all that cheap talk, cold walks, and cigarettes {closed}

"Fuck." Dublin slammed the kitchen drawer shut and threw the empty pack of cigarettes in the trash. He wished he had someone to blame, but living alone meant that it was his fault when he left empty cereal boxes and milk jugs in their previous place. Dublin considered this his worst habit- not counting his chain smoking and drug use. Or the self loathing. Or the mood swings, or the- okay, so maybe not throwing away something when he was finished wasn't his worst trait.

Regardless, he was now irritated and on edge, without a cigarette to calm his nerves. How did he expect to carry on his day like this? Admittedly, his plan for the day consisted of Game of Thrones and sleeping, maybe even a bit of weed, but still. No need to suffer. He threw on the first clothes he found- jeans, a grey shirt he was fairly certain he'd only worn a few times since the last wash, and a leather jacket before he grabbed his wallet and headed out the door.

The walk wasn't terrible, and it was actually a pretty pleasant day outside. The cool air lifted his mood a bit, until he stepped into the store. The bell above the door sounded the same time as his groan as he saw the long ass line before the register. Still, Dublin was a man on a mission, and he accepted his fate and stood at the end of the line. There were 9 people in front of him, and he sighed while looking at the ceiling, wondering why this had to be his life.

Lotte was choosing between sour cream and barbecue. It was the best thing ever, decisions like that, after two years in the loony bin. She no longer had to choose between cutting off her right or left arm, whether or not to kill herself or struggle through the voices. Her biggest worry, the problems she faced through the day, had to do with chip flavors. There was a light at the end of the tunnel and she was bathing in it, and she stood there a while, basking in the glow of the petty decision and not being able to reach an iota of a conclusion.

Why wasn't she happy? Well, she was happy, but not happy, missing a piece of herself. It flew off to Europe, despite how much she begged him otherwise. She hugged him, she told him she loved him. Should she had done more? Should she had done less? She was lonely, as lonely as someone could be while simultaneously sponsoring and partaking in a club. She had few people she could truly call a friend. Eve wasn't much of a talker.

She gave a fleeting glance as Dublin walked in, but it returned to the chips soon enough. She outstretched her hand to pick one, then stopped, fingers arching forward as if grasping at the air in front of the bag instead. Then, she took the other one. Her metal hand was limp by her side; though she was righthanded and it worked fine, she got accustomed to using her left hand for little things, to hiding it inconspicuously as much as she could. She was tired of answering questions.

Dublin couldn't decide what was worse. The woman up front arguing with the clerk over an expired coupon, further delaying the line, or the baby in front of him tossing cheerios in his face while it's mother babbled away on the phone.

He looked around the store idly, trying to distract himself. Perhaps if he did, time would go quicker. He noticed a girl hesitating in front of the chips. For a moment he watched her, until a cheerio hit him right in the eye.

Annoyed, he made an ugly face at the child, and it paused before wailing. People shot him annoyed glances and the mother turned with a glare as she continued to talk on the phone, though this time louder. Dublin flushed slightly, swearing under his breath. In an attempt to fix the situation, he began speaking in a gentle voice, trying to soothe the baby. "Hey little guy, how about maybe we stop crying, okay? I mean why can't you just cry on the inside like the rest of us?" He didn't realize the allure of his power was laced through his words, and the child immediately stopped, looking up at him in awe. He felt a bit bad for using his power on an infant, but at least the baby was quiet and happy, and he really hadn't done much harm anyway.

His outburst definitely came to Lotte's attention, and it was her turn in the cat-and-mouse. She looked over at him as she put the bag in her basket, as most of the people in the store did, and gave a smallish smirk as she got in line behind him. People who freaked out in public were always entertaining. Crazy and weird, but entertaining. It became increasingly evident that the clerk was preoccupied, however, and it made Lotte exhale a soft sigh. The line was 4 or 5 people long; it would take a while for one clerk if he was going to argue with every customer.

Now that the baby situation was under control, he finally relaxed. People quickly forgot he was there and all was well. Or, all was well aside from the still too long line ahead of him. And the fact that once again, he was trying to find a way to distract himself. Making eye contact with the girl he had spotted earlier, he caught her smirk sent his way. She had obviously noticed his little ordeal a moment ago.

Dublin, never a man to stray away from a conversation, especially with a pretty girl, began an attempt to chat her up. It's not like their was much else to do while he waited for his cigs. "I'm great with kids, really. They just love me to death." He commented lightly. A withering glare from the mother and a stray cheerio from the child came his way, the latter bouncing off his shoulder and into the growing mess of cereal on the floor.

She was half-sure the crazy man would talk to her when she got in line. He seemed to be that kind of person; if you can yell at a kid, you can pass the time in a halted line with conversation. Lotte looked up at him, her parting mouth pausing for a moment before she smiled slightly at his comment. "I can believe it," she said dryly, but it was a warm kind of dry, like a north-Arizona spring. "It's okay, my little sister cried whenever I tried to talk to her when we were little. For a few months I got so frustrated, I started yelling at her whenever she was near, I was that fed up."

A laugh bubbled out of Dublin's throat. He recalled his childhood being quite similar. "I can relate. I'm the oldest of four and they've all hated me at some point. But my sister was an absolute nightmare. Still is really, she just doesn't cry when I talk to her anymore. Usually." No matter how many jabs he took at Verona, there was still a warmth in his voice when he talked about any of his siblings.

Sisters. "My sister doesn't talk anymore," she said absentmindedly, her metallic hand twitching against her skirt. Her stare was distant for a half-second, but she snapped back into it. Damn, that was deep for a stranger. She laughed lightly. "Sorry, sorry, long story. How old is your sister?" She heard the clerk finally get to his purchase in front of them, and the line moved forward. She eyed the empty space that had been made, and looked back up at him expectantly.

Dublin was a bit taken aback, but he tried not to show it. His eyes followed the movement of her hand twitching against her skirt and for the first time he noticed her metallic hand. He opened his mouth to ask about it, but promptly closed it. He knew better than to bring up past scars, and he could see them in the topic of this girl's sister and in the story behind her limb. So he refrained from asking.

Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on the heels of his feet for a moment, trying to think. "18? Yeah, probably 18. She's at Beata right now. So is my brother. I left not too long ago myself." Still, even with his brother and sister being so close, he rarely saw them. In fact, he rarely saw them even when he was at school.

Noticing the girl's expecting eyes on him, he followed her gaze to the front of the line and moved forward happily. One step closer to a nicotine high.

"My age," The girl noted, and without realizing, began to mimic his rocking in a lighter way, just barely swaying from heel to toe for a moment until it was time to step forward. "Mine's 15. She tried to come here, but my parents don't like this school, so they made her come back." She didn't know what she expected, running away like that. Still, she pitied her sister; she hadn't talked in years due to her "gift." Some abilities were crueler than others. Lotte spun her basket in her left, normal hand, twisting it back and forth.

Dublin nodded. Dublin was older than the majority of people around here, even of those who had graduated recently. Granted, he was only two years older than this girl, but it felt like a world of difference. "Why don't they like this school?" He remembered stories of the corruption long ago, and maybe that altered people's view of the Academy, but he felt like most people knew now that it was better than before. Perhaps that wasn't their reasoning. And perhaps he was being rude to ask. He didn't even know this girl's name, yet he felt that she had a world of trouble brewing in her life, and he had only just scratched the surface. "I'm Dublin, by the way. Andrews. I figure if we're going to brave general store lines together, we might as well know each other's name."

"L--," she made the slightest inkling of a sound, then stopped and shifted it. "Charlotte," the girl answered. As her her parents, she bit her cheek. "It's a dangerous school. Lots of students have died. I get their concern." It was only her recent adulthood that allowed her to return herself, and she hadn't spoken to her parents since. She missed her sister. Maybe she was talking again. "That name sounds familiar, did you go to the school?" Another customer was tended to. One more separated them from the clerk.

Dublin caught her hesitation at first, but didn't dwell on it. Probably an old nickname she was moving on from. "My parents went here and they're sending all their kids here, so I guess that doesn't bother them. Understandable, though." He figured that answered both questions well enough, and he looked away for a moment as he moved up in line. Now the only thing that separated him from the front was the ornery woman and they annoying child, and he'd be happy to see them finally leave.

That got her thinking. Were her parents gifted like she and her sister? That was supposedly how it usually worked, but they never said anything to her and seemed very put off by the whole ordeal. That would certainly be interesting. "I guess I've seen you around sometime," she said, voice vacant as she thought her new revelation through. Perhaps she'd never figure that out...
There was a sharp Cha-Ching! from in front of them and the clerk announced in a loud voice: "Next!"

Dublin turned and sighed in relief. Not that he didn't mind Charlotte's company, but he'd been there far too long and all he really wanted was a damn cigarette. Or 3.

He stepped forward and looked back at the girl, before turning and asking the man behind the counter for what he had came here for. "2 packs of Marlboro reds." He paused for a moment, looking at the wall behind the clerk. "And a pack of smooths." The cashier nodded, taking his ID then turning to gather the cigarette packs before putting them in front of Dublin. He began tapping away at the register before freezing. A few more taps followed before he yelled out a few curse words with a hard hit to the register and excused himself to the back of the store.

At this point, Dublin wasn't even surprised. This had already surpassed the ridiculous point of time to wait in a line, and anything behind had no affect on him. He'd accepted defeat. Turning back to Lotte, he smiled apologetically. "Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer."