“was any of that in the form of a question?” talon asked, mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “course not. lemme in, trebeck. really – i’m a strong breeze from dropping literally everything.” the crack in the door sparrow had left was morn than enough, talon shouldering in like her name was on the deed – behavior she had exhibited for decades past. she’d known the place, she thought, in the same way sparrow knew hers. which bit of the floor by the hallway had pulled up the last time they’d gotten a fair bit of rain, the way talon’s bedroom door had never settled properly back into frame after a fourteen year old tantrum that had been rewarded with the thing behind taken off the hinges as punishment, only for the ayaz family to realize the hinges were warped, and the damned thing was never going to close properly again.
that was the kind of knowledge that was earned, and not so easily relented, even with time. it was shit you just knew, regardless of how long it had been. the only person in roswell who knew which windows in the ayaz trailer had never properly latched – knowledge that was hard-earned. the two of them sneaking around after curfew, poking and prodding for any entryway that didn’t announce the very teenage offense of staying out late and talking until the sun had long since dipped below the horizon.
talon unceremoniously dropped both pumpkins just inside their home, flexing her fingers like carrying them a few hundred feet had been an american gladiator task. the case of beers, however, were placed down delicately, with more care than she’d given to the things that could actually bruise. “thank you talon, for saving me from a very boring night,” she said, her voice a terrible imitation of sparrow’s. “i know, you’d be lost without me. you’re welcome.” her tone then, a graceless, and somehow even worse, version of her own, all grins and too much sincerity to actually be sincere. “so i had a pumpkin carving kit, but it was like, safe for five and under dull. i’m trusting you with real weapons, moore, and if you lose a finger, you don’t get to blame me. consider this my moral deniability clause. i came inside already, and we’re running on vampire rules – this shit is legally binding. we can, however, carve them on the porch – because we’re classy. i’m leaving it up to you whether we shotgun a beer before in anticipation, or after in celebration. i’m very generous,” she offered, challenging grin curving her lips as she nudged the case newly place on the floor with her boot.
over the years , that modest trailer hadn’t changed a lick ; carpet was the same coffee-brown , a seventies shag that was both criminally outdated and damaged beyond any kind words through gritted teeth . cigarette burns pocked the ground , synthetic fabric melted into clumps that clung to the bottom of sparrow’s soles if they were caught short in the middle of the night . the wallpaper , floral and climbing those four walls , was mottled with the kiss of the sun , bleached in horizontal lines from the slats of half-open blinds . with their mother on her last legs , counting the days until she bid their mortal world goodbye , it was a bittersweet realisation that all that would be sparrow’s — if only they had the money to tear out the dated cabinets , to smash through rotten wood , to turn the trailer into the post-punk display of their dreams .
instead it stood as a time capsule , an airstream that time forgot . they were sure talon could trace every detail from memory after those long nights tucked away in sparrow’s single bed , shooting back liquor and smoking cigarettes out a cocked window . as much as they tried , their efforts to mask that nicotine smell with swirling tea lights proved futile . stepping back to allow talon entry , they barely hesitated as their counterpart made the lounge area their own — it had been for years , a secondary sanctuary away from the horrors of their dust bowl town .
“ i don’t thank anybody , “ a meaningless vow , an arbitrary rule alongside the rest of the laws they lived by ; questionable morals marred their life and yet , in the same vein , kept them safe from manipulation . they had been used once before , a naive child running from the familiar welcomed into the arms of the criminal . now , their terminal case of resting-bitch-face may have spurned potential friendships , but it acted as armour from a repeat of history . talon was one of the few that saw through the facade , that knew firsthand of the sweetness imprisoned behind racoon-like eyeliner and a scornful expression . “ you think i’m gonna settle for craft knives ?? you should be the one counting your blessings , not me , “ for their life in texas , a whirlwind of crimes both petty and federal , had prepared them for any sort of knife work , innocent or otherwise , “ let’s crack open a beer while we’re at it . it could either totally fuck up our designs or elevate them to the next level . you got any idea what you wanna carve ?? “
