Ruby Soho

Hanna adjusted the black hoodie she wore, the front featured the words "Asta Kask" in white on top of a red box while the back featured what was obviously some type of album cover with the words En för alla ingen för nån at the bottom of the mural.  She loosened her neck slightly as she walked down the sidewalk, looking out from a pair of brown sunglasses.  It was a rather nice day around the small town of Rosebury so she thought she'd go for a walk to get a feel for the new place she found herself in.  She let out a small sigh as she moved a strand of white hair from under her glasses and looked around the area with her baby blue eyes.  It was a nice little place, better than the shithole she called home back in Sweden.  It wasn't even where she was living either, it was in an even richer institution with a bunch of really well dressed kids and people who probably have mommy's credit card in their back pocket.  She could just hope that they were like some of the rich kids in a town over from where she lived, huge partiers.  She had a pretty good supplier back in Sweden, even had some contacts in the US to keep her going when she made it to this place.  She stopped on a corner, looking left then right before crossing the street to make it to a faded blue bench covered in graffiti and crude engravings.  She sighed as she pulled her backpack off of her back, her baby blues looking at the thing with a certain awe as she made sure to open it just slightly as she saw dug to the bottom of the front pocket which had various things she brought with her.  She left her bag in a nice secluded spot outside the school before she went in for her orientation, she didn't know much about it's weapon policies and definitely didn't need to be seeing the little bit of product she got from the new player around the area about half an hour from Rosebury.  She sighed as she reached into her bag,  grabbing the cheap thing that felt powerful in her hands ever since she saw it sitting in a thrift shop, even if she had to spend extra so the guy would actually let her buy it.  Six inches of stainless steel that she could flick out in an instant, she felt lucky she only had to brandish it once or twice and use it once, that was a normal day for some people in her old shitty ghetto.

She sighed as she dropped it back into her bag, digging around and grabbing a little teal beanie, a few holes in the brim but it was hers since she finally was able to start pushing product and could buy her own things, not that she ever got bought anything by anyone anyways.  She brought it over her head, pulling down comfortably and adjusting her hair and glasses before moving a couple bits of trash to see a few plastic ziplocks, she looked at the various different types of bud a small smile on her face which raised the little scar that she got rather recently on her lower lip.  She went over each of their names in her head, some were newer stuff she didn't see much of in Sweden but some were familar, especially the White Widow.  She never smoked it, wasn't really worth it in her book, but she heard some good stories, it was a fan favorite.  She let out a breath of relief, she still had some money making potential.  She quickly zipped up the pack, setting it by her feet with a very old worn pair of black boots that her faded blue jeans found themselves in.  She sighed as she crossed he legs and stretched out slightly before putting her arms to her side, sitting atop the bench.

A whole new town, a whole new slew of voices.

Not just audible voices, though. Thoughts. Echoes inside of his head that didn't belong to him. One man was thinking about where his car keys had gone. A child was daydreaming about ice cream. A student was sitting alone in a cafe, worrying about how long a young man she cared very much for had been out of town. An elderly woman was taking a very long time to figure out what she wanted to order at the local diner, and her husband was cross that she was wasting so much time deciding. A sixteen-year-old girl was lying to her parents about going out with a boy, and they were buying it. Of course, Rod knew she was full of shit. She didn't know that he knew, but oh, he did.

"Dirty little liar. I know what you did," he murmured quietly to himself. Or to her. Or to her thoughts. Whatever.

His eyes were like two black holes as he stared aimlessly across the landscape stretching out before him - absorbing everything in but displaying no feeling; making nothing of the scenery. He was too focused on all the voices to appreciate the simple beauty of Rosebury. Roderick didn't want to hear all of these foreign thoughts or feel these foreign emotions, but they came to him - swamped his head like an opaque mist, and made it very hard to separate himself from the seven others that were now chattering noisily in his mind. Of course, this was nothing new. The fact that he could read everybody's thoughts was the entire reason he was here to attend Beata Academy. His affliction was a very special gift, apparently.

Abruptly, Roderick stopped in his tracks. The initiate pushed the unwashed black shag out of his face and squinted, as if focusing on an invisible object on the asphalt in front of him. One of the voices was saying something interesting now.

There was someone around town that - quite possibly - had something he wanted.

So he spent the next ten or so minutes wandering up and down the streets, set on discovering the source of the intriguing train of thought. Upon passing a shoe store and turning onto a narrow sidewalk, he spotted her, sitting alone on a weathered blue bench whilst digging into the bag nestled in her lap. Snowy-white hair, a beanie, a knapsack full of secrets. A quick look into her mind told him that his suspicions about the contents of the bag were, thankfully, correct. Golly, it was his lucky day.

Pace slowing a little, Rod crossed the street onto the opposing sidewalk and started towards the bench. His steps came to a gradual halt behind the young woman of the hour. He brushed his dark curls out of his line of sight once again and crossed his arms. Instead of speaking aloud, he decided it would be easier just to demonstrate his telepathic curse - gift - to this girl than explain later in conversation. 'Waiting for someone in particular, or will I do?'

Hanna flinched slightly her shoulders tensing as all her other thoughts seemed to go on halt as her usual internal voice was replaced by...some guy?  He blue eyes sweeped the street in front of her, examining every little detail, but there wasn't a person in sight...She looked to her right where a building sat guarding the right half of the bench, she quickly flipped her head to the left when she'd meet the gaze of a boy standing a few feet from the bench.

She damn near fell off the bench, jumping back slightly at the suddenness of seeing her mind walker.  What had he seen about her?  He obviously knew what she did, but did she hear about all that of home?  The stories the various little cuts on her face told?  She shuddered internally at this, but she kept her outside calm and cool, composing herself and moving a few stray strands of soft white hair from her left eye.  She met her eyes with the boy before her, placing her left leg on the bench and her elbow upon it, narrowing her eyes under her sunglasses slightly, sizing the boy standing casually behind the bench.  She spoke in a somewhat indistinct accent that you'd have to have heard before to really know, "Depends, whattya want with me?  You coulda asked for story time..." 

A sigh escaped her lips, he obviously knew her little hobby? niche?  Occupation more like.  She decided to let her words hang in the air for a moment before popping her knuckles absentmindedly saying "You know what I do, you doin' bid-ness or just here to tell me winners don't do drugs?"  She probably could go without the snarks but where she came from it was pretty much commonplace to curse the other person out as a greeting.  She was sure if this guy was really going to care that much about finding her for some bud he could take some snarking if that was the way he preferred to play.  

She let her eyes run up and down this boy's features, from his face and eye color, to how tricked out he looked and his body type.  Never know when someone who knows you got product would try to take it.  That's when she let her paranoid thoughts jump from her head, this guy could literally see her thoughts, why else would he 'speak' to her of all people and via the head?  She couldn't put her whole game plan out there for him, she tried her hardest as she kept her thoughts like she was a new player, even if her demeanor and the practical hieroglyphs on her face told a completely different story.  It was already bad enough dealing to poker players and people who could read you and your tells well, now she had people with mind powers?  This was already much more complicated than junkies in her ghetto and stoners in the other neighborhoods.

Alright, so Roderick had managed to frighten this girl much more than he'd intended. She jumped, and nearly fell out of her seat on the bench when she finally spotted the newcomer standing a little ways away from her. Mmh, jumping into someone's head and letting them know that you were aware of their occupation in selling illegal narcotics probably wasn't the most effective method of greeting a person you'd just met.

He watched her facial expression as she scrutinised him up and down. Her gaze drifted from the unkempt mess of hair on his head to the dark circles under his eyes, and down across the expanse of his thinning long-sleeve shirt and stone-washed jeans that ended in a web of frayed fabric, complete with checkered patchwork on one knee. He'd never been one to keep up appearances. He was certain it had given people bad impressions of him, but he didn't care anymore.  He didn't know why he didn't care, but he just.. didn't. He felt hurt for a great many things, but not for the opinions of other people concerning him.

A brain in shambles needed clothing in shambles to match.

The sunglasses on Hanna's face partially obscured Rod's view of her eyes, but he could sense the worry teeming in her subconscious nonetheless. She had stories she didn't want him to pry on - Tales about the questionable markings criss-crossing her facial features, and of places she'd been, and of people she'd met over the years. Indeed, this young woman had a colourful history behind her, but if she was afraid of making that history known, then Roderick wouldn't inform himself of it. He knew too much about too many people already. No need to fill his crammed disaster of a mind with more information he didn't need to be aware of.

"Winners don't do drugs," Roderick echoed monotonously. A weary grin crept onto his face as he stepped up over the backboard of the bench and sat down on top of it, settling his feet on the seat. "but I wouldn't exactly consider myself a winner."

Hanna pursed her lips slightly at the boy's features, he didn't care much about his hair and seemed to be thinning out.  She smirked slightly at the little patchwork on his knee.  Maybe this guy wasn't so bad, he dressed about as well as she did, maybe a little worse, but it seemed this guy either couldn't afford much like she did, or couldn't care less.  It seemed more like the latter, she may not have been able to afford much besides the clothes she wore, and she certainly was not going to find herself wearing the uniform the school gave her, she wasn't too sure she saw skirts where she lived much, though the rich neighborhood always had girls wearing them.  She assumed that this school was pretty much just one rich neighborhood with dorm rooms instead of houses.  

Hanna's eyes followed the boy as he hopped the top of the bench and landed just an inch from her black boot.  She parted her lips slightly to let out a small breath as she let her left foot slide off the bench, her right foot lightly tapping the backpack as she adjusted how she sat, taking her glasses from her face and dropping them in the very front pocket, revealing her light blue eyes as she picked her backpack up and lifted it to the side opposite the boy.  

She gestured to the boy with a nod of the head as she spoke with a small smile at his little comment, though she kept her tone of voice relaxed and unwavering "Well, loser, what's your poison?" She offered a tap of the temple and a slightly larger smirk "Or do you wanna speak all super-person like you're afraid the street talks?" Honestly she couldn't care less, this guy sounded about the same whether he spoke out loud or with his weird thought...thing.  She was a bit worried about the prying mind-memory thing, but if he really wanted to learn about her that much, he would've figured it out by now.  She began to wonder if she could feel this guy in her head if he started looking, but even that thought made her think she might be OD'ing in an alleyway back in Sweden...This was all so fucked up.  

She just decided to focus on the one thing she still knew didn't change when she got here, her way of earning money, and apparently this guy was buying so at least mind-loser had something to offer other than his oh so valued and enthusiastic company.

"My poison.." the initiate murmured. He'd entirely missed Hanna's second question.

That was an appropriate term, according to most people. Drugs were poison - Venomous catalysts to Roderick's already frayed mental state. He would find himself jumping from mood to mood more easily - becoming angry at silly little things, or finding humour in things that typically were not worth laughing at.. And, of course, the things most folks didn't see - hallucinations that only Rod saw - became more vivid. Sometimes frighteningly so.

But that didn't matter to Rod. The significance of the pros caused the biting side effects of the cons to pale in comparison. There was always a silver lining, as his mother had told him many years ago. He could overlook the negatives, because when he was riding the high that a narcotic substance gave him, a sort of numbness coated his mind - A thick film, muddling his perception to a point where the voices that plagued him regularly were no longer comprehensible.. Just distant, muffled sounds, as if everyone around was talking through thick feather pillows. He'd no longer have to worry about them. When he was high, he was in another world - a quieter, more colourful world, where he could fly, and he could be relieved of the ceaseless mental chatter. Such substances were not easy to come by, but when he did happen upon them, well.. Another handful of cash -- Poof.

"The kind that can make me fly, or see a violet sun and grass-green clouds," he finally responded, seeming a little distant with his eyes now fixed on the sky. That probably wasn't an option, though. He didn't imagine anyone living in a town smack-dab in the middle of buttfuck nowhere had acid of any sort. Rod sniffed, dragged his eyes away from the skyline and angled his head in Hanna's direction. "But a lung-full of anything that can make the world a little fuzzy will do just fine." He pulled slim leather wallet out of his back pocket.

Hanna watched silently as he echoed her words and went distant.  She almost wanted to be able to read his thoughts, see what was going on in this dirty boy's head as the thoughts whizzed behind his eyes.  It was the dark truth that every junkie she met had some reason for being a junkie.  Whether it was to escape problems they faced or just to get a high that took their beaten mind away and eventually all their mind would be was the drugs they pumped into their veins, or inhaled or anything.  She quickly shook the thoughts from her head, this was her only way of survival, the only thing she knew, the only thing she was taught.  Days where she was weak were the days she earned a new scar, whether on her face, arm, body, legs, she couldn't do it anymore.  If she didn't give those people their fuel all she could be was an even lower paid sex slave or not paid at all.  There were no alternatives, it was all she had and she needed to stop being soft, money was money whether green covered in red or not.  Survival depended on her peddling this shit, if people wanted to ruin their lives with it that was their own problem, if she wanted food on the table and at least a mattress to sleep on or a place to crash, she needed green.  If she wanted to be able to protect herself from the hungry men roaming the streets, the women willing to sell themselves or others to them, she needed money, end of story.

Then the boy spoke to her again, she broke out of her own daze, blinking twice and finally recognized his words, mulling them over in her head, this guy wanted happy tabs?  She let out a sigh, of all times, he caught her with a new supplier, but at least he knew he'd be buying when she was able to get what he wanted.  She nodded curtly, knowing exactly what this boy wanted, she heard very good stories from her new guy about this strain.  She brought her pack onto her lap, giving a couple looks left and right, just out of instinct, a new place meant anybody could be waiting around a corner...though the streets were emptier than her place in ghettoshit, Nowhere in Sweden.  She unzipped a larger ziplock, the words TW sharpied on, with about ten gram bags sitting inside.  She pulled one of those little bags out, scooting to be leg to leg with the guy, wrapping her left arm around the boy's neck as she deftly opened the small bag with the flick of a thumb.

She kept her hand somewhat high on towards the boy's face to offer him a good whiff of the earthy pungent odor from even the small little bit hidden in the bag which she made sure to keep hidden as well as she could from all directions.  She kept her head nearby his, to any outside eye it would seem like the "well dressed" two of them were just a couple enjoying a nice day.  Hanna felt anything but, but this charm worked a lot with the guys, some chicks even, and if people were around she got pretty good at keeping the g's hidden from sight.  She kept her head close by, hoping this guy wouldn't get any ideas as she spoke softly "Get me in a week or two, I'll see if I got your tabs, but this right here is what Californian's call Trainwreck.  Heard it was so nice around there that I just had to get some, hits you like a train and can make the world just little bit more than fuzzy, real euphoric psychedelic type shit, yeah?  Seven Eu- Er I mean about Eight bucks for one of these g's, you want it?"

The second Hanna scooted in closer and curled one arm around Roderick's neck, his eyes darted over to the hand that now was resting on casually on his shoulder. He didn't particularly like being touched by a stranger - or really being touched at all, unless, of course, he wanted to be touched, but her hushed tone, cautious glances from side-to-side, and the closeness between he and her were probably moves of discretion. Being discreet was a rather important quality to have when one was of this girl's particularly unlawful profession, Roderick supposed.. Especially in a town stuffed with trouble-bound, supernatural loonies. Coppers were bound to be sniffing around.

The initiate listened loosely as Hanna spoke. Psychedelic shit.. Euphoria.. Something about Californians and trainwrecks. Rod only managed to register every two or three words, but it was straightforward enough that she was trying to solidify his interest in what she had to sell. Hanna held a small bag up to his face and he inhaled deeply through his nose, relishing the pervasive scent of the product within. The smell of enlightenment was always a good one. "A dance with the devil's lettuce.. I've been waiting a while." That had a nice sort of ring to it. He'd have to write that down later and use it for.. For something.

Roderick slipped a ten out of his wallet and dropped it in his new acquaintance's open knapsack, the notion of asking for change not crossing his mind. He plucked the small bag out of Hanna's hand and then pulled another bill out of his wallet. Without hesitation, he took a pinch of his newly-acquired Mary J and rolled it right into the bill. "I can only hope Mr. Washington will enjoy this as well," he mumbled, referring to the face printed on the money. Deftly, he bit the end of the joint and ignited it.

Had she said something about happy tabs?

He reached over her and dropped the money into her little bag after she spoke and he seemed like he was barely even listening.  She furrowed her brow slightly, she saw the bill was a ten but he had already grabbed the bag from her hand.  She was about to mention change as she got a bit of distance from the boy, when the entire situation dawned on her...she dealt drugs...What?  She always dealt drugs, it was her job.  This time though...Her thoughts were interrupted.  Not just stalled slightly like when the boy jumped in her head, this was full on all thoughts stopped, if this boy could passively read her thoughts it would be jarring as the steady stream of thoughts were quickly stopped for one that was more a visualization.  

Her blue eyes got a bit glossy as the visualization formed behind them, it was her sitting on the same bench next to the same boy, with the same sort of dazed look on her face, it transitioned to her bring her own hand to her own left cheek, one of the only places clean, after another tranistion, her cheek had a brand new cut, it found itself already freshly cauterized by whatever dark purple thing that was shining from her palm as she lunged at the boy she just handed the Jane to, adding a fresh mark to the boy's face.  She was then quickly pulled out of the stupor, a line of purple mist circling near her wrist before dissipating. 

She blinked twice, looking to her left and right as she got a feel for the world around her again, the fingers on her right hand twitching slightly as she let out a small breath...Not again.  She thought this was one and done...She just thought it was the amount of money...The amount of coke, but no.  Even the smallest little bit was sparking it...But it seemed okay, not like last time, it was all that she could think of...It all went wrong, but it wasn't her fault!  It was her fault one got maimed and the other killed but it wasn't her bad in the first place!  Once again, another hit, another jarring stop of thoughts as the visualization repeated itself.  The second time she was pushed back into the world of the living she shook her head while tightly shutting her eyes.  

She tried to form words as she looked to the mind walking boy, her fingers twitching on her right hand as another band of mist floated by, but forming nothing as her lips just twitched slightly with an open mouth before she just closed them and pursed her lips slightly.  Her head was hurting slightly as she looked to the front, this guy definitely saw that, what was she going to say?  Just go on as normal?  Those scars she had on her face were not of her own infliction, but it seemed like something inside of her was trying to push her to add another to her and the boy...Hopefully she could resist it this time.  She knew about it, right?  Mind over matter, let the guy have his joint, the street was clear anyways.  She was strong willed enough, at least she hoped so, that she could just hold out long enough.  She needed buyers.

Before Rod could even inhale the product once, a wave of discomfort struck him. Not his own discomfort, no, no.. Somebody else's. Dull green eyes slowly pulled to the left, settling on Hanna. A vacant, unfocused look had overtaken her. She was silent and unmoving, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. To the average person, it would seem as if nothing was happening beneath her skull -- as if she were brain-dead.

But it was quite the opposite, however, though only Roderick could see it.

Beneath the surface, a wild surge of bewildering emotions was stirring noisily deep within Hanna's conscience. Violent, unpleasant imagery was buzzing around like a swarm of bugs. Bad memories of another time, another place.. The truths behind the markings criss-crossing the skin of her face, and pain, and regret, confusion, and fury. She was fighting some sort of heated, internal battle with herself. And then Roderick saw himself inside of Hanna's head. He could feel an overwhelming, uncontrollable need for justice burn through her. In her hazy visions, he saw her fist colliding with his jaw. And then again. He could see the guilt erupt in her eyes as he stumbled backwards and collided with the hard cobblestone below, blood seeping out of the place in which her knuckles had connected.

The marijuana. It had something to do with the marijuana. She wasn't an officer, though. This was some sort of innate sense of duty.

Rod didn't particularly feel like getting punched.

His telepathic voice sliced through the girl's visions and thoughts like a knife - a piercing echo. 'I do hope you'll reconsider your actions, Ms. Normansson..'

Hanna's fingers twitched again as she looked back to the ground where her boots met concrete.  Her blue eyes stared at the cracks zigzagging across the cement, fairly trodden upon.  She ground her teeth as her distraction let her not focus as much on her right hand which she brought to her face absentmindedly to wipe her face.  That was a mistake.  Before she could even think about it, a sharp burning pain emitted from the middle of her right cheek...but she couldn't unlatch her hand from her face as she brought it down about four inches.  She yelped slightly as the boy's words cut into her head past it all as she finished her downward pull.  A single droplet of deep red blood rolled down past her self cauterized wound as her blue eyes slowly turned to the boy.

She seemed distant though a certain burning as well as guilt could be fished out of the gaze that fell upon the boy.  She swallowed as she blinked her eyes a couple times, the silence hanging in the air as she seemed to be warring with herself over what was about to happen.  She shut her eyes tightly for a moment as the drop of blood made it down to her jawline.  She quickly opened them as her baby blues met his dull green and the blood teetered it's way on the edge, hanging off by just metaphorical threads.

She let out a small strained "I'm sorry..." before she turned her feet on her heels slightly, pushing off as she lunged at the boy, standing straight as she quickly grabbed a bunch of his shirt with her left hand, attempting to pull him to his feet quickly with her.  The boy had her by about an inch but that didn't stop the girl as her eyes blazed with fury as she attempted to pull him down and hit him with a right hook with a strength that wouldn't exactly be expected of just some random off the street...of course she was no random.  She threw the hook in a quick and slightly exaggerated pattern as she wound up her hit for a split second before looking to cold cock the boy right in his jawline.  To Hell with first impressions then.

Hanna was fighting a losing battle, it seemed.

The clash of willpower inside of her was like a fireworks show - captivating, but held a great potential to cause havoc. Roderick could tell she'd been through this many, many times before already, and she was clearly aware - and afraid - of the dangers of the overwhelming force that was encapsulating her mind. There was a fury building up inside of her, and she was trying very hard to suppress these undesirable urges by looking elsewhere, looking for something to distract her, but that wasn't working, either.

Most people would have run by now, if they could predict that their pot dealer planned on socking them in the face, but Roderick had almost forgotten that entirely. He was transfixed by the inner machinations of her mind - so much so that all of the unwanted voices he'd been hearing a minute ago were now distant echoes. Did this have something to do with Hanna's ability? Was her ability triggered by drugs? No, it couldn't be.. She sold drugs for a living.

And then she grabbed him.

The physical pull of her fingers closing around the neckline of Roderick's shirt also mentally pulled him back into reality. Hanna yanked him up off of the bench with little to no effort. Furious, burning blue met bewildered, washed-out green for only a heartbeat before her fingers curled and her fist collided with Roderick's jaw. His head snapped off to the side, and a stinging pain exploded from the spot the girl's knuckles had made contact with.

Run! Punch her back, you greasy fuck.. Don't hit a lady. Use your gift, Rod.. Kick her!

There were so many different options fluttering noisily around inside of his head.. Do this, do that, go there, don't bother, go for it.. So many, in fact, that he couldn't focus specifically on anything. Roderick's face turned back in Hanna's direction, looking a little dazed, but otherwise void of any expression. To be furious or frightened - he couldn't settle on a singular emotion, so he opted simply to stare up at her as his indecisive conscience argued with itself, hand slowly creeping up to the bruise that already sat, rosy and inflamed, on his jawline. The pads of his fingers met wetness. Blood.