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Don't.

The word halted her a moment, allowed her focus from her emotional babble; and it seemed that Wolframite had needed a moment of his own to focus. His words but into her skin like knives and she visibly flinched, eyes flickering as she looked anywhere but at him. He moved to kneel in the snow and she breathed out into the cold.

Deluding yourself that you are better. Holding a gun and loudly proclaiming you won't shoot.

What is the point in you

Her hands shook, the buzzing, writhing power that hummed eternally under her skin like long, writhing arms, vibrating up to a feverish pitch. Scylla shifted, pressed her hands to the wood, feeling her body quiver, waiting. What is the point in you? What was the point in weak, spoiled Jada, always left behind for something or someone better? What deficiency lurked in her to deny her- no, in them, even Andromache had been one of a number, never enough for the people she sought to please.

No one special-

Nothing special-

One of a number-

A vessel for a power that was never enough-

pretending

Her ragged inhale startled her, and when Wolframite rose, he would see only her coat-back, as her hands gripped at the wood. Her head fell downwards, and she inhaled the cold air.

"My first kill was to save her life," she told him dully. Another crime against him. Another victory she had twisted with her failures. "I delivered her back to the court, and went home and threw up." the thought of it made her gut twist, and she bowed, pressing her forehead into the snow gathered on the railing.

I just wonder if you are still saying Yes to their orders.

"Run? Hide? Not orders that any of them would give." Not to her. "As for the rest... the Dark Moon and I... Neither friends not enemies, that I know. I've have no interaction with any but the oldest of them. I am sure I will be meeting them in due course."

Not who to kill... She appreciated it and resented it.

"We need cocoa," she told him abruptly. "I need... tonight calls for getting sugar-drunk, and warm."

Reluctantly, Scylla uncurled her fingers from the bridge, lifting her forehead from the frosted wood and pushing straight. The snow left behind was smeared from her shaking hands, and she inhaled deeply until the chill burned the very deepest part of her lungs, before exhaling.

There was no warmth in her exhale; for all the weight of it, there was no foggy mist that escaped. It was cold and heavy, and the skipping, stuttering sound scraped her own ears.

Did she want to share a drink with someone who wanted to murder? Setting aside who it was that he wanted dead- who they had been to her, once upon a time- did she want to return and cast her lot in with someone who cared little for the lives of others? Even now, on the side of "Order"...

She needed to know. She needed to test the waters of what was happening here. If... If it was truly war, she needed to know what she was getting into. If she needed to make other arrangements, for the twins, for her family. She couldn't bring what she had left into a deathtrap with her, regardless of how she wanted to start them over with a home.

"It's been 4 years," she said at last, and the pain in her voice was visceral. "They would be my enemies, wouldn't they." It was a question that wasn't; it was a pain that already knew there was no balm to soothe it. No words, no touch. No Hope. She closed her eyes and turned to face him, opening them to look at the man in front of her.

"Besides," she told him with a wry twist of her lips, "It wouldn't be the first time we shared an awkward drink, and this time, I shouldn't have to wonder if you'd poison me."

Her smile was brittle, sad. "Had they tried when it first happened? I might have. Four years ago, when I was trying to kill myself with alcohol, I might have. Three years ago? Maybe. No one needed me. What was one more missing civilian? And maybe no one would have missed me."

Violet eyes closed, remembering two years ago. The visions and the pain of a future she had lived, memories she didn't want to bear, but did. The morning she had woken, and changed her life around. For the memory of Hope. For Aidan, and Giulia. "Two years ago, I would have told them to go to hell. And there I've stayed. It doesn't mean I don't regret a lot of things. Doesn't mean I am ready to pull a trigger again."

Her brow furrowed. But would she? Fight the war? Or was she waving her gun in the air, every time she went for a walk at night like this? "Dressed like this is safer than walking around as myself, regardless. More people would be hesitant of an eternal who might kill than a human who isn't equipped to." It was a valid excuse for now.

Wolframite smiled, and it was achingly familiar. "The big bad wolf bares his teeth," she said lightly, and her red coat felt all the more ironic as she stepped off the bridge to stand next to him. "What happens on cocoa trips stays on cocoa trips. It's like Vegas, but deadlier."

After a moment of consideration, she held out her hand. "Scylla. Senshi of the Kraken. What's your name?"

It was his chance. To stay Wolframite, or share his new name. His choice.

"Make sure you tell me when to duck," she advised him back, dryly. "I don't always look where I'm going, until I've got antlers in my gut, my back has been set on fire, I'm fighting tree aliens, or I'm being smashed in the face by overactive garden gnomes."

The black ribbon at her wrist was tucked neatly, the ashen lilac crystal pressed against her wrist more firmly tucked out of sight, and Scylla reached out to take his hand. "A pleasure to meet you again, Gevaudan. It will be good to work with you, I hope. Now, where do you suggest for cocoa? And maybe one of those little strawberry cakes? I think most of the bakeries I used to love are shut down."

She scooted closer, taking advantage of the fact he had a magical coat to put him between her and the wind, all like a gentleman.

He seemed to be gauging her for a moment, or perhaps it was the wind, before action was finally taken. "Specials?" she asked, slightly confused as to what specials had to do with- oh! Something flickered, and his uniform slid away, leaving behind a person. A person with two eyes, and an affection for huskies.

The black coat and green scarf made her choke on a laugh, and then she closed her eyes, focusing on letting her own power slide away.

Jada's "normal" clothing was still hidden under the scarlet Burberry coat, but black and white tiger-striped leggings and overpriced black heeled booties (that were completely impractical for snow but were very warm) were clear. "Why is it colder when the magic fades," she groused without any actual complaint, adding a skip to her step to move and catch up with him.

Her hair being so long again was a blessing, bouncing along the back of her neck and helping to keep her warm. She hadn't dug out a cloak yet- she still needed to. A thought she could pursue another time. "What's the name of the place? Jada, by the way."

He didn't seem like the type to recognize her as either socialite or model, but she'd been surprised before. She wouldn't count on it- and introductions were something polite they could do while they walked.

"Pastel Basket?" it sounded like the kind of place that would have excellent cakes around easter, but the rest of the time.... Well. No judging. Cake was cake, and... cocoa. She was supposed to be more excited about cocoa (with colorful, delicious marshmallows!!!) than cake.

But how could she not be excited about the most delicious possible distraction from the fact the need to cry still burned the back of her throat?

But now she was in her Jada skin, not her Scylla skin; and Jada was a vaguely vapid mask, and it was easier to focus on sweets than hurt.

"Hi Torin. If you come here every night it must be pretty good. What is your favorite thing to get there?" she slipped ahead a few steps, trying to avoid the icy patches in her heels. Jada did not have Scylla's balance, but she didn't want tonight to be the first time she broke her neck, either.

"That's a shame. Desserts are a necessity of life. I wouldn't eat anything else, except there is fondue, and Brazilian steakhouses, in my life. Oooo, and sushi. I didn't used to like sushi, I guess tastes change." a soft sigh, head tilting. "I had to cut back on my desserts when I took over raising the twins. They don't exercise like I do, and they would wind up chubnuggets."

Definitely chubnuggets.

"Lemon, hmmm? I am more of a strawberry girl, myself. Lemon is usually so... Tart. But I can certainly give it a try, I can't knock it til I have tried it." here, this was a conversation that was easy. "And lemon is probably better for winter. Lemon cheesecake is something chef used to make for daddy, since he isn't find of pecan pie."

He pointed ahead and asked about her post-patrol rituals, and she considered the question for a moment. "Shower. Sleep. No desserts- far too many times I didn't even make it home after my nightly walk, and just got carted to the hospital instead."

Oh, that dog was adorable. "That is the cutest statue," she sighed, patting the Santa hat. "I really am sad so many of my old places closed down, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

The inside was clean and mild, and Jada peered at the nightly cravings with interest. Her stomach rumbled, and she turned her wrist to peer at her watch, trying to remember when she'd last eaten. The santa-pup seemed to be a common theme, and it was an adorable; the color scheme was simple, but not unpleasant.

"Yeah. When.... well, they're my half-siblings, and their father.... potentially wasn't good people. I kind of inherited them. They were only 1 when mother died, and I was given legal custody." It could have gone any number of other ways, but she didn't let it. "Now they're my babies. Kindergarten this year. Giulia is already beating up boys on the playground." she sounded oddly pleased.

Torin knelt, deciding, and Jada just decided to get one of everything. It would make things so much easier than deciding. "I haven't trained in a while. Just my classes and my jogging. I was taking some self-defense training for a while, but getting black eyes gets you yelled at by the photographers. Choosing between my career and continuing to get punched in the face wasn't as difficult as it may sound."

"They make marshmallows in- shapes?!" Jada was down on a knee next to him in seconds, actually paying attention to the case. "Kitties! I need kitty marshmallows!"