Harsh Lessons

"The blade is for shaving..." She says, focusing on the tools she is laying out before her. "They said it was for an old fashioned guy. Or for killing someone real quiet-like. But um...I kinda hate that idea. I'm more of a lover than a fighter. Despite all the ass kicking's I've had to give. And the book is selfish because you don't know how to talk to modern gals I think and I'm the last person who could give advice...hence the book."

She shrugged, she was not getting invested, she forced herself to remember. Kindness or not, generosity or not, when Johnny was found, they'd have to leave. But it made her feel less like a mooch if she gave him a gift.

She did not respond to his question, turning her full attention to cooking herself up some of her sweet, tarry nectar.

She tied off her arm as sweat began to form on her brow, and pulled the liquid into the syringe. She'd turn her back to her host as she drove the needle in with precision, pressing the plunger down and letting her head drop back.

After a long moment, she would exhale a breath she didn't know she was holding in and spoke.

"Please don't use your life magic on me anymore..." She asked with her eyes shut tight.

She would sigh, letting the warmth pulse through her. "You don't get to be the owner of my body...that's mine, not yours...." She says as the euphoria hits all the best places.

"Shit yes..." She says to the ceiling.

She'd sigh happily. "Isn't what, daddy?"

The last word was not paternal in any way, more the way a woman would refer to a lover.

She barely lifts up her head, trying to focus on him, she rolled to her side, curling up her knees. This was not her first time she got really fucked up and was about to get her ass kicked.

She tries to focus on him and she grins through slitted eyes. "Did you get fucked up too?" she reaches out for his hand.

"Come and lay down. It's better if you lay down and let it happen..."

She tries to sit up, and if she was not within the first moments of an intravenous heroin high, the look she was trying to make might have been terror. But for all she could muster it was mostly the furrowed brow of bewildered confusion.

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Hey Thor, how about you give it a try..." she said, running her fingers across the back of his hand, relieved it was made of flesh.

"That's ridiculous. Johnny and I are two halves of the... Same thing...we just met..."

She was struggling to make sense of the world where normally she would let the euphoric poison pull her away. "If this is your idea of poetry, I don't get it.."

She grins. "Sometimes, you find people...you need to know. I mean... I'm not sure why you feel a connection... I mean...I give mean head..." she cracks up, squeezing his hand before starting to let go.

"But I'm not sure it's it's worth the fuss..."

She looks at him through heavy lidded eyes. "Help who understand?"

She moves her hand up to her face slowly rubbing her eyes and then dragging her fingertips across her cheek a few times, relishing the feeling.

"Are you sure you didn't get high?"

She laughs. "You definitely lost it. You did too. And I didn't cast magics. I told you I never use the stuff if I can help it."

She giggles, rubbing her fingers across her lips. "How in the hell would I know?"