forty ➢ private + spam

[patheticvillain]

private } needy

hey which two of these things do you hate the sound of least

☐ book club
☐ art therapy
☐ cats
☐ gardening
☐ baking
☐ learning how to knife fight

gift + open spam

[Call it Christmas in July. Call it boredom. Call it a pathological need for attention. Whatever you want to call it, gifts start showing up, ever so mysteriously, at people's doors and in common rooms throughout the week of the fourteenth.]

Daneca Wasserman ] A pair of deep purple gloves (the same color her hair was when he first met her), with silver buttons at the backs of the wrists.

Cass Cain ] Ten fluffy pillows, velvety dark blue with tassels, which are less placed and more piled outside her cabin. Also brownies.

Iris Wildthyme ] Scented candles, Bertie Botts style, in scents ranging from fresh-cut pine tree to alligator breath. They are all shaped like hearts.

Mira Hidalgo ] A blank, leather-bound journal.

Horatio Hornblower ] Lots of weed. Also gloves, but practical ones, all black.

Needy Lesnicki ] A hand-width clear glass figurine of a dragon, and a butterfly knife, which arrive before his text with the message I can show you how to use it.

Chris D'Amico ] Gold cufflinks in the shape of coiled rope, to match his best suit, which, when twisted in a certain way, come apart to reveal tiny lockpicks. Also homemade dog treats.

Slevin Kelevra ] A grinning black cat keychain, key attached, no label, and another pair practical black gloves.

Gwen Stacy ] A tiny hexagonal prism on a silver chain, with little lines drawn on the side to make it resemble a titration tube.

Anya Lehnsherr ] Gauzy, metallic yarn, the kind that's almost impossible to knit with without a magnifying glass, and a note: Do you know what a blacklight party is? We should have one.

Scott McCall ] A box of condoms. Inside there are no condoms, just a note that says lol. There is also a set of four amulets - which just look like stones on long chains - labeled Scott, Allison, Lydia, Stiles.

Zane ] A möbius ladder, a couple of feet across and made of copper, and some pot brownies, labeled These are pot brownies.

[Other gifts, less personalized, show up at random in all of the common rooms - some, too, as centerpieces in the middle of dining hall tables, or balanced on treadmills in the gym. Most are made of sandstone or copper, new materials he is working with, while some are glass or ceramic, old favorites; all are about a hand's span across.]

[There is one little sculpture that look suspiciously like a three-dimensional Mona Lisa with a fauxhawk. There are many flowers, some real and some utterly imaginary. There is only one cat, the pale gray of unglazed clay, with the inscription HA HA underneath it. There are relatively few twisted human bodies in the mix, but there are a couple (though none in the dining hall). Otherwise, it's a mishmash of animals, plants, random letters, and impenetrably abstract shapes.]

[Cassel himself can be found coming and going from these drop-offs if you're very sneaky, or in the gym, where he not only works every day but practices with renewed vigor with his butterfly knife. He is pretty sure that now that Cass is back, he has something to prove with it. He doesn't know what, but whatever it is, he'll get to it just as quick as he can.]

Comments

[andyougoleft]

[Normally, Slevin would catch him at it. Would be both impressed and unimpressed, the former because it's a very good lie, the latter because he was trying sincerely for just a moment to pass it off to another career liar as honesty. Be honest. They don't even know how to do that.

But he had been honest. He'd told her the truth to save her once already. He'll shoot you here. And here.

Lindsey's smart. Goodkat's good. He's not sure which will win out in this situation, can't answer the question easily as he would if it were either of them against any other person, including himself. Lindsey's smarter than he is. Goodkat's better than he is. God, what if...

He starts to chew his thumbnail, catches the fabric of the gloves in his teeth instead, drops his hands back to his lap in frustration.

No, not frustration. Agitation.]

Well. None of it matters right now anyway. I'm not going anywhere.