Babydxhl - Tumblr Posts - Page 2
no but roman being so used to mary and how she operates that he's the one person she hasn't yet managed to pickpocket successfully, he ALWAYS catches her and it makes her so feral asklaldka
WOULD HE EVER!!! I'm so sorry for the late reply but this headcanon right here?? It's perfect and absolutely true, Mary being such a conniving little shit who can pickpocket just about anyone EXCEPT him. He knows what you're like, Mary. Go ahead and flutter those baby blue peepers all you want, you ain't getting shit from him. Bet it would be a fun little game between them though, keeping each other on their toes so to say.
‘ well, looks like we both got fucked. ’
sharp objects sentence starters | still accepting.
"Roman, I didn't— I didn't know."
Mary's jaw has the set of someone clinging to a composure that is rapidly fleeing them. She stares at Roman with wide, bloodshot eyes, blinks hard as the sight of him warps. She has the sense of having missed her mark; her gaze darts across the Persian rug, searching for some taped little X to stand on, and then she will know the right words to say.
"I didn't know they were going to come after you."
The first show had rung out as they were crossing the length of the parking garage. Another, and then another, and Mary had seen the man to Roman's right fall backwards with the impact — had understood herself as the little Judas of this scene with that same bullet-like thud — before the arm of some nameless goon had hooked around her ribcage and hauled her back to the imagined safety of one of the cars. The tires had started squealing almost before she sprawled into the leather seats.
"They promised me a fresh start, for information," she says now, and presses her hands to her face, clasps them as if in prayer. "New name, new city. No more Arkham, no more trials, no more—" She sucks in a breath. A harsh sound like someone drowning. No more fighting, she'd been about to say. "Roman, I can't keep doing this," she continues after a moment, glances around with a little note of panic, "but I didn't know they'd go after you, I didn't know any of it."
You suspected though, didn't you? Late at night, in the dark, hand over your mouth, thinking about what you were doing. Hiding from understanding.
A part of her wants to ask who had snitched. A part of her thinks, if they were still kids, she'd launch herself at him now. Strangle him. Hold him down until he had to see things her way, had to understand, force it the way children in houses too big and skins too small always do. She understands inherently that they will always be those kids. Mouths open wide. Screaming back through time.
When she had gotten home afterwards she had taken the burner phone and called the number they had given her once, twice, three times, and each time there had been only silence on the other end, no matter how much she begged and raged.
Then that tiny click that felt like the end of the world.
An hour later, when the black car had pulled up outside the apartment building, she had climbed in without asking any questions.
She feels herself on the verge of being stuck in a loop. I didn't know, I didn't know, I didn't know. I didn't mean to. "You, of all people, I need you to understand, I just—"