Trailer Park: Brett T & Sasha J Who: Brett & Sasha What: Sasha confronts the roaming locksmith. Where: Trailer Park When: As Sasha is relocating. Warnings/Rating: Some swearing. Complete.
Sasha didn't have a whole lot of stuff to pack up. Her rather sparse wardrobe took little time to fold and shove into her suitcase. The gun collection? That took a little more time as those required her to be careful. Some people favored diamonds. Some people cherished information. For the Jersey girl, weapons were her raison d'être. Specifically those semi-automatic, high-caliber rifles that the government was so keen on putting regulations on. They helped make her feel safe. After all, she stood about five-foot-nothing (lack of nutrients growing up), and was more than often underestimated for it.
The appreciation for the random act of kindness on the forum was about the sweetest she had been in a while. The meth heads that had broken in after wrecking her lock? Probably needed a hospital after meeting with Sasha's (recently acquired) blinding rage. Not that bitty hospital here in town, but a real medical facility. Sasha wasn't the type to depend on people, and kept herself fairly closed off from anyone, so when she had come back from picking up replacement screws to find that her lock had been changed alarm bells went off in the back of her mind. The stalker comments Jude and Eddie had made didn't make her feel any better, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind about it.
If a person was going to break in to her place, why would they replace the lock? Wouldn't it be easier to leave it busted? What was their motive? If this was one of those legitimate mythical good samaritans she had only ever heard about, she wanted to meet them. It was the equivalent of finding a unicorn being ridden around by a leprechaun to chase bigfoot.
But if we're being honest? Sasha didn't believe that for a second, and if this weirdo was going to break in, she was going to break them first.
Moving wasn't what Sasha had planned, but it was easy considering all of her worldly possessions fit into a suitcase. And if she was moving, she didn't want to live above where she worked, but there wasn't much else of a choice. She'd always been overly independent, which was handy growing up on the streets, but as she got older that independence started to manifest itself as loneliness. Not that she'd ever admit it. Even to herself.
The only thing that tipped her off was one of the neighbor guys that kept a watch out on her trailer, by very much not watching. Sasha knew those mannerisms all too well. She was a con-woman first and foremost, and being stealthy was a big part of that. To be fair, there was also a hunt for potential creepy stalker, but he didn't strike her as such. So when she was throwing her suitcase into the Bug and spotted him, the short little bohemian bundled up in far too many jackets to keep the cold away didn't hesitate to call him out. "Hey. You! This your handiwork?" She pointed at her recently fixed door, only the slightest bit snippy. She was trying to be sociable, but being friendly? Not a common occurrence where she came from.