have you ever been fake for the sake of saving face? Who: Jon and Missy Where: News station When: Mid-morning
I don't care.
That was the mantra that Missy had set up in her mind when she left Nikita's house far too early that morning after leaving notes for both her and Kristen. It had stayed in place as she went to her own house and sat on the swing in the backyard, feeling a strange sense of nostalgia that sprang out of knowing that Marianne had sat on the swings in their backyard and that she had killed herself on those swings, trying not to think of anything else. Thinking of Marianne and what she had done was easier than thinking about anything like feelings. Feelings... she wanted nothing at all to do with them. She was pretending she did not have them and by the time the sun came up she had mostly convinced herself it was true. She had ducked into the house, taken the blood from Nikita's out of the fridge and filled the large cup that she always used for her morning coffee with it. If she was going to glamour away the fangs she did not want then she could complete the image that she was exactly the same as before by carrying around what everyone would just assume was her caffeine fix. So she was a little paler, she had never been strikingly tan to begin with, and she moved a little differently... no one was going to be looking at that. And there was even rain to help dampen her clothes and hair, keep people from wondering why she had not been sweating in what the weather said was a far too hot day.
I don't care about that either. But it was hard to get dressed when all she had to go off was what the newscaster said instead of how she felt. Actually, getting dressed had been harder than walking in and informing her boss that she was ready to come back to work. Tomorrow, in fact, and no she did not want to wait any longer. She had pulled out the 'you know what happened to my sister and on top of that I got sick, see how pale I am?' card and it had worked. They had counted it as her two weeks of vacation and that was that. Missy would have felt a degree of bad for the woman who had temporarily replaced her - the one who had sent her flowers - but... well it was her job and she had sent her flowers. What kind of person sent flowers to someone they did not know? Missy probably could have accepted them about two weeks ago, before her life had been ruined.
The hardest part about being in the station was the smell. Or smells. Missy was doing her best to not breathe even on reflex, but she needed to when she talked and everyone had something to say to her. Good wishes for Kristen, remarks on how she was finally back, teasing jabs about the large coffee cup that she was taking frequent gulps from. The blood helped, but it was cold and long removed from the body it had been held in. A little voice in the back of her head kept saying how much better it would taste and feel if she just got it straight from the source. Had she not seen how much happier Nik- I don't care. Missy's smile had faltered for a second, but she pulled it back on as Jenny finished telling her story about whatever important thing was happening in her life. "Glad to hear it, Jenny, but if you'll excuse me? I have to find Jon before I head home." Jon had been her cameraman since she came to Scarlet Oak and it was only fair that she be the one to tell him she was back instead of letting him hear through the grapevine. Did I even text him once while I was gone? No, probably not, Missy had spent most of the past two weeks pretending she did not have a phone. It only got her in trouble anyhow.
Ah, and there was that shock of red hair and - oh god his blood smells amazing. Missy knew without being told that Jon was B+ in that flash and, excepting the part where he did not have that tinge she had begun associating with the fae-blood she craved, she had to take another quick drink from her cup. The one that was starting to feel alarmingly light. "There's my favorite cameraman!" Missy declared, smiling brightly and shushing the voice in her head that screamed not to do that. She was glamoured and it was only a small one, she could hold it for quite a bit longer. The Australian even spread her arms out, that mantra firmly in place. She did not care that the last time she had seen Jon she had been alive. She did not care that she could hear his heart beating away. She did not care that she was only stood there because - I. Don't. Care. Years of pretending everything was fine for Kristen's sake were what kept her voice clear. "Guess whose back?"