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Before she'd found out about America, Maebe had always kept her door open on Tuesdays. But since then, the door was always locked, and would always be locked. There would always be a chair sitting on the knob, keeping it extra closed, just in case.

But this wasn't Tuesday. She wasn't expecting anyone, and the knock came as a surprise, jolting her out of her quiet moment with her phone.

A few seconds passed before he could hear her padding to the door, with bare feet against a too-plush rug. The sound of a chair being moved preceded the lock being turned, and the door opening just a hair - enough to see him standing there. She swung it open, and tilted her head.

"Didn't I just see you, tiger?" She muttered out in confusion. "I know I'm irresistable, but this is getting ridiculous."

She held out her hand for her drink, and let him inside. As soon as he entered, she'd close the door behind him, and lock it. Quickly.

"Aw, you're no fun today. Fine, sit down, talk, tell me all your boring things. It's better than sitting in here alone."

She crawled back onto her bed, curled up with her drink, and sipped it quietly. Her eyes rested on him, strangely focused. Something was up. Did he know about the clone? Surely not. How could he.. although, when she thought about it, he did live in towns..

Well, s**t.

Maebe's expression turned from vague interest to mock surprise. There might have been a little terrible mischief in that open mouthed expression. "Oh nooo! Did she hit you? Are you guys getting a divorce? Am I going to have two Christmases now?"

The shock faded into open amusement, with a wide, tongue biting grin. For a split second it faded, because he'd asked the wrong question, and she waved it away with a hand. "No, that's not important. I'm hiding from stalkers or whatever. Have you seen how pretty I am? Okay, now let's get back to the divorce. Who's getting the house?"

"Aunt May and Uncle Ben? I love them!" Maebe tipped her drink up at him and gave him a wink. She took a long, drawn out sip of her drink, and refused to look in his eyes anymore.

"Something like that. You never know with that guy." Lawr made for the perfect scapegoat, when presented. Maebe latched on to it like a life saver, and refused to let go. "I haven't been cozy with him lately. So. I want to keep it that way."

She put the cup down on her dresser, and leaned in, folding her hands in front of her. "Lex, you didn't come here to check up on my safety. What are you hoping for? Did you think she'd never find out that you were half-naked with some random girl out on the fields? Or that you come to my room every week? Because if so, sweetheart, I'm starting to worry about those rose colored glasses of yours. They look like they're cracking."

"Well it wasn't me. I don't even know what she looks like." Maebe's fingers clasped and unclasped in idle movements, until finally they let go altogether and stilled. Her lips turned up in a smirk when they did.

"Friendship, huh." She muttered, shaking her head. When exactly did blackmailing the man turn into a friendship, and why did she always seem to have this nasty habit of attracting friends? She wasn't really the friendly type - especially to people like Lex. She supposed she should have repelled him by now.

Instead, he was in her room, talking about potential marriage trouble with her.

Maebe didn't know who she was, anymore.

"Don't go cold turkey. You might end up seeing something you can't live with. I'm just saying, it sounds like you guys don't communicate real well. See, me and Otto, we communicated lots. In fact, if we weren't ********, we were yelling at each other. Lots of communicating there. Then he decided to go find someone who communicated in dulcet, boring tones, and that was that." She frowned as she thought about it, pressing one finger to her lips. "Wait, that's a bad example, isn't it. I was trying to tell you communicating is a good thing, and showed you why it can be bad. Oopsie."

Christ, she was some kind of friend magnet. The look on his face disturbed her, as if she was guilty of something she couldn't quite imagine, and she placed her hand across her forehead, and dragged it down her face. "I mean, don't go picking out curtains for us just yet, but, I guess so. I was just surprised. Most people shouldn't really want a friend like me. It's your first in a long line of bad choices, I'm sure."

She couldn't shake the guilt, and it was starting to itch at the back of her neck. What would someone better do in her situation? She knew the answer, and knew how far out of her personal boundaries it lay. Her spine went rigid as she tried to convince herself that she could at least fake being a good friend, if she really wanted to. Maybe if she kept trying, one day, it would stick.

Wouldn't that be nice.

She slid off of the bed, padded over to him, and put her arms around his shoulders in a hug. "There. We're friends. No going back now." It wasn't the most warm of hugs, because she was still so bad at this, but she was trying. She could try, if she wanted.

"Yeah, but don't we all have some PTSD? I mean we're fighting a war here. I get that s**t when someone starts talking to me about - " She bit her tongue, hesitating to say the word clones. "About the things that have almost killed me on the job. But listen, I don't know you guys. I've never met her, and I don't know why you love her so much despite all this, but I know you do. So, I guess, you have to try and figure out how your puzzle pieces fit. Or else," Her arms let go, and she pulled away, slumping down to sit on her soft carpet indian style. "Man, every time I try to give you some advice and I think about my own life, I realize I'm a terrible person to be talking to. I'm going to just stop trying to help."

The more she listened, the worse for him she felt. Loving someone who was a wreck was hard enough, but to do so when they weren't affectionate felt nearly impossible to her. He was more patient than she'd ever be, by far, and that didn't really come as a surprise. Patience had never been one of her virtues.

"I don't know. Maybe because I listen?" It seemed a little too easy, but if there was anything Maebe was willing to accept, it was that she'd learned to be a good listener. That was why everyone told her their secrets, and filled her with their lies. It was too easy to shove their anger, their frustrations under her skin, when she refused to let them show. Her entire life was a blank book, where people wrote their deepest, darkest desires in, and never looked back on again.

"Or maybe, because you know nothing you say or do leaves this room. We did make that deal, after all." She frowned, suddenly raw with awareness of how twisted the situation had become. She could have easily thought she was using him for coffee. Instead, she'd just set herself up to be used again. It felt so familiar.