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The quiet click of her door was followed by the louder sound of her viciously locking it. She checked to make sure it was locked, before sauntering down the halls. In her hand, there was a little cup. It was the best she could do under the circumstances, since it was really just for show. She walked down the hall until she reached Taym's dorm, and cheerfully knocked on the door.

The cup was hidden carefully behind her back, with both hands. She leaned in, until she was up against the door, and sang out playfully.

"Obadiaaaah. Please open up. It's ever so important."

It had been too long - and she was done hiding from him. It gave him power; a power she wanted to take back, before he disappeared, and possibly died. In death, he would have kept her wondering for the rest of her life.

Maebe did not believe Taym deserved that much thought.

Taym looked like s**t, and she approved. It was exactly the way he was supposed to look, and for that, she felt all warm and fuzzy inside. When he opened the door wide for her, she took it as a sign that his room was open for business, and carefully ignored the fact that he wanted their visit to be brief.

She did not.

She turned, after walking inside, and held out the cup. It was her only joke. "I'm here for some sugar." She asked, pursing her lips to keep a straight face.

She thought herself so damn funny.

God. Damnit. He actually had sugar.

Maebe dropped the cup on the floor. It rolled onto its side, spilling the packets out until it came to rest. Her body whirled with movement, turning on her heel to walk straight up to his bed (too well made, too clean) and sitting down on it. Hard.

Her legs crossed, and her head rested in the crook of her hand. "You ruined a perfectly good pick up line. You'll never get to my feet with those charms." Her hands pressed down on the sheets, smoothing them out methodically. Counterproductive to the action, she suddenly balled them up in her hand, until they were skewed and unkempt.

Just like her. Just like him. "I heard you're going away. And you didn't tell me." She gasped in betrayal. "When you know full well I'm going to miss you so, so very much."

Ah, but he'd gotten her once before, with comments that hit so close to home. Now, she was well guarded from that particular emotional warfare, and his question bounced off of her as easily as a childish insult. She stood up and moved to stand in front of him. She knew she was going to get smoke wafted up towards her, mingling disgustingly into her hair, once he lit that cigarette. She'd be smelling that until she washed it.

She'd wash it immediately.

"No one, if I'm going to be honest with you." There was a victory in admitting that, as though she was proud of her currently lucky streak. Her hand whipped against his, knocking his lighter out of his hand. Instantly, a pink lighter struck hot in front of him, flame flickering in front of his cigarette. "I'm genuinely here to see you. Just you, Obadiah."

Her smile was inviting. The invitation was not for sex.

The lighter closed, and she breathed a sigh. It sounded like exasperation, but in truth, it was relief. She hadn't expected him to put down the cigarette. Indirectly stopping him from smoking in front of her was a welcome side effect of her sass.

"Oh, no." She breathed out, eyeing the inward curve of his stomach when his arms sank against it. It was just a quick look; her eyes were back up on his soon enough. "Not by a longshot."

She floated down, until she was sitting in front of him. Her arms rested on his knees, folded, so that her head could rest on them. She looked up at him like a child listening to her fathers stories. She looked just as happy about it, too. "I've made a decision. You're going to hate it, but when don't you hate anything I decide? Still, I've made it, and I'm sticking to it." She grinned up at him proudly, and failed entirely to tell him what the decision was. The best part about it was that she was confident he would never care enough to ask.

"You seem thinner than usual. I didn't think that was possible. Is the stress of your trip getting to you?"

He left red where he'd grabbed her, but it faded too fast. Her arms dropped down exactly where they'd been, harder now. Clamping down.

Her face twisted in anger. "Why."

She leaned in, ignoring his emaciated face warning her to back away, ignoring the spit, ignoring the hate. He, as usual, received her own hate just the same. "Don't ******** assume you know what I want, anymore. You might have known once upon a time, but you know nothing now. So get off your ******** high horse, because you sure as hell don't belong up there."

Outranked her. Smarter than her. Stronger than her. How could he possibly think she gave a s**t about any of those things? She was as close as she could be without biting, but her teeth were showing nonetheless.

"I'm here because you are leaving. And I need." Her snarl pulled back, but she did not. "I need."

She wanted to scratch his eyes out. Would that make her feel better? She doubted it. But when she tried to explain what she was doing there, the words caught in her throat, fluttering like moths determined to choke her.

Maebe stared at the back of the book, in the silence that was left when her impossible vulnerability was responded to. She stared, because she couldn't believe she had put herself in this position again. Always with him. Always. Him.

God, she prayed, please kill him off in the Sahara.

"Listen to me you MOTHER ********." She growled, smacking the book out of his hands and moving forward. She pushed him - hard - God, he was just skin and bones and the bones hurt - "Who do you think you ARE? What ******** miracle gave you the right to think you can treat me like this? Huh? You're nothing. You know that. You don't deserve anything that's been hand wrapped and given to you. You think you're smarter than me, but you're not. You're a blind little s**t who's going to get himself killed. And you know that. You're okay with it because you know you don't DESERVE. ANY. BETTER."

She hadn't realized she was crying until it was too late, and when the tears fell cold against her arms, they pulled away from where she was shoving him. She stood up straight, and moved to flop down on his bed, face first.

She hoped she got makeup all over his clean, white sheets. She hoped it would never wash out.