I had never noticed that Gemme was cute before. And having noticed it, I decided not to let it affect my distance from the group. See, my reputation of being a complete dick is more like a cover. It keeps people away from me. I don't endanger them, they don't endanger me. Of course, I do have my moments where I'm a total wanker and mean it. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I wonder which moments I mean and which ones I don't. Anyways, enough rambling, the point was more that I can be nice. When I want to. Which I guess is why I went and found Gemme again after I'd got my drum sticks.
"Hey," I say as I approach Gemme again, the sticks in one hand, the other raised in a half wave. I pause and put my bag on the floor, unzipping it. I shove the sticks in and unfasten the knife sheath from my wrist, about to drop it in, but I hold it for a moment, wondering if there will be any others following us. So I strap the knife back on and zip up my bag, standing again.
"Hey," she replies.
"So where are we going, then?" I ask, hearing the police sirens off in the distance.
"You wanna go home, where ever that is?" she begins to walk again, and I trail after her out of the gates, lighting a cigarette as we move. I shake my head.
"No, not really. You?"
"Well, you can come round to mine if you want. It's a small house that my parents left me. My adoptive parents left me to it when I turned eighteen. I never liked them anyway." She says. I nod. Parents. Adoptive parents. Both concepts seem weird. Like, really weird. My dad buggered off somewhere when I was a kid, and my mother was killed in a ‘car crash' a few years back, when I was about eleven. I wasn't left anything, and the idea of her having a house all to herself seemed just as weird as the thought that she had someone to care for her. Even if she didn't like them.
"Uhm... Sure." I mutter with a small shrug, taking a long drag on my smoke. She coughs slightly as I blow the smoke back out but smiles anyways.
"Why don't you like your place so much?" she asks. Ugh.
"It's crap," I reply.
"Oh? Well I won't push further." She looks around, as if looking for people that might be watching us. "You really think I'm cute?" She whispers. I'm really glad she dropped the subject of where I live. I exhale smoke again, turning away from her so it doesn't go in her face, and then nod, glancing at her.
"Sure I do. I mean the odd eyes are a bit weird, but it's not a bad thing I guess."
"Hmm... I've never been called cute before." She looks at me, taking me in, or something like that, I guess. "You're very unique." She says finally.
"Unique?" I laugh. I've heard that one before. Usually when people are talking about my ‘issues', though.
"Hmm, well. You are quite handsome too." Okay. Not heard that one. I think about it for a moment, my dark spiky hair, dark eyes to match and a body that I worked hard for. Hmm. "Can I see your tattoos?" she asks. I take a last toke on my cigarette and flick it away into the road.
"Yeah, when we get to yours," I say. She drags me down the road and there's this gunshot and suddenly we're running. I see the goons with the guns walking off, and a body lying on the ground. One of the Zodiacs. Well, I can sort that out. I grab their guns with my mind and beat them over their heads with them. Oh sure, it sounds comical. You didn't see the blood. I curse and kneel beside the Zodiac - Aries. I put my hand over the wound and pull the bullet out with the ever useful telekinesis and frown, concentrating on knitting the damaged flesh back together. She murmurs something that I don't catch and I just keep going, healing til she wakes up.
Just as well I practice healing a lot.