Re: log: flash/felicity hang at the lab
Okay, so Marta had some shit bad. Girl wore it upfront, like it was a badge of honor but the boy who leaned against the tank and loved an alien whatever like it was his best buddy, like it would never let him down, like the alien had more going for it than his long-lost sister who'd done a whole lot of getting lost, as far as Felicity could tell - that boy? He wasn't giving out attention like leaflets at the mall. Flash had his own problems and Marta could wiggle all she wanted at the cracks.
She filled another test-tube and she sank it before they waded into backroom deals conducted over prison tables. Tequila took the edge off. "He wants life cushy," Felicity said flatly, and she didn't pump it full of derision or sarcasm or any -ism, it just was what it was. "He wants it back the way it was before. And he knows people on the outside. They could line it up, make it cushy. God, if they broke him out, I'd be in hock for a Botticelli or a Titian."
She smiled slow, buzzed-red as she looked at the alien. "Babe, I'm a walking bank account with practically a degree in art history. He gave me all the time I wanted."