( jessica henwick. woman. she/her. ) ⸺ 🦬 greetings, buffaloes! walking around campus, sporting her signature four-leaf clover finger tattoo, we’ve spotted LILIANA "LUCKY" FLETCHER, a THIRTY-ONE-year-old who contributes to our thriving community as a CLERK in the library. according to our intel, they’ve been around the sanctuary for TWELVE YEARS and what we know about her, aside from the fact that they do agree with the decision to close the gates, is that she oozes charisma and is a regular at the rainstorm as a result (and the greenhouses, if you catch my drift). trusting by nature, she and nick were pals before he was ousted, but since his betrayal her faith has been shaken. she was working as a clerk at the time of the outbreak, and it just kind of stuck. she's by no means married to it, but her lack of drive didn't lend her to any other pursuits; that is, not until the coalition's infiltration. these days lucky has been getting combat training here and there. she's almost useful…almost. doesn’t that make them fantastic ? we think it does, and that’s why we appreciate her so much, grateful for what they give to our community.
⸺ written by nutteh ( she/her . 30 . us cst )
THE BASICS
NAME: Liliana “Lucky” Marie Fletcher
AGE: 31
GENDER: Female
PRONOUNS: She/her/hers
SEXUALITY: Pansexual
DATE OF BIRTH: 19 May, 1992 (Taurus)
SPARKNOTES
Lucky grew up east of Boulder - it was the largest nearby city and everyone in her small suburban town flocked there. Her father, a soldier, was mostly out of the picture while her mother languished on the child support. Lucky was not mistreated, but she had no real love for either of her parents (she thought about her mother, though, at the time of the storm).
School was never quite interesting enough for her. She wasn’t stupid, but her attention tended to wander and deadlines were suggestions at best. There was also the fact that she seldom attended, much preferring to roll joints out by the lake with her varied groups of friends. To this day she’s not sure how she graduated high school.
Lucky could always connect with people. She had charisma and was good at deciphering social cues, but her heart was always harder than her nature suggested. She had a lot of friends, but no real, close friends. The closest she ever came to making a meaningful connection was with the girl who tattooed the four-leaf clover on her finger, but Lucky fled before that could happen.
Boulder was expensive and Lucky needed a job - that was the reason she started working at the UC. She could talk to people and she could read, which she joked was her secret to surviving the apocalypse. It just so happened to be the eighth in a long string of daily shifts when the storm came, and Lucky saw no real reason to wander.
The clover tattoo predated her nickname by one year. It was a four-leaf clover that symbolized a four-leaf clover when she got it - it was free, the “artist” seemed keen to try it, and it wasn’t like she hated four-leaf clovers. But it was how she earned the nickname “Lucky” after the outbreak, because she was lucky to be at work when it happened.
Lucky was a functional stoner before the outbreak and she still is. She’s trying to grow her own plants and is having some success, but it’s certainly something she misses about their old open gates.
But weed isn’t her only vice. She had a hand in The Rainstorm's inception (and name) and is a nightly regular. She enjoys a good drink, but she goes for the company more than the booze. It was how she and Nick bonded, and he became somewhat of a father figure to her post-outbreak ( “father figure” is a bit much - perhaps “crotchety uncle?”). She’d always known he wasn’t perfect and had a mean streak, but Lucky was naive and could scarcely believe what he’d done. The pesky apocalypse had forced her to forge deeper connections with her fellow survivors, and while she still maintains them, it is difficult with Nick’s betrayal always on her mind.
WANTED CONNECTIONS
(Former?) Roommate - This is someone Lucky lived with in Boulder pre-outbreak. There is no way she would have been able to afford to live alone, not as a library clerk. I have no set relationship in mind besides “they were roommates,” but they did only live together for about eight to ten months. It might be fun to give them a face and have them involved with the UC community rather than remain a random NPC from Lucky's past.
Clover girl - The girl with the storied tattoo skills. The one Lucky almost let herself fall for. This was a friend of a friend from Lucky's hometown who started hanging around during Lucky's senior year. They spent the better part of that year in each other's company, with and without their mutual friends. Then Lucky's guarded heart began to soften, and despite the fact that her financial situation was spotty, she skipped town as soon as she graduated. No heads up, no goodbye, nothing. She feels guilty about it, and she would be lying if she said she didn't think about her on the day of the outbreak (and quite a few times afterward). But at this point it feels like ancient history.
Lays - Lucky's idea of intimacy has nothing to do with sex. She had a bit of a reputation back in her hometown and still maintains it at the UC. Consensual encounters only, of course, but this would be fun to play with. Everyone responds to hook-ups differently and it could open up some interesting plots. All (male, female, non-binary, etc.) welcome - she doesn't discriminate.
maybe she had overstepped, anu could see the discomfort on lucky's face. she got it ⎯ kinda. it always made her feel weird whenever she opened up to someone and they looked at her with those pitiful eyes, like she was a charity case or something, like she needed a saviour but she had it handled.
she laughed as she playfully punched lucky's arm. if there was one thing that anu was not good at it was definitely any physical activity other than running. too gentle to land a punch that would cause any real harm, too mindful about whether or not she's hurting the other person. but she knows that when it comes to it, when it's life or death, she'll have to toughen up and do what she must to survive. that's what it is now, isn't it? survival. "puh-lease, you'll kick my ass even blindfolded. i'm pretty sure hasen could beat me in a fight to be honest."
It was amazing what a punch on the arm could do to clear the air. It was Anu, so it was soft, but it was enough to widen Lucky's smile and shake loose a chuckle. "Blind-folded? Nah. We're not advanced enough for that." She twisted back around, patting the seat beside her. "But you're right about Hasen - he could beat you because he doesn't play fair. But then again, neither do I."
It took him a moment... or, well, several of those moments to really understand what Lucky was trying to say with the comment about him calling people 'sugar'. By the time he could ask if she was only joking or not, she had already turned away to other matters. Perhaps he was severely underestimating his game, but then again he knew himself far too well to understand that not everyone wanted the same devotion he was looking for. What he had been looking for ever since he learned what love meant. Or perhaps he was just a coward. He licked his lips slowly as a terrible urge to taste something sweet came over him and he glanced at the sugar on the counter. Would it be so very desperate to just grab a handful of it? Yeah, probably. "Huh?" He startled slightly when Lucky spoke again. "Oh. Four!" He held up three fingers with a dumb smile, then decided to make himself too busy to think and moved to the sink to finish cleaning the carrots.
The discrepancy between what Danny said and how many fingers he held up gave Lucky pause. Her eyes narrowed and she opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking like a fish out of water; but, she opted for action and set the two eggs in her hand carefully on the counter before turning back to the fridge. She grabbed two more, spun around, and without thinking tossed one towards the others. The second it was airborne she gasped - "Oh, fuck!" - and she watched with wide eyes as it splattered next to its fellows, a few stray droplets showering Danny at the sink.
"Goddammit, shit, fuck, I'm sorry," she groaned, hurrying over with the other egg to set it beside the unbroken ones - the way she should have done it in the first place. "I'm too used to being in the library. Books don't explode when you throw them around."
Richie strolled his way down the side of the Rainstorm. Once he'd made it a suitable way out he started to whistle old Sinatra, 'Luck Be A Lady' trilling quietly through the air. He stopped, struck his zippo lighter against the thigh of his ripped jeans and took the joint he'd stashed behind his ear, tucked under the lip of the dark blue beanie he had rammed down over his ears. He lit it, taking a deep hit. "Lucky, wherefore art thou, Lucky."
The Rainstorm's back door opened with a bang, spilling Lucky out into the alley. She'd taken up bartending part-time since the rescue, a job she probably should have started ages ago considering how much time she spent there. It agreed with her - the drink-mixing, the socializing, the shit-talking - and as sleep had been hard to come by of late, the hours were ideal. But she'd gotten held up on this particular night and almost forgot her "appointment" with Richie, which just wouldn't do. She was still shimmying into her coat as she shuffled toward him; he was facing away from her, but his words were audible and she couldn't help but engage.
"'Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Slade.' Sorry, got held up."
Lucky looked down as she walked, trying to avoid patches of ice. When it was warm the snow liked to drip from the kitchen roof as it melted, creating mini skating rinks under the eaves. Lucky wasn't much of a skater when she had ice skates on, let alone when she didn't, and she had no interest in eating shit during this particular delivery. Her arms were wrapped around a basket of carrots - an offering from the greenhouse, and also from Lucky herself. She shoved her elbow against the door and pushed it open, but not before a cold drop of melting snow fell from on high and slid directly down her collar.
"Whoo!"
Her voice bounced off the walls, as good an announcement of her presence as any. "Iya! I brought you some carrots."
Danny took a moment. Well, several moments, as his thoughts were going about half a mile per hour, but eventually, he smiled softly and reached a hand out, aiming to pat Lucky's shoulder but instead he ended up pressing his palm against her face. And it felt good enough, so he didn't really care. He was sure that whatever understanding agreement he wanted to send through that touch, he succeeded at it, whether it was a shoulder or a face.
"Ain't no need to vet no bitch, sugar... ain't no bitch to vet at all." He shrugged, tone almost bittersweet, but then again everyone and their mother knew that Danny got his heart broken about twice a week on the regular, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Cursing, however, came so strangely to him, the word rolling off his tongue in a weird way as he got used to changing them out with something much more kid-friendly. He scrunched his face up, just to make sure he still had one as his muscles were completely numb, then he turned to the carrots. "Aight... eggs, please."
Danny's palm was cool, a welcome respite against the burning apple of her cheek. She laughed, again - it was always a treat when he swore - but his tone didn't go unnoticed and Lucky stared at him for a moment, the wheels in her head turning slowly. The earnestness that surged through her had yet to dissipate, but even in her hindered state she clocked Danny's sad little smile and knew what she needed to do. "Well, keep calling people 'sugar' and there will be," she joked, making a show of fanning herself. This was why she stayed away from feelings and sappiness - they brought the mood down - and she tossed Danny a wink before she turned to the refrigerator and yanked it open. Nyla had said the chickens were laying like crazy, so Lucky wasn't surprised to find a stack of egg cartons within; she grabbed one, opened it, and took out two eggs. Wait - did they need two? Or was it three? Or was she making all of that up because Danny hadn't told her? Balancing the two eggs in her palm, fingers locked partially around them like a cage, she turned around.
It was well before noon and Lucky hadn't yet entered the library. For days it had been a struggle to stick to her routine, to open up the doors with Zeynep and spend hours in crypt-like silence. She should have been used to it by now, but she didn't have to think too hard to know why it suddenly grated on her. The greenhouses weren't much better in the noise department, but her feet carried her there anyway (the Rainstorm wasn't open yet, and this was the next best thing). She entered, shaking snow from her boots, the surrounding greenery easing her frayed nerves with every passing second. The warmth of the space prompted her to peel off her layers, and she draped her coat over the crook of her arm as she moved through the rows of plants. She didn't know what she was looking for or even why she was there; still, Lucky's wide brown eyes darted about each time she ducked under a leafy overhang, and when they landed on Gabriel in a corner she couldn't bite back a sigh of relief.
"Morning, Reevs. Need help with anything? I'm playing hooky, don't be a narc."
lucky’s eyes were so painfully lovely that the moment they landed on her at last, jack had to look away, gaze falling to her feet, moving with contained desperation to the cows being dragged inside their warm and safe barn to call it a night. fondness crossed the brown of her look for a moment at the sight, but then lucky spoke once more and jack’s vulnerability turned to incredulity to confusion to rage so fast, she felt choked by the speed and wrath of her feelings. she looked at her friend with wide, questioning eyes, and her mouth opened and closed several times, words stuck in her throat, prisoners of the ire she felt like lava clogging her veins.
until they weren’t.
“ for you, you fucking imbecile ! ” jack finally managed to spit, so full of anger it made her whole body shake. “ i was terrified for you, you brainless, insufferable— ” a strangled sob interrupted her words, eyes looking away, hands curled in fists tight enough to turn her knuckles white. and then she couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, she didn’t want to — in the end, jack behrens had never been truly good at hiding who she was, what she felt. “ i saw you there, luck, when— when it happened, ” she mumbled, a murmur so soft and weak only how quiet the sanctuary’s nights were allowed it to be heard. “ a-and … i saw— i saw the boys carrying you back here, and i wanted— god, i needed to see you so badly, but you— you— ” her teeth clenched in frustration and anger and pain — she didn’t want to feel like this, she didn’t want this despair. “ you didn’t want me, luck … and— and i get, okay ? ” she rushed to say before being interrupted because she understood, she always will, and didn’t want lucky to misinterpret her again. “ i just … i thought i still had your honesty, at least. that you still … cared enough to— to be clear about what you wanted. or about what you didn’t. ” defeat permeated the tone of her last words and her shoulders dropped along with a sniff — she was exhausted and the only thing she wanted was the one she couldn’t have.
She blinked and twin tears ran hot down each cheek. The rage in Jack's voice paired with the vulnerability that dripped from every syllable made Lucky want to flinch away, to turn tail and run, but wasn't that what had gotten them into this mess? There was a wall in her mind that Jack's admissions dashed against; it surrounded the concept of her own importance, the idea that her actions (and her life) mattered. And this wasn't the first time - there were cracks in it. With every collision it buckled, and Lucky had to tighten her arms around herself to stay present.
Jack said she understood, but she didn't. She wasn't weak. As far as Lucky could tell, she didn't close her eyes and see the blood she'd drawn from the bodies of others. They were speaking different languages, but Lucky understood Jack's and changed course; it was clear that Jack had seen what she'd done, but she didn't care. She cared about her, about Lucky, and that fact made pangs of regret and discomfort vibrate through her, shaking loose a whimper. Pitiful. Now she was trembling too, though not with anger. "I'm sorry," she repeated, despising the way she sounded, so weak and desperate. "I've never...I just..." She dragged her sleeve over her cheeks, using the movement to catch her breath. "I-It's not that I didn’t want you, I...I didn't want anybody. I mean...of course I wanted you, you're..."
You're important. You're everything. And it's terrifying.
Lucky sucked in a breath that made her head spin, cold as the air was. "Y-You're right. I'm an imbecile, and I shouldn't have pushed you away, it...it wasn't fair. But that doesn't mean I didn't care, because I...I'll always care."
Lucky slammed her empty glass on the bar with more force than necessary. It wasn't on purpose but it earned her a few looks, all of which went unnoticed. She didn't know how many drinks she'd had nor how long she'd been there; she did recall tramping to the Rainstorm in a pleasant, heady fog, but everything between then and now was a blur. What did register, though, was Killian's solid presence beside her and the distinct lack of liquor in front.
"Just...hold on a minute." She held up a finger to Killian - they'd been talking - and heaved herself into a kneeling position on the bar stool. It was crowded tonight, and there were several pints of beer sitting idle, waiting to be distributed. Lucky leaned over and swiped one, dragging it in front of her and taking a long, deep sip. When she lowered the glass a white mustache of foam tickled her upper lip, which she licked clean before facing Killian again.
"Anyway, then we climbed through the kitchen window. Turns out the door was unlocked, but we didn't know that..." A giggle bubbled out of her. "Sneaking through windows is cooler though, right? Didn't we do that once? You and me?"
“You caught me.” Jun could not help but smirk. Mutually assured red-handedness! If they got reprimanded he’d simply blame second-hand munchies.
“Lord of the Rings,” he deadpanned. As much as he wanted to understand the whole taters thing that Danny quoted during lunch, Jun could not imagine denting an entire novel, let alone a series of books. No, no. Jun wanted to use all free time to practice his conversation skills instead.
“Just kidding. They’re notes from class. Mind-numbing boring. Entertain me and I’ll nick you…a little more something?” He nodded towards the kitchen. He could use another snack to fuel his brain and something small wouldn't hurt the cooking staff.
Lucky's expression turned serious in the blink of an eye. "Don't play with me, Jun," she said, pointing a finger at him. "One, I work at the library - I know what a book looks like. And two, the day you read Lord of the Rings and don't tell me first is the day I put you in the ground." Such playful threats were not out of the ordinary, but now they felt different on Lucky's tongue. They used to dance; now they were bitter, acidic. She bit back the taste as she rolled her eyes, collapsing unceremoniously into the seat next to Jun. "We live on a college campus, I get that. But you know there's no rule stating you have to keep going to class." Lucky dragged a sheet of wayward paper toward her with disinterest. "There was an apocalypse and all."
The sun was setting earlier and earlier as winter crept forth. The library wasn't short on light sources, but the stacks were shadowy even at midday; and now, with the light waning outside, Lucky had to squint to read the titles on the shelves. It might have been that her eyesight was failing, but what was she going to do? Make an appointment with the sanctuary optometrist (who didn't exist)? With a muttered curse she resolved to bring a flashlight the next time she had to reshelve. She only had a few more books to put back as it was - she supposed she could suffer through it.
Her gait retained a barely perceptible limp as she pushed the cart ahead of her, rounding a corner and diving back between the stacks. The rickety metal thing was just as stealthy as Lucky was, which was not at all, but that didn't seem to matter; she still almost crashed headlong into Santiago when she rounded another corner, leading her to believe that he was just as lost in his thoughts as she'd been lately. That didn't stop her from reacting, though.
"For fuck's sake, didn't you hear me coming? And isn't it a little late for you to be skulking around here, Jeebs? You're not technically in college anymore, you know."
☆ﾟ*·ﾟHe felt absolutely foolish and silly, sitting on the ground now that he'd fallen. How in the world was he so clumsy? His eyes met hers, smiling brightly. "I think so? I'm not entirely sure how that even happened. Did I trip on something?" Dev turned back to face the area behind him, wondering if there was anything. He shifted slightly to look under him but couldn't see anything. "You're quite right. This is why I will not be running any marathons." He picked up the poor banana and stood up, looking at her. "Do you think it'll be obvious how clumsy I am," he responded, laughing.
Lucky scanned the frozen ground at Dev's question, but a shrug was all she could offer. "No...but there's some snow, so we can pretend it was icy. And there was no good reason to run marathons before the apocalypse - can't think of any new ones now." There was a beat as she helped Dev back to his feet. "Well, there's the infected, I guess. But I don't think they'd chase you for twenty-six miles."
She wiped a bit of snow from her hands and laughed at the mangled banana in Dev's grasp. "Nah. Your secret's safe with me. Where you headed?"
Her laughter was so contagious, Danny burst out in giggles for the second time, eyes squeezed shut and bent over the counter, face pressed into the bag of flour. "Stop it! S-stop! Please! I'm be-beggin'!" Whatever substance was still clouding his mind had made the joke about a thousand times funnier, so much so that his stomach started hurting. Not to mention how Lucky's high-pitched screams and her body's thrashing around like some fish freshly plucked out of water only fueled the whole thing.
He was still making noises that sounded like what he could only describe as a possessed cat giving birth, though they somewhat started to become quieter, and his lungs were burning for more air as he finally straightened up. "No raisins? Ya sure? They're very--" He hiccuped. "--good for ya!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her up with one swift movement, then he took a turn at wiping some of her tears away. "Can't say I've ever made someone cry from my poetry before."
"Look, I don't - hic - know about you, but I - hic - have never put something in a cake because it's - hic - good for me." It was possible that Omar liked raisins in cakes, but he wasn't there to ask and Lucky wasn't going to take that chance. In her mind it was safer to leave out the raisins altogether - besides, it was one less ingredient they had to find.
The speed with which Danny pulled her up made her head spin. She braced herself, one hand on the counter and one on his shoulder as she blinked and willed her eyes to focus. The muscles in her face ached but she couldn't drop the smile; it softened a bit at Danny's touch, though, and his words drew out another chuckle. She tilted her head and looked into his eyes, just as dark brown and dewy as hers, and an uncharacteristic surge of earnestness overcame her.
"It won't be the last time," she assured him, resolute. "And when it happens again, tell me - I'll have a bitch to vet."
patience has never been jack behrens’ strength, yet as lucky pondered her questions, those fired full of her wounds’ venom, she felt full of it, breath held inside her lungs until they ached, until the air hitched in her throat at the opposing answer. she exhaled quietly, slowly, and her eyes drifted away for a moment, taking a respite from the sight that made her heart pound like the gallop of a rampant horse one second and skip a beat the next.
when her gaze went back to lucky, it traced her profile inch by inch, taking her in, feeling her chest tighten at the notion of how much she had missed her. and if the minute apology stumbling for lucky’s lips didn’t hit her like a train, her name spoken in that sinful tone certainly did.
“ don’t— ” she snapped, taking a step away from her, feeling the spot where lucky had touched her burn. “ don’t you dare— don’t— no. no, you … don’t have the right to touch me, ” even if i’m dying for you to do it, jack left unsaid, her dignity unscathed until the tears clinging to the corner of her eyes finally fell down her cheeks. she briskly wipped them away with the back of her hand, angry at herself, at how weak she felt. “ i just— god. fuck. i’m so mad at you right now and— and at the same time it’s just— it’s so fucking hard to hate you, i— ” jack trailed off, frustrated at the way she sensed her resolve faltering just by looking at lucky, just by remembering how her touch felt, how it always consumed her. the whisper that followed the small pause she made to collect herself was filled with raw honesty, “ i was fucking terrified, luck … ” eyes downcast, jack turned around, slumping against the fence, sudden exhaustion seeping through her bones. “ i still am, and … i— i don’t know how to come back from it. ” the admission fell heavy between them and jack lifted her head, her brown orbs pleading for something she couldn’t name when they found lucky’s.
There was a reason she'd moved slowly, but Lucky wasn't pleased by her correct instincts. She retracted her hand with a nod and a swift exhale, one whose resulting cloud of vapor she watched float away into the night. Jack's words were clear enough - she didn't need to look at her, and with tears stinging behind her own eyes she definitely didn't want to. She didn't think it would have mattered this much, and maybe it wouldn't have if she'd done things differently. But here they were, standing in the barnyard with a chasm growing between them. This was what Lucky had hoped for, right? Some space to clear her head, some space to regain control. But this wasn't what she wanted; it was too much space, and any control she thought she had floated away with her breath on the cold night wind.
A surge of bravery brought her eyes to Jack's, swimming. Her cheeks were on fire and there was a lump in her throat so large she could hardly swallow past it. "You were terrified?" Lucky didn't recognize her own voice, tremulous and small. Her hands tingled, restless, and she wrapped herself in her own arms.
anu had to admit that it was something that crossed her mind often, though the outcome was never one that she liked much. it was more thought of running out of food and medical supplies that worried her. she's tried to do the maths, but she can never bring herself to finish the calculations. it's something she'd rather live without knowing. the answer's probably not going to be one that she'd like so it's probably for the best that she doesn't know. "i guess we'd have to go back to the olden days, y'know reading sun dials and using polaris to find our way back home." she tried to make light of the situation, ease lucky's seemingly nervous demeanour. "i'd give you mine but clearly it's no use to neither of us in this state." her eyes soften, "are you okay though? it wasn't my intention to scare you like that at all."
Lucky's smile faltered. She didn’t miss the way Anu's eyes softened, and it made her want to squirm in her seat. The pharmacist had always been sweet and compassionate - neither of which were bad things - but now Lucky wished she were just a touch more apathetic.
"Ah, yeah," she replied brusquely, "don't worry about it. I've just been a little...yeah." Her lips tightened into a sheepish grimace and she averted her eyes. "Well, if I'd tried anything, at least I know you would have given me a run for my money."
It was the truth. Both Lucky and Anu were new to combat, and as such they'd had more than a few training sessions together. Neither of them were good, per se, but as Lucky had found out the hard way, that didn't always matter.
The sudden wet hands against his head were disorienting to say the least, but nevertheless, Danny stood his ground. He giggled along with her, even though he wasn't sure what exactly they were laughing about. "What what?" Slowly, very slowly, but it occurred to him that perhaps coming up with easy-to-remember poems about ingredients for cakes might've been quite unusual, and soon enough, Danny was laughing himself to tears as well, sliding the flour down to the counter before he leaned himself against it, holding onto the edge for dear life.
"It ain't even the whole-- the whole thing! Wanna hear the rest?" He didn't even waist for an answer before taking a deep breath to calm his chuckles, although they slipped through by the end of his famous second verse.
"Frosting fluff on top so high,
Nuts and raisins, me, oh, my!
Carrot cake, a tasty treat,
Sweet delight for tiny feet!"
Did she want to hear the rest? Did Danny want her to pass out?
Lucky covered her face with her hands, shoulders trembling in silent laughter. He'd barely finished his poem before she uttered a strangled, high-pitched, but admittedly weak scream and kicked her sneakered feet against the linoleum. When she dragged her hands away there were tears shining on her cheeks, her laughing smile so large that it met her eyes and then some. "I can't breathe!" she squeaked, and she reached over to give Danny a weak slap on the leg. Her uncontrollable mirth seemed to last forever, but it did eventually subside, leaving her hiccuping and coughing as she tried to speak again.
"I-I didn't take in any of that," she admitted. "Gun to my head I c-couldn't tell you the ingredients. Eggs I got, and raisins - which we are not putting in because we actually like Omar." Lucky sucked in and let out a shaky, halting sigh and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. Then she held it out to Danny. "Help."
"Now..." Vanity stared at Lucky. Sure, it might've been offensive for her to suggest that she was capable of doing that, but then again, she admired the fact that Lucky had been one of the only people who asked that to her face. "What would I even do with three bullets and no gun? Seems like a waste. If I had stolen, which I didn't- " Vanity raised a finger, as to drive her point across "... but if I had, I would've taken a whole box and then changed the numbers on the forms." Perhaps someone had stolen the bullets, but Vanity's best guess was that they had fallen some place in the tent, and it had taken far too many hours to find them. Not that she would ever admit it outloud, of course. "It's just that people around here love to act like they are perfect, but no one is. Don't you think?"
Lucky chuckled. "So you're capable enough to know that if someone did steal the ammo, they did a shit job of it." Of all the people Vanity could have asked, Lucky was probably the most impartial. She didn't have an interest in firearms and even less in authority and who was in charge of what, but she liked being privy to other people's business - she could always be counted on to offer her (usually) uneducated opinion.
She bobbed her head in agreement, still lying on her back, one foot swinging lazily in the air. "Yeah. Maybe they're trying to make up for the infiltration, or that scout we almost lost. Seems to me when stuff like that happens, people like to latch on to things they can control. And sometimes they can be real dicks about it."
