I'm staying with Arabella.

Scarlet is only a few away from you when she talks. “Got a moment?”

“No,” you say low enough that only she and Arabella can hear you. “Can it wait?”

Scarlet flicks her eyes to Arabella, then the twins, and then back at you. “Sure. If you need some time, it can wait until I have your full attention,” there’s a hint of a smile as she produces a light for a cigarette between her glossy lips. Her brows furrow as she sucks and then puffs. “You could die tonight, so I’ll let you run off with your girls,” she looks at the twins, fixated tightly on the circus staff. “Or, girl, I guess. The others seem occupied. They grow up fast, don’t they?”

Mikko begins sharing a story about when she first started to do inventory for you, leaving your name out as the one who “praised her for having an on/off switch” for ADHD. The twins had truly blossomed here. Why hadn’t Arabella? Scarlet has bones and is wandering off already, so I'm not interested in using another second here.

Arabella inhales softly and thanks you with the same breath. When you split away from everyone else, she opens up and begins talking to you with the typical spit you’re used to from her. After letting Arabella finish her speech about her morning routine and how long Mikko takes in the shower, you ask how she’s doing. The question forces a small laugh from her mouth.

“I’m fine,” she tries. “Really. I’m just not enjoying this arrangement that much. That’s all. I preferred the hotel bouncing and freedom more than whatever we are doing now.”

“Is that all?” You ask, your curiousness leaching onto your thoughts. “I know Scarlet must be hard on you every night or whenever I’m not around—“

Arabella blinks. “She’s been fine. Actually? Since you’ve brought it up, I think she’s been kind to us. She hasn’t picked any favorites,” there’s a subtle overtone as she mentions favorites, an overtone that hints at jealousy and suspicion. You recall ‘NOT’ Jennifer and feel a surge of guilt. Arabella’s feelings for you have grown much more severe. You then remember Mikko and the Ferris wheel…

Upon reaching the end of the town, you draw a deep breath and lean against a post that provides shade. Arabella mimics your breathing and does the same, but with a little stretch of her own, highlighting her slim figure and fox-like attributes: tail, teeth, skin color, and hair. Your gaze travels down her long, exposed legs in her skirt and eventually down to her leather sandals. When you finally look back at her face, you find her bright amber eyes reflecting at you. She lifts an eyebrow and smirks slightly, enjoying the stare you’re giving her, curious or not.

You break the sexual tension with an exhale, darting your eyes back to her feet. You discover she’s also painted her nails at one point during her stay. They’re orange now and white, the scheme alternating from her pinky toe, which is white. “Was there something you wanted to tell me while we’re together? I’m sure we’ll have time later, but now it seems like a good time to unravel some things, don’t you think?”

Arabella makes a slight reluctance noise as she starts swinging her arms back and forth. Her eyes, much like yours, have drifted somewhere else. Instead of fixating on her toes, she stares outward at the expensive dessert and clear, cloudless sky. She has no one else to talk to, so she relents on damaging her respect. “I… feel weird around other people that are normal, master,” she says, followed by a deep sigh before she continues.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I like being around Scarlet and the other contractors because that’s what I’m used to. For as long as I can remember, my entire life has been around people like them. Brutal, mean, and selfish,” she looks at you. “Don’t take this wrong, but you’re the same, even if you’re kinder. You still have the contractor spit and look to you. That gives me a sense of what I’m used to. At the circus with all the staff, I’m… weird, and I don’t even think it’s because I’m a fox girl; I think it’s because I can’t change around these people enough.”

You nod, folding your hands together as you recline into a wooden bench parked under the post. Arabella sees you move and joins you at the far end, crossing her legs. “What is it that you don’t like? What is the most off-putting thing about the people you work with now?”

Her leg starts to bounce with anxiety idly. “It’s like I said… the normal stuff. Husbands, wives…kids… How am I supposed to relate to these people when the only things I know are weapons, deaths, and gore stories?”

“How have Gwendolion and Mikko adapted better than you? They’ve been through a lot. And from what I’ve heard, I have been put through traumatic events, too, used, abused, and so forth.”

“Yeah, but not nearly as long as me. I think they knew what something like this was supposed to look like. Maybe even lived in an environment like this for a while, and being around you for so long, maybe this was the real switch flipper,” she holds her leg, steadying it as she exhales again. “But I can’t. This call of normality just reminds me of how fucked up I am and how unable I am to cope.”

You lean your head far enough to glance at Arabella, but she has her eyes closed, feeling the breeze brush her face as it comes in. Everything here is hot, and the breeze’s warmth does little to dry the sweat accumulated on your forehead. “So… you’re saying we should move on after this? When my contract is over?”

Arabella frowns, her eyes still shut. She hasn’t moved. Not really, at least. Legs still crossed, fingers still interlocked over the knee. Her ears twitch slightly as the tail sways behind her, sticking out from the bench’s backrest. “Only if Scarlet stays,” she sighs. “Because I don’t see either Gwen or Mikko leaving this place. Besides, I’ve seen a boy talking to Gwendolion, and she’s far too innocent to leave a broken heart.”

“Leave the heartbreaking to the contractors, huh?” You remark, finding yourself a little conflicted with the news of Gwendolion’s independence. “Why does it matter if Scarlet stays or not?”

“Because she’ll watch over them. For a while, I think. She’s strangely… It’s strange, I mean, Scarlet. I always thought she was this brutal bitch with no soul, but sometimes when she thinks I’m asleep, she talks to the twins with reluctant curiousness when she asks them about their days.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s motherly,” Arabella decides. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. Scarlet’s complicated. She's like a complex clock with gears and springs that’s been torn apart and put together incorrectly. Pretty, but something is wrong inside still.”

“Jesus, Arabella. Have you been reading? That was poetic.”

A little laugh comes from her and sets you at ease. She’s the least changed. The only things going about Arabella are the things you didn’t know about her. You finally share a glance, and she shakes her head gently. “I heard it once. I don’t usually read.”

Another laugh from you this time. And with yours is Arabella’s, too. The shared glance is completed with two smiles. The rest of the hour is spent with light conversation over the Mojave desert.

Before noon, you meet with Scarlet again. Jennifer joins her, and now it makes sense why she’s so involved with her. With the duo. Mandy and Natalie are with each other in the Big Top, talking at the furthest opposite end. You approach Scarlet first, knowing this is your best chance to chat with her before she leaves for the patrol.

Scarlet puffs out a cloud and smiles at you lazily. Jennifer smiles tightly and covers her mouth as she chews whatever food she is having. On the large spool they’re using as a round table is a plate, primarily empty with few chips and almost no sauce left. “You wanted to chat?” You say, not wasting a second.

Scarlet nodded. Outside. Jennifer grabs the plate and moves to join the others. Scarlet smudges the cigarette while moving to the backstage area. She ruffles her hair, trailing you with a faint feminine scent—a heat she’s now accustomed to clings on and dismisses the coolness you had inside. “I could die out there today,” Scarlet says suddenly. “So could Half-Gob. Dangerous stuff,” she yawns mightily and cranes her neck.

“You seem to be fixated on that,” you say. “Feel like you’re going to punch your ticket?”

Scarlet laughs, and in the hollow of the surrounding city, it echoes like a wind. “I feel like my ticket will get punched whenever I do something dangerous, Warren. People like us, when isn’t there a chance?” Scarlet pops a Kicker into her mouth and presses it against her gums close to her canines, and sucks on air. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she says, swinging her arms out. “Nervous, I think. Maybe I am going to die. You ever get that sense that death is so close you think it’s because he’s here for you?”

“I love these pep talks before you go out. Especially since I’m next after you… Not to mention alone. What’s gotten into you, anyway? What have your dreams been about? You know you can console me, don’t you?”

“This has nothing to do with dreams. I was just curious if you got these notions. Don’t you?”

You shake your head, but now you have the phantom sense of something incredibly wrong despite nothing but peace. “No. But since you do, how often is right?”

“Well, I get it all the time before running gigs, and I’m still alive, so maybe my radar is the piece of shit here, yeah? Maybe Half-Gob gets it, and we get to go on a revenge conquest.”

“How about no one dies, and you shake off your demons?”

Scarlet’s lips curl as it turns into a cruel, self-damaging smile, but she does not comment. “I’m planning to be back around 7 pm, so be at the gates and get ready to hear the report, alright?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good. In the meantime, do whatever you want. I’ll just double my work. It helps me get into the groove of things. Don't worry about the workload unless you need to hone in on any of your techniques.”

“Understood,” you listen to hear, take a deep breath in, and then move away; she gestures with her head you can go. You return to the hotel, finding yourself in a moment of free time…