EPHEMERAL
fleeting
"I was hoping to fuck you and get you out of my system."
They're lying in bed. Well, Jinx is lying down. Lux is sitting up. Her back is to the wall, a frown worrying her lips. She hugs her knees. They're both stark naked.
It's the morning after the Pentakill concert. They're in Jinx's apartment. The sun hasn't risen yet. Only the streetlamp provides light, the faintly green glow spilling through the blinds. There's not a sound to be heard, no drunken shouting, no skittering rats, no midnight ladies offering their services. All is still.
Jinx lies face down on the mattress. Lux studies her, keen eyes tracing the colorful tattoos and the arch of her shoulders. Here, where the neck slopes down, where the skull meets spine, Lux could hit her here. She has the training. It would be easy. And it's not like anyone would miss her. Except, that isn't true, is it?
Jinx croaks out a laugh. Her voice is muffled by the pillow.
"Well, that backfired spectacularly."
Lux allows a faint smile to curl her lips. She closes her eyes.
No, she thinks. That hasn't been true for a very long time.