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"Do I look like a heathen?" She retorted, the sarcasm rolling off of her in waves. Of course she had Nicki Minaj. She was starved for new music, but she wasn't a monster.

"Brilliant." Maebe commended the effort and purpose of the glue. "I usually just scratch it off my skin until it hurts." A very slow smile unknowingly lifted her corners. That was her favorite part.

She was watching, intently, as Chel drew stripes on her nail. That seemed like the easy part, but she knew better than to believe it was easy just because it looked that way. But sure enough, it was the gradient work with the sponge that Maebe felt lost on, as she watched. "That's going to need some practice." She muttered, more to herself than anything. But the more she considered practicing anything, the lazier she felt. Soon enough, her eyes began to wander, flickering up to catch glimpses of Chel as she sung and bounced and painted. She was lost in her own world, and in that world, she was truly herself.

"You really are beautiful." Maebe told her, plainly pointing out what she felt was just the truth.

It felt so comforting, and relatable, to hear a woman admit readily that she knew she was beautiful. Maebe appreciated that because it was raw, empowering truthfulness. Not this BS shy crap that girls tended to shovel when they were receiving a compliment.

"I did not." She hadn't heard much about, or from Chel, since the first and only day they'd really hung out together. It was a surprise, therefore, that Chel had decided to come over so unexpectedly. She felt like she was meeting an entirely new person, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "It's impressive. Tell me about it?"

Maebe could have believed it was a shark fight. She did not have trouble imagining Chel wrestling with a shark. Perhaps it was because those scars looked like they'd been done with something sharp like teeth, but the image of Chel taking on the shark only made Maebe feel bad for the shark. Or she would have, if she gave a single ******** about the fate of live animals.

But no matter how settled in Maebe was, or ready for storytime, she did not expect the story to begin with relationships issues. If she'd expected it, perhaps she could have prepared herself for that feeling of familiarity. She could have warned herself against feeling too empathetic at the idea of ******** someone because you were no longer wanted. Using sex as a band-aid. As a distraction. As a way to plug the blackest of holes.

And just as it failed for Chel, so too did it never seem to work the way Maebe wanted.

The story turned surreal when Chel informed her that a fairy and a dragon were the ones responsible for the very real looking scars on her face. Maebe had little experience with the creatures, but there were few so popularly bastardized by human culture as fairies and dragons were. It relieved her of the pain she was feeling for the beginning of Chel's story, by jarring her out of the world of reality with creatures of fantasy.

Maebe had curled up at some point during the story, and held her knees tight against her with both arms.

"Fairies and dragons." She murmured quietly, latching on to the part of the story that did not make her want to cry. "Shame it wasn't a shark."

Maebe grinned with delight, shifting when she was pushed only to slowly slide back. "I'm awful. I know." But she hadn't been interested in the shark, it had just been the only thing she was prepared to comment on. Anything to keep from making personal inquiries that would drive her to introspection.

"I am glad it worked out with you two. I think a lot of times, if a guy thinks you're annoying, it's because there's something about you that he can't get off his mind. So, there's that."

She watched her paint the nails, and rested her head on her knees. "It's too bad you hadn't come to me when you needed to forget." She murmured with tightly pursed lips. "I may not have been able to give you real comfort, but I would not have left if you cried. Men aren't very good at those sorts of moments."

The question stung her through, like a bullet finding its intended target. She gave it a moment of real thought - because Chel had caught her blissfully unaware of how dangerous the conversation could be, before she realized what the answer was and rose a single glance of horror in her direction.

Nnnnope.

"Nobody." Maebe smoothly lied, reaching to get started on the rest of her own nails with a quickening distraction. "It was Cami and Otto, but things didn't work out. Cami's living up there with him, and I don't really know what any of that means. I guess I don't have to. Being alone isn't as bad as I thought it would be, as long as I've still got a roof over my head and enough money to eat."

She made a terrifying mess with the sponge, showing her ineptitude.

"That it is," Maebe murmured under her breath, the strokes of her nail polish slowing to a halt. She met Chel's eyes when she pointedly expressed her hate of secrets, and the nail polish returned to it's regularly scheduled stroking.

"Really?" Her voice was casual, and light. "I couldn't live without them. I find, if you are too honest, you're laying a burden on someone else's shoulder. We have our own burdens to bear. Not everything needs to be shared." The sponge was back, and she was terrible once more. "For example. You've told me a lot about you, just now. But when the day is done, and you have left, these secrets will lift out of the room and leave with you. They don't remain with me, on my shoulders. And thus, there's no chance I'm going to tell anyone what you said."

She looked at the sponged nail, and sighed in defeat. "It's good to let it all out sometimes. It's healthy. But when it's not necessary, like, when you've already let it all out to someone just a little while before, I think it's better to just be a good listener." She put the sponge down and gave up on the process, grabbing the nail polish remover. "And a good forgetter, too."

Chel's sarcastic re-interpretation of Maebe's statements wasn't wrong. As such, they made Maebe smile, a quirky little thing that had the faintest hint of embarrassment in it. "Sounds right." She admitted, chuckling faintly. "But if it works? Can you blame me for sticking with it? At least sometimes."

Sometimes she was honest. Sometimes she opened up in ways that she'd always been afraid of. She didn't regret the times she'd chosen to do so - they hadn't steered her wrong. She was just stingy as ******** with who, and when, those moments came.

"I do let it out." She promised Chel. "Usually with America. Do you know her? Every so often if I need to be painfully honest, she gets to carry my burden for a little while. Maybe that's the answer to your question from before, then." It wasn't, of course, but it would do. "She lets me cry, when I need to."

Her nails were clean, and she moved to try again. "I wouldn't mind sharing with you sometimes, too, Chel." She carefully continued, realizing something just a little too late. Perhaps this wasn't about her at all. Perhaps Chel was looking for something that Maebe was inept at giving. "Maybe when we get to know each other a little better?"