i never learn

— where the blue moon shines; where the tears melt ice.

[gemmahwng]

DELILAH.

delilah’s eyebrow arched in amusement. “ I could probably find someone who would, actually, but unfortunately there probably isn’t much I could do about our living situation. ” at this point, most of the things she owned were either bought by someone else or bought with the money she got by selling off those gifts. coffee beans from italy wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, especially since quite a few of the elite were highly likely to do that already. her expression soon morphs into one of distaste. “ ugh, let’s stop talking about those disgusting things already. ” she really didn’t want to give more thought to what other atrocities were brought by the rats. a shrug of the shoulders combined with her rolling eyes is all the response she has towards gemma’s explanation of cole. cole, as a person, wasn’t all bad. but she hated any sort of authority, and he was it in this situation. she’d been trained to always be in control, and although she could technically leave if she wanted to, it was mostly the principal that he was in charge that automatically made her more annoyed around him. if hard pressed she could admit his better points, but she wasn’t the type to display that easily. “ anything for you, darling. ”  she laughs, tone decidedly sarcastic, scooping up another handful of cereal. “ so, besides the superior coffee, how was italy? ”

     ah, gemma almost forgot who she was talking to. she lets out a breathy huff of amusement at the other’s (likely very true) claim, saying, “well, whatever you do, make sure it isn’t delivered right to our doorstep. i don’t want to have to make up some story for the UPS guy.” she winces exaggeratedly, though it falters to a blank shrug as delilah asks to stop talking about the rats. “your loss. i hear they make very good cuddle buddies.” she continues on her quest to find something she might want to snack on, then eventually settles on a packet of honeycomb candies she’d bought impulsively at the cashier counter. tearing the packet open with her teeth, she cracks a bit off the corner and plops it into her mouth with a satisfied hum. it’s even sweeter than it should be after the taste of bland but still bitter coffee, and for someone with as big a sweet tooth as gemma, it’s about as satisfying as a warm home-cooked meal. she quirks a brow at delilah’s use of darling, unamused but not quite bothered enough to protest. there’s a pause in the conversation and she cracks off another bit of the candy, throwing it toward the mouth of delilah’s box of food, aiming just right so that the tiny fragment will hopefully land amongst the cereal. it’s almost an offering, of some sort — she rarely shares her sugary treats, after all — regardless of whether or not delilah even likes honeyed sweets. how was italy? the question makes her pause; there’s more for her to say than she’d ever dare to, and so her answer comes out with a careless shrug, “it was... good. nice weather. their croissants were subpar.” it isn’t until she’s said it that she realises she’s comparing rome to paris out loud; she doesn’t think she’s ever spoken about where she came from, and certainly not to delilah.

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

He smiles as she accepts the pinky promise, something Ferris hadn’t done for quite some time. He retracts his hand, wondering just what Gemma thinks of all the childish things he’s pulled in the few minutes of their conversation. He’s been pantomiming, high-fiving, pinky promising, and pouting… All of which don’t make him look like the respectable doctor he had initially shown himself to be around the Reato crew. But, it seems like he’s been able to be a bit childish with the crew, he doesn’t have to always put up those walls that he’d had in school. “We already have one pet with a ‘B’ name, you have to pick something else! Maybe Darby, or Charles? Aren’t those just as dapper and butler-like as Barnaby?” He questions, looking around the space. “But, yes we could use it. I don’t understand why we didn’t hire a cleaning crew to come in before we got back.” He sighs, scared to even take a step into his room, he knew he had left some bags of Cheetos in there, and he would not be surprised if he found them all opened and with tiny bites taken out of the majority of them. “Now, I guess we’ll just have to do a crew clean up? What do you think about that? You can clean out the garage, since you seem to spend a lot of time there, I can clean up my rooftop space. What do you think? We can force Ro to be our Cinderella.” Ferris chuckles under his breath, imagining their own resident rich person in a Cinderella-esque garb of rags. After his chuckles, Ferris faces Gemma with a look of complete incredulity, his arms crossing and his eyebrows furrowing. “It’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me, I think I can usually tell when you’re zoning out because you get this look on your face,” he impersonates the way Gemma seems to nod a lot more than usual, with his mouth slightly agape like hers usually is. “Am I perfecting the look yet?” He asks, shifting his expression back to something a bit more neutral. “But, as long as you’re listening to the important things than I’m fine with standing here and rambling. It’s like talking to the walls all over again. I get to speak my mind, and I don’t have to worry about too much judgement,” he genuinely laughs and looks kindly towards her, at least it’s nothing like his parents who never heard a word he said. “Actually, B likes to go by ‘her royal majesty, Queen B.’ But, you can call her ‘her holiness’ too, she likes sounding like a goddess sometimes,” his sardonic, yet serious tone takes hold as he looks on without any hint of kidding; he hopes Gemma realizes he is just putting on a rouse, it’d be horrible for the rest of Reato to think that he’s some old cat lady. Ferris feels a cold rush go through him with the purse of  Gemma’s lips. He bites at his own lips, tearing at the dry patches of skin. “But, don’t we trust Cole? Why else would we be working under him if we didn’t trust him. Something just feels weird to me about leaving him in the dark,” Ferris exhales exasperatedly. “We should’ve said something, I mean, shit, we all had to leave the warehouse because we put him at risk. Don’t you think that’s kind of fucked?” He tries to make it sound like he’s less frustrated, and not even in the slightest bit angry. But, Ferris can feel the cracks in his voice as he speaks, even if he wills them not to be there. “Why thank you, I take pride in this new god body… Some time off was just what I needed to learn how to eat vegetables.”

     it’s true that ferris has acted unusually this whole conversation, at least in comparison to what she usually expects of him — but gemma doesn’t necessarily dislike the change. it’s strange to think that some time apart has brought out a more playful side to him (perhaps to both of them); she wonders how long it’ll last. “darby could work, too. maybe algernon, or winston. ...ramsey?” she muses, investing far too much thought into the idea of naming her roomba. at the mention of the cleaning crew, gemma simply shrugs, “is bringing a cleaning crew into a criminal hideout a good idea? more importantly, can we afford a cleaning crew?” when ferris brings up the idea of the group cleaning up together, she pretends to gag at the thought of all the work — but it turns into a cough and choked almost-laughter when he mentions ro being their cinderella. “yeah? ro would make a pretty good cinderella. a reverse story of riches-to-rags. we’ve even already got a cast of mice — or rats, rather — he can befriend.” gemma’s expression is deadpan, a stark contrast to her lighthearted words. as long as her cars don’t suddenly turn into pumpkins at midnight, she’ll be fine entertaining the silly thought. she watches with the same flat look at ferris mimes her disinterested nodding, but she can’t help the tiny upward twitch of her mouth when he asks if he’s doing it right. “got it down pat. i could probably even switch you out to be my body double for boring conversations,” she jokes, stifling a smile. “well, in that case, i’m happy to be a suitable wall replacement.” his kind glance has her pausing, for a moment; she hesitates, but the next lopsided curl of her mouth is almost affectionate, too. “her royal majesty, hm? i’ll have to ask forgiveness for my disrespect,” gemma mutters, fighting the show of her amusement as she makes a point to roll her eyes. fortunately for her, and perhaps unfortunately for the conversation, the mirth disappears of its own accord at the new topic of conversation. through ferris’ minor fidgeting, she tries her best to keep her own gestures neutral. arms lay still at her sides; there is a conscious decision to stop herself from crossing them, so as not to appear defensive or guarded. “you don’t have to trust someone to work with them,” she says, after a moment, voice quiet. she, of course, speaks only from past experience; she’s had numerous jobs during her first three years in nevada where her crew attempted to swipe her share or even take her out after the job was done — so just because she believes in reato’s cause doesn’t meant she has to believe in its leader. it’s easier to place one’s trust in concepts, rather than in people. “if we’d said something, how much do you think would’ve changed? and how can you be sure things would’ve turned out for the better?” the time away not only gave people a break from the warehouse, it gave them a break from each other; she’s not sure what the alternative could’ve been, if it would’ve been better or worse. in truth, she doesn’t see their decision as a mistake. cole’s exposure was... unfortunate, but not damning, in her eyes. after all, they’re still here, aren’t they? ferris’ frustration does not escape her notice, though, what with the quiver at the back of his throat — she nibbles at the inside of her cheek, eyes meeting his when she states, “we’ve already made the choice, anyway. and it’s a little late to go back on it.” when they move on, she’s glad to drift from the topic; but even at ferris’ quip, her already halfhearted smile feels weaker, somehow. “so you’ve learned, huh? and if i made vegetables with dinner tonight, you wouldn’t leave them untouched?”

[gemmahwng]

KATIA.

                    katia was able to hold her liquor. from bouts of underage drinking under bridges back home to finally being free and twenty-one, she had her fair share of alcohol. over the years she built up a strong tolerance for it but from the way gemma and her had been barhopping, katia was significantly drunk. she was glad gemma dragged her out and freed her from another night of getting drunk alone and sitting in misery not only because she didn’t see the warehouse in sight, but because she saw gemma as a friend. they didn’t know much about each other, but katia had this feeling around the other woman that comforted her. perhaps it was her dry humor or her cement foot on a gas pedal, but katia respected gemma in a certain way. she agreed that the bar had gotten crowded since they arrived and katia was quick to hop out of her seat.  “ i think it’s time to split. “  she agrees, leading the way out the bar and back into the thick heat. 

    gemma casts a crooked sort of half-smile katia’s way, grabbing her purchased-but-unfinished bottle of whiskey as she stumbles out of the bar with just enough sense to properly walk through the door. once they’re outside in the warm vegas night, gemma draws in a deep breath, arms outstretched to balance herself as she spins in a slow circle with her head craned skyward. “you know... i’m glad we’re doing this,” she admits, voice mumbled, only just loud enough to be heard. though her sincerity isn’t overwhelming, it’s certainly present. “god, the warehouse can get so stuff. you ever – you ever feel like it’s stuffy? for a place so empty?” she furrows her brow, as though suddenly unsure of what she’d just said; she pauses, then, suddenly contemplating something as though she’s sober enough to be making any sort of decision — then finally hums low as she settles on asking, “you feeling up for another stop? it’s like the warehouse, but not.” she places a finger to her lips, as though trying to imply a secret. “it’s that-a-way.” she makes a grand gesture with her glass bottle that most definitely does not offer a clear direction.

[gemmahwng]

@kvtia

     gemma hasn’t had a night like this in a while. a drive down to the strip followed by several hours of barhopping seems like such a bygone era, for her; after joining reato, the few times she’d actually gone to get drunk was on the rooftop of the warehouse, and most decidedly alone. by now — almost two hours past midnight, and still gleefully taking advantage of vegas’ lax drinking laws — gemma can’t remember exactly why she’s at her fourth bar of the night, no doubt around her dozenth shot, and with katia of all people. she vaguely remembers seeing the other in the warehouse, upset and drinking alone, but she doesn’t remember insisting that they make a fun night of the misery, forcing katia to get changed and come out with her; nor does she remember driving them out to the strip... or where she even parked her car, for that matter. she’ll worry about that later, she supposes. “mmph, this place is crowded,” she mutters, voice slurring just a little bit; it feels like such a long time since she’s had this much alcohol in her system. she gestures at the now bustling dive bar — clearly this place’s clientele preferred the late hours. “i think i need some air. time for another walk?” she jerks her head toward the front door, slapping a few bills onto the table as she grabs her worn bomber jacket from where it’s slung over her chair’s backrest.

[gemmahwng]

DELILAH.

“ you know, I wonder if they ship the beans, ” tapping a finger against her cheek, she thought out loud. having genuine italian beans might mean a more acceptable cup of coffee in the morning, unlike the imitations that most cafes seemed to carry nowadays. “ that plan better happen soon, ”  —  she made a note to herself to question ferris about it later  —  “ I don’t know if I want to stay here tonight. ” she was well aware that she probably sounded like a brat, but the thought of rats biting holes in her sheets, or worse yet, her clothes, was not something she really liked to think about. at gemma’s next remark she rolls her eyes. “ he’s like a kid sometimes, honestly. I think he’s enjoying the whole cloak and dagger thing a little too much. like, he’s the mastermind of this whole thing, isn’t he? make something up maybe? ” it wasn’t was if she didn’t understand the risks that came with it, but she wished that their living conditions were at least somewhat decent. watching gemma throw away her coffee, she offhandedly commented “ that bad, huh. ” before promptly getting distracted by the array of food. she selects a sugary box of cereal immediately, opening it and grabbing a handful. “ don’t worry, I plan to finish this, unless someone else doesn’t mind that I’ve had my fingers in it. ” she reassured, before stuffing a mouthful in. most people would be shocked to see her do something like this, but only because she usually played a more ladylike character. 

     “what, you willing to pay for shipping from italy? because, and i’m not sure if you’ve noticed but,” here, gemma gestures at the dilapidated warehouse around them, making a dissatisfied gurgle at the back of her throat, “forget fancy coffee beans, i don’t think we can even collectively afford a vacuum. or pay our electricity bill, for that matter.” though, to be fair, the former could be easily be explained by no one giving enough of a fuck to clean up around here. her lips curve at one corner, crooked and teasing at delilah’s words. “oh, it’s not so bad. so what if a rat snuggles up to you in your sleep? you’ll make a lifelong friend. ...or, worse come to worst, it just takes a few bites out of your flesh and gives you an incurable disease.” gemma shrugs, as though the idea of the bloody plague lurking beneath their floorboards is the least of her concerns. “i don’t know. cole’s cole,” she mutters, stifling a graceless snort at delilah’s remark; even if she doesn’t get along with him half the time, she does sort of have a begrudging sort of respect for the guy. that bad, huh. “worse,” gemma scoffs, pondering if she should throw the rest of the pot away, too. ah, whatever. the others likely haven’t had their tastebuds spoiled by superior coffee; they can probably still make do. she watches with idle curiosity and an arched brow as delilah stuffs cereal into her mouth with her hands, but doesn’t show much surprise or repulsion beyond that. “as long as you make good on that plan, i guess,” gemma responds, shifting around to see if she’d bought anything she felt like eating right now, “because if you don’t, i demand a reimbursement.” her lips quirk just a little, a clear sign that she’s kidding, despite her otherwise deadpan expression.

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

Ferris holds out his hand again to pinky promise her, he added a mental note that the bank would be one of his first stops this week. He didn’t feel bad, but it really felt like his lifestyle from Taiwan was already dissipating. Over his break from Reato, Ferris finally had built up some funds by doing odd jobs. It wasn’t a lot, but usually Ferris was absolutely broke in Vegas. But, looked like things were starting to go back to normal. Gemma would get his money and Ferris would go back to refusing to eat vegetables. “I’ll stay by my word then, you’re now one hundred dollars richer. What are you going to do with all that money?” Ferris inquires in a slightly sardonic manner. He wraps his hand into a fist and pushes it towards Gemma as if holding up a microphone to interview her. “The mini-volcano part wasn’t that accurate. They’re just regular volcanoes, but that’s not the point,” Ferris pauses before answering the question she had asked. Even though she had taken back her request for an explanation, Ferris couldn’t help himself. He felt the need to go through the details of the disease now that they had gotten onto the subject. “This calls for a quick explanation, though. The synonym for silicosis was invented by a puzzle master for the sake of creating a complicated word. It is the longest word that has been place in an English language dictionary, but not the longest word by far. The longest word actually has one thousand letters, and even I can’t remember the entire thing,” the last part isn’t entirely true. Ferris can recite a good portion of the word, and would most likely be able to spell it out if he was asked to recall it over a long period of time. “So, you’re telling me that you tune out on the things I say fairly often? That kinda hurts, I try to pay thorough attention to all the things you say about, like, cars and Italian fashion.” This isn’t meant to be a criticism, in fact Ferris isn’t too offended whatsoever. He just felt like poking a little fun at her, harmless, but worth some kind of reaction. “B is amazing, and don’t you forget it! She is a lovely creature, majestic, perfect, and infinitely powerful. Watch out, you might become like one of those rats if you keep on badmouthing her!” He warns Gemma by making a slightly disconcerting face of worry, but it’s all in good fun. “B is the goddess of this warehouse, and don’t you forget it.” He was glad to see her actually return the high fives, at least he knew that hugs were the boundary but high fives were fine. “Right, hiking did the same for me. Speaking of him, have you talked to Ro at all since, you know? I think we should have told Cole, something just feels wrong with pretending everything will be okay. We’re a team, Gemma, we’re supposed to act like one.” Ferris had plenty of opinions on how they’d handled the final episode of the Valitus & Divitis fight. It felt uncomfortable to leave their leader in the dark. “Well, I like the new Gemma, she’s got this kind of sophisticated charm we were lacking. Even if our local rich-guy can be charming at some points in time, it’s nothing like you.”

     she eyes his pinky with some degree of suspicion — was the childish gesture really supposed to assure her, somehow? — but with a surprising lack of reluctance, hooks hers around his and gives it a firm little shake. it feels kind of weird, honestly, to come into physical contact with someone without the intention to headbutt them or punch them in the gut. she rolls her eyes at ferris when he thrusts an imagined microphone in her direction, but her lips twitch in amusement. “i don’t know. maybe get a roomba. this place could use it. i’d name him barnaby.” despite herself, she instinctively but involuntarily spaces out a little bit the second she hears ‘quick’ explanation — long words, puzzles, something else she doesn’t really have the attention span to try and understand — and doesn’t tune in again until after ferris starts lamenting that she doesn’t pay attentions. whoops. “oh, i listen! when it’s worth listening to,” she says with a somewhat dazed blink, purposefully playing up the fact that she’d tuned out just moments ago, mostly to poke some fun in return. truth be told, sometimes she has a hard time understanding ferris, but she can admit that he has a great deal of (occasionally) interesting knowledge to share; it’s just that it can be hard to keep up at times, and it becomes far easier to stop listening than to work hard at deciphering what he’s actually saying. not that she’ll admit this, of course — her pride refuses to ever admit ‘it’s not you, it’s me’. “wow, you’re a real big fan of your cat,” gemma says, and she can’t help the genuine laugh that bubbles at the back of her throat, low and breathy. “of course, my apologies. i did not mean to badmouth her... highness? holiness?” she bends her head low as though in repentance, but peeks at ferris through her lashes toward the end, as though asking for the correct cue on how to address b. the high-five is as strange as the pinky promise, but she supposes with enough exposure, it’ll stop feeling unnatural. when ferris mentions ro and what they kept from cole — and the rest of the group — gemma purses her lips. she hasn’t had to think about that for a while; to hide that it bothers her, she chooses indifference. “i’ve talked to him, but not about... that,” she admits, expression a little colder, body language a little stiffer; on her guard again, if only just a little. “well, with a team, you’d usually trust the person you tell your information to.” and it’s true, she doesn’t quite trust cole. not then, not still, even if it’s led to some unwise decisions. she wants to say it’ll change in time, but it’s hard to really determine something as fickle as loyalty. when ferris redirects the conversation again, gemma simply huffs — somewhere between a snort and a scoff, followed by a very prominent roll of her eyes. “you trying to flatter me, wonderboy?” she asks, feigning scrutiny. still, she softens when she adds, “well, for what’s it’s worth, the new ferris isn’t so bad, either.” apparently, she’s incapable of a more wordy compliment. “i guess the time away really did do us some good.”

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

“Am not!” There was a childish chime in his voice as he defended himself. “I do need it… But, you know, I like making bets.” He hopes that she won’t get it, the potential of losing his money coming down to this very moment. His fingers are crossed and his eyes are shut tight, as if that will shield him from whatever answer she gives. He stops tensing up every muscle in his body when she gives her answer, which is somewhat correct. He never said she had to be spot on, in fact he’d said the entire opposite. “Well, you just won the one hundred dollars in my bank account, and I am back to being a broke young man. Congrats, nice work on using roots,” he actually has a surprisingly cheery tone for just having lost everything. He can be proud that she got it right, it’s not something that everyone would have been able to deduce. “It’s the word for the lung disease that can result from the inhalation of volcanic ash. I’d never make up a forty-five letter long word. If you want to shorten it down, the common synonym for it is silicosis.” His explanation drags on, but Ferris can’t help his usual habits. He faces Gemma with somewhat of an apologetic smile for wasting some of her time. “Don’t make fun of B! She’s an angel, and she kills those rats like there’s no tomorrow. Aren’t you glad that we had a rat-free warehouse right before we left. That was all her work. She is an assassin’s best asset. Don’t ever underestimate a cat.” Ferris gave Gemma a playful nod and an admiring gaze. From what he’d seen her do in a car, he was fairly impressed. The best he’d done is learn to drive stick. She had been able to use her talent for something while the gang was gone, while Ferris had done nothing with his brilliance. “At ‘em, gal. You can take the girl out of the Porsche, but you can’t take the Porsche out of the girl,” he said with a smile plastered on his lips. He held out his hand for a high five. “Fashion sense and awesome deliveries, you sound like you had a pretty sweet time. Even if you still had to work somewhat.” Ferris let his lips fall into a wounded frown, “ouch, ouch, ouch, Gem! I may have been geeky chic before I left for Taiwan, but at least I had better style than this.” He rolls his eyes and laughs, “guess being in Italy with all the uppity fashion also granted you that upper-class skill of judgement. Or, did you already have that trait before you left?” His finger waved in the air stubbornly. “I’ll get that hug someday, and it’s going to be the best hug ever - just you wait.”

     she rolls her eyes at his childish tone, but there’s as much affection as there is exasperation in the gesture. when ferris announces that she has, indeed, managed to pluck together enough sense to swipe his hundred bucks away, her sense of victory is erased by pure disbelief. seriously? ‘tiny volcanoes’ was a guess in the right direction? “well, far be it from me to back out on a prize,” she says, apparently with little remorse at putting ferris in a difficult position. fair’s fair, after all (even if she’ll most likely find a way to actually give it back to him without backing out on their bet). for a moment, her brain blanks out on what relevance roots have to volcanoes before she realises ferris isn’t talking about trees; she only just barely tunes back in for his explanation about the actual meaning of the word. “if they already have silicosis, why the fuck do they need pneumo-mini-volcano-sis?” her brow furrows; it just seems so unnecessary. then, as if remembering who she’s talking to, she snaps her head back up and adds, “no, wait, don’t tell me. i feel like you might actually know, and i’m not interested enough to pretend to listen.” his apologetic smile makes her soften again, though; a little less reluctant at the idea of ferris dragging on. as unlikely as she is to admit it, she’s gotten used to all his chattering over time. it has slowly grown on her... maybe unpleasantly, like some kind of parasitic plant, but whatever. it feels familiar, and that’s enough to put her at ease for a while. “yeah, yeah, okay. b is a cat sent from heaven to purge our warehouse of unwanted vermin, etcetera,” gemma halfheartedly agrees. she is thankful for that short period of time in which the rats had all gone, though; maybe b has earned a treat and a few pats on the head. ...in secret, when no one else is watching. her brow arches at his following words and the hand he extends out for a high five. with some degree of reluctance, she limply slaps her palm with his, eyes narrowed. “right,” she mutters, looking equal parts annoyed and confused at his enthusiasm. “working was one of the better parts of it, actually. kept my mind off of...” she pauses, thinking upon a day during their split that she most definitely wants to keep to herself, “...everything else.” his wounded exclamation elicits a genuine chuckle from gemma, voice low as she turns and leans her shoulder against one of the warehouse’s support pillars. “nah, it was definitely italy that did this to me. i’m all class and sophistication and quiet judgement now — romeo can go home.” when ferris continues on about their ‘someday-hug’, she simply hums, nodding as though in deep thought. the corner of her mouth twitches upward. “we’ll see. i’d brace for disappointment, but... never say never, i guess.”

[gemmahwng]

DELILAH.

delilah was not having a good day. she’d barely gotten any sleep last night due to worrying over the rat problem, despite having lined rat poison around her room. regret was coursing through her body when she considered the fact that she could have gone to the apartment further into the city that she still kept. besides that, their kitchen was devoid of food, and she was starving. she was currently sipping on the last bottle of juice she’d stuck in the fridge last night, hoping it would tide her over until someone either brought food or brought her out for food. spotting a familiar figure bearing what seemed to be grocery bags, she perked up as gemma walked over.·“·maybe you should’ve brought some italian roast back with you,·” she suggested at the other girl’s complaint. although, she supposed, it wouldn’t be much help now.·“·couldn’t sleep, those rats are back.·” a shrug of the shoulders accompanied the wrinkling of her nose, disdain at the thought of the rodents evident.·“·you’d think that cole would at least get an exterminator. by the way, did you happen to get food? the cabinets are pitiful.·”

     “good idea, unfortunate timing,” she answers with another sip and a shake of her head, then nods limply in acknowledgement at the mention of the rats. personally, though, she doesn’t really understand how it affects one’s sleep that badly. unless the rats decide to hold some kind of glow-stick rave, their existence generally doesn’t have the capability to impact much, with her. (but then again, a vermin-infested warehouse isn’t the worst place she’s slept, so maybe her standards mean nothing here.) “well, ferris says he’s got a plan to get it under control—” she forgets the exact degree of secrecy surrounding the cat, and so keeps it vague, “—so i wouldn’t worry too much.” with a crooked smirk, she remarks, “besides, i don’t think hiring an exterminator to come clear out our ‘secret headquarters’ would sit well with cole.” gemma says the term like they’re kids playing at pretend, with disdain and a hint of exasperation. at the mention of food, she turns back towards the kitchen with a nod. her nose scrunches a little again as she gets halfway though her coffee; gemma walks over to the sink and dumps the rest. “i got some fruits, cereal, pasta, ramen, canned stuff... the quintessential ‘life in hiding’ starter set,” she deadpans, gesturing with an unnecessarily grand display at the pile of groceries she left on the counter. “take your pick.”

[gemmahwng]

GEMMA + TUMBLR TEXT POSTS 001.

[gemmahwng]

@dclilahh

     the warehouse hasn’t been touched in months. with this fact in mind, it really shouldn’t be all that surprising that the place is worse off than it was before. new cobwebs dust every still corner; rats seem to have returned to make in their home; and the kitchen cabinets are, of course, woefully empty. gemma dumps the bag of groceries she’d just went out to buy onto the counter, fishing through it and grabbing the pack of coffee beans. after preparing herself a mug from the pot — no creamer but with far too much sugar, as usual — she saunters out to the makeshift living room. it seems fairly empty this early in the morning, save for a head of dark hair by one side that she recognises as delilah. gemma arches a brow, sipping at her coffee as she hesitantly makes her way over. her face scrunches at the weak blend, murmuring, “i think rome may have pampered me a little too much.” her voice comes out soft, as though more to herself than anything. “after italian coffee, this just tastes like badly flavoured water.” her hands wrap loosely around the cup, this time looking up and directly addressing the other as she hums, “you’re up early.”

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

“Those weren’t even too big words! I could say something like Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis and then we’d really be in trouble,” he smirks, excited to show off his large vocabulary again. “I’ll give you the one hundred dollars in my bank account if you give me even a semi-accurate answer as to what that means.” In true Gemma fashion, there’s that kind of dangerous look that draws Ferris in. He mimics her arms crossing, and looks at her with a lopsided smirk. “Fuckers should have stayed out, they should know by now I come back with twice as much force as they do.” He uncrosses his arms to raise his fists as if he were about to go into a punch. “They’ll be so shocked when I bring back my secret weapon!” He folds his arms back against his chest once he’s done acting like a fool. “They’ll never see it coming, I’ll be stealthy like an assassin.” He offers a warm smile as she talks about Italy. He’d never been, but it seemed like it would be an exciting place to go. It’s always shown as a romantic, beautiful spot to visit in the movies. Something that seemed idealistic enough that Ferris could turn off his brain for a bit while he was there. “Taiwan was incredible! I got to go on hikes, visit all the monuments, the guys at the hostel were so welcoming and we used to go on day trips around the island. I even went to a party at a Taipei beach one night which got a little crazy. I felt a lot healthier out there.” He feels like he’s rambling, but he can’t help it, just the thought of going back makes his heart feel a bit lighter. “Delivery girl? Let me guess, they named you employee of the month because of your freaky fast speed?” His eyebrows quirk up and a nostalgic smile passes across his lips. He looks down at her outfit which does seem a bit unlike what Ferris had known of the girl. Usually she had the uniform of jeans, a t-shirt, and maybe some kind of blazer and a jacket. Ferris wondered if he’d ever seen her in anything else, not including when she got dressed up for Reato missions. “Damn, I guess we all changed a bit on our trips. You’ve got to share some of your new fashion tips with me. I’ve been dying to get out of my ‘frat boy chic’ look,” he gestures to his own outfit, comprised of a colorful button down, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. He gives a sheepish look towards Gemma as if he’s trying to say, ‘look at how horrible this looks.’ He quickly puts his hands up in defense, “okay, it’s been so long that I forgot you’re not the hugging type. Wonderboy will just have to wait to get that hug.” He feels comforted by the way she says his nickname. It’s finally starting to feel like he’s really at home.

     “now you’re just making them up,” gemma pretends to complain. it doesn’t sound like a real word to her, but she’s learned not to doubt whatever was up with ferris’ mind. that, and it seems kind of impossible to so confidently string up a bunch of syllables and have it turn out to be bull. “‘the’ one hundred? singular? oh, ferris. i think you need it more than i do,” she deadpans with another arch of her brow, as though that’s reason enough to leave the matter be. truthfully, she’d rather not subject her pride to an impossible guessing game. pneumo like pneumonia? ultra microscopic? something about volcanoes? ...tiny volcanoes that make you sick? whatever. she’ll save herself the misery. when ferris raises his fists, this time she does snort, but it’s more amusement than disdain. “right. because an assassin’s best available resource is their cat.” when ferris goes on to speak about taiwan, she can’t help but look a little wistful. though rome was indeed beautiful as well, she’d had too much on her mind to really enjoy it. there wasn’t much touring involved — unless she was delivering pizza to a particularly distant neighbourhood, she didn’t really  leave the couple of streets she stayed near. but she’s glad, at least — however strange the feeling is to admit to — that the time away has done ferris some good. “ha, but of course. the ‘thirty minutes or less’ rule basically just means i get a twenty-five minute period to slack off,” her expression is playfully smug with her response. not that the mainly family-run pizzeria she worked at actually had enough employees to bother handing out awards. though, they seemed saddened when she told them she was leaving. that must’ve meant that her work ethic made an impression, at the very least. at ferris’ description of his style, the corner of her mouth twitches; it’s almost a laugh when she answers, “you mean, as opposed to geek chic?” she pretends to fall into contemplation, then adds, “fashion in italy is a lot... dressier than in america. i don’t think i saw a pair of sweats the whole time i was there.” and walking on cobblestone in heels builds character, she supposes. “you’ll be waiting a long time, then.” even with the roll of her eyes, her expression is almost unusually soft. free of her guarded hostility, if only for a bit. softly, but honestly, she shrugs, “it’s... good to be back, though.” and, somewhere between each word, left unsaid: it’s good to see you again, too.

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

His lips curl up instantly at the gravelly voice of Gemma. It’s been too long since he heard that soft hint of a French accent behind a disciplined noise. He takes a minute to turn away from the wall, but when he does it finally feels real that she’s standing right in front of him. “Yes, really,” he responds, leaning back against the dusty wall. Even more memories of their first conversation flooding into his filing cabinet of a mind. “It would be abhorrent for me to use my convoluted vocabulary with a wall who won’t even reciprocate my aptitude,” his usual sarcastic tone comes through each big word he says. He had missed being the smartass, it’d been almost impossible to say something in Taiwan when he was supposed to be the big, dumb lug. He had gotten a workout, but he was definitely missing the thesaurus in his mind. “I thought I had gotten them all with my secret method,” Ferris had left the warehouse cat three months prior in the hands of a nice old woman who said she would foster her. B the cat would be coming back soon to get rid of their recurring mouse and rat problem. “You’re looking very posh, did Europe offer you all their finest fashions?” He inquires, moving off the wall to walk closer to the other. “Don’t I get a hug? I mean how could you handle not seeing me for THREE WHOLE MONTHS?!”

     she wants to snort, but she finds herself stifling a smile instead. her arms remain crossed as she looks over ferris; who, truthfully enough, seems healthier than before. gemma can’t keep the amusement out of her voice when she clicks her tongue, “ah, and this is the part where i nod along without really paying attention. it’s all coming back to me now.” at further mention of their rat problem, she shrugs, “seems they’ve used our absence as an opportunity to come back in full force.” she really doesn’t want to think about rats and their breeding habits, though, and so she takes the chance to switch topics the moment ferris asks. “italy was... alright. how was taiwan?” she avoids thinking too long about her own trip; it would not do, she knows, to reflect too deeply upon certain parts of it. “living on a delivery girl’s salary doesn’t exactly offer the ‘finest’, but i have been introduced to a few trends of high fashion.” case in point, her current outfit — a dark blazer over a strapless velvet top and plaid slacks — is not something she’s ever worn around the warehouse, and neither is it something she’s likely to return to once she settles back in. “can’t dress like i’m brooding all the time, i guess.” her smile is crooked, though it falls into a deadpan narrow of her eyes when ferris asks about, of all things, a hug. “don’t test your luck, wonderboy. three months is a while, but not long enough to eliminate personal boundaries.” even as she says this, though, there’s a hint of warmth behind her snippy tone. saying the easy nickname again feels natural; different to just typing it out in text. (...what is it that they say about absence and the heart?)

[gemmahwng]

FERRIS.

He lets out a sigh of release, tracing his fingers against the familiar concrete. It feels strange to be back, back in the place where he’d first complained about wanting a normal life back. Now, Ferris couldn’t quite imagine a life without Reato or what exactly he’d be doing with his life if he wasn’t in Reato. His eyes wander across the cobwebs and he takes in the rustic smell. It reminds him of the libraries he occupied most of his time with when he was little. He takes his hand back from the wall, feeling a certain emptiness throughout his hand. “Good to be back warehouse, what have I missed?” He questioned, his hand running through his longer locks of hair. “How have the mice been? Good?” He leans against one of the pipes as if settling in to have another conversation with the walls.

     slung over her shoulder is a backpack that holds everything worth keeping from the last few months, which isn’t much. beyond a couple new sets of clothes bought on its streets, rome has not stayed with gemma. she strides into the warehouse and her face instantly scrunches in disgust at the familiar dilapidation — but it lessens ever so slightly when she catches sight of a familiar face... chatting to the wall? some things don’t change, she supposes. lips curling into an involuntary, lopsided smile, she drops her bag onto the ground beside the couch with an audible fwump, the sound loud enough to announce her presence. “really?” she says in place of a more conventional greeting, crossing her arms as she arches a brow. there’s a hint of deja vu, here. “...only things missing now are some unnecessarily big words for me to roll my eyes at, and then i’ll feel right at home.” despite her teasing tone, her expression seems almost friendly — fond, even, if it could be trusted. “and the pests are probably doing just fine, if the state of the place is anything to go by.”

[attacuz-blog]

snapchat || open ˚✧*

[gemmahwng]

ATTICUS.

ATTICUS: I just overslept my shift by accident. An abroad Atticus is a lazy Atticus. How is your day going?

GEMMA: I... guess this is the part where I refrain from judging you. GEMMA: My day is fine. The place I work is closed on Wednesdays, so. GEMMA: I’ve been watching strange foreign films and sipping at rosé all afternoon. GEMMA: It’s appalling that they don’t have good bourbon here.

[gemmahwng]

Ferris: I can really tell just how proud you are. I feel liberated by your words.

Ferris: We all know you were thinking it! Who can resist this man made of brains.

Ferris: Platypus? Actually... I'd rather be a mantis shrimp, thank you very much.

Ferris: You remind me of a fox. Or a weasel... Cute, but runs away and screams at you if you get too close.

Ferris: I got put up in a hostel. What about you?

Gemma: ...

Gemma: Of course. Sometimes I just get so flustered with how irresistible you are that I say the wrong things.

Gemma: Christ, I wish I could digitally transfer sarcasm.

Gemma: Aren't mantis shrimps the one with the bullet punches? I don't see it, sorry. Maybe in the eyes.

Gemma: I don't think I'll dignify that with a proper response. If anyone's weaselly, it's probably you.

Gemma: Ah. Cosy. I have a flat outside the city centre.

[gemmahwng]

Romeo: Romeo in Rome.

Romeo: I like the sound of that.

Romeo: But, honestly, I'm fine. It's also not like I'm in the middle of nowhere.

Romeo: I'm more worried about... everyone else. You okay out there?

Gemma: Mm. Gemma in Vancouver doesn't quite have the same ring to it.

Gemma: That's reassuring, though.

Gemma: I'm doing alright. There are worse places to be hiding than one of the most beautiful cities in Europe.

Gemma: ...Does it bother you? What we hid?

[gemmahwng]

TASK: HIDING OUT.

italy, she thinks, is too close to france.

it’s been just a little over a week since reato temporarily split; for a while, rome is idyllic. each morning brings in a calm fog that sits light on the streets, and from her little flat, she walks past a train station to go to a nearby bakery. she sips at blistering hot coffee and nibbles at different pastries, keeping her head down. sometimes, the baker’s young son gives her an extra treat for free at the register. after the first few days, her surprise and suspicion turns to smiles of thanks.

“hello, miss sofia!” the little boy calls each time, then later, when the noon light starts to warm the roads and she has paid for her breakfast, “goodbye, miss sofia!”

from there, she starts walking to the pizza parlour where she works, passing the train station again. in these days, something itches at the back of her mind; a nagging sensation she can’t place, and it isn’t until the first week passes that she realises what it is.

the train station. the station, the station, the station; again and again and again. it sits there like a taunt, a jeer, a sneer. one weekend morning, she’s sipping at her coffee when the air horn goes off — she drops the mug and the ceramic shatters into a dozen shards on the ground. the baker and his kid comes to clean it up, and gemma suddenly goes still, like she’s in shock. she hears the little boy’s voice call out in worry. she slaps a few euros onto the table to pay for the cup and then hurries away.

the decision comes like a flash.

barely a half hour later, with a large paper bag in her arms, gemma sighs with some degree of resignation as she boards the next high-speed train from rome to paris — not part of the plan, she knows, but she can’t seem to help it. she blames the lot she drew, blames the distance between one country and another, blames the passive inaction of her hiding; blames anything but her own inability to stay away.

         less than half a day passes, and then she’s home.

paris, in the years that she’s been gone, doesn’t seem to have changed much at all. the streetlights are just starting to flicker on when she arrives, bathing her in their electric bronze. she steps out onto rue de dunkerque and can’t help but think, oh, how strange this is.

but she is not here to stare blankly, or to sigh wistfully, or to think sadly. no, not at all; she is here to visit someone very important.

she hails a cab and gives to the man inside an address she hasn’t said aloud for a long time. her voice cracks toward the end and she’s ashamed at how it does, but she settles quietly into the car and occupies her mind with pondering how unusual it is to sit anywhere but the driver’s seat.

when the rumble cobblestone turns to the crunch of gravel, gemma knows they are close. she pays the driver and steps out; takes a breath and walks the path she has committed to memory, even so many years later.

fifty-eight steps; in between, take two rights, then one left. at the exact count, her feet come together to a stop. in front of her: a dusted gravestone of smooth, black granite, golden words etched across the centre.

          adelais sofia presigny.                  1992-2013.

from her paper bag, she pulls out a bouquet. all roses and chrysanthemums — for love, for grief. gemma kneels onto the gravel path and lays the flowers prettily inside an old mason jar from the last time she was here. the previous flowers seem to have cleared themselves; withered out and blown away. she feels guilty at knowing how long it must’ve been.

“tu es ma lumière, addy,” she whispers in greeting; a phrase she’s not said in years. she brushes her fingertips against the soft petals, hand tracing a line all the way to the name carved in gold. she follows each line with care, like she wants to remember the feel of every individual letter. “you are my light. my golden light, like sunshine.” she hasn’t spoken french in so long, she thinks her words sound clumsy. unnatural. her accent is jumbled with the american one she’s feigned for so long.

“and like sunshine, you could shake the fruit from trees.” her laughter comes out in a peal; a light ringing like the melody of bells, free of weight, if only for a moment. “you make my heart heavy, the same way as ripe fruit is heavy. and when it is ripe, it is ready to fall to the ground, because it has seen enough. it has been enough.”

she thinks of reato — of what they’ve done, of what they’ve accomplished. she thinks of the mistakes she made, in between. her breath hitches. “and sometimes, sometimes when i’m only hanging on by a thread, when i’m little but a fruit clinging to its branch, that’s what i think too; that i have seen enough. that i have been enough.”

her hand rests on the top of the headstone; fingers wrapped tight around the edge, knuckles white, smile strained. she knows they made a plan to return to las vegas in three months, to come back, to continue doing their ‘good work’. but for just a moment, gemma considers lying here. falling asleep for the night. never going back. her hand trembles on the stone, drawing in a slow, deep breath.

“and so that’s what you are, addy: the promise that i have been, that all this hasn’t been for nothing. that even if, sometimes, i might pray for the breeze to turn and sever me, we were. we were. we were. and that is enough for me.”

gemma glances at her watch. it’s late, now, but she still has some time before the last train. she sits on the ground, heedless to the leaves and soil clinging to the fabric of her clothes, and leans her head against the cold granite. her eyes sting hot when she finishes, voice gentle, “do you like the flowers? they came all the way from italy.”

in time, she will have to go back. in time, she will have to pick herself up again. first, back to rome; and then, back to vegas.

but for now, she can sit here. she can rest. she can remember.

and that is enough. that is enough.