Tess was in pink, and that set her teeth on edge. It wasn't the color on its own that bothered her -- bubblegum, cloyingly pink, lined in lace and sweet white flowers -- as her lack of choice in the matter. It was unironic pink, unaccented pink, a frothy and full-skirted monstrosity that had been shoved into her hands ten minutes before leaving.
It was pink she hadn't chosen, and in her mind, it had become something of a symbol: what her mother wished she was, the mask that she put on at golf events so that boring boys in expensive suits would hit on her. What her mother wanted for her, a tall white boy with a too-bright smile. What her mother expected of her, which was to be better than the other girls.
And she could do it. For a time. She could smile and laugh, flirt and play along. She could politely decline drinks; still too young, even if they might have served her anyway. She could answer questions about school, about her major, about her band, about the rock music she played, something that seemed almost a novelty to them. They were all too glad to have someone different at hand.
And then, when they were distracted, when the next round of drinks circulated and they turned to talking about charity events and their new building projects, she could slip out through the terrace doors and into the golf course to cut her way back toward home.
She did it every time. Her mother would figure it out. Her father would worry and then deal with it.
Tonight was different, though, because about halfway across the field, a green-clad figure stepped out to walk alongside her, almost absently offering her a cigarette.
"Leaving so soon?" His voice was teasing, just a hair mocking, came with a hint of a wink as she refused the smoke and turned a disapproving frown on the white-haired stranger. She didn't answer. In her experience, answering only encouraged them.
He was encouraged anyway, though, grinning at her as he lit up and drew smoke into his lungs, looking back toward the glowing lights of DCGC behind them, alone on the hill, surrounded by greens and trees. "Seems a bit stifling, but at least I imagine the food's good."
That, finally, made her pause -- eyebrows knitting and hands on her hip to scowl up at him properly. "What do you want, mister? I'm walking home. I don't want trouble. I'm still close enough that a scream -- a proper scream -- could alert everyone inside to --"
One white hand raised to wave off that line of question, placating, and she was willing to be placated, mostly because they could still see the place. And because she did have the lung power to summon security, in the case of an emergency. So she went silent, and he went silent, while they both waited for what would come next.
"Look." His tone was gentler, now, without that sharp edge of mocking. Or, at least, with less of it. He watched her, licking his lips as he picked his words. "I know a friend of yours. He works for me. He said that he thought you'd be an aid too; smart, creative, driven..."
He waved, vaguely. No big deal. So she was a candidate. And it made her eyes narrow, suspicious and tense, uncomfortable, as he moved on. "So I'm a recruiter. Here to give you purpose, and the guns to do whatever it is you want to do."
Finally, she looked back to the country club, arms tight across her chest, mouth screwed up into not-quite-a-pout.
"I'm doing what I want to do," Tess offered slowly, shrugging briefly and looking back up at him. It was a dare. 'You tell me I'm not', it said.
"No you're not." And he obliged. There was that grin again. He echoed her shrug, amused, tapping ash off onto the grass. "You strike me as someone who likes to know what's going on. Who likes some degree of control. I don't know if you know what's going on in this city, but from what I've heard, you're the type to keep an ear out, who might know some people..."
She thought about it as he trailed off, whispers of missing people or strange creatures who roamed at night, the signs of battles destroying property. Tess's gigs, sometimes, found their way into some so-so areas of town, the opposite of these perfectly-groomed golf courses and swimming pools, the white walls of DCGC. And so, after a moment, she nodded. Quick.
"So. I offer you more knowledge. A one-time deal, but you have to agree now, and you can't change your mind later." It was the best deal he'd offered, perhaps, but to her it still sounded fishy. Tess liked time. She liked to think about things. She liked to obsess, to pull the pieces apart, to make pro and con lists. She liked to be smart, but that was easier said than done.
"And what does it cost me?" So she stuck to the simplest question she could ask, and the base line. There was a lot she'd be willing to trade for knowledge, but she still needed to understand the trade before she agreed. It was about control. And how much she was willing to give up.
"Time." It was immediate. And as she nodded, willing to make that concession, he continued.
"Loyalty." That, two, she could give, she thought. To a degree. Her nod was slower.
"...and about a second and a half of pain." But this time, he didn't wait for her to nod in reply. Instead, one gloved hand found its way into her chest, to curl around her starseed, and she was consumed by it. The promised pain. She couldn't help but think that she hadn't even agreed, fully, and then she lost consciousness.
