sick and tired of the mess you made me Who: Nikita When: Morning Where: Nikita's house
Death warmed over: it was a good way to describe how Nikita was feeling this morning. She should have known that her birthday would offer no reprieve from problems. Though her night could have gone worse, much worse considering, it could have also gone better; she could have locked that door and then she wouldn’t have this sinking feeling in her gut like she owned Missy an explanation. Of all the people. Nikita had never been the type of person to apologize or even feel as though she had done something wrong, unless Silvia was involved. Part of her greatest headache today – aside from the hangover that had her head throbbing – was the warring between the side of her that was adamant she had done nothing worth excusing and the side of her that couldn’t get over the sense that what she had done with Kiara was wrong.
As she got into the shower this morning to rinse away all that remained of the night before, she made a vow to herself to never drink siren’s blood again, or at least none that was spiked with alcohol. This would make the second time that her indulgence had gotten her into a position she didn’t like and she would be damned before it happened again. And Missy. Missy always seemed to be at the center of it. Nikita didn’t know what that meant – actually, she refused to think about what that meant. Why did it always seem to come back to the blonde when she felt her loneliest? Why hadn’t she just pulled her gun out and ended this torment entirely the moment she saw her in Scarlet Oak? Temporary insanity, that’s why. If only it were that simple.
It was all too easy for her, perhaps disturbingly so, to give Silvia a smile as she sipped her large mug full of fae blood as though nothing were wrong. Nikita had been sincere about the new full disclosure aspect of their relationship, but that didn’t mean that she felt inclined to share the turmoil of her romantic life with the twelve-year old were. Maybe when Silvia came home from school, if things were still weighing heavy on her mind, she might try to talk with her, but just before she was dropped off was not the appropriate time.
And then she was alone, with nothing but the silence of the house to stand between her and her thoughts. She didn’t expect Missy to stick around after she stormed out last night, and the note that she stepped on when she opened the door to her office confirmed as much. For once, Nikita was happy for Missy’s avoidant tendencies – what would she even say to her in the first place? She stared down at the piece of paper in her hand, unsure of what to do with the information on it. So Missy was going back to work. That was good. Really. Enough time had passed since her turning that she could handle being around humans in mass, given that she kept herself full (and there was no reason for her not to, considering how much Nikita was spending on blood lately). And it was important to keep up the appearance that nothing had changed. She simply wished that Missy had mentioned to her beforehand that she was planning to go back to work today; it was the sire part of her that cared, nothing more.
Nikita crumpled the sheet of paper in her hand as she threw herself into the couch of her office. She looked around, wondering how long it would be before she could be alone in this room without memories of last night playing through her head. If only she had locked that door, then she wouldn’t even be concerned with such a thought. If only… Her laugh was more of a scoff as she ran her hands through her hair. It was a good thing that she wasn’t meeting with anyone today – she must have looked like the mess she felt. Nikita stood to walk over to her desk, trying her best not to look at the spot on the ground where Kiara had pushed her, when her eyes caught sight of it. The gold package was just sitting there, like someone had carefully placed it on the floor off to the side, not thrown it down in a fit of anger. She stopped, not only trying to decide whether or not to pick it up, but also imagining how differently her night may have gone had she not invited Kiara over. Nikita had not forgotten Missy’s words from the night she called, as much as she tried to keep them from her mind. No. That conversation was not one that she would let herself recall with any emotion aside from anger. Missy had lied to her all this time, making her believe that she wanted her dead. And if she didn’t before, she certainly does now. The only catch was that there was nothing either of them could do now; they were both too vital to the other’s survival and Missy had already called Nikita’s bluff where killing her was concerned.
She finally bent down and picked up the box, cradling it in her hands as she walked around to her desk chair. Once she sat, the present was placed on the desk where she could stare at it some more. Why in the world had Missy even given her a gift in the first place? It wasn’t as though the newly made vampire was on good terms with her. Tolerated: that was an appropriate word for how Missy regarded her. She came and went as she pleased, taking blood when she wanted, consuming everything that Nikita had to offer, so long as she didn’t have to actually interact with her. Sure, she was the one who had suggested this arrangement if it meant that Missy would agree to cooperate, but she had expected more. Why exactly, she had no clue. With shaking hands, Nikita reached out to pinch the golden paper and tear it away from the box. Inch by inch she worked the wrapping away until only the packaging remained. Then, like ripping off a band-aid, she opened the box and reached inside.
She was speechless as she looked down at the framed picture of the New York skyline. It was beautiful and perfect and—“Fuck you, Missy.” Nikita gripped the edges of the frame so tightly that it was a wonder the wood didn’t splinter. Her hands shook more furiously than normal as she fought the urge to hurl the picture across the room. Instead, she settled for slamming it onto her desk, face down. She stared at the back of the frame, as though she could set it aflame with the power of her rage. Only, Nikita didn’t really know who she was mad at exactly, or why. The only thing she knew for certain was that she couldn’t stay in this room anymore. In fact, she never wanted to be in it again. She stood up and stormed out the door, making sure to lock it behind her when she left.