haymitch

[polyapathy]

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[polyapathy]

[She bristles. He has ever right to dress her down after this, but she can't help but get defensive.]

Give me more credit than that. She, uh, said she'd tell me how to keep from getting possessed down the road if I fucked her. I was testing a theory.

[It sounds very stupid in retrospect, good god. She digs through her pockets for a cigarette.]

And hey, I learned that this demon or demons or whatever, they're full of shit and they can't transfer after you catch them.

[oraculi]

[ALLEGEDLY, he thinks, because it's not like he can know a hundred percent, can he? But at least she seems to realize how stupid this is.]

So they just, what, pick us at random?

[polyapathy]

[Oh, thank god, okay, she can work with this.]

See, I've got a thought about that.

[She steps in closer, both because she really doesn't want anyone overhearing this, and also, stop yelling at her.]

I think Monika's been possessed since Polly started all of this. There's no passing shit around and body-swapping and shit—the demons just stay in their host.

[oraculi]

So . . . what, there's been ten murderers the whole time, and they're just doing it one by one til they're all caught, hoping they aren't?

[It's not the most outlandish thing he's ever heard. Honestly, it sounds like something from the Games, some sick twist to make the whole thing more exciting.]

. . . well, shit.

[polyapathy]

Who's to say how many, but yeah, that's about the sum of it.

[She pauses to take a drag of her cigarette.]

So, it's not me. We're good.

[oraculi]

[There's just a moment's pause.]

Yeah. We're good.

Don't pull this shit again, though.

[polyapathy]

Trust me, I've learned my lesson.

[She wrinkles her nose, and then moves to lean against the railing.]

She wasn't even that good, you know. Totally overhyped.

[oraculi]

[He scoffs.]

Are you that surprised?

[polyapathy]

Mm. No.

[She offers him the cigarette.]

Disappointed, though. When it comes to women, the pickings are pretty damn slim around here.

[oraculi]

Oh, my deepest sympathies. Maybe your next stay here will be more accommodating.

[It's the right words, but his tone lacks the usual drawl of sarcasm, falling just shy.]

Come on. Let's get in before curfew hits.

[polyapathy]

[She watches him a moment, debating whether or not to tell him to go on ahead while she finishes her cigarette. But, mm, she should ration them, anyway. She carefully stubs it out on the railing.]

Fine.

[It's not cold, exactly, but tired. She expected worse, but that doesn't make it easier to swallow.

Oh well. They'll have one awkward night, and it'll suck, but he can't stay mad at her forever. Or annoyed with, or... whatever this is.]