A person’s mannerisms often told larger story than their actual words or actions. Something as simple as their posture could often present the difference between a successful rouse and a complete failure. It was like a river as it ran its course, it seemed deadly, fastest at the source, flowing over jagged rocks and dropping off of cliff faces in majestic waterfalls yet it clearly wasn’t dangerous, it was the river as it approached the sea where things got dangerous. It appeared calm, collected, nothing threatening about it yet as soon as you step in it? It’d drag you away and drown you before a chance arose to escape.
Lexi knew that if somebody held themselves in a confident way, people would be more likely to believe it, less likely to look into the minute details and find out that the confidence was little more than an act designed to cover up insecurities and weakness. People are always more willing to go out of their way to please somebody who came across as confident – partly in fear of what they could do, partly due to the natural respect for others that was seemingly ingrained in lesser people since birth – than they are to somebody who’s meek, carrying themselves around like they’re worth little more than the dirt between their toes.
The annoying thing about mannerisms and posture? The odd person just couldn’t be completely read, not unless they wanted to share themselves. Trix was one of those people. Whilst the woman didn’t particularly hold herself in a way that was confusing – at least not to Lexi who’d spent years training and living with her friend and usually knew how to read her almost like an open book – the Gypsy Queen’s current mind state addled any logical thought, any logical analytical cell in her brain, and left the leader of the Syndicate as little more than a blank leather book, only a title on display.
It was something she hated, not knowing instantly what her friend was thinking, how she was feeling about everything. She hated not knowing if she’d need to come in to help the other woman in any way. She hated feeling so defenceless to the other’s whims whilst she couldn’t think straight.
Feeling Trix’s gentle hands – something which most people, especially those who’d witnessed the woman in action, wouldn’t expect to see from the leader of the Syndicate – entangle themselves around the Gypsy’s hands was what temporarily broke Lexi from her confused state. Of course she knew that almost as soon as she left the meeting the confusion would come back full force, likely mixed with the anger that would inevitably come back in full force as she made her way back to Gypsy hub. But that was the future. In that moment Lexi was staring back into Trix’s intensely icy blue orbs, completely devoid of emotion other than a small slither of confusion which managed to worm its way into the very outskirts of the desolate city contained within.
As the other woman began to speak, Lexi felt both relief and more confusion. She was relieved, knowing that Trix often felt just as confused as she did in that moment about things, that she wasn’t the only one having to deal with so much bunk whilst the rest of the world frolicked around in their metaphorical meadow of flowers, attempting to live in ignorance of the life they were forced to live. The confusion came back when she watched the other’s actions, watching Trix’s eyes scanning across her own features seemingly searching for something which Lexi would likely never find out about. Apparently whatever she’d been searching for had been found if the nod which came from the other woman was anything to go by.
Hearing the rest of the words coming from Trix’s lips caused Lexi’s throat to clog up slightly, hearing just how much faith the other woman seemed to have in her, how much belief she had that the Gypsy Queen would be able to keep going, to keep fighting on – both against herself and the Clout skunks who wanted to destroy everything that had become dear to her since arriving in the wasteland that was once a thriving city full of dreamers but was now full of the dregs of the world.
“I know we’ll get through it, I know you’ll likely have plan after plan formin’ in that wondrous head of yours... but this time feels different. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. It just does. It feels like we ain’t gonna be able to beat whatever it is if it don’t choose to let us or until it destroys us first. I hate feeling like I can’t fuckin’ beat something that should be so easily destroyed.” The words came out in a voice that was both strong and weak, both desperate for answers yet so certain of themselves. None of it made sense and Lexi was certain that none of it would make sense any time soon.
A gaze of conflicting emotions stared deeply into the brunette’s own comforting gaze. That was another thing that most would gawk at, the thought of Trix’s gaze being comforting when so often they resembled small shards of ice just waiting to dig into their foes and destroy them with the superior intellect that the woman knew she had. It would be something almost impossible for the pathetic bods – and likely some of Trix’s Groupies themselves – to imagine, the Syndicate Queen being comforting to the leader of a ‘rival’ gang.
Continuing to watch the other’s facial expressions, a somewhat amused grin spread onto Lexi’s own face as she saw the humoured smile on Trix’s. She knew that the expression wasn’t done out of malice, she knew how Trix’s mind worked and she knew that something she’d said – or even the entire situation – was what had caused the amusement to bubble within the other woman.
Hearing the words – and seeing the following raising of an eyebrow – caused a small bout of genuine laughter to escape from Lexi’s throat. It only lasted a few seconds but she knew that it was enough, enough for Trix to know that she took no offense to anything she’d said or done since the disastrous rejection, enough for Trix to know that Lexi was willing to go back to what they had before, to forget everything that’d happened in the warehouse.
“Now you’re just speaking outta your ass. The only times I’ve been refurbished were when I escaped the Kosher curs and when I arrived in this piece of bunk.” The words were obviously spoken in jest, her amusement at the situation evident across her face and in the light tone that the words were spoken in.
Maybe, just maybe, things would work out for them.
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