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It would have worked, too.

Maebe wasn't leaving her room, but she was enacting part one of a subtle plan to cleanse herself of whatever was starting to take root inside of her. At that moment, as Otto turned to try and get away, the door opened. Maebe didn't walk out of it, she just stood there, staring at Otto's back. She certainly didn't look like she was going anywhere, other than the doorway itself. In fact, if she hadn't seen him there, she would have just turned and walked back into her room, after opening her door wide.

Her room had been cleaned after her renovation, with all of the ripped up posters now completely thrown away. Her makeup counter was replaced, each piece returned to its rightful spot. Her room was spotless, but the bed was unmade. More importantly, there was a sense of emptiness in the room - as if the loss of all of her posters of the men of Deus had somehow left a hole waiting to be replaced.

She'd find some terrible framed art of a droopy dog, one day. She was sure it would be fine.

"Uh." No witty response. No clever little smile, or beckon call. She was genuinely surprised to see him. Take a picture, Otto - it wouldn't happen again.

Otto wasn't supposed to be the one who came through that door.

Her expression flattened, and she walked back inside, moving to head for the bed. "I'm more than okay. I'm fantastic. I've never felt better in my life." She reached out and snapped her bed covers, as she violently made the bed. "Just super great." Her hands smoothed the covers out.

The bed was impeccably made. She turned and gave him a gentle, but knowing smile. "The last time you came to see me, you were trying to get me to do some paperwork. Please tell me that's not why you're here, again." She walked the few steps to stand directly in front of him, holding her hands cutely behind her back. "Do you remember that night. A romantic stroll on the beach." It had been anything but romantic. "Our first date."

It had taken a few minutes, but Maebe was back.

There was no greater insult than the one he'd just slapped her with. She looked hurt, but it was hard to tell, because Maebe never actually looked hurt, so there was nothing to compare it to. It only lasted until his next breath, and then he was reminding her of how much he'd hated her when they first met, and her smile was back in place. She loved that he still felt the need to clarify that it hadn't been a date. As if somehow, just because she'd said that, there was some validity that needed disputing. As if her sarcasm could ever be taken seriously.

He had to clear it up. Not to her. To himself.

But his questions returned, and her eyes flattened with disappointment. "That is the second time you've asked me that. I could lie, and tell you I'm sad." Her hands reached up and tugged on the lapel of his jacket. She pouted, a thick and exaggerated affair. "I'm so lonely, Otto. Nobody loves me, and I just wish I had a friend who would hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay." She batted her eyelashes, and then let the game fall away.

"Since when do you care?" Now that was a legitimate question. "Be careful, Otto." Her smile was sweet. "For your own good."

Well, you kinda made me care.

Maebe shrunk back, and suddenly looked very small. She refused to look at him, and her lips twitched with a frown that couldn't quite complete itself. She didn't like this. She hated it, in fact. It was like he'd taken her favorite game and turned it around so that she couldn't read the instructions anymore.

"Yeah. Stupid." She muttered, her voice wavering with indecision. She decided the best course of action was to sit down in front of her makeup counter, turn her back to him completely, and only look at him through the mirror. He felt less real, when she looked at him there. She could handle it better, then.

She pulled out a bright red shade of nail color, unscrewed the top, and began to paint her nails.

"How did I make you care?"

Maebe held her hand out to look at her latest painted nail, before shaking it to help it dry. Her eyes then lifted up to his, and she took in a deep breath.

"You say that. But you're wrong. Experience has taught me that the amount of times a person has had sex does not affect their level of care in the slightest. I think you're just used to loving the woman you're ********, and your mind is playing tricks on you." Even as she said it, she realized that was what all of this was about. Otto had been confusing her so much in the last few weeks, to the point where she was actually trying to find something within herself that was causing this to happen.

But it wasn't her. She wasn't special. This was about his past, of course. It both relieved, and hurt her. She chose to focus on the former, because the latter would just send her into another spiral of confusion.

She blew on her newly painted nails, and watched him with careful eyes. "You hated me, when we first met. Nothing's changed. I haven't changed. You haven't changed. Deep down, I think there's a part of you that still hates me. But there's a bigger part of you that loved her." She finally felt strong enough to face him, and turned, hopping up on her counter carefully. Her leg lifted up to brush against his thigh.

"I'm not Nevada." Oh, yes. She knew. "I'll never be Nevada. I'll never be Cami. I'll never be anyone to you. If she was suffering, you'd ask her what's wrong. You'd hold her in your arms and you'd try to make her feel better. That means you care." She smiled prettily, but there was no smile in her eyes. "You're just awkwardly standing there asking me what's wrong. This isn't about me. You're doing this for you. And I think that's pretty selfish, don't you?"

And there he went. Pulling away as the truth sunk in, and he realized that she meant nothing to him. Her leg settled back down, and she watched him back away, just as she should have expected. He wouldn't come to see her again.

All of the repression in the world couldn't hide the fact that that reality actually hurt. She could try to rationalize it all she wanted later, but in the moment, she let fear guide her to her next action.

She dropped off of her counter, and sat back down in her seat. He was still there, in the mirror, behind her.

"When I was thirteen," She sounded like she was blurting it out, as quickly as possible. "Someone started a rumor around school that I gave blowjobs to anyone who wanted them. It wasn't true, of course, no thirteen year old c**k was ever worth the trouble-" She waved her hand in the air, and rolled her eyes. "But children were vicious, petty things. Boys would unzip in front of me and laugh. So I found the biggest, meanest, most feared boy I could find." She paused, and looked up at Otto, meeting his eyes. Hers were filled with pride. "And I gave him a b*****b."

She let out a single burst of laughter before continuing. "It was the most awkward, terrible thing. I didn't know how to give blowjobs. But to a 15 year old boy, it was heaven. So I became his girlfriend, and no one ever messed with me again."

The story had no obvious meaning. No moral that could have been applied to the moment. No point. Except one.

Giving him what she thought he wanted, in order to keep him from leaving.

Her story hadn't been meant to hold some lasting truth about her. She'd just picked a story. Any story. And told it quickly, without thinking about it.

But he grabbed a hold of the truth within her words, and flung it back at her before she had a chance to breathe.

"What? I wasn't - I mean that's not - well, yes, of course I do, but that wasn't why I - "

This was a rare moment for her. Words were her specialty, and she used them just as sharply as sex for a weapon. Now, her weapons were disabled. And Otto was a b*****d.

She settled her eyes on the table, focusing on the wood grain so hard, she thought she might burn it. Her heart was beating so hard, so fast, it made her ill. "That can't come as a surprise to you. You, of all people."