For some reason – perhaps because, really, it was exactly the answer that Briony wanted – the little demon burst into a fit of giggles. “But I haven’t even done anything yet!” she declared, arms pausing in an open shrug with her palms angled towards the heavens. “Definitely too tiny to do anything when I was born… But I wouldn’t want to be my mommy either.” The last part came with a snort, partnered with no more than a moment of black clouding eyes that still laughed at the idea of being a parent. That was just silly. She was far, far too young for that. “Oh? How come? I kind of like them. But the one I lived in had a kitty to ‘keep all the little children happy’,” she said in an oddly musical but condescending tone that mimicked the lady who ran the place almost perfectly. She even included the air-quotes, and she hated air-quotes. “Don’t the other places?” In Briony’s head, if her – yes, her – orphanage was the way it was, then every other orphanage had to be the same. That was just how it went. In her head. “They are. The white makes you cuter,” Briony agreed with a nod, though she didn’t actually care what either of them looked like past them both being nine-ish. “Mine aren’t supposed to be pretty, I don’t think. My hands are always really cold too. I think I’m just supposed to be kind of creepy.” Except she liked creepy better than she liked cute. Cute only worked when it could be turned into creepy. Which is why we’re cute. “Um, a Vice? I think? Maybe an Advocate stealing the souls of every idiot at mass, but… No, I think he’s a Vice. Unless there’s a way to steal a bunch of souls en— en ma— all at once.” Stupid nine year old vocabulary. She needed to read more.
Nodding a little absently, Briony’s head tilted slowly to one side. “I can do that.” She remained ignorant to the way her eyes then flashed white. “Daddy will be pleased to hear I made a friend who doesn’t run away.” Because for some reason her adoptive parents thought that if she just connected with someone that she would… stop whatever it was she was doing. Since they didn’t understand that a lot of the time she was just existing, their hopes were sort of pointless. Anyway, she connected with a lot of people. Just not how they wanted. “How’s the electricity supply in your place? I’m technokinetic.” If it was electrical, it was a toy so far as Briony was concerned. And toys often unnerved people the most. Especially white noise on the television where there should be The Ring. That look she got from Bubbles didn’t amuse her, though, and she returned it with a pout that bordered on irritated. “Was just wondering.” And her tone smacked of impatience – until the roll of her eyes caught sight of the kid who’d been staring after the jump-rope, which she promptly held out toward her. “You want it?” Sure, the girl did, which gave Briony the perfect chance for a little skin contact as she handed them over. Or a lot, because she went and grabbed the girl’s hand while she looped the rest of the rope over her arm so she didn’t go and trip or anything. That would hurt. She looked good as a deer caught in headlights, though. Releasing her, she turned away from her and back to Bubbles, flexing the hand that now tingled with funny cold prickles and ignoring whatever that kid was doing. They never seemed to do anything back to her. “For all you know I won’t grow up either.” It took all her self control not to pull tongues.