Ruby adjusted the sharp collar of her white button-down, regretting not also buying a tie— that checker-patterned one would've been nice.
4urum: real?
rubrtubr: yessiree!
4urum: sick
She pulled on her cool, punky skirt. If she risked a little funky leg action, so be it. This date was worth it.
4urum: ill take
rubrtubr: we didnt even set a price
4urum: *shrugs* ill take
rubrtubr: ok… Ln1000?
4urum: bet
rubrtubr: awooga
Fingerless gloves, hell yes. She'd wanted fingerless gloves forever. Hell, she deserved them. She got what she wanted.
4urum: real?
rubrtubr: its still me so ya
4urum: ill take
Ruby looked in the mirror. It felt good to look good. Selling all those (probably) illegal handloads was 1000% worth it— she didn't even have to deal with sweats anymore! That '4urum' guy was a lifesaver for her finances: no haggling, no calls, no face-to-face, just money in her bank and bullets out of her hands.
Her black/red-shaded hair was decorated with numerous small braids, keeping her wildest, most jagged locks tied and pushed back with the rest. She felt better about her face, especially with her ears decorated— the industrial bar through her left, done and healed over winter break; her two helix rings on the upper right— her earrings and piercings all silver on the right, then dark or red on the left. She felt better about everything. Better.
Ruby blinked at herself, at her hands unbuttoning her own shirt below the collar, at the fabric parted to reveal what was beneath:
A horrid, sprawling scar— right above her sternum— raised with inflamed flesh like cancerous tendrils. It itched. A red spark flew from it, trying to fix something with a constant, trickling drain of her soul. Something unfix
Ņ̴̢̡͍͚̯̪͈̩͈̗͕̈́͑̋̐̍̚͜͜͝Ì̴͇͉̩͓̝̬̩͚̾̌́̊̾͛͌͂̓̅̆̚͘Ņ̷̨̹̠̣̞̦̀͆̚̚͝͠Ë̷̞̪̤́̉̾́̓͑̀̆ ̵̡̡͎̦̮̳̺͚̲͍̮̑͒̒̎̋̕͘ͅW̷͈̲̼̙̣͇͇͎̦̙̉̽͗͗̋̿̊̈͋͘̚͠Ǫ̴̻͕͕̪̲͎̣̺̬̖̓Ŗ̸̰̹̖̝̋͗͂̾͌̋̃̚͘͜͠ͅD̶͓͔͔̰̈́̆̈́̈́̿̍̿͂́͛̎͘̕͝Ṣ̸̢̙̹̥̹̖̺̘̩̜̀̂̆̉͝͝ ̷̛͚̪̓̎̉͆̉̂̍͝͝F̴̣̉͆͌͂̈́͠Ơ̸̡̯͉̲̟̭͍̜̘̈̔̿̓Ř̵̻̟̞̜͓̥̥̳͕̗̭̔͆͆͛ ̵̢̢̢̢̰̪͓̠̤̝̥̞̈́̾̅̿̉F̸̟̜̈́͒͆̈́͛͛͊̿̀̋͐͠R̶̡̛̞̰̳̯̱̃͒͠Ő̶͙̘̯̫͍̹͉̗̼͜͠Ş̵̥͙̟̬̤̙̩̊̍̄͜T̴̢̲͎͖̫̞͍̩͙̞̂͛͐̈́̉̂̍̌̆͘̕͠B̷̥̲͍̭͔̱͚̹͎̩͙̝̯̒́͗̋̎͛́̾̿͘I̴̯̊̂̐̍̍̽̅̀̌̊̎̑̚͝T̸̮͇͚̻̘̬̒̈́̅̆̀̅̈́͝E̸̡̡̧͈͓͓̙̭̻͙͓̾̈́͊͝ͅ
Ruby shook herself out of her head and grinned with her lips, rapidly buttoning her shirt back up. She was seeing things. She had something prettier to see. Some-one.
The airship ride was pleasant. Quiet. Nobody spoke to her. Barely anybody even looked at her. She preferred it that way. That was what she wanted. Even when she ticced—
"Ach, khh, kkh, kch—"
Even when she ticced, no one batted an eye. They ignored her. She wanted to be ignored, anyways.
Ruby's date wore a nice sleeveless romper that was long and flowy over the legs, patterned with dark grey and black chevrons that could only be seen up close. Their tall, dark boots were barely visible past the bottoms, and the single braid of their long, bulky undercut had two wavy locks freed from it, framing the hot, sexy face of Blake Belladonna.
Ruby was a shrewd leader, picking a medium-end place that tailored to her date's well-known politics and also had good reviews for hard dietary restrictions (not because Blake had any, they weren't even vegan, but because it showed accessibility was important to her). Blake would know that she was a good listener. Blake would know that she wanted to learn more. It was the perfect set-up.
Noticing Ruby, Blake sent her an eyebrow-flash. "'Sup," they said, looking at the restaurant, then back at Ruby. "Nice place. Kinda obv but w/e."
Ruby gave them an endeared chuckle, despite the worry that immediately lanced her. Was she typecasting? She was, wasn't she? Shoot.
Regardless, she escorted them inside, taking the corner booth she'd reserved. She hadn't needed to place a reservation. She wanted to make sure she got a corner booth.
The menu was as disappointing as it had been online, but Ruby wanted not to resort to a diner or something low/trashy like that. Even if she really would've liked a chalupa. Or anything that could be spicy. This was full of oily pasta.
Blake picked quickly, speaking for themself with a sound of genuine excitement for their dish. Ruby ordered pasta with house meatballs— spicy, allegedly. Blake folded one hand under their chin, fingers drumming on the table, visibly bored.
"S-so!" Ruby started nervously, unsure if she actually should say anything. "You're, uh… you look nice!"
Blake snorted. "The shell is decorative— gilded cringe will never be based."
Ruby pinched her own chin and furrowed her brows, pensive, scholarly, thoughtful— everything she wanted to be. "Aha, but why then wear clothes?"
"So I don't get arrested?"
It was like a visual novel— Ruby could picture her Blake-meter trembling as it dropped something like 15 points. "Uh…"
"I like your look," Blake confessed, assuaging her (pitying?). "Emo throwback— pretty based."
"It's more like punk," Ruby claimed.
She did not realize that, with four words, she had opened a can of worms and upended it into her idiot mouth. "Punk?" Blake repeated. "Not very counterculture."
Ruby recoiled (because what the fuck?). "Uh, my legs?" She pulled one up (she wore undershorts for a reason) at an angle most humans would probably cringe at, the black scutae of her leg shining in the warm light. "Feel like showing off my traits this much is counterculture— I only ever wear long skirts to hide them. This is, like, the first time in years I've worn something so short in public."
Blake… shrugged? "Performative," they coughed under their breath.
"Wh—" 'What the hell would you know about it?' 'Who do you think you are?' 'Don't say that about me.' 'You don't know me.'
Ruby clapped her mouth shut and closed her eyes, schooling her brows back down to a normal level and letting her leg settle back below the table (although having it up was honestly more comfy). She breathed deeply. Blake is hot. Blake is hot. Blake is hot.
"Well, anyways, how're you feeling about the team? Think we've got a shot at Winterfaire?"
Blake cocked their head. "At what?"
"Winterfaire," Ruby repeated. "The Winter Cup?"
Blake went 'ooh,' but they didn't seem much enlightened. "We're… doing that?"
"Yeah? Why wouldn't we?"
"Idk." Blake shrugged. "Just seems cringe."
"Fighting is cringe?"
"People, yeah," Blake stated, unraveling Ruby's world to an aspect of her teammate that shocked her profoundly.
"What's wrong with fighting people?"
"More dangerous," Blake said as a fact. "Gotta watch how hard you hit someone."
"Why?"
Bad answer. God, why did she say that?
Blake glared. "Because some of us aren't killers, Ruby."
Ow. Okay. "I'm not a bad person."
"I didn't say you are. I just don't agree with it."
'If someone wants to kill me, they'd better be prepared to die,' Ruby kept herself from saying, then washed the absent words down with water. "So you prefer fighting Grimm?"
"Hell yeah, fighting Grimm is fun as hell."
Ruby blinked, surprised. Fun? "I didn't know you thought so."
"You didn't? I don't try to hide it lol."
"No, I guess I didn't."
"We're Hunters. We all love it."
'I don't.'
W̴̛̗̦̆̐̑̅́͊͠H̶̠̘͖̙͇̫̼̜̺̓͋͑̐̈́̏̑̚͜Y̶̢̥̠̙̎̄̓A̵͔̙̥̳̐̎̽͆̚͠R̴̛͙̤̩̞̼̋̎̈́̿̌̈́̚E̵̺̲̱͈̝̗̬͋̿͒͊́̃́̓̈ͅY̷̡̢̡͔̠͎͈͗͌̋͑O̸̞̎̐͆̾̈Ų̴̛̝̟͚̖͙̙̟̀̾̽͗̅̉͗͘W̵̩̞̒́̓̐͊͊̍̋̑̚͜H̵̤̖̯̜͉̃̍̀́̐͠͠͝Y̶̝̌͐͗͌͋͆̑̀̔A̸̜̯̖̐̈́̂͂͜Ŗ̴̧̮͇̿̓̚Ẹ̵̢͂͊̎͌Y̸̡̛̻̳̳̏̌̽͐̽̇Ô̶̧͉̼̻̥̗̕U̶̳̽̓͊̈́́̇̀̈̀̓W̷̛̩̻̅̍̊̿̋̀͘Ḧ̵̭̬̀͗͘̚Ẏ̵̖̰̭̻͎͇͍̈́̊͆̇̅͒͜͠ͅA̷͔̘̜̩̱̱̘̒͗͂̔̅̈͝Ŕ̸̨̡̯͙̠̮̳̹̒̉͛̍͌̔̕͝E̴̙͓̼͍͈̺̎̄̋̀͐͐̾Y̵̨͎̞̼͖̥͖͇͉̞̍̏̏̿̐̇O̷̮͋̊͂̿̀̎̕͝Ụ̶̡͙͙̟͙͚̰͚̅̎
Ruby sniffed and scratched her chest. The food arrived, so Blake didn't notice. They probably wouldn't have noticed anyway. Ruby ate her pasta. The meatballs weren't very spicy. The food was warm. Just warm.
Ruby kept talking to them. Blake kept talking in response. She learned some things. Blake was 20. Blake icdentified as a nonbinary demigirl. Blake broke out of a Fourth cult when they were 10.
Ruby was 18. She was just a girl. How many Fourths did she kill?
It never got any less awkward. Ruby's hands were in her lap by the end, her eyes on the tablecloth. She couldn't stand to look at Blake's bored face. Her insides were all churning, her face warm with embarrassment and implacable guilt.
"I'm… sorry."
It'd come out so quietly that Ruby didn't even feel it slipping free; she would've stopped it if she'd known it was coming. Blake sighed. "Look, Ruby, it's… it's not your fault, okay?"
What a stupid fucking thing to say.
"I just— I knew you liked me, but I don't like anyone, 'liking' isn't really a thing for me."
"Then… why…"
"You've looked so torn up since we came back. I thought it'd make you feel better."
Ruby deadpanned at them. "You thought taking me on a fake date would make me feel better."
"I— I thought we'd do something!" Blake excused, not angry, just… loudly disappointed. "I mean…"
Ruby cocked her head. Blake's voice got quiet.
"Y'know…"
No… "Nuh-uh— you—"
Blake shrugged and looked away. "Wanted to see if the, uh…" They said their next words as if they regretted them as they came out. "If the freak is… in the… genes…"
Ruby felt dirty. "Oh… wow… uh…"
"Sorry."
"Okay."
It wasn't okay. It was very not okay. It would take real malicious effort for things to be made less okay. She tried to reason, 'well that's perfect Blake's hot at least this way there's nothing weird,' but it would've been exclusively weird. She had wanted nothing less than to have sex, at that moment.
Ỉ̴̛̙̗̾͂̓͂N̴̨͔͇͓̰̠͋͘̚ ̵̞̻̞̬̠̭̀̓̿̃̽̓̽T̵͚̀͆͌͝H̸͈̩̹͚̣̲́͛Ë̸͓̙̟̱̹͈́̒̆́̄̚͜ ̵̰͖̟̝̲̝͛͐͜͝S̶̖̈́̑̎͌͆̕N̷͈͖̐Ö̶̻W̸̮͉̏͛̐̉͑̅̃
Ruby's hands twitched for her chest, an unfilled slot opening up in the back of her throat. "A-ackh," she vocalized, flushing with scarlet shame. "Kkh, kkkkh." It sounded like she was trying to get something out of her throat. She didn't know what feeling she was going for. She scratched blindly, hoping to find the itch. "A— aaakkh—"
Blake frowned for a quarter of a moment, but they stayed long enough for it not to seem like they were leaving because their date was ticcing out uncontrollably. "Is it okay if I go?" they even asked, as if that was a nice thing to ask, as if Ruby could possibly say 'no, you stay here and watch me embarrass myself.'
Ruby tried to grin at them, but it was probably more of a grimace. "Y-yea-aakh."
Blake stood up. They turned to leave, then turned back around, dug in their pocket, and put a Lien chit on the table. "For the food. Thanks," they muttered, as if trying not to be heard, also, "I'm sorry."
They left. The chit was for Ln60. Ruby put it all on the tip and paid the bill herself. Being petty didn't make her feel any better. She stayed at the table. She was still ticcing by the time the waiter came back, so she asked for a cocktail when they did. They were going to ID her before noticing the Lien chit.
Ruby left that place with more drink in her than she'd initially intended, but she wasn't ticcing anymore, at least. She was bent double in an alley instead, letting the local dingy brick wall try out one Fruity Moonrise, one Ichor Daiquiri, one Juniper Morning, a house spaghetti & meatballs, two breadsticks, and some water. The wall didn't thank her, which was rude.
L̸͙̬͉̩̀̏̈́̑̇͘ͅĬ̶̧̳͇͈̰͗̐Q̸̣̯͔̂Û̵͉Ỏ̵̝̣͉͇̙̲͇̅̔͠R̵̦̩͈͛̂́̉̄̓͂ ̴̬̙͓͓̟̥̄̎̇̉I̴̛̠̜̭̬̭̦̎͒͒̓̈́N̴̘͖͖̋͊́̇͘ ̷̤̫̲̮̞͉̉͜A̷̞̻͔̎͜ ̸̤̖̍̇͋̂B̵̧̢̯͇̭͊̍̐̏͑̕͜L̴̛̠̼͕̘͕͙̖͐I̶̖̙͕̋͝ͅZ̷̨̢̘̪̑̍̽Ẓ̸̡̨̝̦͕͙͝Ä̴̳́̀̑̆͘Ṛ̸͖̈́͋̋̒̓D̸̤̐̑̅̀̊̑͜
"Khhh." No, she was still ticcing, apparently. "Aaaa-kkkh."
She'd never hit the shape of it whIle drunk. She couldn't hit anything. If she had a gun, and someone was there, she'd… she wouldn't kill 'em for no reason, but if they were a Fourth… well, Blake had been a Fourth, maybe killing them wasn't good, after all, what if it was
"Aaakh!" Ruby grit out, flopping along the wall near her vomit , hand touching her chest. There was a warm itch on the inside. Warm wasn't the word, but it was the only word. There weren't any other words for 'warm'. "Kkkh, kkkkkkh!"
Her throat, her throat, it wasn't made right— she didn't know the sound! Even drunk, she'd been ticcing long enough to know they didn't just come out of nothing! "Aaa-aaa-kkkh!"
Her phone buzzed. Ruby nearly dropped it when pulling it out of her skirt pocket. It was cold. She should've brought a jacket.
4urum: wya
Ruby blinked at the letters, taking a very long time to comprehend that it was an acronym. She squinted. "Kkkhh."
rubrtubr: ?.?
He responded instantly.
4urum: my bullets
4urum: where are they
4urum: its saturday
rubrtubr: ?
rubrtubr: wym
4urum: its saturday
4urum: bullet day
4urum: where
rubrtubr: we nevebrsetup a sday
4urum: its been the same for weeks
rubrtubr: well im soryr u expeoctred thay
rubrtubr: dont have any
4urum is typing…
Ruby stared at her phone, feeling each lid individually fall in a prolonged, exhausted blink. She hadn't even done anything today. Except shop.
S̵͍͎̩͙̟̤̾̋̋̅̑L̷͍̤̤̖͈͆̓͊͌́͝Ę̷̹̖͎̠̭͔͕͕̿͆̓̓͑̾͆̈É̴͔̞̜̗́P̵̥͊̈́̍͛̃̎̈̀͠͝Ǐ̶̤̠̌͒͛̐N̷̻̳̹͚͙͕̹̣̽̆͌͑̃̾͛͒͛͘G̷̡̨̗̝̱̫̼̳̰̲̀̄͊̉̐̀̑͘͠͠ ̵̛͙͍̟͉͖̬̼̑̀̈́̈́͌Į̶͓̳̤̣̮͉̲̽̾͜͜N̸̛̦̦̮̰̦̹̯̗̝̏͆̔̉̓ ̵͕͇͇̠̐̀̋̀͛̇̿̃́͝Ţ̸̻͈̣̭̖̞͇̤̥͌̍͑̈́̓͘H̵̡̧̛͙͙͔͕̖̾̇̊͑̾͐͜͝Ĕ̶̯͓̟̮̳̙̳͚̯̻̕ ̴̧͍̑͆̀͗̂͜͠͝S̵̞̑N̶̠͎͖̞͕̐͒͜͝͠Ȍ̸̰͂̉̾̃̾̀̿͘͝W̷̰͎̺̻̪̠͉͙͍̉̀̎̈́͒͑̌̃
"Kkkhh… kh… akkhh…"
4urum is typing…
Phone said 10:31PM… 10:32. Battery 19%. Notifications from… stuff— not any messages. One now.
4urum: pray to god
That probably wasn't a real message… probably just her stupid drunk brain playing tricks. She needed to get up and out of the alley. It wasn't safe. She felt unsafe. She scratched through her shirt. She said: "Kkkkkkhhh."
She needed to… bad place, the alley… dangerous stuff… something could happen. She… no weapons. Missed her wires. Wires. Wirewirewirewirewirewirewirewee
"Kkkkhhhh! Aakh!"
Ruby unbuttoned her shirt to see what was hot and itching. The scar was a bright and angry red, throwing aimless red sparks. It— it was probably her bra! It went right over the center, it was uncomfortable, it was chafing the scar. She slipped a finger in the middle band and lifted it off her chest. Her chest itched more— the scar— but not like a tic, it didn't want her to scratch it, she couldn't.
She ripped off her gloves and accidentally threw them in the barf next to her— she didn't care, she'd leave them— but her hands were still more perfect than they'd ever been. They weren't even red. They were unmarked; she could punch a wall and they wouldn't hurt; she did punch the wall and it didn't hurt.
Ruby tried to push herself up. She failed. Her stupid legs wouldn't straighten under her. Stupid legs. Stupid useless legs— stupid ugly, useless legs. "Kkk-kkkh!"
Her phone buzzed again.
BBdt4: u ok?
BBdt4: its late wya
Ruby backed out from that conversation, meeting the wall of all her text conversations, even
2 months ago
rubrtubr: contact dorm maint thou dumb bitch
Ruby put her phone back. It buzzed again. She ignored it. "Kkkkhhhhh-kh…"
Her mouth tasted like acid and bile. There was trash or a rock or something under her butt. The wall was hard and cold. She was cold.
Ć̷̛͚̘̝̼͉̫̀̒̀͗̽͂̈͊̕Ǫ̴̛̱͔͖̻̮̤̻̯͓͔̞͗̄̐́͠L̵̢̞͉͓̀͐Ḑ̵̱̳̝͚͍̖̠͖̦̲͙͙͖̈͠
Her chest itched. Her eyes fluttered closed.
W̷̹̉̀͋̅A̷͚̬̠̲̾̀͜K̵͔̗̩̣̱̂̿̇̀Ḝ̴̙̻̑͗
Ruby jolted from the wall, blinking to her feet instinctively and whirling around. Her head swam— not with a bloodless rush— and her chest burned like fire. How long had she been asleep? She scrubbed at her eyes and took out her phone.
It was 2:02AM. Her battery was flashing red. She had a lot of notifications.
[21 missed calls from yangarang(.Y.)]
[7 missed calls from BBdt4]
[RWBY GC: 51 unread messages]
[59 unread messages from yangarang(.Y.)]
[20 unread messages from BBdt4]
[2 unread messages fr
Her phone died. Ruby's eyes blearily tracked the line of the words that'd disappeared from her dead black screen.
"W-whatever," she mumbled to herself, wiping her mouth on her forearm. She stumbled out from the dingy space between buildings and squinted up as if the sun would greet her— it didn't, it was still 2 in the morning, she was just an idiot. She looked around. She didn't recognize any of the buildings around her.
She scratched her chest. It kept itching. Burning. Somewhere under the skin, where her fingers couldn't reach. Her stomach was empty (emptied, as evidenced by the wall she'd left behind), but she didn't feel hungry there. She felt a gnawing thing like hunger somewhere else: her chest, where she scratched, spreading out in dull ebbs like ocean waves but shocking icy clarity through her veins, down to her fingertips and back behind her eyes. It was hitting her all at once, like she was feeling it now but she should've been feeling it before, a painful, sharp clarity coming to it.
T̴̰͠W̶͉͒O̸̮͊ ̴̤̅W̸̺̾O̷͎͑Ŕ̶̬D̶̲̋S̵̜̿ ̴͖͆F̷̯͂O̶̞͐R̴̦͘ ̸͉͊P̶̠̽E̴̙͑Ö̴̺P̴̧͘L̵̙͠E̴͓͆ ̴͉͆W̷̨͘H̸͚́Ọ̵͌ ̴̼͐F̵̤̂I̶̹͑Ǹ̸̘D̷͚̆ ̷͖̎B̵̡̏O̵͈͊D̶̉ͅI̴̛̞Ě̶̻S̴̥̀ ̵̪́Ị̷̒N̸̫̐ ̶̨̈́T̷͒͜Ḩ̷̒E̴̗͠ ̴̫͗S̷͙͋N̷̻͑O̷̦͌W̸̨͋
Ruby.
"F-fuck off."
T̶̘̚H̵̫̓Ȍ̵̥S̴͓̿E̸̜̅ ̷̰̈W̸̫͆H̶͚̃Ō̸̩ ̸̲̓E̸̯͗Ả̵̳T̸͇̐ ̸̠̆F̷̫̈́R̷̝͆O̷̭̽Z̶͗͜E̶̲̚N̴̹͂ ̷͔̅C̴̝͌O̸̮̐R̸̽ͅP̸̺̓S̴̰̏E̴̟͗S̶̳̚
You're sweating.
"Why do you care."
F̷̢̐I̷̝͊Ė̶̙L̴̇ͅD̴͕͂S̵̯͑ ̴̦́O̸̱̿F̷̜̏ ̴̼͠W̴̢͌H̷̻͌I̸͖͑T̸͓͝Ȇ̸̘ ̴̹͌Ś̸̟Į̴͋L̸̢͋E̶̩̾N̷̥̉C̷̡̄Ë̸̱́;̶͜͝ ̶̖̅N̶̤͋A̸̛̺R̴̭͌Y̴̻̐ ̶͍̔Ȧ̶͙ ̵̖̾S̵̢̅I̶̠͝Ṅ̷̲G̸̺͝L̵͓̀Ȩ̵͒ ̷̩̔B̵͍̀Í̷̻R̷͌͜D̷̺̈C̶̰̒A̸̘͆L̷̘̈́L̸̲͗
Where have you been.
"Fucking your mom."
My mother is dead.
"Then I'm fuckin weird."
I thought you were 'fuckin' my mother.
"Kill yourself."
F̷̬̈͌I̸̠̐͝V̸͈͗̽̅Ė̸̖̱ ̸̱̺̙͐W̶̻̤̆̕Ò̵̯͉Ṙ̷̭͕̂D̷͕̈́͜S̵̡̱̐̎̈͜ ̵̭̦̫̈́̈́F̴̱̳͛̊͘Ǫ̴̱̑̓R̷̙̲͌̑ ̶̖̙̰̋̂S̷̻̤̔E̵̡̨̞̒̂͘A̸̠̓̓͝R̴̯͇͔͝C̵̯͔̀̊H̵̤͘ ̷̗͔̦̈́͊P̸̪̬͘͜Ḁ̸̪͑̓Ṛ̸̅̈́T̷̢͎̚͝Y̸̢͎̒
Everyone's looking for you.
"I know."
Where have you been.
"Dead-drunk in an alley, sleeping by my own barf. What's it to you."
T̴̤̐H̵̯̀E̵̊͜ ̸̛̺S̴̠͂È̴̡N̸̪̂S̸̬͆I̷̞͘T̸̡̓I̶̳̐V̵͖̀E̷͓͌ ̴͎̈́P̷͐͜A̴̻̾Ḯ̶͜N̴͈̓ ̴̹͂Ọ̷̍F̶͉͝ ̷̪̈N̷̼̄Ū̵̼M̴̞̾B̸̤̽N̷̼͂Ë̴͙S̴͇͋Ş̷̒
You're coming with me.
"I'm not."
Don't make me—
"Do what? Fight me?"
'Please fight me.'
'I miss you.'
'Die.'
T̷͕͌̌̐ͅḦ̶̙̺̤̃E̵̗̝̓͌ ̵̞̩̿̊F̷̙͆̔̃I̷̿͜N̴̯͊̈́̅Ă̷̢L̴̨̡̺͝ ̴̫̭̀̄S̴̜̈̑U̷͔̐̄͐R̴͙̱̓͆G̶̘̃͝E̴̠̙̰͋̏͘ ̸̝̯͝O̸͓̒Ḟ̷̦͉͕̈ ̴̥̯̑̇͌H̵̳͘Ḛ̷̎̔͘A̸̞̓͒͊T̵̙͝
I won't. But I can call your sister.
"I wouldn't— nngh!"
Flor— Ruby?
'No, no, please call me that.'
'Even one syllable is more than you deserve.'
"What."
S̶N̵O̸W̴ ̵W̵O̵N̷'̵T̵ ̵M̵E̴L̶T̶ ̷I̸N̶ ̴Y̸O̸U̵R̷ ̵M̸O̴U̷T̷H̷ ̵A̷N̷Y̴M̷O̴R̷E̶
You're shaking. And pale.
"Y-yeah, so are you. Asshole."
For the same reason, I imagine.
"Shut up. No it's not."
You're smart. You know what it is.
"It's your fault."
You would've rather stayed dead?
"Maybe. Yeah, maybe I would. Wouldn't have to deal with you anymore."
Just leave, then. You don't want to be here anyways.
"I can't!"
F̵I̵V̸E̷ ̶W̶O̷R̵D̸S̶ ̵F̴O̵R̵ ̴L̴O̶U̷D̵ ̴E̵N̵O̵U̶G̶H̷ ̷T̴O̶ ̸C̷A̴U̸S̴E̶ ̸A̸N̶ ̸A̶V̶A̸L̸A̷N̴C̵H̶E̶
Do what you want, Ruby Rose.
'I want to do you.'
'I want you.'
'Die.'
'Stop talking to me.'
Why live a lie?
'It's a nice lie.'
'I'm good at lying.'
'I'm a liar.'
"I'm not."
DO YOU ALWAYS ROLL YOUR SHOULDERS
"It hurts."
Go eat a soul, then.
"I don't want to."
Liar.
"I don't know how."
Yes, you do. Come.
"Come? With you? Why."
I'm taking you back, dolt. We'll find you some stupid, soulful twat to drink; maybe Nora. You need a good rebound.
"You don't know what that means."
I work in food service, Ruby.
'Please don't call me that.'