I Hurt Myself Today

[Tom Harriman]

Tom swore under his breath as he clambered, one-armed and awkard, in through the appartment window. The other arm clung close to his chest, a crude bandage from a torn strip of fabric already soaked with his own blood. His bow and quiver slipped from his shoulder, arrows spilling out onto the bed. He didn't do anything to stop them - now wasn't the time.

Forcing the door from his bedroom open with the hand and shoulder of his good arm - damn thing was always sticking - his boots thudded against the floorboards as he crossed to the bathroom, unstrapping his bracers and unwinding his primative field dressing as he walked, and abandoning them all mid-floor. The light clunked on, the energy saving bulb bathing him in it's infuriatingly dim warm-up glow; he tugged on the shaving light as well, not that it made a huge amount of difference.

Of course, the arm that had been taken out was the dominant one: fate wouldn't have had it any other way. That made turning the taps all the more entertaining; he winced as water made contact with the knife wound that slashed through his arm, about an inch above where his bracer had been. The knife had been small, and it's wielder incompetant: the error had been all Tom; he'd misjudged a block, and the crook had managed to get in a lucky slash. One hit had been all Tom needed to take it down - he wasn't sure which hurt more: the wound to his arm, or the one to his pride.

The cut was long, but wasn't too deep: just a little flesh damage, and that would heal on it's own easily enough. The biggest risk right now was infection, and so despite the nagging pain - serves me right, I guess - he scrubbed away at the wound as best he could, and grabbed a fresh towel, sponging off the worst of the water. He'd need alcohol to sterilise, and a proper bandage from the first aid kit; in the kitchen, not the bathroom, because Alice had made some fuss about being more likely to need it after burning herself cooking than cutting herself shaving, or something to that effect.

He trugged out of the bathroom, completely oblivious to the noise he was making, and headed out into the appartment's main room. He glanced down at the towel that was doing a fantastic job of sucking as much blood out of his body as possible; probably ruined. It was one of Alice's too, he realised. She'd be pissed.

I'll buy her a new one.

All things being equal, he would have realised that the light in the lounge was on, but hadn't been when he'd entered the bathroom. He would have realised that, in the appartment he shared with Alice Kelly, marching around at 3am in army boots was not a sensible - nor popular - thing to be doing. He should have remembered that his self-enforced rule that none of his vigilante gear passed beyond his bedroom door was there for a reason.

It was too late now. Clad in pyjamas, and with her hair more than a little ruffled, his roommate Alice stood directly in his path, and stared. He looked down at his arm, at the towel, and then back to her. A sheepish look formed on his face. "I was running, and I fell down?" he tried.

[Alice Kelly]

As much as Alice wanted to reply with something witty, her sleep fogged mind was only capable of coming up with some quip about it being too early for Halloween or that she hadn't figured him to be in to the fetish club scene... neither one really seemed worthy of being vocalized.

"If you fell on pike, maybe." The words came out half-hearted, maybe she should have gone with the Halloween bit.

The sight of the blood soaked towel had her full attention. Well, about as much attention as one could muster when they found themselves rather rudely awakened with no coffee in site.

She couldn't be mad about it though, even if she wanted to be. Not that she really wanted to be... the sight of an injured friend, no matter how strangely he was dressed and the fact she didn't really need to get up in the morning for anything tossed that whole concept right out the window.

So Alice was left with just a basic feeling of how awkward the situation was. Her standing in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms she always tugged on in the case of needing to use the rest room in the middle of the night... and him, well... she wasn't quite sure how he was dressed.

Her wandering eyes eventually came to rest on the towel wrapped around his arm... Isn't that mine....? ... and then she let out a slow breath.

"You're going to drip on the floor."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom mustered a small, greatful smile. He supposed that, of all the times for Alice to stumble across his nocturnal activities, having it happen when she was too sleep-deprived and energy-drained to properly freak out was one of the better options.

Plus, she looked kinda cute all half-asleep, and ruffled, and baggy-dressed. The closest Tom had ever managed to get to encountering her in the morning had been her grunted response from behind the bedroom door to his shout of "Coffee's on!" as he headed out the door to work, or for the morning run that took the commute's place on weekends, and any days where he didn't manage to score a little work at the auto shop, or one of the local bars.

Not that he'd tell her she looked cute, of course; not tease her about it, either. Especially not when kitchen knives were in such easy reach.

Tom jabbed a finger into the controls of the coffee machine, kicking the contraption into life. Alice habitually loaded it up before she went to bed; Tom half-wondered if maybe she was secretly a mutant like he was, and that caffeine somehow fuelled her magical powers. Maybe late-night coffee wasn't such a good idea for her, but he could sure as hell do with one.

He reached up for the cupboard where the first aid kit was stowed, pulled out the case, and started to fumble with the latches. "So, which lie are you more likely to believe?" he called over his shoulder, struggling to accomplish the task one-handed. "Midnight cosplay convention, or Medieval-themed S&M bar?"

[Alice Kelly]

"Cos-wha?" She shook her head slightly before nudging Tom out of the way of the first aid kid. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

Even with a slightly dazed mind she managed to flick open the latches on the case and flip the lid open far quicker than she supposed Tom would manage at the moment. With that accomplished she went to an adjacent cabinet and pulled out a coffee cup, glanced at Tom, then grabbed another.

"I'd rather you didn't lie, but if you have to can you at least make it a good one?" The wait for the coffee seemed agonizing. Everything seemed like slow motion and it felt like her head was under water, a delightful side effect of medication and waking up unexpectedly.

[Tom Harriman]

"To be honest," he muttered, fumbling a wad of gauze and a pair of those irritatingly small scissors that everyone had in their first aid kit, and yet no one could actually use to cut anything without at least a few years of medical training. "Even if I told you the truth, you wouldn't believe me. So preposterous as all that sounds, it's probably more plausable than what really happened."

One advantage of the fact that he was still bleeding was that once applied, the gauze stuck sufficiently to the moisture from the wound to not slip off right away: long enough for him to grab a tightly wound roll of bandage from the med kit, and begin coiling it around his arm.

His eyes slumped closed for a moment, body overcome with tiredness - not just physical, but mental too: tired of having to lie, having to sneak, having to hide. He'd tell her if he could, even if was just for the sake of having someone else who knew. But if his criminal exploits weren't enough, finding out that she was living with a secret mutant - maybe not a secret from the Californian state government, but certainly a secret from her - would probably have her running for the hills in an instant.

To hell with it, he thought. Enough lies -

But as he turned and opened his mouth, his tongue chickened out. Instead, he gestured with his wounded arm, the bandage applied, but untied. "Help?"

[Alice Kelly]

Alice stared blankly at Tom for a moment before it kicked in and she quickly and neatly tied the bandage into place.

"Well at least I guess I should be thankful you aren't trying to tell me this is all just some weird dream I'm having." She stopped and looked at his outfit once more. "Then again..."

A small sigh left her as the sounds of the coffee finishing brewing slowly magnetized her way to the machine.

"Look, I honestly don't care what you do. It's your life and if ..." She gestured to him with the empty coffee mug in her hand, "that is what you want to go about... urhm... doing... more power to you. Just hope you're keeping yourself safe, you know. Medical bills are expensive."

She paused a moment before her fingertips touched the handle of the carafe and looked back over her shoulders at her room mate. "And don't think I'm lecturing or... trying to give advice. It's just that seeing you get hurt kinda sucks."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom offered a small smile, almost embarassed at her concern. For a moment, the wheels in his mind span without traction, absolutely no idea forming of what he could possibly say.

He resorted to his default kind of response. "Wait. You have dreams about me?"

He flashed her a little more of his smile, but it didn't last long; within a few moments his eyes had fallen away, settling firmly on the bandage on his arm. He spoke to that, instead of to her; thought it would make it easier that way. It didn't.

"Truth is -" He sighed. Frowned. Neither of those helped either. "Truth is, I'm a mutant, Alice." His eyes peered at her from beneath worried brows for an instant, before tumbling away again. "And I sort of... fight crime."

[Alice Kelly]

"Groovy."

It took a moment for her to realize that the deadpan way she had spoken might be seen as rude and she instantly felt ashamed.

"What I mean is..." Well what DO you mean, Alice?

Her mind grasped at straws, attempting to conjure up all of what she actually had meant. As much as she tried to keep her own issues secret, somewhat out of politeness and mostly out of the fact she didn't even begin to want to acknowledge it all, Tom's confession just didn't seem like that big of a deal.

Except that fighting crime bit...he had to be kidding about that.

"Wait how long have you known? About the mutant thing, not the desire to see how the vigilante life will treat you."

[Tom Harriman]

It took Tom a few minutes to respond; her reaction - and the notable lack of panic - had caught him off guard. Maybe it was the lack of caffeine that had dulled her brain, and as soon as she woke up a little more she'd start to realise the genuine implications. Or maybe it was -

Maybe she's just crazy? his subconscious prompted, helpfully. Tom ignored it.

"Back home," he replied, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder, as if that entire vague direction somehow represented the entire span of North America and the Atlantic, "I used to be in the Army. Did I ever tell you that?" He frowned, scrabbling at the thoughts in his mind to try and structure them in some sort of coherant order. "I was a Paratrooper, in fact. Deployed in Kosovo when it happened. Our convoy was hit. My men were injured. And I -"

He glanced around him, eyes settling on a glass perched beside the drainer. He reached out with his arm, and nudged with his powers, sending the tumbler skidding across the worktop to smash into the wall. "Except, you know. With a tank."

He glanced back to Alice with a sheepish smile. "That's a new towel and a new glass I owe you, huh?"

He looked away again, a hint of pain in his eyes - from the memories, not from his arm. "The Army wasn't too keen on having me around, truth be told. MI5 figured I was some kind of terrorist insurgent. Finally managed to convince them otherwise, but that was pretty much it for my career as a soldier. So I left; got a job working at a university in New York, and then, well..."

He winced. "Then it gets complicated."

[Alice Kelly]

"It always does..." She tried to keep herself sounding understanding while she tried to take everything in. The coffee that had finally found its way into the cup along with its preferred add-ins was helping. Somewhat.

Alice looked away from her roommate to the broken glass across the room. Seeing Tom's powers in person had caused a momentary sense of discomfort. She had always considered herself open minded but seeing the results of someone's genetic mutant in person still always caught her off-guard. At least he doesn't suddenly grow fur and hang upside down, right? The thought was followed by a mental scolding for even thinking such a thing.

Then again, Alice also had the sensation that it wasn't seeing a display of Tom's abilities that was upsetting. It was the fact that she was beginning to feel a nagging sensation that she should reciprocate the sharing of secrets. Tom was placing a certain amount of trust in her and she just couldn't help but feel that it was rude of her to keep silent herself...

She forced herself to drink more of the coffee to keep silent. It would work... for now.

[Tom Harriman]

Despite the occasional odd looks he glimpsed from Alice, it actually felt good to get some of it off his chest. Since his power had first manifested, he'd never really found anyone to confide in. His dad was unapproachable like always; his brother was a jerk; and while his sister would've gladly listened and then hugged him until he snapped in half, he didn't want to burden her with it. In New York, and since coming here, he'd spent his days keeping up appearences, and his nights jumping off rooftops; there'd never been time to talk. Never time to work out his feelings. Not really even time to make friends.

A melencholy laugh sounded inside his head. Maybe you should've taken the doctors' advice, and seen a shrink a long time ago.

He glanced down at himself, critically regarding his outfit. As if the revelation of his powers and past-time wasn't bad enough, standing in the kitchen with an extra from a low-budget Robin Hood movie probably wasn't helping. He fumbled with the fastenings, and tugged off the hooded leather; suddenly a self-conscious wave swept over him as he discovered how the tight-fit sleeveless shirt designed for insulation and ease of movement was a lot more revealing without his jacket than he'd realised.

He looked down at the jacket as it hung from his hands, fighting to control the squirming fledgeling of embarassment that was wriggling about in his stomach. His face scrunched up in a frown again; he couldn't bring himself to look up at Alice anymore. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice suddenly quiet.

[Alice Kelly]

"No."

It was a simple answer with a lot of overcomplicated explanations but in that moment Alice just couldn't bring herself to lie. But no sooner had the word left her than she instantly was looking for a way to avoid saying anything about herself. As much as the feeling of letting Tom know that she wanted to trust him as much as he apparently trusted her was persisting, part of her was still being stubborn about it all... and then there was the thought that maybe he needed to get this all off his chest rather than trying to make it about them or worse, directing it about herself.

The whole thing was ...well... just as Tom had said: complicated.

Alice took a deep breath suddenly and forced herself to hold her tongue.

"It's just... a lot to take in, you know? It's not that I mind, really I don't. You've been nothing but kind to me so what should I care if you're a mutant? It doesn't change who you are as far as I can tell." Aside from the whole ...dressing like the bastard child of Batman and Robin Hood thing. "I guess I just want to know what's up with the whole... going out at night fighting crime thing."

She allowed herself another moment to take a deep breath. "I just... don't get it. I mean, sure there's an unsolved crime rate and all, but the police try. I mean, you can't drive for more than 10 minutes without seeing one of their cars... They're doing what they can and get... paid to do it. Why the whole... vigilante thing?"

It was something she was genuinely curious about.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom's shoulders slumped as if his wrists had been encased in lead. "That's -"

- complicated, his subconscious finished for him; fortunately, his mouth didn't join in. We get it, Tom. It's complicated. Woe is you. Life is so hard.

He took a deep breath, and sighed heavily. "It started almost as a game, you know? Back in New York, I was spending my whole days either in the lab or in a classroom. My brain was happy as hell, engaged and firing away like crazy. But the rest of me?" He managed a shrug. "When you spend so long being a soldier, it's hard to just stop."

"I tried just fighting - martial arts clubs, and things like that. But it wasn't enough. It was fighting for the sake of fighting: that isn't why I joined the Army. That wasn't what my life was missing. I tried sports -" He let out a faint laugh. "- even hockey, since it seemed like a cross between the two. But it wasn't -"

He trailed off, frustration creasing his features: both remembered, and fresh frustration at his struggles at articulation. "A soldier without a cause is just a hug. So I did what any self-respecting guy with superpowers would do. I tried to be a hero."

He tugged at his shirt, peeling the sleeveless black number over his head, to reveal what he never allowed anyone to see: gunshot wounds, carved into his flesh like impact craters on some alien world; one in his shoulder, one in his chest. He stood silent for a few moments, unable to bring himself to say anymore; shame preventing him from meeting Alice's gaze.

"Bet you're thinking that should've been enough to stop me, right?" he managed eventually. Another shrug came, accompanied by a wince. "For a while it was. I came to Los Angeles. Got a place. Got a job. Met -" His voice faltered for a moment. "- you. And it was great. It felt... normal. After everything that happened, I was just glad to be a normal guy again. And I would have been happy to stay that way, if it weren't for the whole registration thing."

He stopped, a hand scrubbing across his tired features. When it fell away, he finally managed to look at Alice again, a note of exasperation creeping into his voice. "I had to do it, you know? I couldn't stand up in front of those kids day after day, telling them how important it was to be true to themselves and happy with who they are, and then keep such a big part of myself a secret. So I went out. I registered." His voice cracked. "And now here we are."

His body slumped again, and his eyes fell, energy draining from his body and into the floor. "It cost me my job. And this?" He mustered a small, sorrowful smile. "This seemed like the only way I could make a difference."

[Alice Kelly]

As he spoke, all the pieces started to fit into place. All those little things she found herself wondering about Tom, the inconsistencies, the things that most would write off that always nagged at the back of her mind... it all made sense.

And while Alice couldn't really agree with his decisions, especially after the wounds and harm he'd already sustained... there was still something to be said for watching out for others at the risk of yourself. Sure beat the hell out of running away from everything. It was admirable in a way... and pure madness in another.

"What happens if you get caught?"

It had to be said, even if it made Alice feel like she was just sounding like an older sister or a mother rather than just concerned roommate. The whole mutant issue was one big powder keg, the bit she had seen on the news about a recent rally in Downtown proved that point. But vigilante mutant? That seemed like just asking for trouble.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom offered and almost nonchallant shrug. "I'll jump off that bridge when I come to it?"

He knew he shouldn't be so blasé about it, but getting injured, getting caught: he just didn't think about it. There was no concern, nor fear. He didn't think that he was invulnerable - far from it, he knew from experience that he was anything but. Even so, he threw himself into danger time and time again: because he knew that if he did anything less, the hesitation was what would get him caught, or killed.

"Honestly, I haven't given it much thought," he answered, a little more seriously this time. "I know it's a risk, but I've always tried to live my life in hope, not in fear. What I do is- unlawful. But I still believe that it's the right thing to do. If the State of California wants to throw me in jail for stopping the crimes that the police weren't able to, that is their choice to make. Chosing action over inaction is mine."

All that said, Tom couldn't help a small smile. "It's sweet of you to worry, but you don't need to." A glint of mischief flashed in his eye. "I'm way too good at this to get caught."

[Alice Kelly]

It wasn't what she wanted to hear. But then again when you got right down to it, Alice might have been perfectly happy if she had managed to just sleep through the night and have never found out about any of this at all.

The door was opened though, to trust that Tom knew what he was doing enough to not find herself stressing out every time he went out for the evening on whether he was even going to be coming back or not. It was enough of an opening that she felt made up for the lack of wanting to say anything that would put attention on her at that moment. At least, it was enough of a balance struck in her mind that the constant nudge towards revealing her own secrets was silenced.

Maybe it was the fact she felt like she could finally relax, or maybe it was just the coffee, but there was no way in hell she was going to let his final little quip pass.

Her eyes focused directly on his bandaged arm, lingering there before she motioned to the scars on his chest from the bullets. "Oh, yes, obviously there's no need to worry."

[Tom Harriman]

"Oh, I see," he countered, fighting to stop his smile from growing too much.

He dumped his shirt and jacket on the counter behind him, and let his arms fold across his chest, nudging himself forward enough to escape the temptation of leaning back against the worktop. "Poking fun at an injured man? Classy."

He let the pretense of over-confidence linger for a moment or two longer, before the smile faded away from his face. He edged a little closer: not invading Alice's space, but enough movement in the small kitchen to transition from being on the opposite side of the room to standing in front of her. His eyes captured her gaze, and shone with sincerity as he peered into hers. "I will be okay," he said softly, words escaping as a promise. "I may come back with the odd few scuffs and holes, but I'll always be in one piece."

"Besides -" A hint of his smile crept back on my face. "My awesome roommate is a pretty good incentive to make sure nothing bad happens."

[Alice Kelly]

She nearly choked on her cup of coffee, the swallow barely contained as it went down painfully. She couldn't tell if she was blushing or not, but the sudden warm sensation around her neck and cheeks probably meant that she was. It felt horrible.

"Heh..."

The half laugh was all she could muster at first, letting a slightly awkward silence pass between them. With another small forced laugh she pushed her free hand through her hair and while shaking her head slightly, walked out of the kitchen towards the chesterfield and let herself drop down onto it.

"You know flattery gets you no where, right?"

[Tom Harriman]

Tom grinned - he couldn't help himself. It may have been an underhanded tactic, but it looked like enough to drag Alice away from the brink of a total freak-out for at least a few seconds. And plus, Alice was always cute when she blushed... so, you know. That was a bonus.

Tom watched as she deposited herself tiredly on the crouch, fingertips absently scratching at the edge of his bandage. It felt cold all of a sudden, and in one swoop he was reminded not only of his minimal attire, also but of the fact that he'd just climbed through a window and had neglected to close it behind him.

"I," he announced, "Am going to go find a shirt. And since my blood sugar is low, I'm going for take-out. Want anything?" He offered her his most charming smile. "Lady's choice."

[Alice Kelly]

3 am... nothing much was open at that time, even in Los Angeles. It was something Alice had found out much to her dismay within the first week of moving to the city. Nope, not much stayed open except 7-11s and a few fast food joints. A quick glance at the both of them put the drive-through as the preferred option.

Which meant either Jack in The Box for some so horrible-they're-good tacos or...

"McDonalds." Her shoulders shrugged as she expected an amused look to come from Tom. "What? They're french fries are comfort food evilness."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom's eyes narrowed; it was all he could do to stop an eyebrow climbing up his face. One thing he'd never quite been able to grasp since coming to America was how willing everyone was to eat fast "food".

Okay so sure, Tom had grown up in Scotland, and between the deep fried mars bars, sausage meat squares, and meals cooked inside the stomachs of woodland creatures, he probably wasn't in a great position to play food critic. But whatever it was that fast food joints slapped between bread and coated in that weird plant matter goop that claimed to be salad and sauce, it sure as hell wasn't any kind of meat he'd ever seen. Maybe it made him a food snob; but Tom liked to be sure he knew what plant or animal his food had come from before he let himself eat it.

Worse, at this time of night he wouldn't even be able to get a McFlurry, and that was about the only consolation that came with a McDonalds meal.

"Fine," he muttered with a sigh, pacing across the appartment to his room in search of something reasonably clean and uncreased to pull over his shirtless torso. "But if I burn my mouth on one of those weird little apple pie things again, I'm blaming you."

[Alice Kelly]

"They put a warning on the packaging for a reason." The words were half spoken into the almost empty cup of coffee before Alice brought it to her lips and finished off the contents.

She thought about adding in some comment about Tom's clear lack of following usual saftey standards, but let it go. The last thing she wanted to do was sound like she was harping on the concept.

The empty cup was placed on the small coffee table and she took a deep breath before standing up again, already wondering if she could just say effit and go back to bed. But the combination of caffeine and Tom's revealing of his secret identity had pretty much already killed the idea of sleep.

"So what sort of cool name did you give yourself anyway? All super heroes have one." She asked in half jest, but also was downright curious. You could learn a lot about a person from what sort of title they gave themselves.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom emerged from his room, fastening the buttons of the first thing he'd grabbed from his wardrobe. The dress shirt didn't exactly combine with the leatherette combats and army boots all that well, but it was better then shirtless or sleeveless, and had the added advantage of covering his bandaged arm.

"Name?" Tom tried to act casual, as he steered himself away from admitting to what he'd called himself back in New York. Even in his current super-honest mindset, he wasn't sure he was quite ready to admit that he'd ever thought Captain Untouchable was a cool-sounding name.

He fussed with fastening the buttons on his cuffs a little too long. "Orion," he said eventually, reaching behind his door to unhook a battered old biker jacket, his limbs moving a little stiffly as he pulled it on. "As in the constellation, the space ship, and... you know. The Greek mythology guy."

He frowned to himself for a moment, wondering if that was enough of an answer. But his choice, pretentious as it seemed at first, had more meaning and substance than it first seemed. "Orion was a hunter - strong, handsome..." He trailed off, a hint of a smile coming to his face. "He was also an arrogant jerk. He slew all hoardes of mythical beasts, and thought his prowess would get him what we wanted; and tried to take what he wasn't given freely. It all backfired, though: he pushed his luck, crossed the wrong people, and they turned him blind."

His smile tightened as he mused over how apt a metaphor that seemed to be for his life: while his eyes had been one of the few things that hadn't been burned to pieces, the fresh perspective he gained after recovery was almost like regaining his sight. "Eventually he gets cured: gets healed by Helios, the sun. And then he meets his daughter - Eos, Aurora, the goddess of the Dawn - and she's one of the most beautiful creatures he's ever -"

His eyes flicked to Alice, and the urge to blush swept over him again. Perhaps a bit too apt, he reconsidered in hindsight, deepening his frown to push past his hesitation. "She whisks him away to this magical island, and everything seems perfect. But he makes the mistake of slipping into his old ways; and while he's out hunting with Artemis, he makes the mistake of boasting that he could defeat any beast on earth. The earth, Gaia, takes offense at that; and she sends Scorpio. One tiny sting, and the greatest hunter of all time dies."

He shrugged. "It's not just a name: it's there to remind me that no matter how confident I get, I'm not -" He cringed. "- untouchable."

[Alice Kelly]

Alice listened while shrugging on a sweater she kept on the back of one of the chairs in the living room and began looking around for her sandals that often ended up tucked away somewhere. Her searching gaze met Tom just as he finished and she paused there for a moment.

"It suits you." She nodded her head and gave the room a quick glance over before deciding the shoes must have been in her bedroom.

She passed by Tom on the way back to her room and gave him a small jab in the chest with a finger. "Just don't go playing with any scorpions."

The playful smile she offered was brief before she slipped away and into her room.

Her return was just as quick, and with slight excuse for footwear adorned she nodded towards the front door. "You gonna drive or you want me to?"

[Tom Harriman]

Tom shot her a look as if the answer to that should be obvious. "I think I've immasculated myself enough this evening, what with sharing my feelings and all," he responded, fake bitterness slipped into his voice. A hand delved into the pocket of his jacket, fishing out a set of keys; a casual wrist flick sent them spinning around his finger. "I'll drive. You probably forgot to fill up with gas again anyhow."

Unable to resist that last parting jab, Tom smoothly moved out of range of a retaliatory strike, flicking the necessary catches and bolts to unseal the front door. With a flash of his most charming smile, he pulled it open and held it so, gesturing for Alice to pass through first.

Before she did so, he hesitated, a frown forming on his brow. "You're a Gemini, right?" he quizzed, feigning defensiveness. "Not a Scorpio?"

[Alice Kelly]

Alice couldn't help but shake her head and roll her eyes slightly at Tom's display as she walked past him out the door. She chose not to answer his question right off but instead offered a sly smile and a knowing wink.

"Mayyybeee. Tell you what, you buy me one of those little apple pie thingies that are your kryptonite and I promise not to try and kill you."

She let out a small laugh before she turned on her heel and practically skipped off towards the car. Ah, the wonders a bit of caffeine did the body some days. Or maybe it was slight delirium from lack of sleep... either way, Alice didn't exactly mind. All the trick to be now was from attempting from being too happy. That just wouldn't do.

[Tom Harriman]

Half an hour later...

"Seriously," Tom muttered, fumbling with the pillow-shaped parcel of pastry-wrapped scolding death, as it oozed a trail of burning viscous apple sauce down the inside of his arm. "How the hell are you meant to eat these things?"

He grunted a little, trying to position his wrist and arm above his head, so gravity would prevent any stray crumbs and drips from soiling the upolstery of his precious Impala. He was only partially successful; fortunately his sleeve and lap took the brunt of the escaping sludge. "Why couldn't I have a mutated asbestos mouth, huh?"

Another grunt came as he settled the apple pillow - he flat-out refused to call anything that shape a 'pie' - on the dashboard, and grabbed for the strawberry milkshake he'd bought for himself. He'd considered something with lumps of ice in, but had decided that the thicker, more viscous milkshake would do a better job of healing his tongue burns. Unfortunately, he hadn't taken into account how damned hard it was to suck the MacDonalds shakes up through a straw, and was currently having limited success.

The car rocked as a truck that looked suspiciously like Optimus Prime thundered past; he'd planned to drive them home, but had only made it a few minutes into the return trip before the smell of unwrapped french fries - or were they freedom fries now? - had become too much to bear.

So now the Impala was pulled over at the side of the road - the wrong side of the road, which made Tom constantly uncomfortable, despite having spent more time as a driver in the US than in the UK - with it's two occupants delving in to the best gourmet cuisine that late-night LA could offer.

Tom abandoned his suction efforts, tongue disappointed at the lack of strawberry that had actually made it through the straw. He shot Alice a sidelong glance, and asked the same question he had been every few minutes since they'd left. "You okay?"

[Alice Kelly]

Alice had been watching Tom's efforts to eat the so-called apple pie from the corner of her eye with complete amusement as she continued to slowly eat the fries she'd gotten one-by-one. As the attention was turned back on her though she quickly pushed the rest of the half-eaten fry into her mouth.

After a quick sip of Dr. Pepper she shrugged her shoulders and looked over at him. "You going to keep asking me that all night? I'm fine. And I don't mean that in the typical female 'I'm saying I'm fine so you'll leave me alone' way. Honest... I'm totally good. Better now that I got some sort of food in me."

She wasn't being completely honest, she did have to admit that to herself at least. When the car was in motion, she didn't think too much about it all, but now that they were stopped she was suddenly very aware of the close proximity that they were essentially sealed in together.

Alice let a small laugh pass her lips before she feigned a guilty look at the bag in her lap. "You know... even if that food will mean I'll have some serious cardio to do tomorrow...err, later today."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom shot her a sceptical, sidelong glance. "We've been living together for, what, four months now? In that time, how often have I shown up with tubs of ice cream or junk food, or coffee at exactly the moment you needed them because you were feeling down?" He frowned, ever so slightly. "I think I know you well enough to know when you're not okay. And I know you're not okay. So either you admit that you're not so I can start buying you a shit-ton of Ben and Jerrys -"

He shrugged. "Or you don't, and I keep asking you if you're okay until you go insane and kill me."

Silence fell for about a second; Tom returned his attention to the apple thingy, hoping that a few moments of talking had been enough to let it cool to a safe temperature. Unfortunately, the nuclear furnace that powered the radioactive pastry was still in meltdown. "And don't be stupid about the cardio thing," he added, with a casual shrug. "You could eat McDonalds out of business, and you'd still look gorgeous."

The words left his mouth before Tom realised he'd said them; his hand clenched in realisation, squirting an oozing mouthful of burning pain onto his tongue, which he was forced to in no way react to in order to keep up the pretense that it had been an innocent, off-hand comment that she should in no way read into, even though inside his pain receptors were making his brain cry like a little girl.

[Alice Kelly]

He had a point. A rather good one. About the whole being able to read her thing. Alice somehow doubted Tom would be saying the other thing if she turned into a blond Jabba the Hutt. It was nice of him to say that it wouldn't matter though.

She could feel herself blushing again despite the little voice in her head that she swore that all girls have that tells them anyone is lying when they say something nice about them and suddenly found herself very glad that the only light in the car was from a light post down the street. Alice could only imagine what it may have looked like inside the car had it been bright outside. A small cringe marred her lips for a moment before she brought the straw of the soda to them again.

A small sigh left her as she looked back over at Tom, she bit her lower lip a bit before letting out another deep breath. "It's just that... well... like I said, it's a lot to take in. It's not every day that you learn the person you've been living with has been holding a big secret from you." Like you're any better... "Again, it's not like I think it changes anything, does it?"

[Tom Harriman]

Tom caught a glimpse of her blush, and had to fight the overwhelming urge to smile. He'd meant what he said, even though he hadn't meant to say it; and though she did a pretty good job of disguising it, it obviously meant something to hear it, even if it hadn't necessarily meant what Tom meant it to mean.

The smile faltered as Alice offered her response; she vocalised the guilt that he'd been feeling almost perfectly. Keeping secrets had never been Tom's strong suit: even as a kid, he'd felt so guilty about even the tiniest things that he'd wound up admitting to them without any prompting. The guilt chewed him up inside, and he'd rather face the backlash of the truth than endure it any longer than he had to. He felt stupid for it, but it had become almost a phobia.

Finally, tonight, he'd got the secret off his chest. And for about half an hour, he'd felt that blissful relief as the guilt unclamped from around his insides. But it was already back, and as his gaze settled on Alice's graceful features, it squeezed even tighter than before.

Suddenly, the car felt both too big and too small, all at the same time. Part of him panicked, trapped in such a confined space with her; wanting to escape so that he didn't have to look at the conflict in those beautiful, honest eyes that always told him everything, even if she didn't want him to know. And yet, the space between them suddenly felt like a chasm, as if she was impossibly far away; and he felt desperate to leap across.

He shifted a little, uncomfortably. He felt that strange, ghostly vagueness as the blood shifted, his skin suddenly turning cold even though his body felt warm. His stomach churned nervously, and he found it harder and harder to look at her, and yet found himself more and more unwilling to look away. How did she do it? How did she make him feel this way? Every time he was around her, it felt like his body was trying to shut down: any measure to stay, just to make sure he didn't try and run away.

The person you've been living with has been holding a big secret from you.

Her words echoed in his head.

Yeah, he has, his mind muttered back, as Tom finally managed to drag his eyes away. He turned his attention to the road ahead, hands idly resting on the wheel even though the car wasn't moving. "I guess -" His brain struggled to find the right words. "I didn't want to loose you as a friend, Alice. I guess I was worried what you'd think of me if I told you the truth."

His eyes fell. I guess I still am.

[Alice Kelly]

"It'll take a lot more than that to scare me off." For a small moment she looked completely confident but it faded into a demure smile and a small laugh. "Seriously though, you should have known you didn't have to worry about that sort of thing. If for no other reason than I still owe you tons for well, keeping a roof over my head."

Another french fry was plucked from its place with the others and she looked at it a moment. "I guess I just can't help but wonder if I'm reacting the way I'm supposed to be. Part of me thinks I should be completely freaked out."

Alice looked back to Tom. "I mean... how would you have reacted?"

Partially regretting her words she forced herself to look forward again and went back to finishing off the late night snack.

[Tom Harriman]

The wheels spun frantically on Tom's train of thought, with a great deal of high-pitched shrieking that made it impossible for him to think about anything else. How would he have reacted?

He gave the question a lot more thought than it perhaps needed. He imagined himself being woken by the sounds of Alice sneaking in late at night; imagined the gut-crushing feeling of horror at the sight of her injured; imagined for perhaps a little too long how she'd look in a leather vigilante outfit; heard their same conversation reversed in his mind -

He frowned, and then shrugged. "I'd probably react the exact same you did - concern, disapproval, and then ultimately acceptance. But then, I am a mutant vigilante, so of course I'd be cool with that. It'd be hypocritical if I wasn't. I'm not -" His mind fumbled around for the right words to describe her. Normal? No, not even close. Incredible? Amazing? Perfect? "- you."

His eyes fell, settling on a hand that had come to rest on the seat beside her in a brief pause between loading fries one by one into her mouth. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd reached out and taken her hand gently in his, his eyebrows contorting as he looked at her with gratitude for what he felt he didn't deserve. "Thank you," he said, smiling weakly, "For not freaking out on me."

[Alice Kelly]

Her free hand reached up and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear as she could feel herself begin to blush slightly again. It was an uncontrollable thing, like so many other annoying things her body found a way of doing.

"I'd say 'any time' but I can't promise I won't freak out if you lose an arm or something in your little outings. Hell if you got shot again..." her voice trailed off and she looked down at her hand in his.

"I... I just don't want to bail on a good friend." Her eyes lowered along with her voice. "Did that with family already. That's why I'm here, in California. Well... eventually. Los Angeles wasn't really in the plan, but there wasn't really a plan to begin with. I just wanted to run."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom could hear genuine sorrow in her voice, and it was like a vicegrip on his chest. He wanted nothing more than to slide across the seat, take her in his arms, sweep her away and let nothing ever make her feel that way or sound that way again. He wanted to do so with every fibre of his being; and yet he expressed it all with the slightest squeeze of her hand.

He didn't know what she'd run from; but within a fraction of a second of considering that question, he realised that he didn't care about the answer. If it was enough to drive her or scare her away, then it was better that she was free of it. Besides, hadn't he done exactly the same, running from England, running from New York? Sometimes, running away was a sign that you were coward. Other times, it was a sign that you were brave enough to admit defeat.

He edged a little closer, tilting his head to let his eyes ensnare her downward gaze. "You don't need to run anymore," he said, his voice as soft as hers. "I'll keep you safe."

[Alice Kelly]

All Alice could do was force a smile as her mind went on with its internal dialog of doubts and insecurities. There was a genuineness to Tom that she completely appreciated, but it was hard to get past her own habits that she had developed in the last half-decade or so of her life.

I'll keep you safe. She believed him. If there was nothing else Alice had learned about Tom it was that he would keep his word on that. But who will keep you safe? The answer didn't even want to begin to be guessed at.

"I know." The words finally managed to leave her and the smile she forced got just a bit bigger. "I guess that makes you my own personal super hero."

Alice glanced down at her hand in his again and slowly pulled her fingertips from his hold. "Saving the world, one late night fast food binge at a time"

[Tom Harriman]

"Damn straight."

Tom echoed her smile, but it took a little more effort than it perhaps should have. Still, for once common sense prevailed in the battle of wills in the back of his mind, and he eased himself back into the driver's seat properly, grabbing for his hopefully cooled death pastry. "Word of warning though," he offered casually, poking into the open end of the lie-pie with his finger. Still hot. Damn it.

With a sigh, he swung his gaze back in Alice's direction, and flashed her a grin. "I don't have super hearing, so while screaming my name will do wonders for my street cred... if you need me, call my cell phone, okay?"

His hands retrieved his milkshake, lining it up for another futile attempt at drawing a satisfying mouthful up through the straw. "And don't fall off any skyscrapers. You know how bad I am at catching things."

[Alice Kelly]

Alice smirked as she mimed ticking things off an imaginary chart. "Right so that's no walking in dark alleys, no tall buildings..."

She brought a fingertip to her lips and tapped them a few times. "I'm guessing hanging out with any shady individuals would be tossed in there too. Right, I think I can handle all of that. Just don't go making any vicious enemies that will try and use me as bait, okay?"

The lighthearted banter helped ease everything, it always did.

"So, home? Maybe by the time we get there your pastry will stop pretending to be a volcano."

[Tom Harriman]

"Volcanos are predictable," he muttered, abandoning the lie-pie on the dashboard with a scowl. His fingers fumbled with the ignition as he continued to eye it suspiciously. "And volcanos aren't supposed to be eaten."

The Impala's engine rumbled into life, and for a brief moment his bad mood evaporated. There was something blissfully reassuring and uplifting about the way that the 1967 engineering under the hood did it's work. Okay, so it was somewhat illogical for the antelope-like creature it was named after to purr, but the Impala did so anyway, and Tom couldn't help a casual extra rev of the engine. It appealed to something deep down in his soul. Maybe it was the animalistic, manly growl; or maybe it was the fact that in the back of his mind, he knew the entire effect was possible due to a series of repeated explosions. Either way: his car was awesome.

The warm, fuzzy feeling faded however as he mused about what Alice had casually said. Preposterous as vicious enemies might sound, he realised how reckless he'd been with her safety. Every time he climbed through that window in full costume, he was risking an accidental glimpse from a neighbour, that could bring the authorities - or anyone else - knocking on his door. Sure, he was always careful not to be followed back to their appartment after his nightly patrols; but even if you carefully poked a dragon with a stick, you were still making the idiot mistake of poking a dragon with a stick.

He glanced at the clock mounted on the dashboard. Nearly 4am. Yet more guilt twisted in his chest, and his face contorted into a wince. "You've probably got work in a few hours, haven't you?"

[Alice Kelly]

"If I go." she replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Nice thing about freelance work is you make your own hours. That mural's mostly done anyway, just some detail touchups at this point."

Her lips puckered as she let a rather unhappy realization come to her slowly. The mural at the high school had been the only gig she had managed to pick up since her arrival in LA. Once it was done she would be in the same situation as Tom... Minus the late night heroism.

She had her own personal pieces to keep her busy... Buy art for the sake of art rarely paid. Unless you were dead of course, and even that wasn't a sure thing. Looks like searching for the next project on craigslist would have to get worked in to a day she was planning on spending lounging about watching movies.

Alice was getting tired of the rollercoaster of emotions the night had decided to bring... Even if she was only partially experiencing them. Anything work related would have to wait until that was all sorted out.

[Tom Harriman]

"In that case," he offered, trying to stop his mind from getting too distracted by wondering if there was some sort of freelance way that he could use his science or soldiering skills to earn a little cash. "I guess I deserve a little extra sleep deprevation, as penance. We've still got home-made popcorn kits in the cupboard, right?"

His mind wandered ever so slightly, his attention drawn to a young woman in high heels, walking alone along the street up ahead. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have been so obvious in eyeing up pedestrians when there was another woman sat so close, bit it was less her - though granted, her outfit was pretty revealing - that had caught his attention, and more the shady guy who seemed to be following her at a determined distance.

Tom tried to ignore it, but couldn't. The car slowed to a silent stop, his hands pulling on the parking break. "We'll watch a late-night movie; your choice. I won't even complain if it's a zombie one, promise." His eyes roamed the car, searching for what weapons, tools, anything, he had to hand. Finally, he turned his eyes to Alice directly. "Stay in the car. I have to go stop a mugger slash rapist."

[Alice Kelly]

"Wha-?" her question didn't make it out fully, and it was followed by a completely baffled look before she caught a glimpse of what Tom had seen.

Alice frowned slightly, musing over the thought that Tom had already gotten hurt that evening... That maybe the woman should have known better than to be walking alone at night dressed like <i>that</i>. But another look at her roommate and she sighed knowing that he was doing the right thing... Even if it was sans nifty costume.

"Okay." She bit her tongue to keep the <i>be careful</i> that lingered from escaping.

Another small sigh left her as she watched Tom leave the car, her stomach threatening to start twisting itself in knots. For the first time that far-too-early morning, Alice couldn't help but wonder if maybe ignorance <i>was</i> bliss.

[Tom Harriman]

So, as crime fighting vigilante costumes went, what he'd managed to pull together from the dashboard and glove box was hardly the classiest ensemble ever concieved. The aviator sunglasses were admittedly awesome, but the New York Rangers baseball cap - a bit of a contradition, he realised - lowered the tone somewhat, and the scarf he'd tossed around his shoulders to hide the lower part of his face was a burberry pattern away from making him look like Doctor Who had regenerated into a fashion-retarded British teenager.

At least it hid his face - for the most part - which was the main thing. One of the key rules of costume disguises was to create something so distinctive that the costume became the distinguishing feature that people recognised: something that would distract them from noticing more useful details like eyes; hair; height.

The weapon that he had found for himself however was considerably more inventive, and Tom actually allowed himself a hint of smug satisfaction as he readied his first strike.

"Hey, asshole."

An oxidisation-dulled coin shot out from between his thumb and forefinger, his abilities converting the innocent object into a bullet-speed discus, hurtling through the night and striking the stalker squarely in the shoulder. A warning shot. The stalker stumbled.

The woman stopped; turned; looked. Tom's eyes met hers - she couldn't see that, of course; downside of sunglasses. He added a gesture with his empty hand. "Run," he instructed, calmly. "I got this."

Clearly, she didn't need to be told twice - a fraction of a second later, the young woman scampered away into the night, ridiculously high heels abandoned to allow her bare-footed flight. The stalker meanwhile decided not to heed the warning; he turned, his hand reaching for the concealed weapon that his body language had already told Tom he was carrying.

Reflexes leapt into action; Tom's hands slid another coin into the makeshift chamber, his powers flinging it out faster than human eyes could percieve; another followed, chasing close in it's wake. The first coin struck the stalker's upper arm, a combination of force and flinch jerking his limb direct into the path of the second; his hand spasmed, fingers flying apart to led the weapon - a pistol, as it turned out - tumble from his grip.

Memories sparked in Tom's mind; rather than fear, the adrenaline spike fuelled a snarl. Two coins smashed into the stalker's legs, dropping him to his knees; Tom advanced like a panther, a handful of quick strides bringing him close enough for a graceful spinning boot-kick to the head. Conscious loosing it's grip, the stalker slumped backwards onto the pavement.

Tom's eyes glanced down as his hand. His fingers flicked - at normal speed this time - the quarter that rested on his crooked index finger, sending it tumbling slowly through the air to land on the stalker's chest. "Keep the change," he muttered, in the kind of gruff growl that would have made Christian Bale proud. Then without another word he turned, and headed back to the car.

[Alice Kelly]

The scene in the car hadn't nearly been as interesting. There had been a bit of nervous fidgeting, an attempt to keep her gaze focused on her lap instead of looking out into the darkness to watch the happenings outside. She saw enough to watch the man get hit by something, and the woman run off but then Alice had forced herself to look away again. There wasn't any joy or excitement to be gained from watching someone get hurt... even if they might have deserved it.

The sounds of the scuffle, mostly the stalker's frustrated and painful grunts, couldn't be blocked out, however. So her hands had gone fumbling about to locate the small media player she had tucked away in her sweater's pocket. The left earbud was held up to her ear as she thumbed through a few settings. Static from an unused radio channel softly answered.

Her eyes glanced back into the dim to see one of the man-shaped-objects headed towards the car. Even with the lack of light, the ridiculous makeshift disguise gave away the victor. Not that she had really doubted the outcome.

The radio static in her ear crackled before it softened to an overall dull somehow pleasant sound. Alice finally let out the breath she realized she had been holding in and shoved the little music player back into her pocket.

As the car door opened she let a soft smirk form on her lips. "Not going to string him up so the cops can find him?"

[Tom Harriman]

Tom shrugged as he slipped himself back into the driver's seat, peeling off the beseball cap and tossing it into the back of the car. "All out of string," he muttered, as the Impala's door swung closed with a clunk.

His hands reached up and took hold of the stearing wheel. In an instant, the leather wrapped around it's metal frame sucked out any of the confidence and bravado that had been coursing through him moments before, and his shoulders visibly slumped as if something was weighing him down. Maybe he could feel her disapproval of his methods, rolling off her in waves. Or maybe his subconscious was deflecting, and making it seem like his own disapproval belonged to her.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." His fingers rose slowly, pulling the aviators from his face and folding them slowly closed; his gaze didn't raise from the steering wheel. "He had a gun," he felt himself saying; his voice sounded hollow in his ears. "If I hadn't done something, it'd be her lying out there, not him; and she wouldn't just be unconscious."

He didn't know who he was trying to convince: Alice, or himself. That thought illicited a faint, single note of laughter, and his lips tightened into a thin and empty smile. He glanced at her, sidelong. "Guess I don't seem like such a nice guy anymore, huh?"

[Alice Kelly]

His reaction made it far worse than the actual incident had been. Her eyes caught his for a moment before she forced herself to look forward and take a deep breath.

"You didn't have to apologize." Another slow breath left her before she looked back over at him. "Not to me, anyway."

A sudden quick short breath left her and she turned her body as best she could to fully face Tom. "And certainly not to him. You do what you do for a reason, Tom. And from what I know about you, it's not to win anyone over."

Alice knew better than to let herself get worked up over something, anything really, but this had hit a nerve with her.

"You haven't changed who you are from an hour ago. And... if you feel like you should be ashamed around me you're mistaken. I don't think you seem any less of who you are. If you're ashamed of it, then that's a problem you need to deal with. But if you have no hangups and truly believe you are doing good then it's-" Her voice was cut off as she felt a sudden rush of sensation run across her body, goosebumps raised and muscled tensed...and then it ended and she felt somehow hollow.

For an instant worry took over. Had he noticed? What had just happened this time. Nothing looked wrong and that could sometimes be so much worse. There was only one way to play it off... and it was with truth: She'd let her emotions get the best of her. With a deep sigh Alice turned forward once before before lowering her gaze.

"I just...I just mean you don't have to be sorry." Her eyes closed and Alice took a deep breath as she tried to settle herself.

[Tom Harriman]

Tom had never seen Alice get worked up about anything. He'd tried a ton of times, trying to find those fun little nerves that made people get irritated in a squirmy way; the way where they got all frustrated and scowly, but at the same time were fighting against the urge to smile. He'd never succeeded though, and part of him suspected that Alice was... he almost wanted to think Vulcan, but Tom had seen her artwork, and seen the way that her quiet, infectious happiness seemed to light up the room whenever she entered - assuming she'd had her morning coffee by that point, of course - and there was no way on Earth, on 40 Eridani, in Hell, or in and on any other planet, plane, or dimensional realm that Alice was cold and empty inside.

When her eyes closed and she turned away, Tom's heart sank, and once again he felt the overpowering urge to apologise to her; he kept doing this, stirring up her emotions and inflicting all this confusion and worry on her. No matter what she said, he still was sorry; he was sorry for a whole lot of things.

He reached across, fingers easing aside the curtain of golden blonde that shielded her face from his view, gently brushing across the frame of her face until it turned to face him again. He waited until her eyes open, and smiled; not a beaming smile that was all emphasis and show, but the kind of subtle smile that barely even registered as a shift in his expression, and yet radiated genuine warmth like rays from the sun. His eyes met hers with sincerity; his eyebrows tugged together, expressing the 'sorry' that he wouldn't allow his lips to say. "Thank you," he said instead.

[Alice Kelly]

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "You don't have to thank me for the truth."

She let a moment of silence pass, a pause that was natural at first...then became slightly awkward as Alice realized her and Tom were just somewhat staring into each others eyes. A small blush rose to her cheeks and she let out a quick nervous laugh before turning away.

"Come on, let's get home before someone drives by and noticed the guy laying there and the car full of people who aren't exactly trying to help him. This thing, as badass as it is, isn't exactly inconspicuous."

Alice sighed deeply again, this time letting it come out as wistful rather than melancholy. "Besides, you owe me a zombie movie."

[Tom Harriman]

Tom was half-way towards a swell of pride at her car-related compliment. However, her mention of a zombie movie sobered his mood, as he realised his plan had backfired. Clearly the news hadn't made it to Canada that, when someone said "I even won't complain if -", you were supposed to counter with "No, it's okay," and then come up with some sort of compromise. In this case, a compromise would have involved a movie with a villain that was actually scary. Or, you know. An actual plot, instead of an hour or two of a bunch of feckless morons running around with seemingly inexhaustable shotguns, without even the faintest clue of how to use tactics or survival skills.

But of course, Tom had pledged not to complain: and though he was a lawless, criminal-beating thug, he was still a man of his word. His fingers grabbed the key, and twisted the ignition back to life, his body slumping a little into his chair.

One last glance was cast briefly in Alice's direction. Zombie movies, he thought, holding in a sigh.

"Yay."