“Yeah, me neither,” Lydia replied simply, shrugging slightly, letting the topic of Lux die now. Her mind was preoccupied with just about everything else going on, that whilst she loved the distraction by talking about something – or someone – else, she could barely focus because her mind was whirling at a hundred miles a second. What to say, what to do, what if this, what if that. It was hard to focus on something that was supposed to be a joke or a distraction to evade the inevitable. Whatever it was, she was on tenterhooks and it was only a matter of time before push comes to shove. Everything was well beyond her control no matter what precautions (or more so, idiotic mistakes made in a panic) she implemented, no matter how careful she tried to be. Out of nowhere, something else would come along and make the situation worse. And the only action Lydia could take was to either let it get the best of her, or to do what she could to protect the people she cared about. But she knew that somewhere along the lines, she was bound to mess up. They always did.
Hearing Robin’s response to her questions regarding her going on the run, she sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. If she continued pressing and reminding her that somewhere along the lines, something could mess up and implicate her. Regardless whether she’d been doing stuff like the for years upon years upon years, it didn’t change the fact that she could still get caught. She really couldn’t wrap her head around it. Any of it. What sort of life is that? The same question she recently asked her bounced around in her head. It wasn’t a life. And if it was? Then it was a miserable one to lead. If she continued to remind her of that fact, Robin would continue making justifications and explanations as to why it would work for her. Because she was used to it. What was the point in trying to drill an idea into someone’s head when they were fully adamant of something else? They would be going around in circles forever. But she’d make it clear that she disagreed, no matter what. Lydia will be just as stubborn; stubborn was her biggest personality trait, she imagined, after being reminded enough times by a countless number of people over the years. “Just because you’ve been doing it for a long time is nothing, Robin. It doesn’t change the fact that it’s risky and stupid for all I care. Don’t you get tired of it?” She asked, the question rolling from her lips before she had a chance to think about it. “Don’t you ever like, want to do something I don’t know – legal? Something you don’t have to worry about, when you don’t have to worry about potentially having to up and leave if things go south. I know you are going to disagree vehemently on this, and I’m not going to try and make you see otherwise because I don’t think I truly can.” She didn’t mean to sound blunt and harsh. Maybe it was the fact she had been constantly on edge since she found out about her father, or the fact that covering up what he did was also less than legal. Maybe it was the guilt eating away at her. Or maybe it was the fact she was just an irritable person. Yeah. Probably that, Lydia thought. She always did have a short fuse so honestly, the fact she wasn’t raising her voice or anything to try and coherently get across her opinions was a surprise to herself. “Look,” she stated calmly, “I’m trying to avoid that outcome for you, okay? I don’t give a fuck whether you’re used to running away or whatever shit like that. If I have anything to do with it, I would rather not have that outcome. And like I have already said time and again, I’m going to do anything and everything I can to ensure that it’s not the case. That it won’t happen. Nothing’s going to change that.”
All Lydia knew was that Robin deserved to know the truth about her cousin. What she knew and what evidence was pointing towards. When she got everything out of her system and explained what was going on, she knew there and then that it wasn’t going to end well. The stoic expression on Robin’s face made her insides turn, a nauseous feeling niggling in the pit of her stomach. She felt sick. That her father could even be capable of something like murder, let alone be responsible for the death of her close friend’s cousin. She could only hope that her friend believed in her enough to know that she would never be capable of doing something, of being involved in something like this. When asked the question about the other, inconclusive fingerprints, if they could be her father’s. And the truth was, it could go either way. “I don’t know,” Lydia said honestly, raising her shoulders in a small shrug. “I really don’t know. It could be. There’s a possibility, yes. But there is no way to prove it. There’s no way to prove that it is his or that they are somebody else’s.” Sucking in a breath, she fought hard with herself to calm herself down. What could she do to make this right? Solving it and clearing her father’s name would be a start. But there wasn’t enough proof. There wasn’t enough of anything and all she was capable of doing was filling in the gaps. Guesses, estimates. But she couldn’t do that either because she didn’t want to put something in said gaps that could be proven wrong at a later date. It was all a mess. Letting Robin carry on, she let her say what needed to be said, asked more questions that needed to be asked, took everything as it came. When she told her to stop talking, she immediately obeyed, forcing a watery, humourless laugh when she said that it made no sense. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Shaking her head when she asked why her father would be framed for her cousin’s murder, she could only shrug. “How am I supposed to know?” She asked weakly, feeling as the tears continued to brim in her eyes. Was this it? Was she truly losing her friend? Lydia wanted to beg her to believe her. She didn’t want to lose Robin’s trust in her over this. After all, she had no clue and was really messed up in her head as a result. Her breath hitched, catching in her throat when she asked another question: How do I know that you aren’t just taking this case into your own hands because you had something to do with it? She tried to think of something, anything, to clear her name. However, she reasoned with herself that no matter how she tried to put it, it will always seem like she was hiding something, or that she had something to do with it. If somebody remained certain about something, it was nearly impossible to get them to see things from a different perspective or through a different lens. But she had to try. The most she could do was try. “Why would I be telling you any of this if I had something to do with it?” Lydia asked, holding her hands up defensively, although she sounded more defeated than anything. Maybe she was already resigned with the knowledge that she wouldn’t believe her. “Why would I willingly tell you that my father may or may not be linked to your cousin if I have something to do with it, or if I am trying to cover for him? What good would that do?” Lydia wanted to ask her how the hell she could have had anything to do with it because as soon as those results flashed up on the screen, she subjected herself to a panic attack over it? That she was rendered incapable of moving due to the shock and she couldn’t breathe? That ever since she found out, she had been spiraling? That she was so damn fucking terrified of telling Robin this because she feared that she wouldn’t believe her, that she would turn on her? “No matter what I say or do, you’re never going to trust me. So why am I wasting my breath?” She felt… hopeless. Powerless. She couldn’t even persuade her own friend to believe her. If Lydia couldn’t even do that then what else could she do? Her hands were tied.
“No I didn’t mean – I meant… I meant, show you everything I’ve got so far. What I’ve managed to decipher from all of this… from this mess.” She answered in between sniffles, trying to force herself to get herself together. Her shoulders slackened when the other woman confessed she didn’t want to know what she had. “Then I’ve got nothing else to say. Anything I say, you’re gonna distort or - come up with some other skewed excuse that would implicate me and make me seem like I’m in on this. Because your trust issues run so deep that you can’t even trust me, someone you’re supposed to consider a friend. What am I supposed to do to earn your trust, huh? Join that gang you’re part of? Go and kill someone with my own two hands?” She paused, forcing a bitter laugh. “Oh wait, no, that’s the best part: you already think I have. Or that I aided someone in doing so. My bad.” She didn’t know where her sarcasm came from. Even though she understood why Robin may have thought Lydia was part of this disaster, it didn’t mean that it hurt any less. Because it did. It killed her inside knowing that her own friend barely had faith in her. Especially when she had little faith in herself. “You won’t find out that I’ve had anything to do with it. Because I haven’t. Innocent until proven guilty still stands, you know.” Lydia said flatly then in response. Innocent until proven guilty. That’s what Andrew reminded her when she came to him, mid breakdown, about her father. And she still stood by it even if some might argue that fingerprints on a murder weapon could be considered proof enough. Were they still friends? She couldn’t tell anymore. If she didn’t trust her… then Lydia didn’t know whether she was safe anymore. She had to believe that Robin wouldn’t hurt her… but emotions were running high and it must take a lot on someone with something like this. Push the wrong button and who knows how long it would take before they switch? She had to agree that the best thing for her to do was to leave. But then she asked for her father’s name, leaving her looking at her with incredulity. She couldn’t be serious. “I’m sorry but I can’t,” Lydia said without a doubt. “It wouldn’t make a difference. You don’t have anything to go on which could prove anything. The only evidence is the stuff already obtained. Which is in my possession. But I can’t give you a name or anything because –” She swallowed thickly, momentarily contemplating whether or not to finish that statement. But she did. “– because, he’s still my dad and I still plan on figuring this out and… I don’t know what you might do with any information I give you. So, until we figure things out – I can’t tell you anything. I’m so sorry.” She bit her lip then took another deep breath, motioning towards the door. “I think it’s best if you go now. You already have a surname to go on. That’s all I can give you. I’m sorry.”
Maybe Robin had overestimated how accepting Lydia had been of her whole lifestyle. Sure she realized the girl wasn’t going to support it, but she had hoped at least that she wouldn’t nag her about it. Robin was an adult and perfectly capable of making her own shitty decisions, thank you very much. Had she ever thought about putting her life of crime away? Of course. She didn’t want to still be living this way when she was say, in her fifties. Right now though? She was young and this was when she needed to be in the game, when she could make good money - She wasn’t quitting anytime soon, set for life had to happen before she would ever even think on leaving her gang. Even if she were to get to that point, it still wasn’t that simply, one didn’t simply enter and leave a gang. They were her family to begin with, she didn’t really want to and furthermore; they probably wouldn’t let her if she did. At least not without a fight, that is. Leaving her gang could very well be as dangerous as being in it, if not even more. They all knew where she was and who she really was, the police at least didn’t. “You’re right you really can’t. Not to pull the whole you don’t understand me card, because I don’t expect you to, but don’t talk about something you don’t know anything about. It’s not like I can just go straight one day whenever I feel like it. That’d be fucking peachy if it were the case, but I don’t even want to and if I did, I couldn’t get out that easy.” She explained. “I’m not going to do this forever, okay? Just get enough to be set for life and then . . .” She shrugged. “Then just find a way out if I really feel like going through the trouble just so I can make way less money.” She mused. Perhaps Lydia had underestimated how typical Robin really was as far as being a criminal went. She was cocky, pompous, hedonistic, and most of all she was greedy. Very little could motivate the street rat more than money could. “How, by hiding so much that the detective can’t do his work while also trying to hold me back from picking up his slack?” She sighed. The two were both very stubborn, and if they both chose to dig in their heals on this, they might wind up bickering for quite some time over it.
Robin listened to Lydia as she spoke and she could tell that she’d upset her. Could she really blame Lydia, though? She’d risked so much to keep Robin in the loop about all of this and here Robin was practically accusing her of murdering her cousin. Which how was that likely at all given the situation? Yes there was definitely something fishy going on, but by accusing Lydia Robin was really looking the wrong direction. Hearing that there was no way to prove they weren’t her father’s, Robin felt her stomach sink more. Wasn’t it most likely they were his? She didn’t know. She just knew they had one fingerprint and it was her friends father, and she didn’t know how to process that without jumping to accusations. Robin of all people should have known better than to blame Lydia for the actions of her father, given her own rough bringing due to hers, but this was all too much for her to really think clearly. She was confused and pissed off and all alone as far as her family went - Of course this was a big deal to her, and Robin’s trust issues and lack of faith in others only made it all more difficult for her to accept and think diplomatically about the case. Why would I be telling you any of this if I had something to do with it? She scoffed, because she was very much wondering the same thing, but then she looked at her friend, saw the tears in her eyes, on her cheeks, how tired she looked . . . Was this what had her looking so out of sorts? Of course it was, but Robin could honestly be a little dense at times, especially if her emotions were all over the place like this. “Lydia . . .” She stopped short and listened to her continue speaking, she crossed her arms and looked down like a guilty teenager that had just been reprimanded. She did feel bad, she knew she wasn’t the best friend in the world, she knew she didn’t deserve a friend like Lydia, hell she even knew Lydia probably was innocent - But she was so used to everyone she got close to letting her down, so why should this be any different? “I don’t know, I just . . . I don’t fucking know!”
Robin pursed her lips together, and wished now that she hadn’t just made all those accusations and promises, but when Robin dug herself a hole she rarely apologized for it. She didn’t admit to making mistakes often at all in fact. Robin remained silent as Lydia spoke, partly because she didn’t know what to fucking say now that she’d already said everything else and partly because she was afraid she’d start crying too if she opened her mouth straight away. Deep breaths, Robin. In and out. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what I believe right now, I don’t even know if I seriously believe you had a hand in this, but that’s the fucking point, I don’t know. Unlike you, I’m not ruling someone out just because I care about them or because I don’t want it to be true. A leads a lead and you investigate it, right? I’m on the other side of the law and I even know that.” Hearing her friend say that she couldn’t help her find her father, Robin nodded. “Right.” She said, frowning further when her friend started leading her out the door. She knew she fucked up here, and she wasn’t sure there was much she could do to fix that now. Of course there certainly was if she would let go of her damn ego for a second and apologize, but even though she knew she was in the wrong right now, Robin didn’t swallow her pride so easily. What gangster did? What gangster that went around apologizing for hurting other peoples feelings still earned respect or street cred’? But Lydia wasn’t apart of that lifestyle. Lydia wasn’t another gang member or someone she needed to get respect out of, she was her friend. Robin simply hadn’t had a friend outside of her life of crime in a while, not one as close as Lydia anyway - It was hard not to treat her with the same mentality she’d treat the friends in her clique. “Fine. Yeah, bye.” She said as she stood from the couch and walked out the door.
