Scene #9315: Not Time Sensitive

Owner	Pose
Audrey Basque	Audrey had asked Petra to meet her... not at the school campus, or the dorms. They had plans, and those plans involved shopping, first, and then food, and THEN, maybe, go back to her dorm room or... figure it out from there. Hopefully, not camping, she hoped, especially after getting fancy clothes. Her last class of the day done, Audrey essentially blitzed out of school as quickly as she could. Ambushed by Maria and Sylvie, who clearly had plans already on a Friday night, she had to make up something about desperately needing new clothes before some dinner or another the next day. Family stuff. Mundane stuff. With their attention deflected, it gave her some time to prepare. Standing on a bench at a mall - not just any mall, the one at the other bloody end of the city, where there's no reasonable way for her friends to be at too, Audrey waits, tiptapping on her phone impatiently. She's let her hair down, kind of, in that instead of being two big drills, it's now two smaller ones up front, and six behind, a more classical drill hair princess look. She's got a fancy hat on, and big round sunglasses; a black, frilly blouse, formal-looking almost dress shirt style, and a nice red skirt that goes a smidge past the knees, with black boots up to them. It's safe colors, like her school uniform. It's a decidedly rich girl look too, good enough for any formal place but also casual without weird stares. It's also, if it's meant to be one, a terrible disguise. An awful one. So surely, it couldn't be one, and it's just that she made herself pretty for Petra. She does seem to have just a bit more lipstick and blush than usual. Is that perfume? The slightest whiff of... strawberry, maybe? She sits there, not-so-fondly rotating the reason she even did this. The reasons. And no matter what way she looks at them, no matter how she twists the scene in her mind, it doesn't make sense. None of the last couple of weeks make sense. Not to her. Not FOR her. She's getting upset, agitated, losing the flow of conversations she should be elegantly waving through like she was raised to, like she learned to for her own survival. She flicks to her text window with Lilian, the singular, horribly humiliating photo she sent there taunting her, and then she flicks back to literally any other window, like she couldn't help but check. She slumps back a bit, to let her back rest on the bench completely, arms dropping to her sides. She really was pathetic. Not even that one time at the Library could serve as a good model for 'how to be clear, precise and responsive' all the time. Really, that was... she's not sure. Ah well. Doesn't matter now.
Petra Soroka	It's really nice that Audrey is dressed up! For all her many faults and various uncultured failings, is still someone who strongly appreciates the value of fashion in terms of personal presentability and the relationship that you're communicating to the environment and people around you. It's a good feeling, to be valued in a way that causes someone to put care into their appearance when around you. It's also really nice that Audrey is dressed up, because Petra is... not. PHONE: Audrey Basque texts \| Well, I do not actually know what word is appropriate here. Enjoy? PHONE: Audrey Basque texts \| I believe it is enjoy. PHONE: Phoning Audrey Basque, Petra Soroka texts \| 'survive' How literally did she mean that, actually? Whatever euphemistic expectations Audrey was imagining about what kept Petra busy last night are thoroughly dashed the moment that Petra limps into sight. Her baggy t-shirt and jeans isn't unusual on its own, though even Petra would usually dress up nicer than that for a trip out, but the way she gingerly moves while the t-shirt occasionally sticks to her implies that she's wounded underneath it, and her face and neck look like she's just crawled out of a car crash to get here. Crescent-shaped cuts are around her lips and one bruised eye, and her neck is bruised enough to look like a failed hanging attempt. Emotionally, even, she seems fine on first glance, but there's an air of listless tenseness to her, being a little unfocused and distracted by seemingly nothing, and bringing her back to attention comes with a tiny flinch each time. Her hair's also up in a little ponytail, as has been her habit occasionally ever since Audrey suggested it. "Hey!" She's tired, but not low energy. One hand raises up to wave at Audrey to get her attention, and the other holds a styrofoam cup of hot ginger and lemon tea that she's sipping from slowly. "That outfit's super cute. Did you have somewhere in mind to get started? Like, a typical haunt of yours, or something?"
Audrey Basque	Whatever she expected definitely wasn't that. It's a brief glance up, like, ah, finally, and she doesn't think twice about it, pocketing her phone as she gets up-- and then, and only then, Audrey actually has to take her sunglasses off to stare at Petra, in the way that suggests she doesn't believe at all what she's seeing. "P-Petra?!" Is she WOUNDED? No, she's acting all... normal, almost, even if something feels totally off the usual. At least she's not trailing blood? Oh gosh people are going to be staring at them. What was she THINKING? "Are you... are you sure you should be here?" No, the answer was obviously not, but too late for that. "What even happened?! I thought you were going to-- I-I mean, you know, w-with, Miss Rook and... did you two fight? Or did you get mugged on the way here???" In the Phantom Circle? This violently? TO PETRA? So unlikely. Which meant it had to be before, or... THIS is what they did? She's speechless, she just doesn't have an answer to Petra's question right away. She can't just... take her into some fancy boutique like that, can she? Well, she could, but... "Do you... s-should we find a place for you to shower first? Get you some medical supplies? I-I mean, we... y-you weren't planning to just... ignore all those bruises, were you?" Even the compliment went over her head. She should be beaming at it!
Petra Soroka	"Huh?" The complete bafflement that Petra stares at Audrey with is so genuinely sincere that it threatens to make her doubt reality. She raises a hand up to touch her very obviously tender neck and winces. The way she slighty turns her head in response makes it seem for a moment like the bruises might have the distinct outline of handprints, and her voice is a little bit hoarse. "No, I'm fine-- are you...? You seem, like, really agitated." Petra takes a casual sip from her drink and sits down beside Audrey on the bench, oblivious to anyone who might be staring. "I mean, sorry for not dressing up or whatever, but I figured that was kind of the point of being here at all." "What even happened?! I thought you were going to-- I-I mean, you know, w-with, Miss Rook and... did you two fight?" Petra snickers, still seeming weirdly dazed. It's almost as if she's been drugged, or something along those lines, with the odd floaty intensity of her expressions and movements and inability to consistently hold a thought. "What? Me and Lilian fight? No, I think I did enough of that already, ahaha. It's, uh, um..." She trails off for a few seconds, thinking of an answer and eventually settling on one. "Of course we didn't fight. I had to lose the war to make up for winning it before, obviously. If you really think it'll be a problem, I can put on concealer or something, but if you're just trying to come up with a way to get into the shower with me, I'm gonna have to decline, haha."
Audrey Basque	"You're FINE?" Audrey continues staring, in a way like it's impossible to look away from a car crash. "Petra, if I saw you like this a month ago, you would have been the worst state I've ever seen a person in, and the ONLY reason I can't give you that award today is because of the City, which is definitely moving the bar in a way I don't want to acknowledge." It's terrifying, really. The bar, not Petra, but Petra too. She's so focused on her state that she can't even work up the energy to be flustered about the shower comment, glancing right over it to keep harping on the blonde's state. "W-Where do I even begin? Your neck is... your lips! And what is even going on under your shirt, it looks sticky! You're not still bleeding, are you?" She's concerned, having risen to start flitting left and right around Petra like she's not sure from what angle to even look at her, because every new movement reveals a new problem. "I... geez. Okay. Okay, I can do this. We can still go get you some nice clothes, and then make it to the restaurant in time... look, I obviously don't need a shower right now, so it would be just you. Let me think..." She snaps her fingers, in a 'a-ha!' way. "There's a spa in here. We'll get you bandages, you can shower, cover up anything that's still open so you don't put... blood, or something, all over clothes in a changing room, and then we'll have some time left to have you try some stuff on. Come on, come on, clock's ticking!" See, this is one of the RARE forms of crisis management Audrey is good at. Crunching down five different things into a very narrow time schedule. If Petra doesn't object, Audrey will go out of her way to grab her by the arm and get her up, so they can get moving.
Petra Soroka	"Petra, if I saw you like this a month ago, you would have been the worst state I've ever seen a person in," Petra swings her feet back and forth cheerfully, then grimaces and shifts to put less weight on a sore spot where she's sitting on the bench. "You wouldn't say that if you saw me a couple months ago. Or, most of last year. Or anytime the year before. Actually, you totally have seen me in a worse state-- 'cause there's no way you didn't watch that video I put out of Lilian at your school before. I guess I didn't look like I was in that bad of a state, but that's how you know I was." "I mean, I even had a dress on. That's probably why no one here recognizes me," Petra says idly, looking up and scanning her gaze across the rest of the crowd in the mall, making eye contact with anyone staring at her until they avert their eyes. She'd guess that a solid 1 in 4 or 1 in 5 people here, as a low estimate, watched that video, right? Anyone who considered Lilian a hometown hero-- or hometown bitch villain-- would've at least heard of it, so more people should randomly try to beat Petra up, she thinks. "Your neck is... your lips!" Petra takes another sip to finish off her drink, eyeing Audrey's own neck. "Aw, thanks. I'd say something about yours too, but between the hairstyle change and the top, you did a good job covering it up. Anyways, I'm gonna be bleeding for a while. Did I never tell you about that?" Petra is more unconcerned than usual with both public flirting and talking about other touchy subjects like the details of her psychic powers, though as the conversation goes on, she gradually 'comes down' from whatever high she was on. Not all the way to a normal baseline even for herself, but she did come here straight from where Lilian dumped her on Hydrochoeria, so she briefly forgot how society and other people functioned for a bit. "I either heal really fast or really slow, based on... well, you know. I'm not gonna stop bleeding whatever you do right now, but this isn't my first radio. I've got some antiseptic wipes and then when I'm trying on clothes, I'll just, like, hold my breath." It's dubious whether that would prevent any blood from getting on the store's clothes, but Petra seems to think it would. "A spa would take forever. And, like, if you're not coming in with me, I'm not gonna waste my time being alone when I came to hang out." Petra sticks her tongue out and pushes herself back up to standing, unsteadily propping herself up with a hand on the back of the bench. "I'm fine, really. This sort of thing is normal. I think you'd get it. So let's just go shopping, alright?"
Audrey Basque	Denied. Audrey lowers her arms, exasperated. It's a barrage of responses, because she's at such a breaking point that there's no time to waste on stammering and double-taking some of those accusations. "Yes, I remember the video. Yes, you do look better out of a dress. Yes, I'm getting better at covering my neck, THANK YOU. No, you never told me about the bleeding! No, I'm pretty sure holding your breath won't keep the blood in, and yes, I suppose it WOULD defeat the purpose of coming here." She raises a hand to bury her face in it. "And GET IT? Get what? TORTURE?" There's a pause, as she realizes she said that several decibels too loudly and there are a lot of people around. She slips her sunglasses back on. "You are... you are just..." So many choices. Most incorrect. "... you. You're just... you." A deep sigh. "Come on, let's find a boutique that won't kick us out the moment they see you. Maybe we can match you up in red and black since I'm already wearing that, and that'll... I cannot believe I'm about to say 'hide the blood'. You..." It's a glare, shot through shades. But if it starts off as a mild anger, it quickly becomes something more akin to longing, as she realizes something she can't quite put into words. The shades aren't thick enough to hide it, and her cheeks flushing would be a dead giveaway regardless. "Just. C'mon already. Dummy."
Petra Soroka	"And GET IT? Get what? TORTURE?" "Nah, torture's, like, not good. Torture sucks to go through." Of course Petra's been tortured enough to be able to distinguish it from... whatever this is. Absolutely heedless of the people who might be looking because of Audrey raising her voice, she starts elaborating why by counting out on her fingers. "Torture's like-- okay, it can be personal, but it's a lot more one-sided. There's not any narrative to it besides you suffering, and man does it hurt a lot. I'm not actually any good at resisting torture, but don't tell the Head, haha. Anyways, the reason why there's torture techniques is because it's supposed to be a universally applicable tool to break anyone's will, for whatever purpose." Continuing this insane conversational thread while they walk through the mall, Petra's strides are somewhat shorter than Audrey's as she keeps moving gingerly to not aggravate any of her injuries. "This is a totally different thing. It's like... comfort is the opposite of meaning, I think. Anything you can do while comfortable is inherently less important, and there's a thousand different facets to a person besides the one you can see when they're at rest. Haven't you ever imagined what the people around you would look like if you actually pushed them to the point of begging for their lives? Like, if they'd act any different at all; if there'd be any spark to them, or if you could've just done that this whole time and it wouldn't have made any difference so there was never any reason to hold back?" "Maybe we can match you up in red and black since I'm already wearing that, and that'll... I cannot believe I'm about to say 'hide the blood'." "I kinda feel like it's a good look for me to be wearing white with bloodstains soaking through, but I get you." Audrey has actually seen those pajamas of hers. "I feel like I'm hard enough to shop for that you might not want to limit your options like that, though. What's the place we're going to, by the way?" When she's glared at, Petra meets Audrey's eyes, and Audrey can immediately tell that on top of everything else, Petra's night was spent crying, a lot. Despite that, she smirks at her when seeing the blush, and abruptly reaches out a hand to brush Audrey's hair to the side, trailing her thumb across her throat. "And, I mean, if you're so concerned about matching...." Petra giggles and then withdraws, putting her hands behind her head instead.
Audrey Basque	Audrey is now getting a lecture about the differences between torture and the secret thing that isn't torture and that she, truthfully, only wants to hear about a little bit, but a bit is more than zero, and that's already surprising. "Well, I'm glad we agree torture isn't good," she says, unsure how to response to the rest of that. At all. She can't grok the narrative like Petra can; she doesn't view life like a story, or herself like a character. She can't think that way, she can't understand the exact depth of the words. She can try! She tries. She knows media, it's... close enough. "Haven't you ever imagined what the people around you would look like if you actually pushed them to the point of begging for their lives?" Audrey's gaze lowers to the floor as she lets that one spin in her head, and then, a few seconds later: "... yeah. I-I mean. Once, or twice, maybe, you know... intrusive thoughts. The kind if I act on it'll ruin my life, for sure, for practically no gain whatsoever." Or a lot of gain, maybe. Audrey leaves who she's thinking about unsaid. They approach a boutique, a fancy high brow store where everything's in the triple digits at minimum. Petra might even recognize some of Audrey's clothes on display. Designer brands, divided in cultural sections as much as the usual binary split. If you aren't selling your clothes here, you're a nobody. She stops in front of the door, to look at Petra before they venture in. "The bloodstained look would certainly be a noble look for my knight, but not one suited for a dinner. Ah, the restaurant is called Étoile Filante. It's French cuisine, if that wasn't obvious. It's not strictly a suits-and-robes type place, something semi-casual will be fine. Like I'm wearing," she motions at herself, wearing something a bit more formal than casual by most measures. There's a pause when Petra moves her hair to thumb at her neck, briefly, and a shiver that Petra can definitely feel, and which betrays anything she might say afterwards. "P-Petra, please. Be serious."
Petra Soroka	"Once, or twice, maybe, you know... intrusive thoughts."} "It's totally unhinged to just admit something like that, you know. You can't even convince yourself that you could be part of society at all, huh? Forget doing it, just saying that you fantasizing about torturing your classmates to death would kind of make them all repulsed by you." The pause that Petra leaves after that sentence isn't because she wants to freak Audrey out with forcing her to linger on that thought, but she might accomplish that anyways. Distracted by something for a brief moment, Petra's fingernails dig into the side of her styrofoam cup, and then she abruptly crushes it in her fist and tosses it in the garbage. "But I'll remember that. And I'm being so serious." "The bloodstained look would certainly be a noble look for my knight, but not one suited for a dinner." "The world is so cruel to me," Petra dramatically laments while crossing into the fancy store. Frankly, the boutique doesn't phase her any more than walking into a Macy's would. Her standards for clothing stores are set by the Closet of Babylon, and this one is in a mall; she can pretty much act however she wants, comfortably buoyed by the certainty that not only is she allowed to be here, but the employees should be grateful that she is. If anyone looks snobbishly at her for wearing a t-shirt and being a little blood-spattered, she'll shoplift whatever she wants just to prove a point. "Hm~ I guess... we might as well start with black and red, since you wanna show up at that restaurant wearing matching color-coordinated outfits like we're sisters." Petra laughs a little bit at that, but it's hard to tell where the joke was. She wanders over to, of course, the selection of tops and pants rather than the dresses, running her hand along a black velvet sleeveless top. "This one's kind of nice, but..." Petra looks back at Audrey and pushes up the sleeve of her shirt, showing the red-purple ring of bruising around her upper bicep where it looks like she got grabbed hard enough to wound her, and sticks her tongue out slightly. "Really, I told you you're not making me presentable."
Audrey Basque	"It's totally unhinged to just admit something like that," "Yes, it is," Audrey rumbles a little bit, not threateningly so much as... defeatedly. "So I would appreciate your discretion in this moment of trust. You asked, I answered." Freaking out is close though. The extremely visceral thought of everyone suddenly turning on her-- losing her status, what few friends she has, the respect of pretty much anyone she's met. Among a dozen other consequences. If her father knew she said something so crass... "Please," she finally adds, to further emphasize her request for not mentioning it to anyone. "Hm~ I guess... we might as well start with black and red, since you wanna show up at that restaurant wearing matching color-coordinated outfits like we're sisters." They go in and browse; while Petra looks, Audrey takes a second to reassure the cashier she's paying for everything and not to mind her friend, who's had a very terrible day. Then she rejoins her, to actually answer. "I just think you should wear something that won't stain as obviously. Just tonight. If you want to select a few spares specifically to stain them... I won't stop you." When Petra pushes her sleeve up, Audrey sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. "I swear it's like you're showing off war scars or something. The top is nice, but why don't you put it over something else? A red dress shirt underneath, or a sleeved vest over it. Presentable is going to be difficult, but we can at least cover as much of you up as possible." She asides, side-glancing away from Petra. "Besides you can really pull off the multi-layered look..."
Petra Soroka	"So I would appreciate your discretion in this moment of trust." "Obviously." Petra says it like it's not even a question to worry about-- of course Petra will ruin her life, but she's not going to betray her trust to do it. That would be crass! Things told to Petra in confidence will remain in confidence, or else why would anyone tell her anything. The things Petra is planning are worse. "I just think you should wear something that won't stain as obviously. Just tonight." "I dunno if that's possible. I stain everything I touch." She's being sooooo dramatic today for whatever reason, humming to herself while browsing. "I mean, layering solves the problem just as much as colors do, as long as I'm not layering white on white. Like, you don't think I'm bleeding like a firehose under here, do you? That'd be unsustainable, even for me." "I swear it's like you're showing off war scars or something." "When you put it that way, I kind of am. Everything since the war's been about the war in some way or another. It's been that way since the old superfaction war. And you don't need to be a brat just 'cause you're jealous; everyone should be." Petra wanders through and picks up a couple more items, draping them over her shoulder in a little stack. The sleeveless back top, a red button-up beneath it like Audrey suggested, a silver and mother-of-pearl waist chain that drew her eye, and some high-rise culottes with a cinched waist, because apparently culottes are fine where skirts aren't. "You don't think I can be presentable? You keep looking, though."
Audrey Basque	"Obviously." "Obviously," Audrey echoes, just a little bit worryingly. "Besides... everyone has intrusive thoughts, right? Come on. What's important is whether we actually think to or act on them." Excuses, really. She's well aware normal people don't have intrusive thoughts about putting their friends or idols in a ditch and then-- "I stain everything I touch." Audrey rubs her neck, on-cue. "Don't I know it..." It's a bit of a sigh, but not a hateful or bored one. "Yes, I surmised you aren't firehosing it considering there isn't a trail of blood following you. But I also know that it only takes a drop of wine to ruin a shirt, and blood is allegedly worse. You're right, though, you could layer red or black on white." "When you put it that way, I kind of am." "I'd noticed. Even me helping Angela just feels like the aftermath of a war I didn't fight. And that I should be thankful I didn't fight, and yet..." Did she wish she'd been there? What good would that have been, to anyone? "You don't think I can be presentable? You keep looking, though." Petra snaps her out of it as she accumulates a stack of clothes and comments. "N-No, that isn't... what I meant," Audrey backpedals, scratching the back of her head. "Just that... sure, right now, right this second, it's a bit harder. It's not like it's without charm, the rugged, scarred exterior, or anything like that..." Bless her sunglasses. Which she adjusts, a bit nervously. "A-Ah! What about this?" she deflects. She singles out a nice black and gold-trimmed high-waist jacket; long sleeves, would look great with some manner of a shirt underneath.
Petra Soroka	"Yes, I surmised you aren't firehosing it considering there isn't a trail of blood following you." "That's where you're wrong; there's always a trail of blood following me. It just depends whether it's visible or not. But, yeah. I just feel like no one's really going to care if there's some red dotting through by the time we get up to leave. And if they do, it's not our problem." Still, though, she is primarily choosing clothing that won't have visible bloodstains, as Audrey requested. So for all of her declarations, she's at least making some effort to end up presentable for dinner, insofar as that's possible for Petra to do. "And that I should be thankful I didn't fight, and yet..." "But you feel alienated and left out, like everyone experienced something lifechanging that bound them all together that you just missed by the circumstances of fate and now you're irrevocably more distant from the people you're spending time with, and everyone has all of these interlocking stories and traumas and skills that make everything you've ever done insignificant by comparison, yeah." It is, of course, effortless for Petra to finish Audrey's sentence with the thoughts that she's been having for close to a decade at this point. A thirteen year old Petra couldn't have articulated the ache like she can now, but even now, it hasn't faded away, she's just found arcs to suffer in along with different groups of people. 'Generations' are defined by events like the White Nights and Dark Days, and Petra can't help but feel a little bit of sympathy for Audrey for not being part of the same one as Lilian. "But you don't need to worry about that, anyways. You bagged the bloodsoaked villainous general while she was crippled by regret and misery and whatever. In the stories I've read, that's the part that really matters." "It's not like it's without charm, the rugged, scarred exterior, or anything like that..." "Whoof, 'rugged'." Petra winces, fiddling with her thumb across her forearm over the faint washerboard bumps of scars. "I do miss when my skin was smooth, a little. But I guess it doesn't matter how I feel, as long as it was useful to Lilian." "A-Ah! What about this?" Petra raises an eyebrow at Audrey, hoisting up the pile of clothes she's already got on her shoulder. "For a dinner? It's a little too late to try to dress me up to be a keynote speaker at the Skull Island fete."
Audrey Basque	"There's always a trail of blood following me." "Mm. I don't see it that way, but what do I know," Audrey says, letting Petra have her drama for this one. She was certainly in an interesting mood, for someone covered from head to toe in scars and bruises. Was it really something she'd 'get'? The thought causes Audrey to shiver again, though it's not the same kind. More... fear of the unknown, on this one, than being wooed. "But you feel alienated and left out," "... something like that. It doesn't sound like I'd have survived it, to be honest. But I can't help but wonder if I could've helped and made things... less worse, for you. And Angela. Then again..." She laughs a bit, mimicking Petra's voice as best as she can. "If Princess Sarracenia Sundew survived it, I might have been fine. Right?" "You bagged the bloodsoaked villainous general while she was crippled by regret and misery and whatever." "I wish I hadn't. No, that's... not true. I wish I hadn't, in those circumstances. You know? That it could've been more honest and less..." Less what? Less of a rebound? A substitution? Mutually taking advantage of each other? An awkward mess? Try all of the above. "Haaaa... sorry. This isn't the time. We have a dinner reservation, after all. Have you ever had escargot? Snails. It's a lot less disgusting than it sounds, I promise." "I do miss when my skin was smooth, a little." "It's an expression, dummy. It's fine. Really." "For a dinner? It's a little too late to try to dress me up to be a keynote speaker at the Skull Island fete." "Amusing, but not everything you get has to be for tonight. You should try having a bigger wardrobe, in general. It won't hurt you. I promise." With everything picked, Audrey handles the bill, picking out a new blouse or two while she's at it. And then... French cuisine! They'll make it.