She lets him go, slumping sickly onto the bed. She eyes the guns on the far dresser, and finds herself comforted by the option out, if things go poorly. She searches through the bedside table instead, scratching out a list on the complimentary stationary tablet with the complimentary stationary ballpoint.
"That's not- you don't get it. Doesn't matter right now. I-" She winces and smacks her head harshly back against the headboard, murmuring shutthefuckup under her breath before continuing. "I tried some stuff, some of your G-" Fuck. "God stuff. In the park and- highway. Nothing worked like the metal. Can you do... saints stuff?"
She folds the first piece of paper up and puts it aside; if Marcus unfolds it, he'll find a sloppily written itemised list of her possessions. The top says WILL. Everything, he'll note, goes to him, except the medal, which she notes goes to ASHFORD CEMETARY DELAWARE LUKE FLORIAN DORITY.
The next paper, she begins writing the names of saints, though it's clearly taking a serious effort. Eventually she gives up writing Saint, and then it's just a list of names, and that's much easier. Margaret, Agnes, George, Florian, Dennis, Giles. "I think these will work. I can barely fucking- can you do something with these?"
She passes the paper away quickly, like it hurts to hold. Which is to say, it does. "They're all- oh, fuck, you can guess." She smacks her head into the headboard again, as hard as she can manage.
no subject
"That's not- you don't get it. Doesn't matter right now. I-" She winces and smacks her head harshly back against the headboard, murmuring shutthefuckup under her breath before continuing. "I tried some stuff, some of your G-" Fuck. "God stuff. In the park and- highway. Nothing worked like the metal. Can you do... saints stuff?"
She folds the first piece of paper up and puts it aside; if Marcus unfolds it, he'll find a sloppily written itemised list of her possessions. The top says WILL. Everything, he'll note, goes to him, except the medal, which she notes goes to ASHFORD CEMETARY DELAWARE LUKE FLORIAN DORITY.
The next paper, she begins writing the names of saints, though it's clearly taking a serious effort. Eventually she gives up writing Saint, and then it's just a list of names, and that's much easier. Margaret, Agnes, George, Florian, Dennis, Giles. "I think these will work. I can barely fucking- can you do something with these?"
She passes the paper away quickly, like it hurts to hold. Which is to say, it does. "They're all- oh, fuck, you can guess." She smacks her head into the headboard again, as hard as she can manage.