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[versusnurture]

[Abigail knows, now, that it's only a matter of time. He's been allowed into the kitchen. He won't show his true face, but one way or another, he'll start working on people. Ripping them apart, one way or another. Making them see too much of themselves until they eat themselves up from the inside, or worse. And she doesn't know, even now, if she wants to help him or if she wants to run.]

[She's tired of being prey, tired of being helpless, tired of being alone and crazy, and most of all she doesn't want people to know - so why has she been telling them? Why did she tell Arkin, why did she let Zane find out? Why is Ben, who has power, letting this happen?]

[She is afraid, so she ties a bright blue scarf around her neck and makes deliberate appearances in several common rooms, the cafeteria, the greenhouse, and the library, a copy of Jane Eyre tucked under her arm. She's quiet when it's appropriate, polite or even chatty when someone approaches her. But there's something not quite right about the set of her smile, to those who know her very well or look very closely, and her heart beats like a rabbit's every time she sees someone new.]

for ben } thursday

[After Riddick finds her, Abigail thinks about the situation for a while. No, she doesn't trust Ben. She doesn't really trust anyone. But Riddick had at least one point: he seems to have decent motives. He seems to care. And maybe that means she's going about this all wrong. Maybe he's more Will than Hannibal. Or like Alana, even: smart and capable but with a part of him that can't see through what Abigail holds on the outside.]

[He has trouble, she knows, with touch. But he's sweet anyway. He cares.]

[She waits for him outside the kitchen, when his shift is over, hands twisting in the hem of her shirt, eyes on the floor.]

Comments

[versusnurture]

Yes. Everyone.

[She pulls a notebook to herself, not bothering to hide her curiosity, and turns it around with a frown. No, she's got nothing. She turns it back.]

You started talking to me. Which means it's up to you to carry on the conversation, as a gentleman.

[insolubleriddle]

I suppose I am obliged by my attire to be a gentleman.

[He slides his thumbs down his jacket lapels, before setting his hands back on the desk and dragging a pad over.]

A school has recently been formed on the barge. Have you considered joining it? Or, if not that, there are residents able to tutor you in preparation for college.

[versusnurture]

I'm already prepared for college.

[This without any indication of overconfidence. She just is. The list of schools she got into is public, if he's been watching her. It's pretty impressive.]

Why is that what you're interested in, of all things?

[insolubleriddle]

Do you have any good reason to cease preparations?

[There's no limit to what you can learn, after all.

To the second question, he offers a little shrug.]

Whitney Houston was right: children are our future.

[versusnurture]

I love it when men in green suits quote Whitney Houston at me.

[She rolls her eyes.]

Because I'm dead.

[insolubleriddle]

I love wearing green suits and quoting Whitney Houston. This works out well.

[He leans his chin on his knuckles.]

But you're conscious. You don't have to remain dead, or enter nihility. Do you think yourself irredeemable?

[versusnurture]

Yes.

[There's that, and that she wants to be redeemed but also very much doesn't. So, it's complicated.]