taxonomites | [ visual ] | [ location: casa lehane ] if wellness is this what in hell's name is sickness

Faith has been in Taxon for nearly a year, now. As the date creeps up, she's been withdrawing little by little; Connor's staying in her place, sure, but he can read the vibes and let her keep her space. Even the trips to see Godric and Eric have dropped off, because there's the upswing in maturity she's working with and talking about her shit. One is a work in progress, the other isn't her thing and never will be.

So when her tablet helpfully clicks over to visual, it films Faith's lower back for a moment, the sheets tangled around her legs. She hasn't been sleeping well lately, her dreams restless and weird. So when she rolls over and sees the ghost sitting on the side of her bed, she assumes it's more dreaming.

"Don't have time for this shit." Her mutter is audible but slurred, and she rolls over, exposing the edge of her underwear. "Sleeping."

It only takes a moment for her to wake up fully, though, Slayer instincts rocketing her into consciousness. "...Boss?" She almost sounds hopeful. No response, and her expression goes shattered, nakedly heartbroken before hardening again. "What, the First wasn't enough? Back the hell off me and take off his face."

When the ghost doesn't respond she scrambles out of bed, her movements uncharacteristically jerky and awkward. "I said get the hell out of my apartment." The beer bottle that crashes against the wall has no effect, the Mayor's placid expression doesn't change, his hand still reaches out to her. "Get the fuck out, now."

Another beer bottle, and her tablet shows her face growing panicked as the Mayor crawls closer, Faith scooting back as fast as she can to stay out of reach. "You're not him." It's quiet, desperate, to herself, and the feed closes on her slamming a fist into the ground hard enough her dresser rattles and repeating it, even more quiet and desperate. "You're not him."

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That voice, Faith doesn't mind so much. Not like she's itching to let anyone in on her angst about the Mayor, but Casey's all right. He doesn't even know who Wilkins is, doesn't know about poor stupid little Faithy, so desperate for a daddy she let a demon step in because he offered her milk and cookies.

"Five by five, Killer." She's obviously lying, but hey. That's always been her thing, too.

Fine, if she's gonna be like that...he switches to visual.

"Good. Because I still want my knife back and I'd prefer it if you weren't all out of your mind from seeing dead people when I do."

He's done it plenty of times himself. Lied to keep people from getting too close. From seeing weakness in him.

Casey, she is always like that.

"You're all heart, babe." Weak imitation of her usual snark there, but she's trying.

"Yeah, a regular Gandhi." Casey smirks at her, then pours himself a scotch whiskey since he's off duty. He can tell she's still shaken, so just keeps on talking. "Just trying to give you something to look forward to. Get your mind off of the freakish stuff. Besides, that was a really nice knife, first I made when I got here."

"He's the skinny guy in the diaper, right? Wicked close family resemblance you got going." ...Faith, be less offensively (purposefully) ignorant, please. The drink looks good, and for a second she regrets chucking the last bottle left in the bedroom at the Mayor. "Finders keepers, Killer."

"Thanks." He doesn't take offense, in fact, there's something about Faith that just makes him want to smile. Kinda like looking into a mirror. Not that he talks the way that she does, or even understands what she is or what her deal is. He just...sees someone who, like him, is used to playing a role, and is no stranger to killing or violence.

"You know, they say possession is nine tenths of the law? But they don't take into account the fact that just because something's taken, doesn't mean it can't be reclaimed again. Just saying."

"Don't mention it." Like calls to like, shit like that. Casey's a good guy, and he seems to get her. Not a bad deal, especially when it means he doesn't expect her to sit down and talk about her feelings or something like that.

"Yeah, well. You can try if you want."

"You can count on it, sweetheart. It's about the only--" He stops himself and takes a deliberate sip of his drink instead. "Let's just say that sometimes things are too quiet here in Taxon for the likes of someone like me."

[ visual ] | [ location: casa lehane ] if wellness is this what in hell's name is sickness

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