“No promises,” he said, staring at her through the glass.
Her eyes remained locked on his for a moment, pupils shrinking to the size of pinheads as sweat slowly dripped into them. She squirmed again, breaking the contact and placing the papers back into their place. “There’s really not much more I can say. If you get another psyche evaluation I’d appreciate it if you turned down the violence and turned up the crazy... would help with our process a little. Other than that, the only news I have is that - -”
“You know how cute you are, in your little white blouse and your well-done hair?” he interrupted, slamming his palm against the glass as he spoke in hushed tones. “You look downright edible. But your red nails and dark eyeliner make you look like something I wouldn’t have given a second stab at on the corner downtown. You know what? You look like such a good cross between a professional and a whore that you might as well just be a Professional Whore.”
She shifted again, looking down as she opened her mouth to speak.
“And I see the way you wiggle and worm every time I open my mouth. I make you so uncomfortable you can’t sit still, like a straight man watching gay porn on cable. But deep down inside, there’s a reason he stopped there when he was flicking through, and it wasn’t because he was hoping for bush like he tells his wife. Deep down, what really makes him uncomfortable is how much he likes it... same as you. Squirming around in your chair, half-dressed up... can’t hide the fact that every time I speak you get just a little moist.” He stopped, looking her up and down one final time and smiling. “You must really have some Daddy issues.”
She winced at that last part, her eyes closed when she heard Genblade chuckle. After a moment to prepare herself, she turned back toward the glass and continued to speak, although her voice wavered heavily now. “I’ve actually gotten an offer for aid in your case. While I’m not sure how much help it’ll actually be, it’ll definitely look good.”
Genblade’s brow furrowed as he squinted at her, tilting his head from one side to the other. “Can’t be who I think it is. Can’t be anyone I can think of.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. He’s a young man from town named Alexander Drew. I believe you have some acquaintance with him.”
Genblade’s face went white and seemed to drag downward, as if held down by some invisible weight.
“Well, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to get ready for court.”
Still, Genblade said nothing, his eyes as small as peas.
Natasha swallowed hard, her mouth parched and sore. “Good day then, Mr. Genblade,” she said, hanging up the phone and turning away. She glanced over her shoulder when she got close to the door to see if he was watching her, but he was still sitting blank-eyed with the phone up to his ear. She shook her head and walked away.
“Time to go, Genblade,” a tall guard said from his place against the wall a few minutes later.
Genblade still did not move, his face almost the same shade as the walls around him.
“Genblade, I said it’s time to go,” he repeated in a frustrated tone, laying a heavy hand on the inmate’s shoulder.
He woke up three days later in a hospital bed with half his jaw missing and a hole in his neck that he would have to breathe through for the rest of his life.
Xander sat at the edge of his stairs, gazing at the doorway in the dark. Only thirty minutes ago the room had been brightly lit just from outside, but now there was just the slow orange ebb of dusk fading into complete darkness.
His knee bounced a little as he waited, the sound of it tapping against the rail matching the sound of his heart, beat for beat. He took a deep breath through the fingers that were cupped together tightly over his mouth, then exhaled slowly, listening to the whistling whine as air passed between them.
He heard the scuffing and shuffling of feet outside, followed quickly by a low, deep voice talking to a louder, feminine one. Both were mumbled when heard through the wooden door. He briefly remembered a dream he had once while he was sick as a child, sitting in the dark while voices came at him. It agitated him enough that he finally got up and walked to the door. He placed his hand on the knob, forced his best fake-smile onto his lips, then opened the door with one quick painless motion.
Mike shot a raised eyebrow at him, his fist hanging in mid-air and about to knock on the door.
Smirking, Xander raised his fist the same way. “Exist extensively, and flourish,” he said in a deep, monotone voice.
“What?”
“Thought that was just how your people greeted one another,” he mumbled, stepping aside to let Mike and Cathy in.
Mike stepped inside cautiously, never once really taking his eyes off of Xander as he took off his sneakers.
Cathy stepped in quickly behind him, slipping off her shoes with two quick motions and then giving Xander a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?” she asked, her head leaning to one side sympathetically.
“Exactly when did that become such a loaded question?” he chuckled in response. “I remember when you used to ask me that during a movie or something... now it’s like the end of the world every time you do.”
Mike snorted.
Cathy pinched him in the ribs, hard, then shot him a look. “No reason,” she replied, but
