the aftermath is secondary

RIGBY

They’re all adults, right? The jury was not in on this one yet, as Rigby screwed up his nose when Milo told him to 'do better' and he blew a ring of smoke up in the redhead's face. He was getting tired, his body having exerted all it's energy in making it down Apopo conscious, and burning up the rest with this conversation. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at the blood on his clothes, on his hands, on his skin where the open would should still be.

He ignored Milo and Aurelia's little moment, whatever it was they had going on, instead he just sat there, fiddling with the dried blood on his knuckles and scratching it away with blunt nails. He hadn't at all expected this day to be this way, he didn't want to be involved in these relationships, this drama and trouble. He didn't want to be shot in the leg, or have his blood all over their hands. He still seethed a bit, but exhaustion and something a bit sadder occupied his mind now. A few moments later he looked up, Milo addressing him now. The man's words were confusing, not in a way that he didn't understand them, more that he didn't understand why. "The fuck you want me for," he snapped, cautious, brows narrowed, still frazzled and defensive, on wild dog mode.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

The cigarette isn't accepted back, she doesn't want that anymore either. Doesn't really want anything, doesn't want to move, doesn't want to be pushed from this precarious ledge she's found herself on as she stares hard at the counter. That gaze slowly drifts down to her hands, where Milo touches his fingers lightly over the dried blood on them.

This is not what she meant when she'd told herself she wanted to be better, to be different, to change... Well, then what the hell was it? Justice? A lesson to teach? It kind of feels like it doesn't matter now, the who or the what or the why or the when... it just matters that she's done it again, she's hurt someone, she almost left him for dead.

So why bother cleaning the blood off her hands? It's merely a physical manifestation of all the rest that's on them, a glaring reminder of who she really is, the part of her she can't escape. So she hovers, hesitant to reach the sink. She can feel herself spiraling from this, from a situation she created, another good thing corrupted.

Milo offers Rigby a job and it surprises the both of them. Aurelia has nothing to say about it though, part of her even wishes he'd just accept it and make a better life for himself. At least something more... purposeful, less chaotic and doomed. But maybe that's just Rigby's thing. And anyway, it almost hurts that Milo's able to get this far with the kid when she wasn't, and she'd wanted to. She was never able to actually break through, due to circumstance or rocky starts or bad timing... it didn't matter. And it sucks that it's so much easier for Milo, whereas instead she fails and she erupts. Then she regrets.

So she continues to stiffen into tense silence, having hardly moved, blood still stained across her skin, her gloves, her clothes.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

Aurelia doesn’t react to his touch, to his words, to his help and doesn’t even take the cigarette from him. So he regrettably sticks it back between his lips and turns his attention back to Rigby, his bronze gaze hard as it bores into the kid. “Th’fuck I wan’ you fer is t’run fer me.” He puts all of his conviction into his words, trying to get his point across, trying to talk with confidence as Zeph would have.

“I wan’ y’to work in the Fingers. Not now ‘cause th’storms ‘r comin’ and we’re gonna be headin’ out on the Ark. But if yer willin’ to run some shit fer me, without stealin’ it. I’ll letcha stay here.” His head cocks to the side briefly, before he’s lifting his hand and pointing to Aurelia. “’n if I do catch y’stealin’, she can shoot ya all she likes.” He leans back, folding his arms across his chest, staring down at the kid. “But ‘ll pay ya ‘n y’won’t have to sleep on the streets, ‘n ya don’t even have t’talk to anyone. Y’just gotta get from point A t’point B.”

He doesn’t look at Aurelia yet, determined to try and break through her walls once he’s done with the smaller fry. "D'we have a deal?"

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

RIGBY

Rigby had never worked for anyone but himself, and he never imagined himself doing so. The only person who looked out for Rigby was Rigby, and he owed no one favors, or loyalty. However, he'd also never been served an opportunity like this so readily, simple and shiny on a silver platter. Milo's conviction, attempt to intimidate, earned a smirk from Rigby, because he simply didn't have it in him to be afraid of the guy.

It was the brooding girl back there he worried about, where Milo's hard bronze gaze was settled on him, Rigby's shit brown one watched her, wondered why she'd gone quiet, lost her flame. It didn't seem right, it was almost scary, to see her so stiff, content to be covered in his blood, and it only added to the wariness and tension in the room. Back to Milo, Rigby's frown remained, and at some point his uninjured leg had started to hop anxiously.

This may have been a job offer, but somehow it felt like he was trapped.

"Pay me what," he grumbled back, chewing on the smoke and staring up at Milo past ratty curls.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

She can shoot ya all she likes.

This grabs her attention, pulls her gaze reluctantly towards the two of them as they discuss the details of their deal. She registers what Milo's offered now, for him to stay, and her blank expression contorts briefly. You'll what? The words edge towards her lips, but they don't escape. As her emerald gaze flickers between the bronze and the shit brown, she stops herself from speaking because she doesn't want to contradict Milo.

A sigh leaves her lungs, stony and emotionless. To be honest, she doesn't really know how she feels about this. Whether she disapproves or... if she could be alright with it, for a bit. Rigby's sass about being paid makes her skin crawl with more of that same fury, though, and she suddenly sweeps past Milo to glare down at him.

"I'm sorry, what?" She snaps, "He'll pay you whatever he wants to pay you, and I guarantee it's better than- where the fuck is it," she stops suddenly and looks around, finding the satchel she'd grabbed for him when they left the mountains. She zips across the room to pick it up, the sound of broken glass shifting as she does. When she returns, she shoves it into Rigby's lap and grits her teeth. "it's better than... than the bullshit you call a life! And if you don't fucking take the deal, I'm going to undo whatever healing he's done," She crosses her arms then, too, because it's about god damn time it was her turn to do that. Milo, however, is not immune from her wrath either, as her stare fixes on him, "since you didn't ask for it."

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

Rigby could stay silent as long as he likes, Milo doesn’t particularly care. What he does care about is the question of payment, his lips lifting in a huff of a laugh, before surprise cuts him off as Aurelia breezes over past him. He keeps his arms crossed, though, his gaze immediately drawn to her as he clamps his lips shut, brows raising for the moment before she’s directing that anger back at Rigby and he releases a quiet sigh of relief.

Until it’s turned on him and his gaze flickers over to her, covered in blood, as she returns with the bag and shoves it into Rigby’s lap, speaking more and then suddenly staring right at him. He swallows, before he nods, and turns his gaze back toward Rigby with a huff of a sigh. “You’ll have’a place t’stay ‘n food, ‘n shit t’barter the shops with. Should b’ nuff fer ya.” He offers, his gaze landing on Rigby expectantly, sure that if he doesn’t take the deal, Milo should probably go and spend some time somewhere else for Aurelia to do whatever it was she wanted.

Couldn’t say he didn’t at least try.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

RIGBY

It wasn't Milo that answered Rigby's question, instead Aurelia swoops back in like hawk and lands before him. Rigby's eyes widened as she snapped, though he shouldn't be surprised. He kept playing with fire, even after he'd been burnt. Somewhere past all the discomfort and anger and fear, he was amused in a way at his shitty decisions and bad luck. Usually it showed in a smirk or a stupid grin, but now even his masking was too hard to manage. Instead he just looked feral, wild, and cornered.

Aurelia moved to get the satchel, and when she raised her hand with it he instinctively covered his face. Instead it thwacked him in the stomach, shoved into his lap, and he oofed at the impact. Indignant gaze met hers as she stood over him, threatening and boiling and burning. And Rigby was cold, stone featured as all the emotions and thoughts sizzled in his mind. He's afraid she might lash out and hurt him again, but then her rage is focused on Milo, and Rigby took in a sharp breath.

A place to stay, food, shit to barter with. Rigby had all those things, and his way had a lot less knife bitch in it. But right now, saying no would probably be the final straw. His eyes rolled from the redhead to the brunette, then back. He held back his venomous words just this once, grinding his teeth along the cigarette, and finally he shrugged. Words seemed too pitiful, and he was too stubborn, but the shrug meant sure in his own way.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

She doesn't care anymore, does she mean the threat she's just made? Not even in the fucking slightest, but the problem here is that they still both think she'll do it. She can't blame them for that, she has only herself to blame. So when Rigby shrugs his agreement, looking like a cornered, feral animal, offering no smartass remark, she doesn't feel triumphant. It doesn't feel like she's finally won some sort of uphill battle with him. She feels nothing but defeated misery.

"Then it's settled. And for the record?" Her voice... well, it doesn't soften, because she's still angry, but it takes on a much less aggravated tone at least, and there's something there just beneath the surface. Beneath this façade of intimidating anger, she's done for. She's still looking Milo, though her gaze doesn't really meet his anymore, and then it's swooping across to the street rat in front of her, "I don't want to hurt you, or anyone, but clearly-" she cuts herself off, stops the rant of how clearly she'll end up doing it anyway, clearly she's not so good at being good. "Just don't give me a reason, Rigby."

At that, she can finally leave. There's nothing else she can say. She moves past Milo, not even looking at him or pausing to meet his bronze gaze, not wanting to see what he thinks of her in this moment of clear weakness. She snatches up the pack of cigarettes into her bloody hand and disappears up the ladder to the second story of the building.

Upstairs, she sinks into a newly-lit cigarette and starts a shower. She's not ready to wipe the slate clean again, though, doesn't feel as though she should even try. Nobody asked her to, after all. In fact, she believes wholeheartedly there are far more people that don't want her to then there are who do.

She rests on the floor with her back against the wall as she waits for the water to warm up, slowly unfastening her stained gloves while the cigarette dangles from her teeth. Exhaustion starts to creep in. With it, with the sound of nothing but running water, she can feel her strength crumbling. Her lips contort into a grimace as she tries to hold back years' worth of silent, sorry tears.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

Most things Milo tends to miss, given the obliviousness he often has. But the look on Rigby’s face is one that Milo doesn’t miss when Aurelia approaches, as the kid covers his face with an arm only to have the bag hit his stomach. And honestly? As far as Milo’s concerned? The kid was alive, beat up a little, but alive. Truth be told he didn’t care too much about how threatening Aurelia seemed to be.

He knows, for the most part, it’s always meant to be done with good intentions. This? Was meant to be a warning to Rigby, to ensure the kid knew she was being serious about her offers when he was being a dick about them. So Milo lays out his terms, casts a glance back toward Aurelia as she speaks and then begins to depart and Milo tears a hand through his red hair, staring down at Rigby. “Y’got a death wish, Rigby. An’ it aint jus’ the one on the top’a the cliffs.” He shakes his head, before he’s leaving Rigby in the seat and moving to the kitchen again.

“’m makin’ some food. Y’hungry after all’ve that?” He asks, already bringing out the ingredients to work on something for Aurelia when she’s ready. He wishes to go and see her, but he bides his time. One thing at a time, after all.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

RIGBY

There's a hasty confirmation from Aurelia, a warning that felt half-assed and weak and let it be known that despite the fact that she held the power, neither of them were winning. He refused to look up at her now, all he can do is look down at the bloody stains on his clothes and grind his teeth, breathe in deep on his cigarette and expel smoke, the tension and anger all remained.

Milo was still there, he felt out of place in the conflict, and when he spoke Rigby's nostrils flared, lips twitched, he drew his gaze up to the man with a defensive sneer. He bit back a retort, maybe not because he was afraid anymore, but because it was over. Everything was settled and there was no more to be said. Sarcasm and jokes, anger and spite, it didn't matter, he could crawl back into his mind and be silent again, brooding and bitter.

Food sounded good, he was always hungry anyways. So he nodded, still avoiding eye contact, and placed the satchel on the floor next to the chair. He wouldn't need it right now, this meal was free, if you don't count an arrow to the leg as price.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

Eventually, eventually Aurelia manages to wash herself free of Rigby's dried, sticking blood. The shower doesn't last long though, not the type to let herself have that full breakdown, too afraid of it.

Signs of blood still remain smeared on her pile of clothes and across the cloak that sits idly downstairs, upon the counter. Thick tension also remains in her composure, which never settles on any one emotion but one thing is constant; a deeply-furrowed frown.

In a sudden pang, she empathizes strongly with the sentiments Sunjata expressed to her; it's better for everyone if she just... stays away. But she also doesn't really want to leave, she couldn't.

She moves to drape one of Milo's shirts over her head, pulling it on with a sigh. She couldn't tell you why she chose one of his instead of her own; she does it without really thinking too hard on it, letting it billow out below the underwear she's pulled on and leaving out any notion of pants because honestly... fuck pants?

So she finds a seat by a window, pushing it open and pulling up a chair. A cool breeze from outside drifts across her bare, scarred legs. She crosses her feet up on the window pane, trying {and failing} to ease into the view of the skyline.

Puffy bags lay heavy under her eyes as she stares out, listening to the drum of life outside the window, smoke drifting from another cigarette. Even though her lungs are blackened by it and her body aches with a sick feeling, she doesn't put it out. Each slow drag is the only thing clearing her head when every thought is so unkind.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep

MILO

this is for the snakes and the people they bite
for the friends i've made, for the sleepless nights

Rigby nods but remains silent and that’s something that Milo can work with, all things considered. He begins to cook the fish, to try it up after spicing it and making a few sides, as well as dunking his own back in to heat it up a bit more from where he’d been interrupted, and at the end of it he’s got three plates – full of fried fish and enough sides to fill them all up. He’s sure Rigby needs it, anyway, the kid looks like he’s a walking stick.

So when he’s done, he pulls out a glass and fills it with cold juice of a sort as well, along with a glass of rum before he’s stepping over to set it on the table for Rigby. “There. Now eat. Beds ‘r upstairs, lemme know when yer ready to get settled in.” His gaze is hard as he looks at the street rat, but there’s a part of the bronze gaze that softens a fraction.

He takes the rest of the bottle of rum and juice up with him with the two plates upstairs to find Aurelia, curled up with a cigarette and staring out the window. He uses the bottle to knock lightly on the inside of the door, before he’s slipping in and setting the plates on the table within. “I brought food ‘n rum ‘n juice if yer hungry.” He offers her quietly, stepping a bit further in now that his hands are empty, reaching out to brush his fingertips by Aurelia’s wrist.

for the warning signs i've completely ignored
there's an amount to take, reasons to take more

RIGBY

The bag of bones only looked up when Milo returned with the food, his eyes scrutinized the man's face for a moment, then he turned back to the meal. Fish, juice, the rum that he still refused to touch. He chewed at the cigarette in his mouth like one would chew their cheek, and nodded before Milo turned and headed upstairs.

As soon as the redhead was out of sight, Rigby spat the smoke onto the floor next to him and tucked into the meal. All the energy he'd exerted today, the adrenaline that'd powered his muscles, it'd opened up a large angry hole in his stomach, begging to be filled. No reason to bother with a knife, he staked the braised meat and shoveled it up towards his mouth, hardly chewing before swallowing. It was good as hell too, maybe staying in Milo's good graces was somehow beneficial.

He's finished quick, downing the juice in one chug and finally breathing again. Rejuvenated, the street rat did what he did best, for the first time since he arrived he got a good look of the house. Dark eyes roamed over every trinket, calculating possible value, reminding himself that he didn't need to take it all now. He settled on a map of Torchline on the table nearby, trying his legs and finding himself limping a bit from the strange pressured sensation.

He stood over it, inspecting it's lines then idly moved on to the scrolls and pages around it.

i'll make you understand
and you can trade me for an apparition

AURELIA

and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be

She mostly ignores it, the entrance Milo makes, the sound of a bottle against the door. A small shrug of her shoulders is the only indication that she knows he's there. She wants to sink away from him, from the guilt that shadows over her further with each step he takes closer.

The smell of food, rich and warm and fresh, makes her intake a deeper breath and cease in her tireless drags of the cigarette. He brings a gentle touch towards her and she doesn't flinch away, instead finally peering up at him through frowning, dark eyes. Her hand draws up around him, finding comfort in his closeness.

"I'm always hungry," she admits, though there's not her usual amount of heart in it. She glances toward the plates he's brought and sighs haggardly, hand falling limp, "You don't have to tell me what I did was fucked up, I already know, and I know I'm messed up for it," she shakes her head, meeting his gaze - which is brave of her considering the way she's fallen apart inside.

"I'm sorry, you were the first person I thought of that I knew could help. Would help," she brings her hand up to her face and over her eyes, grimacing, "I shouldn't have brought him here like that. I shouldn't have shot him. I don't know why I did, I just... something in me snapped and I-I wanted to leave him there, Milo. Like nothing changed and I was still... that person." It's heart-wrenching, considering that up until this point she really thought that wasn't her anymore.

but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep