Chapter 3, Part 1 (Post 'Trash the Stash')
Fetch stared up at the tarps atop her rooftop hideaway. Slightly bigger than the billboard, and poised directly behind the largest neon sign in the city, it was her favorite hideaway. Tonight, it didn't help her racing mind at all.
"I should have asked him over or something. He wouldn't have turned it down. He even called it a 'date with a death toll!' Except I called it that first. And what about when he said 'you like me?' I should've said something!" She thought, before scowling and turning over and glaring at the wall.
Delsin had helped her. He didn't need to, he only needed her powers. But he gave more than he took. Helped her get rid of the drugs. Helped her free those women. Helped her from his Brother's custody. Helped her stop killing. It wasn't just that, though. He asked for her aid, depended on it once or twice, even. He made her laugh and smile and stay up nights. She hadn't done the first two in years, and the last, well, never for a good reason. Didn't hurt that he was handsome.
She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. "At least the color hasn't faded yet." She muttered to herself. Turning her head, she looked at her phone, as if begging it to ring. It didn't. Fetch picked it up, considering calling him. Rain started to lightly tap all along the tarps and the breeze picked up a bit, so she grabbed her coat and threw it over her shoulders. The cement jutting out of the DUP headquarters at odd angles blocked some of the light from the rest of the city, and she couldn't wait to take it down with Delsin.
"Screw it, calling him." She shook her head and pressed 'call.'
"Hey, it's me. I'm fine, yeah. I just gotta talk to ya about something, do you think you can come by Olaf's?" She was happy it wasn't raining too hard. "You will? Great, see you soon." She stood and began to get dressed, smiling to herself.
Part 2
Delsin sat in a chair in his motel room, watching old sitcom reruns, rubbing his eyes. Reggie snored loudly from the other side of the room.
"I'm getting my own damned room next time." He thought. It wasn't that it was really keeping him up, it was just easier to blame it on that, as opposed to, well, Fetch. He shook his head. It wasn't her fault so much as it was that he couldn't stop thinking.
No one he'd yet met was stronger than that girl. No one. Your own parents selling you out, being homeless, getting addicted to drugs (he suspected heroin, but didn't want to ask,) killing your own brother, seven awful years in Curdun Cay, and still being, well, her. It was amazing. Could more than hold her own in a fight, too. Helped him feel like someone else understood what he was going through when it came to the Akomish.
"Shit." He muttered to himself. "Maybe I should call…" He looked at his phone on the bed, charger light blinking, he walked over to the window and pulled the ratty red curtains open. Rain fell lightly on the pane and he thought that maybe she was into him, based on the way she'd flirted with him after the drug bust, but he figured that a girl like Fetch wouldn't be as easy to read as the other girls had been. She'd hardly been the same in any other way.
Delsin picked up his phone and stared at it. It never seemed to do what you want, like ring because a pretty girl's calling you when you want to hear from her.
"Screw it, calling her." He shook his head, but when he was about to press 'call,' the phone decided to ring. He grinned. Fetch. "The girl's got impeccable timing." He laughed and answered.
"Hey, Fetch. You all right? Good, glad to hear that. Olaf's? Cool, I'll be over in, well, ten, I think. Depends on whether the neon signs around are on. Yeah, see you soon." He smiled to himself, hoping he wouldn't have to hide in a cardboard box at any point this time around, pulled his vest on and hopped out of the window.