and whispering mouths of the other patrons. This was overwhelming, why were all of these people being so mean, talking about her, judging her? Then they were outside, and already, she began to feel a little better. Vega let go of her, and she crossed her arms.
"This isn't fair," she muttered. She didn't want this. She liked her life, she wanted that. No paranoia, no bloated ego.
"Just come back to your home. Then go to sleep. When you wake up, you'll feel better."
She nodded, completely miserable. It wasn't a normal kind of miserable, either. After the high of the paranoiac panic attack, her-no, his-mind racing on overdrive, she was starting to feel drained. She was ready to bury her head under a pillow and never wake back up. The world was too awful to face. "How do you stand being around people so often with a problem like that?" she asked.
He shrugged as they walked back towards Cammy's home. She sighed. Obviously he wasn't going to talk to her about it. He was always so convinced of how perfect he was, so she imagined he was terribly embarrassed to be found out for the basket case he was. Or maybe, he didn't think this was abnormal at all. That, she thought, was much scarier.
She was at least comforted by the thought that she'd be in her own bed soon, and her cats would be happy to see her. Or would they? She was someone new now. Either way, she'd be happy to see them. Within a few minutes, they'd made it back to her home. He looked over the keys for a second before she simply took them and unlocked the door for him. Why had it felt like it'd been so long since she'd done this? She was just here yesterday.
The place was clean. Very clean. She certainly hadn't left it like this. "You cleaned it?"
"I can't stand messes," he answered with a shrug. She was about to ask how he knew where everything went, but then realized he had her brain to tell him. The clothes were all in the laundry bin, the dirty dishes had been washed and put in their place in the cupboards, he'd even vacuumed. She didn't even remember owning a vacuum.
"I didn't think you knew how to clean anything," she said, joking a little. "With the maid and all..."
"Why do it yourself if you can pay someone else?" he responded with a shrug. "I could clean, but it would take up too much time. I'd rather be doing something else."
She wasn't in the mood to argue. She supposed, at least, he was giving someone a job through his laziness. She leaned down and picked up one of her cats before heading into her room. It felt good just being here again. Her room was fairly the same as she left it, though the bed was made, and the dirty clothes in here were in their place, too. The trash that found its way in here was all gone. It did feel better to come home to a clean house. She sat on the bed, putting her cat down and petting her. She looked back up at Vega, who was standing at the door. "Thanks for doing all of that," she said, just a bit begrudgingly. Maybe it felt strange to thank him for anything, but he had done her a favor whether he meant to or not. He shrugged it off.
Pulling back the blanket, she grabbed her pillow, and curled up in the bed. She closed her eyes for a brief second, and when she opened them again, he was gone from the room. She felt as content as she could right now. There was still a lingering feeling of anxiety, but it was much less acute now. This was as close to 'good' as things were going to be for awhile, it seemed. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and did her best to sleep.