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Days were starting to blend together. Maebe spent the nights trying to find rooms that still used essential power, but he was never allowed in. So she got as close as she could, just for the light. It was never enough.

Days were spent in exhaustion, finding a windowsill or a lounge with windows and finally falling asleep in the comfort of the daytime. It was really starting to mess with her internal clock, and her sunny disposition. Thankfully, it didn't matter much; no one had to deal with her abnormally high levels of sarcasm and bitterness when she slept through the day.

She did, however, wake up one evening with shaving cream all over her face in the shape of a beard.

Steps had been taken to finding more recluse places to spend the morning. Usually, that meant less comfortable sleeping positions, such as the windowsill she was currently laying on. She was curled up with a copy of The Shining in her arms, open midway and being used as a pillow. It doubled as protection; defiling her would meant defiling a book owned by Deus. Maybe that would deter vandals.

Maybe.

Maebe's heart leapt painfully when the sound of a voice stirred her from her light, fitful sleep. Her face did not react to the sudden intrusion, but the sudden gasp of air that sucked into her was telling enough. So eventually, she opened one very tired eye, glaring icily at the scruffy man. He wasn't on the phone, and there was no one else around. Was he seriously just.. talking to a sleeping person?

She closed her eyes and wished him away.

A few seconds later, when her eye opened again, he was still there, and she cursed all the falling stars that ever failed her.

A slow, lazy groan escaped her, as she uncurled from the tiny fetal position she'd been in, but that was all she could do. She felt the page sticking to her face, and lifted her hand to wipe it off, completely unaware of the light impression of words from the page that had inked her cheek. And finally, after a very long, very unimpressed silence, she spoke up in a groggy and scratchy voice.

"Are you for real right now, mister?"

Maebe let out a slow, exasperated sigh, and finally decided to push herself up. He just kept talking, as if she had ever once responded - or even gave the impression she was listening. She was alone with a loon.. and here she was with no mace or rape whistle. What a shame.

When he pointed to her face, her brow furrowed, and she reached up to wipe it. rubbing the meat of her palm against the cheek until it was red. She pulled her hand away, and turned the cheek towards him.

"Good?"

All that talk about books was well informed, and interesting. That was why she refused to give him the time of day about it - because she knew that would spark a conversation. A real conversation. With a guy who talked to sleeping people.

She shuddered at the thought.

And yet, there was always the delicious chance for a tease. Suddenly, her entire demeanor changed, and she pursed her lips as if she'd genuinely found interest in the topic at hand.

"I like the Twilight books, myself."

Damn, he called her on her bluff. Her lips broke in a grin, but as soon as it happened, she quickly wiped it off of her face and tried to look sour again. It was less believable this time around.

"Fine, you caught me. How clever you are." She continued to try and say this with complete deadpan, but the amusement leaked from her voice. "Who could have ever guessed that you'd know I wasn't a fan of Twilight, since I'm a hunter."

She paused, just for a moment.

"And not twelve." The grin was back. "So, you come here often? And by here, I mean quiet corners where people are trying to sleep. Because if so, you're a creep."

All that mischief and humor was gone the moment he slapped her with that comment. She wasn't going to even think of defending herself, because it would involve admitting why she was out there. So she had to just accept that she was creepy too.

"Takes one to know one, I guess." She mumbled, reaching to slam her book shut and settle it on her lap. "I don't like beds. Maybe that makes me creepy. You should probably watch out for me. Who knows what I might do?"

Her fingers worried at the corner of her book. "I am a thing to be feared." Because fear was better than pity.

Maebe's carefully guarded expression had been tweaked with the kind of judgemental attitude she always had, carrying it like a shield in front of her. Joking about the shadows struck that shield hard, shaking her to the core. Her smug little frown disappeared, and in its place was a pout. A dangerous little thing, a plump lip sticking out for a moment of exposed weakness.

And then it was gone, and her shield returned between them.

"You joke about it, but that makes perfect sense to me. Why wouldn't shadows be afraid of pink? It's bright, and cheery. Nice and opposite. I bet I could beat back a few evil things with a nice thick paintbrush dripping with pink paint." She even had one. Back in her -

Her eyes thinned to slits, and her head turned, glaring at him with a side glance. Subsequently, the side of her head with the pink stripe was now more exposed to him.

She leaned towards him. Threatening him with her hair.

"Shoo." She whispered. "Shoo."

Maebe dropped all attempts to scare him away with her hair when she saw that lighter. She honed in on it, staring with open lust.

She wanted it.

He was saying something about being wounded, but all she could think about was that pink lighter. She didn't even need a lighter. But it was a pink lighter.

She wanted the thing.

"Hey." She whispered out. "Can I see that?" Her fingers twitched, reaching up for the pink lighter hesitantly.

"I'll owe you one. I'm sure I can find one eventually." Her eyes never left the sight of the lighter, even as he closed his hands around it. And true to his fear, she invaded his personal space, her hands diving in to try and pry his fingers open.

"Come onnn." She growled. "You're a guy, you don't want that. Give me the thing."