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There was nothing sensual or desirable about the way Dawson wrapped his arms around her and held her. His hands did not stray, his fingers did not caress, and his body did not arch in aching want. He was just holding her, kind of like a warm, soft cushioned chair would hold her if she dug herself into it. He held her in a way that indicated safety, without the constant reminder that he was a man, and she was a woman.

She didn't like it.

At least, she didn't think she liked it.

He hadn't actually answered her question, and she refused to repeat it in case it was a touchy subject. Knowing his nationality wasn't really that important, anymore. "I am French." She informed him, putting another cracker in his mouth and batting his nose playfully with one finger. "Je suis irrésistible." Maebe's french vocabulary was extremely limited, focused mainly on different ways of saying <******** me coupled with several different ways of complimenting herself. But her accent was spot on, if not a little brittle. "And my parents were the kind of people who wanted a unique name. Something no one else had. Like famous actor's children, you know? So they came up with that." Smoothly, she left the middle name out of the conversation.

"Who taught you that making love to someone was something you shouldn't do freely? Your parents?" Straight to the point, as always. She offered him another cracker, softening the blow of such a harsh question - though it was asked with the sincerest of curiosity, and no amount of judgement.

"Ah, so it was your personal choice." That was a little tougher to work with, but a little easier to respect. Then he mentioned Oreos with hot sauce and she tried not to heave.

"It isn't bad. But I suppose you have to then admit that my way of life isn't bad, either. If no one is better than the other, then there's no reason why any particular way of life is, either. I just think that all walks of life, and all people, are worth a try. For example." She bit down on a cracker, took half of it, and then gave him another half. "If you put aside your old fashioned ways for a day, you could probably convince me to try celibacy on the next. Everything is worth a try, once." She licked the crumbs off her fingers with no amount of subtlety. "And everyone."

She liked overthinking about the logistics of her attitude on life, and settled into his arms comfortably to dwell on it more. "I don't know if it's about confidence. I mean, okay. I am confident. Of course I am. But I invited you over because I saw you there, on Twitter, and I needed someone I'd never met before. Someone who's never seen me at my best, or at my worst. Someone who I can smile at, and know all they see is a smile. Because it doesn't have to be more all the time. Does it?"

She'd stopped giving him crackers, and actually looked up at him, searching for something more than just a smile for the first time that night. In those big, lonely eyes, there was finally life, stubbornly trying to survive.

Maebe felt the slight change in his hold, and accepted that this was what he meant when he spoke of being good for such things. She also realized how easy it was to forget you were trying to seduce someone when they hugged you the way a father hugs his child after an achievement. It was a strange kind of comfort. Dissonant to her skin. Just another thing she didn't understand, and couldn't relate to, no matter how good it felt.

"Hah," The exhale of laughter sounded appropriately hollow, to match her smile. "Am I okay." She could lie to him, easily, but she couldn't see what she'd gain from it. It made her tired to think of expending her energy for no reward. "No, sweetheart. I'm not okay. I've never been okay. You're a smart boy. You probably knew that, deep down." It was why he didn't want to tangle with the likes of her, she was sure. No man said no to sex unless they knew better than to stick their d**k in crazy. That was the way of life as she saw it.

She reached up, and patted his cheek fondly. He was a good man, with no idea what he was holding in his arms, and yet. She was sure he could still sense how disgusting she was. He was a good, smart man.

Her smile never changed, physically. And yet, the hollowness filled with something genuine, transforming it without a single movement of muscle. She was so glad that he was a good, smart man. It kept him safe.

He was trying to comfort her. She felt the words, as sentimental and sincere as they were, bounce off of her and clatter in a growing pile in her lap. She listened to them because his voice rumbled, and the vibrations felt nice against her skin. But they weren't sinking in, where they truly needed to be.

The brief moment of sincerity in her smile fluttered away just as quickly as it had come, but the smile itself remained.

"I smile because my face looks prettier when I smile. See? Look at me now, and then-" She stopped smile, and forced her lips into an exaggerated pout. Her brow furrowed, completing the ridiculous expression. "Now I look yucky. Nobody wants to kiss this." Her lips opened and closed, faking exaggerated kissing noises, before she finally stopped playing around and returned to normal. "Whether I'm happy, or sad, or angry, or hurt, is a secret I keep all to myself. It feels good to keep it safe where no one else can see. And I'm all about what makes me feel good."

Her face scrunched up with disdain as he mentioned the other women - both of whom were actually good choices, in most cases. But America and Peyton both were in stable relationships, as far as she knew. She never wanted to look at the face of a happy, loved woman again, as long as she lived.

The feeling of her entire body tensing with pain when the word chocolate was even uttered, gave away more than her expression ever could. She flickered her eyes away, confident that he couldn't read past the walls so hastily rebuilt there but not quite so confident that she would test the theory now.

"I don't want them. If I wanted them, I would have invited them to my room. But I invited you, didn't I?" Her shoulders slumped in dismay. "I asked you here because I was hoping that you could give me the only distraction that's ever worked for me. And I know that's not your thing, but I'm starting to realize it wouldn't have worked, anyway. And yet I still want it, because that's what I'm supposed to want."

Her hand slid down his neck, brushing tenderly against the rough, bristled skin. It reminded her of a lumberjack. She'd never been with a lumberjack before. "Don't be scared. I know you don't want this. But like you said, lying is a whole lot of energy. And I'm tired, Dawson. So instead, you get every thought that passes through my head, unfiltered, because you said yes to my invitation. I would apologize, but I'm still confident I can make it worth your while if you ever let me." The stubble burned her fingertips. "I can wait."

She did have monsters in her heads. He had no idea how right he was, and Thaw did not even count. In fact, Thaw was the only voice of reason that lived inside of Maebe's mind, anymore. She, certainly, did not count.

She liked the idea of just talking to him. Telling him everything that had caused him to be in her room that night. It felt kind of freeing to just talk, the way she talked to her mirror when no one was looking. Dawson was about to hear a whole lot of problems that he really did not need to know about.

"I know who I am. I built myself up from the beginning, so I know what I'm supposed to want. Sometimes, I want something else, and I can tell immediately that's not - I mean, it doesn't help me be a better person."

Better. That was a highly subjective word.

"I don't want to be someone else. I don't want to turn into someone gooey and fussy and soft and sweet. I'm good at this. I do it right. I never get complaints and I never get left behind." Her demeanor tightened, shifting into a more fetal position in his arms. "I tried love. It was a first for me. Those are things I'm not supposed to do, but like I said, you have to try everything once, right? And I did. And I learned my lesson. Very recently, in fact-" She snickered, smiling regretfully up at him. "I'm sorry you were selected as the random happenstance to try and soothe this open wound. But I'm good at certain things. Making someone feel good, physically. Making someone think they're special. I'm good at that. I'm not good at things like actually caring, or being loved. So that's what I mean."

She stared up at Dawson, her mouth open slightly, and sighed. "Jesus, that was more words I've ever said in one sitting than I've done my entire life. I am seriously sorry. You're just, like, really easy to talk to." She owed Dawson like, fifty blowjobs after all this was over.

Did talking really help? Was this uncharacteristic venting of her issues really helping her work through any of them? Was it dulling the pain and memory of what she loved and lost, the way alcohol and sex would have done?

She looked doubtful.

He told her she sounded like a machine, and she felt a surge of pride at the idea. That was exactly what she wanted to be. Numb, emotionless, concise. She was none of these things, but she liked that it was clear she wanted to be. "I know exactly who I am." She assured him again, pressing her lips tight in a half-cocked smirk. "I might have lost sight of it for a while, but pain has a way of putting things in perspective. I know who I am, and what I want." It was other people, very specific people, who had no idea what they wanted. Those were the people she needed to weed out of her life. The very same one that made her insides twist in agony.

And she knew it was impossible, because she couldn't get over those pesky feelings that haunted her every thought.

"Do?" She couldn't quite integrate Dawson's advice with her own way of thinking. "What do you mean? Like, a bucket list? Because I had a lot of do's, but I checked them off already. The only do I have right now, in this moment, is you. And the moment is all there is left to live for." That made sense to her. This moment was the one they lived in. Not yesterday. Not the future. This moment, lying in Dawson's lap, waiting for him to stop trying to help her through her problems and instead help himself to what she had to offer.

The moment was all that mattered.

And just like that, the moment was over.

In a stunning display of about-face, Maebe transformed in his arms. She no longer wanted to hear his well intentioned advice, nor did she want to share her woes. The only thing she did want from Dawson, is to not be so strong, and adamant about his principles. To not show her how a person who truly believed the things they say acted. To not be everything she lacked, and would always lack.

Her eyes narrowed, and a storm brewed dark and smoldering in her eyes.

"I have had my fill of friends." She warned him, her tongue now sharp enough to feel. "You came here to meet me, and now you have. Congratulations. What a lucky man you are." She slid, serpentine, out of his lap, and crawled on all fours until she could sit where none of her body touched his. "But that is not okay with me. I can't keep making this same mistake. I won't. And if you aren't the one who can - " Save me. The words were on her tongue, but she was far too clever to say them. The pause was dangerous enough. " - can give me what I want, then you've been a colossal waste of my time."

It all came into focus. Mimsy's warnings would make so much more sense now. What sat in front of him was no longer a pretty doll, but a sharp, fork-tongued snake. She looked prepared to strike at any moment.

"I can't." Her voice cracked, because she was too exhausted to hold onto the facade of viciousness for too long. "I don't have the strength for this anymore."

Even the anger bled away, and she moved to rest her head on the wall. It was cold, and hard, and lifeless. It felt nothing like a pair of big warm arms. It felt like home.

She waited for him to lash out at her. It threw her for a loop when he ducked, staying where he was. Why wasn't he leaving? Why wasn't he yelling? Why wasn't he anything that she knew how to handle or was used to?

He came closer, and she tensed; now she was the deer, ready to flit away at a moment's notice. She could tell how obvious it was by the fact that she stopped, and refused to come closer. He looked like he'd done something wrong. Like he was a bad boy. She'd made him feel like that.

For the first time in our existence, I will agree with your general conjecture, child. You are despicable.

"Yes I do." She whispered, clutching the wall the way she would have clutched a human, if she wasn't so hard to hold. "I need to tear out whatever is inside of me that feels this way, so I can function again. I need to stop feeling. I need to stop caring. I can't do these things the way other people can. Look what it's doing to me." She hated herself more in that moment than she'd ever hated herself before. She was curled against the wall, in front of a stranger. She was more exposed than she'd ever been, and it felt raw, and wrong.

"I don't - I don't think you should be here anymore, Dawson." She rubbed her wrists, aching to rip and tear and shred until she felt in control again. She knew better than to do any of that in front of someone other than Lawr, ever again. She remembered the betrayal in their eyes. "You don't need to see this. This isn't your problem. I'd say I'm sorry that I dragged you down into the mud with me, but I'm not. I don't know how to be sorry, really. I just know you don't deserve to stick around and watch this mess. It's not your concern."