Distract me
Characters: Evan and Mojo Setting: Morning, Block B
Evan's plan had been to sleep as long as possible, then get up and restart his day. After his run in with Edan, ending with the absolutely awesome him throwing her out, he wasn't entirely sure this day was worth it. At all. So, he'd gone back to bed.
Only he hadn't really slept. He hated the idea that he was being played, and while Edan seemed like she was a girl to be trusted, he just flat out didn't know if he could. Was she just unaware of how things played out? How they seemed on this end? Did she not care? Was it her just doing a fucking awesome job of fucking with his head, and he was too inexperienced with women to suss that out sooner than now? But then again, it wasn't like they had some long relationship. He'd had exactly two encounters with her not counting that morning. Which brought the total to a grand 'three'.
After grabbing a shower, the idea of sleep being dropped by the wayside, Evan stepped out of his room, sighing heavily as he leaned back against it. Fuck. This was just going to suck, all the way around.
It seemed as if Mojo wasn’t ever that hard to find, even when she wasn’t in plain sight. Granted, that was entirely her fault, but she never really seemed to stop singing to herself when she was alone. A hum or whistle, some melody was perpetual with her, and today was no exception. “...coming back to get you; I have to say goodbye to make amends,” her voice carried from the orchard and its’ rows of trees, gradually revealing Mojo as she stepped out. She’d loaded the front of her shirt with a few apples from one of the trees, both hands tenting the fabric and revealing just a hint of skin at either side of her stomach without actually showing her scar.
There was something vibrant in her smile as she walked and sang, looking from the trees to her bare feet in the muddy soil, then back up. “I’m not leaving this place unless I’m leaving with you,” Mojo crooned to herself, catching whatever words might’ve been next in her throat as she spotted Evan leaning against his door. Still pinching her shirt with one hand, Mojo was quick to let go with the other and give an impromptu wave, not bothering to aim herself his way. He’d been pretty averse to her zeal the last time they’d talked, which left her thinking she could spare him from it today, or at least leave it up to him to get in range.
Evan was first alerted to the singing, and he looked over, where eventually Mojo came into view. It was incongruous with the setting, knowing they were still technically imprisoned where they were, there'd been the violent storm the night before, but there she was, singing, barefoot, a little dirty. Really, it was more or less a great image, she cast there, with the apples in her shirt. It was enough to get the faintest trace of a smile out of him, as he saw her wave. "So on a scale of one to ten," he called in her direction. "Just how distracting do you think you could be for me right now?"
That was Mojo’s favorite kind of question, it so happened. Just hearing it had her give up any worries about how Evan might react, because dammit, he asked. She took a few more steps before stopping to look back his way, turning with her shirt held. “Just right now? Nine,” Mojo declared smartly, “Case in point.”
Fumbling both hands up into the apples, Mojo was quick but clumsy as she started tossing them one after the other. And for a shaky handful of seconds? She had it. Four full passes of completely untrained juggling, the last apple joining the others, and Mojo couldn’t keep it going any more.She had a rich laugh as she grabbed two desperately, dropping a third before Mojo clutched another and lost the final one. “Past that?” she called Evan’s way, bending low to retrieve one fallen apple as the other rolled away, “I make no guarantees. You look like you could use a.... twelve, maybe?”
He flashed a grin at the juggling. "Twelve would work for me." Evan told her, pushing off the door. He walked up to get the apple that had rolled farthest away, holding it out to her. "Nine was pretty good, though, so we could probably work the scale up from there." he added. "But truthfully, I'll take anything that isn't leaving me alone with my thoughts right now." Thus, distractions. Whatever form they came in.
“Well, twelve’s outside my expertise there, Asher. That dog won’t hunt,” Mojo teased as she grabbed her other apple, flashing a smirk at him. “And a scale up, hey? No pressure or anything.” She took a second to polish the apple he’d handed over before Mojo stuffed it into one of the seam-worn pockets of her jeans. Like she’d told Meg before, it would’ve been a laugh to see the people who ran this place shopping in thrift stores for her wardrobe.
Cleaning the other apple, Mojo tossed it back Evan’s way without warning, but without real force either. “So eat some breakfast, give me some context to work with. Whatever’s bugging you, we’ll just... go with the opposite,” Mojo suggested, shrugging before she bit into one of her own.
"You look like a girl who's comfortable with a challenge." Evan told her. "So, think of it less as pressure and more as taking the opportunity to push your own boundaries, to really dive in and achieve something." When she tossed him the apple, he caught it without any trouble, taking a bite. "Got an opposite for 'some girl's fucking with my head'?"
Chewing thoughtfully, Mojo shrugged again before swallowing. “That one’s actually kind of easy?” she answered with a note of humor, “It’s just me not doing that. I’m pretty good at it, even.” And it was a shame to hear he was having problems on that front, but not a surprise either. Mojo’d flirted with Reece, Reece had his thing with Susanna, Susanna... who knew?
It was why she’d drawn her own line yesterday, to avoid the conflicted moments. “How’s she fucking with you?” Mojo asked between bites. “Like hormonal, psychological, adversarial, what?” Because she had thoughts, but like Mojo had been taught? Things needed context, they needed... framing.
Evan looked her up and down, narrowing his eyes as he made a show of assessing her. "Fine. I'll accept that as a course of action." he conceded. Really, though, he just didn't want to have to sit by himself and think about everything else. Spending time with Mojo should take his mind off of things, even if it meant he focused on her for however long she opted to put up with him. She'd more than captured his attention upon their first meeting, so he was happy to roll with it a second time.
When she asked for specifics, Evan shrugged, taking another bite. "Sexual?" he suggested. "Maybe. Hard to tell, which is what's fucking with my head." he said. He glanced around, to see if there was anywhere they could sit in the shade and talk, or someplace that wasn't feeling so exposed, at any rate. "Pick a room, if we're having this conversation, I'd rather it wasn't out here."
“The greenhouse it is,” Mojo opted, turning on a heel to start across the courtyard. She liked the warmth, and it didn’t seem like there was a lot of traffic in there as it was. With the early-ish hour? It’d be quiet. “And yeah, I think I need to hear this if you can’t tell,” she agreed with that earnest, unhostile teasing quality. Though again? Not a surprise, given Evan’s apparent age now, versus when he’d been arrested.
Evan followed her, taking a few more bites of his apple, which he had to admit was good. It was kind of hitting the spot at the moment, and he hadn't even realized he'd been hungry. Apparently he kind of forgot to eat regularly when his meal times weren't specifically charted out for him. Something that was more than a little embarrassing to find out. He'd been on the inside too fucking long.
He hadn't been in the greenhouse before, and glanced around it, kind of liking the smell in there. It was all earthy, part of what he'd liked about being outside when it was raining, before. It was a scent he hadn't gotten in prison, and apparently he was taken with small details he'd not known he missed.
Once inside, he leaned his forearms on a raised wooden table, taking another bite and swallowing before he started. "Met this girl the other day. Edan. She was running away from some other chick who'd assaulted her. So, me not being the world's biggest asshole, I helped her out a little. Helped calm her down, that kind of shit. Which is fine. She was interesting, if a little intense. Then last night, she gets stuck over here. I see her, was in a good mood, so said hello. In my kind of fucked up way, I guess. Whatever. Anyway. Turns out she's terrified of storms. And again, not being the biggest dick on the planet, I didn't bug out immediately on her." He took another bite, focusing his attention on Mojo.
"Long story short, she gets really clingy, some guy who knew her dead twin shows up, she's still kinda clingy, I left her there with that guy, but gave her my bedding. Next morning, she shows up, and...I'd like to reiterate that I've had exactly two encounters with her, then the one this morning. So three, total. And she seems to just be...I don't know. Fucking hitting on me, half the time, like, borderline throwing herself at me, she's being all intense and clingy, and I just met her. Now I realize that a lot of people in my position wouldn't be second guessing this and would have just tossed her in bed and gone for it, but that's not really me."
“There’s some weird bits in all of that. Jagged edges,” Mojo said first, smirking over her shoulder at Evan as she paced a few idle steps along the nearest path in the greenhouse. She wasn’t going far, just listening to Evan talk initially and taking it all in, then looking back his way to match him to his words. It was fractured, like he was genuinely awkward in how to handle it. And for the cold mystique he had, or in spite of it more likely? That was adorable.
Mojo had a flicker of a smile at that thought, head shaking as she considered just what to touch on directly. “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, not seeing it makes it hard to call it, right? But...” Mojo trailed with a frown, starting on another apple and speaking around a small bite, “When I first met you, remember how you told me what you did? Showed me some damage?” He’d tried to spook her, more directly, but Mojo wouldn’t call it that. She’d have to admit that he came close. “Did she do that in these three times yet? Or is the intense cling maybe tied up in the conviction? I mean, we’re not our sentences or some shit, but we can’t ignore ‘em either.”
Evan stopped to consider her questions carefully. "What do you mean, exactly?" he asked, not quite certain he understood the question. Either way, he filled in more for her because she was right--it would be hard for her to assess anything with the broken version of the story he'd already given her.
"I just don't know what the fuck she's playing at." Evan said. "And if she's this clingy right now? Um, yeah, she needs to find someone else to cling to. Plus, it's slightly genuinely creepy, considering she knows I'm a murderer. Multiple times over, even, and she seems just like, okay with that. Like because I had a reason, that makes it fine." he said with an eyeroll. "Doesn't make me any less capable of shivving someone in the kidneys and watching them bleed out just to make sure the fucker's dead." he muttered.
He sighed, and dragged his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. I just feel like she keeps throwing herself at me, then denies it, when I call her on it. And I'm just...not up for something that isn't really clear cut. If I'd be up for anything at all. So, I wound up throwing her out of my room, because...fuck that noise." He leveled his gaze on her again. "Turns out I've got the same first name as her brother, too. Dead twin. So...I don't know. I don't really want to be some...outlet for massive damage."
“What I mean,” Mojo clarified slowly, keeping herself even and focused on him despite the shocking additions Evan had just shared, “Is that if there’s something in her background she’s tying to you, it’d be fucked up if she wasn’t saying. Like...” She didn’t want to make the example, but it was one she knew Evan would get. “Like if you met a girl in here with the same name as your friend, Corinne, she wanted to hang out, and you never filled her in? That’d be on this level.” Yeah, dead-twin connections and heroic gestures of comfort; Evan was fucked.
“But this is all, and I mean all of it, hypothetical bullshit,” Mojo stressed with a smirk, leaning against the edge of a row of planting beds. “I don’t know Edan, I’m stuck with a halfassed nickname for you, and you already call yourself fucked up on multiple levels. This? Is the shakiest conjecture.” But it had her smiling, and that at least meant Mojo was focused enough to roll with things.
“So what I’m hearing is that you’ve done this girl a good turn twice now, right? In three or four days, maybe? You share a name with her dead twin brother, creepy by the by, and in our first taste of freedom in years for some of us, it doesn’t seem like a double homicide on your record’s even slowing her down?” she summarized with a feigned huff of effort at the end of it all. “If I were a bitch? I’d say it sounds like she’s already built something up around you, sounds like significance.” And whether it was accurate or not, it was terrifying for Mojo to imagine. That would be pressure like Mojo’d never had to handle.
Evan nodded, getting what she was saying now. "I was going to make you work for it, but considering you're putting up with this bullshit right now...it's Evan." he said, gesturing to himself so she'd know he was giving her his name. "Just don't call me that when other people are around." he added, before moving on. "Double homicide, and three others when I was on the inside." he said. "And no, it doesn't really seem to make her want to back off. Even if it should, and I've told her as much. She seems nice, if a bit fucked in the head, and I wouldn't really want her hanging out with anyone like me. Which, by the way, I don't want you hanging out with anyone like me either." he said, looking at her again. "But I digress." He finished off his apple, then set the core on the table. "I just think she's all over the map. And while I don't think she's evil or anything, I do think she's...really heavily fixated, and really really fast. Which doesn't work for me. Especially when she's giving off such mixed signals."
“Evan,” Mojo repeated, lips pursing as she stifled a smile. It fit, though right now he didn’t seem open to anything that might sound positive. “And okay, quintuple homicide overall, point taken,” she went on with a shake of her head. Was it freaky? Yes, though so far Evan hadn’t made her think she could join the tally. Though every news article and segment always said how serial killers were so innocuous. “So with the telling her to stay away or back off, and giving her blankets and keeping her company when thunder scares here? That’s what I call the ‘Bonnie Tyler’ effect. You’re creating this image of an awesome dude, to her, who’s unattainable. That? Makes the ladies crazy, and I mean ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ crazy.”
Evan stared at her. And he absolutely could not keep from cracking a smile. He looked down, that smirk on his lips, and he shook his head at the 'Bonnie Tyler' effect thing. It was a reference he actually got. He even just maybe laughed, a tiny bit. Sure, it was little more than an exhale, but it was present. "With a side of 'Holding Out For A Hero' Crazy?" he put in there wryly. "Okay, fine. Say you're right, and I'm going to say you probably are. How do I stop that? Just...try really hard to forget I have any instincts to not be a total fucking asshole?"
Even if she felt a surge of pride at Evan’s reaction, Mojo buried it under a few bites of her apple, just grinning at him as she chewed. The downward glance and smile? That was real, that was authentic. He wasn’t an easy guy to even get that meager reaction from, but it was a good start if he’d wanted distraction from his problems. “You do strike me as a streetwise Hercules,” Mojo agreed sagely, “Now, stopping it? That depends on how willing you are to actually be an asshole, or at least act like one. Your best bet’s to call her direct on all of this, the cling and the weird name-share and the fact that offering basic human decency like blankets or company during shit weather isn’t an invite to get DNA everywhere.”
Which had her grinning wider as she finished, nibbling the last of the apple core and holding another up to Evan in unspoken offer. “That’s what I used to do, whenever it felt like someone was building up attachment before I even knew their favorite album or movie or last name or something.”
"Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not..." Evan said at the Hercules reference. He listened to the rest of what she said, another little smirk appearing at the 'DNA' thing. She definitely had a way with words. It was part of what he liked about her. Though lately liking people wasn't working out all that well for him.
"I made an attempt to call bullshit on things, and it just kind of got messier. I guess. I don't know. It's probably in her best interest to find someone else to spend time with, period. And for me. I bail. Things get fucked and I bail. I had a best friend, she's dead, it sucked, and I'm pretty sure getting involved like that with anyone again, on any level, friendship or otherwise, isn't a great idea for me, or anyone else involved. I might have run her off already, with throwing her out today." A darker look flickered behind his eyes. "Not that she wanted to go. She tried to stay, tried to..." he trailed off. "Doesn't matter. Anyway. Maybe she'll fuck off and none of this matters."
He was quiet a moment. "That happen with you a lot?" he asked. "I could definitely see it. People meeting you then just deciding 'holy shit, this is the girl of my dreams'."
“Well, maybe you should frame it differently,” Mojo pointed out, “To yourself and her alike. If you feel like you shouldn’t be with someone, which is totally normal for how long I think you’ve been locked up? That’s not something you should ever have to stress over, it’s your choice and someone making you feel pressured otherwise is garbage. But if you presented it less like you just can’t, which leaves some women feeling like they can be an exception or something, and instead like you actively don’t want to?” It was a ramble, she was hoping Evan was following along too, because Mojo felt like she had a point in there.
“If you can do that, then you’re asking her to show character. Either she’ll respect your feelings of discomfort and back off with the behavior that leaves you finding me a good distraction? Or she’ll keep pushing. One way, you’ll know she’s okay with just being a friend. The other? You get to see that her wants and hooks pull her more than not damaging someone else,” she explained at length, feeling satisfied with how her detached view of other peoples’ social cues actually helped, for once. “And me, the girl of someone’s dreams? Not so much. The girl who should move in after two weeks of dating? Frequently.”
"Eight years, three months." Evan provided for her. So she didn't have to guess. Yes, it had been a long fucking time. He listened to everything else, however, and was following. "From here, it just seems like things are hitting up way too fast. Or too intensely for the amount of time we've spent together. And then it seems like she does something then dials it back when I do call her on it...so..." he shrugged. "So, I don't want to play. I'll keep everything you just said in mind, though. Figure out an approach if I run into her again."
"And don't sell yourself short." he added. "You'd be a good distraction either way. Doesn't take me having a spinning mindset to think so." He gave another little hint of a smirk at her last bit. "I'm completely unsurprised at that. Let me guess. We're talking guys who pay for cigarettes in change, walk around in a perpetual cloud of smoke of one form or another, and who might get ever so slightly rubbed the wrong way if you know more about music than they do."
Evan got a warm roll of chuckles from Mojo at his assessment as she shrugged. “A few times in the past, yeah,” she agreed, “Not all of them though. There was a sculptor, Jill, she sounds kinda like Edan? Very intense, very fast. If I’d been less of a bitch with that bad news there’d be a bust of me in some gallery somewhere. And a bassist, trust-fund kid who talked like a beatnik. He was kinda a douche, in hindsight.” The same hindsight that let her see Evan redirecting their talk away from his issues with Edan. “But not as bad as the guys who had smaller... record collections,” she added.
“If she’s dialing back on you, that’s hedging her bets. It’s always leaving wiggle room to redefine what you’re doing. Be more of an asshole, Asher,” Mojo advised with a wink at his nickname, “Not so much that you feel bad later or make her cry or something, but enough that she’s gotta stick with her decisions. Assholes never leave any confusion about when something crosses a personal line, it’s why it works for me. And sometimes when you lay out how whacked a sped-up timeline like this one is, that’s when the other person realizes they’re going a little nuts.”
Evan was at once surprised and really really not that a woman was involved in there too. He could see it. It just hadn't been his first thought. Which probably said something about him, and his rather limited view of the world more than anything. Which had him getting a little blindsided by the truth of it. He was out of touch. Kind of epically so. He'd been put away when he was a teenager. He was in his mid twenties, now. People would expect him to behave like a normal person his age, and he just didn't have the experiences under his belt that were necessary for that.
It was a nearly suffocatingly isolating feeling. It manifested in him physically drawing back, the animation in his features dying with that retreat, small though it was. He was still listening, still taking in everything she said, but there was another layer of distance between them, at least on his end. It meant even if normally he would have smiled a little at her comment about the smaller 'record collections', this time it was absent. He wound up answering with a nod. "Understood." he told her, figuring she was right. It all sounded logically sound, at any rate. He couldn't really find flaws in it. "So far, with everything I say, she seems to come back to her thinking I'm...I don't know. Special, or some shit." He shook his head. "Whatever. Doesn't really matter. Thanks, though. For the advice, for the distraction."
As someone who’d spent so much time watching others from outside of their lives, Mojo had gotten good at picking up the subtleties. Sometimes you could lose them when you were one-on-one, but at the fringes? She never did. And eventually she’d learned to catch them even when she was engaged, like now, which meant that there wasn’t one bit of nuance about Evan’s retreat that she missed. “...the fuck was that?” she asked, blatantly calling him on it the moment Evan had stopped speaking.
“Not the shit about her thinking you’re special and you not getting why or how she gets there, I processed that,” Mojo clarified, “I mean this.” She waved a hand at him errantly, as if pointing out the shift she’d just watched take place. “Because you just went from ‘this shit bugs me and I need to figure it out’ to ‘it doesn’t matter and here’s the expected thanks’. And that, Evan Asher, is bomb-grade bullshit,” Mojo chided, “So spill, call it my payout for the distractions. Or the apple. Or hell, call it one I owe you for later, I don’t really care, just... y’know, fill me in?” Which became a slightly plaintive question at the last words, something gentler to acknowledge that she knew what she’d seen, and had reason to press Evan about it.
Evan at least stopped the retreat, though it took him a good minute or so before he said anything. "Just...ever stop and get hit with the realization that you're out of your depth?" he asked. "Just happened with me. You mentioned a girl in there. And it was surprising. And it shouldn't be. It's not like it's abnormal, or I've got issues with it, or anything of the kind. It's fine. But still. Just...highlighted for me that I'm behind."
“Dude, I’m living in that realization,” Mojo pointed out, waving at the greenhouse around them. “Which I doubt you meant it like that? So... no, not quite like I think you do. I mean, I was in for like two months, you did eight years and a month more than that. No way can I really get how it is for you.” The world had changed without him, and just as crucial? Evan had been skipped in plenty of milestones that were more personal, if Mojo considered how her life had changed from sixteen onward.
“But isn’t that the kind of thing that being here can help correct, if you want it to?” she asked intently, abandoning her lean to sit right down on the floor with her back to a planting bed. “I mean, if you think about it there’s not much sense in convicts like you and me getting put in the same place. Different backgrounds, offenses, sentences, dangly bits, you name it. But maybe it’s a chance for you, yeah? Like you can catch up on what you missed, decide how you feel about the shape of the world around you. Maybe you’ve got a chance to fill in the gaps however you want here.”
Which sounded really optimistic to her, and Mojo knew Evan didn’t go in for that, so like always? Humor was needed for padding. “And for the record? I didn’t mention a girl, I mentioned a woman,” she stressed with a grin, fingers held up as Mojo traced an hourglass shape in the air. “I used to tell Jill to stop smuggling loose marble out of the studio in her butt pockets, she had such an ass...” she joked zealously, chuckling a little at herself.
"This isn't the real world, though. It's some...bastardization of daycare for problem children. And not only that, but I think there are some things you can't actually fill in. Sometimes, something is either there, or it isn't, and by now?" He shook his head. "I'm twenty three. And I stopped really learning anything about the world at seventeen. Possibly before then, if you count the time leading up to the murders, since there was a long time there where I learned nothing but really fucking harsh shit about the world and everyone in it. But it still doesn't make up for everything else. I felt isolated before, but right now? I feel more isolated than I have in years."
What did you say to that? How did anyone make a point in the wake of what Evan was admitting? Mojo liked to pride herself on her uncrushable spirit, but here and now? It was a close call between it and Evan’s bleakness, and there didn’t seem to be any words that could turn the tide. “You don’t want to hear what I think of that,” she eventually offered, “And I don’t even want to say it, because I know that saying it without being where you are? Makes it trite, and cheap, and comes off like my perspective should just magically apply to everyone even when I know it doesn’t.”
But with that disclaimer out? Why not? “But I hope you don’t give up on feeling something else, even if it’s just... a little less isolated. I mean, it’s not me saying things’ll get better or that you’ll learn to love again or anything like that? I just think it’s stupid to write off the possibilities early, and dude? It is early. Whether you like to think of it like that or not, you’re only twenty-three. And however many years you have left, whether you spend them in prison or in here or on a beach in Cancun, it takes some twisted-ass arrogance to just decide you know how they’re going to play out,” Mojo vented, somewhat actually scolding in her tone, just for the presumptuousness.
“You stopped learning? Start again. Find something that’s less harsh, don’t expect it to negate the harsh shit or the ugly fucking abscesses of the world that took your friend away from you, but don’t just quit either. Don’t just.... don’t be a living fucking shadow who remembers how to laugh sometimes, then feels bad for it later,” she went on, voice strident even if it was reined in for volume. “You’re a decent one, Asher. And maybe it won’t make you feel less alone, but knowing you in here? Does that for me. Makes me less alone.”
"You're not wrong." Evan said, feeling like he needed to give her credit, because she wasn't. "It is stupid to write everything off. It's not necessarily like I'm fully doing that. I'm just looking around, taking stock, and seeing a picture that's pretty desolate. And you know what? Maybe it should be. Maybe part of me thinks this is bullshit, my being here at all. I was supposed to be killed for my crimes, and what--I could get a free pass, because some bleeding hearts want to play 'let's all get along'? Doesn't really seem fair." he said.
He studied her, assessing before he continued. "I would never expect anything to negate anything else. Shit happens. Just like the awful parts don't erase anything good that went on beforehand." He looked down. He didn't like that he liked the sound of that from her--the part where he made her feel less alone. If he wanted to get analytical about his own behavior, he'd opted to talk to her, opted to get personal, on one level or another. He liked her. And the flipside of that was because he liked her, he didn't really want her hanging around with someone like him. He wasn't sure how to articulate any of that, however, and in the end chose not to. That didn't mean it wasn't clear he was leaving a lot unsaid.
It might’ve been a cheaper sentiment if Mojo had expanded on it, if she’d shared the idea that everyone here worked into that. Reece and Meg and even Susanna, they created some kind of foundation that let Mojo believe in the facility, even when she didn’t entirely trust it. But they were both withholding, apparently; and she was better at hiding it than Evan it seemed. “Do you really still believe in ‘fair’?” she asked quietly, drawing a knee up towards her chest and wrapping both arms around it. “And if you did, what would that say about this place? If it’s not fair, then some of us are getting fucked. If it is? Like you said, free passes for people who’ve done some damage...” Because she’d never think of trivializing what he’d done, the lives he’d taken. Evan knew he was dangerous, and Mojo wasn’t going to go thinking he was wrong about himself.
"I don't believe in 'fair'." Evan told her. "But that doesn't mean that I don't hold myself to certain standards." he explained. "I don't have to contribute to the whole 'the universe is fucking unfair' thing." he added. He also didn't quite like watching her curl up like that, a defensive posture even if it wasn't completely overt. He walked over a little closer, carefully gauging her reaction if there was any at all. "As for this place...I don't know. I think some people are the types that would be perfect for it. People who shouldn't be in prison as long as their sentence in the first place, or people who aren't going to be a danger to themselves or others once they were out. So on some levels, I get it. On others...I think it's a clusterfuck waiting to happen."
“You play fair even when everyone else is cheating,” Mojo summarized for him, leaning in to rest her cheek on her knee as she smiled at the idea. “I’d say that philosophy? That’s the sort that earns at least consideration for what they’re offering us. Maybe some of us are bad choices for this place, but we don’t know why we got picked, right? All we know is that if you really don’t think you belong? You can ask to go back, and they’ll probably pull you.” Which got a little crease of tension in Mojo’s brow as Evan moved closer, not stemming from him in the least.
By now, she wasn’t directly spooked by him any more. He could probably freak her out if he wanted, but it wasn’t reflexive any more. No, this came more from the fact that in some cases (like Dominic’s), the admins didn’t even need a request to pull someone out. “But whatever, I know I spit a lot of posi-shit? Even if I do, I can see the clusterfuck clustering up, same as you. I’m stuck here though, yeah? Might as well find the non-fuckers so I know who to kick it with when everything goes dick-shaped.”
Evan closed the distance, and sat down next to her. "Can't say you don't have a way with words." he told her, a light thread of amusement underlying his tone. He sighed, leaning his head back. "So, assuming everything goes sideways, who is it you are planning on heading towards first?"
“You should hear what happens when I have a beat to work with,” Mojo joked as he settled next to her, “It’s like Eminem with tits.” She flashed a brighter grin his way, raising her head up a bit as Mojo took in what had happened. Him closing distance on his own, voluntarily settling in close? That was a trusting gesture. “And if-slash-when things go bad? Carmel, definitely,” she answered first, “She knows how to beat ass and keep me fed. Don’t know if you know her, though, or who you might know in here... my own list isn’t huge.” And decidedly smaller if she considered the odd terms she’d left things on with Reece. “I know a few of the decent ones, at least.”
He nodded. "Carmel's good people." he said, approving of that choice. "You happen to be carrying anything to defend yourself with?" he asked. "If you aren't, you should be. At all times."
Mojo made it halfway to an incredulous expression before she realized that Evan was right, but still, halfway meant her eyebrows had gone up and a smile was turning into a laugh when it hit her. “Apples?” she suggested lightly before shaking her head. “I, ah... dude. I am not the person who’s going to throw down jailhouse-style. Closest I’ve come to a fight was headbutting some guy at a concert after he copped a feel, I think I’d be a danger to myself with whatever I’d be carrying.”
"Don't look at me like that." Evan told her. "I'm serious. And just because you aren't planning on joining in any brawls doesn't mean trouble won't find you. In a place where people can wander around doing whatever the fuck they want, unsupervised, you need to at least take a little precautionary action. Like carrying something that'll fuck up someone's day if it gets shoved between their ribs."
“No, I know you are,” Mojo assured him quickly, managing to push the last traces of humor off her face, “I get that. It’s a serious risk here, and I think part of me knew that before, even. But the louder part wouldn’t let it get incorporated, like it was easier just kicking around and acting like the violent shit happened at some other secretive facility full of convicts who’re forced to be experiments.” Even without a grin, she never really stopped. “But however much I knew, I’m seriously not sure I could fuck someone up like that. What... what would I even carry? Just like a kitchen knife or something?”
"I wouldn't say a kitchen knife." Evan said, shaking his head. "Maybe an awl, or a chisel." he mused. "As for whether or not you'd be able to, people would be really surprised what they could pull off if they thought their life was in danger. Hell, you're the one sitting here telling me I need to not give up. And that's just mental bullshit. Think of it as just the same mechanism, just on a different level. Besides. There's a few easy things you could remember that would probably not be fatal, but would buy you time to haul ass."
“You mean like an adrenaline situation?” she asked intently, thinking that was how it sounded. And Mojo got that; she’d been in one of those and knew how differently it made the wiring work in her head. “And okay, okay, no quoting me to me. It gets weird,” Mojo deflected with a smirk, stretching her legs back out as she relaxed a bit and focused on the talk. “What kind of easy things? Cockpunching, if it’s a guy?”
"Well, you can always do that anyways, but no." Evan said, smirking faintly. It died right away. "I mean like slicing a hamstring. Snapping a collarbone. And if you can get behind someone and get an arm around their neck, you can drop someone in a ridiculously short amount of time."
She didn’t want to cringe at the idea of slicing someone in any way, and Mojo did her best to keep herself even as Evan talked, nodding at his suggestions. But there was some widening of her eyes and a tension in her jawline that spoke of how uncertain she felt about being able to do this. “I don’t think I could cut somebody like that,” she admitted with another shrug, this one vaguely defeated.
“But the other things, the collarbone and choke out and shit? Show me how sometime, I’ll do my best to figure it out. And maybe dig up a screwdriver or chisel or something to carry with me, too.” Because that was good advice, and it had Mojo wondering how many others here were already doing it. “What do you carry?” she asked then, because by this point? It was almost a given that Evan had a weapon on him.
"Nothing." Evan said. "But I've done a lot of fighting, unarmed in the first place, and I'm still standing. Violence is pretty easy for me. So I guess I don't feel like I need to carry something, I could probably take care of myself without, and I don't want to give anyone an excuse to try and start shit. I'm sure there are some guys here who would take issue with me carrying something potentially lethal. But with you, it's just common sense."
Maybe she was wrong about not being easily spooked any more, or at least off-target. Because once again, it wasn’t Evan directly so much as what his words implied. He was lethal, others here had to be too, and if shit got started? Mojo wouldn’t exactly pose much threat to someone on a rampage. “Yeah, I guess I’ve spent all the time here so far just feeling like it was an upswing, y’know? Like, even after people put their convictions on the journals, I disassociated it or something,” she mused quietly, “And I guess that even if I never needed to use it, having something to fight back with is good. Better than needing it and not having it. Plus I want to say someone in here’d mentioned doing self-defense classes or something...”
"I think something like that got said on the journals, yeah." Evan said, thinking he'd spotted that when he'd been reading back entries on the journals. "I get the dissociation thing. Probably works better for socialization." he noted. "Just don't let it get you too complacent." Pushing himself to his feet, he offered a hand. "C'mon, let's go look in the shop, or whatever the fuck it is. I'm sure there's something in there that'll work for your purposes."
“Complacent?” Mojo balked, “I’m the one who never closes her eyes around here. Sure, maybe for less wary reasons than you, but I catch a lot.” It was a tool for adapting, something Mojo had learned only after being dumped into a permanent city setting and realizing she had to survive. And she was good at it.
Reaching up, Mojo’s hand clasped Evan’s forearm instead of his waiting hand, a hiking and climbing habit that gave a moment’s feel of her wiry strength as she hauled herself up, stepping back to give him a bit more space. “And I’m pretty sure I haven’t even seen this shop or whatever yet,” she added with the bit of distance, reaching up to push loose hair behind either ear, “So lead on, I’m down with an adventure day.”
"Yeah, I'll bet you do." Evan said about her catching a lot. He could definitely see that. Either way, however, he headed out of the greenhouse, and headed for the shop. Walking in, he glanced around, mostly looking for tools. Which weren't difficult to find, really. There was a tool bench with a peg board above it, tools set neatly where they were supposed to go. He started looking them over, glancing at the car for a few long seconds.
“Well shit,” Mojo muttered in surprise as she followed Evan in, realizing that despite what she’d just said, she clearly didn’t catch enough. Not when there was a car and work bay to keep it in over here. “All we need now is an off-ramp out of here, hey?” she asked with a grin, looking from the car to Evan as he studied it. It was an interesting diversion to supply, an unexpected companion to the greenhouse and orchard, the activity and music rooms and everything else; like the people in charge were trying to quantify everything they might want here.
Evan grabbed a flathead screwdriver, and started looking to see if there was a chisel anywhere. There probably wouldn't be one, but he could always look. He glanced back over his shoulder at her with a faint smirk. "Think we'd get stormed if we started building a ramp?" he asked. "Or would we wind up being the toys that fall out of the barrel like in that Twilight Zone episode?"
“Never got to see much of that, actually,” Mojo admitted, shrugging as she turned to start examining the room more. “TV is kinda the big thing I missed out on? Movies, I caught up okay. Music and books, knee-deep in ‘em my whole life. But it sounds like a fucked up twist, so let’s hope it’s not that,” she insisted with a grin aimed back at Evan. “And a ramp? I think we could pull it off, but there’s already someone starting fires in here without big wooden struts to tempt them,” she pointed out before reaching for a set of electrical probes, all fine-pointed and gradually growing thicker with their increasing size.
"Corrine kind of loved that shit. So, there were many marathons at her house." Evan said. "Anyway, there was this one episode, where there's this blank room. And there's a few people in there, all kind of strange. Like a clown, a ballerina, a soldier...and they're trying to escape. In the end, it turns out they were toys. The escape they make is just a doll falling out of a charity toy barrel. It was weird. But it kind of fits with my state of mind lately, I guess. My sense of reality seems shakey, considering the circumstances." he said, leaning back against the bench, screwdriver gripped in one hand as he tested the edge. He watched her pick up the probes, and thought that that looked like a good answer. Plus, maybe it was just nice to see her participating.
It went a bit beyond participating as Mojo slipped one of them from the case that kept the probes together, frowning thoughtfully at it. Even without words, her train of thought seemed clear and obvious as she regarded the bit of plastic and metal. It was small, small enough to hide most of it in a closed hand, and the point was fine indeed... something she noticed as she turned it to let the tip poke between her knuckles like a little claw, then again to hold it point down.
Mojo tucked it into a pocket and slipped it free swiftly, scowling as she jabbed the base of her thumb in the draw. She was trying to consider every aspect, obviously; the weight of it, the way it would be gripped and used, how conspicuous it might be versus how quickly she could get it. “So... do I need more than a few inches to stab with?” she asked, looking up from her own studies to find Evan watching her. “And could I make that sound worse?” Mojo added with a laugh, aiming her smile down at her feet to distract from the awkwardness of being studied.
Watching Mojo intently as she tested things out, he felt the faintest pinch of being unsettled. Mostly because she didn't look clumsy with anything. She looked at home with it, in her consideration, in her movements, her grip, everything. It didn't look to him like someone who'd never handled a weapon before. He said nothing about it, of course, but he noted it in his mind, most certainly.
"Depends." he answered, a faint half smirk appearing at her joke about her own wording. "On both counts, there. But depends on where you'd be going for, and how strong the tip is." he answered. "I mean, if you're stabbing someone in the eyeball, there isn't going to be that much resistance. If you're stabbing through jeans into muscle, then it's going to take more force in general..."
“Yeah?” she asked, the smile dimming considerably at Evan’s advice. “That’s not something I’d think about. Stabbing through jeans and shit,” Mojo shared, shaking her head at the idea. “Mostly I’m just trying to figure out if I can carry one of these and not stab myself through my pocket or something? My weapon experience stops with a paring knife and an imaginary customer,” she confessed, not quite getting a smirk out before speaking again. “And seeing what happened to that pedo when I was in lockup...” That had been a practical demonstration of using a weapon, no doubt.
Where did the scar come from? Was on the tip of his tongue. But he didn't ask, even if he still very much wanted to know. "The movies always make it seem really easy to cut through clothes, but unless everyone of those people are carrying sharp scalpels..." he trailed off. "Move around with it. Walk around, sit down, jump, climb the bench here, see if it moves with you." he instructed. "And while you're at it, what did you witness?" There was ever so slightly a change in his voice when he asked the last question.
Those instructions came at the perfect time, because following them gave Mojo a chance to not answer. She slipped the electrical probe into a front pocket like Evan had suggested, walking a few paces back and forth with a little extra swing to see if there was risk of being jabbed. And maybe she was stalling as she returned to the work table she’d found them at, turning and boosting herself onto the edge of it in another test. “She was already dead when I saw her,” Mojo answered at last, eyes hovering off of Evan, somewhere between where he stood and just above her own knees.
“Whoever got her did it during showers. Used a fucking toothbrush. One of the guards told me they’d seen it before?” she explained quietly, slightly distant. “I guess you can put plastic wrap on the bristles, melt it on there, then file the melted shit until it’s got an edge. The guards called ‘em ‘rips’.” She looked up then, reaching to her collarbone to touch one side, tracing her fingers up past her jaw, behind her ear. “Whoever got her pulled their rip from here to here... she didn’t even have a chance to scream before she was bleeding out.”
Evan watched her as she spoke, even if she wasn't looking in his direction. And what she had to say clinched it even more in his head that she needed to not hang around with him. But he supposed there was an instant little killswitch out there now. All he had to do was maybe drop a detail or two about his own prison murders. The situation was even along the same lines. He wound up saying nothing, just giving her space to say anything more, if she wanted to.
“I heard later about what she’d done,” Mojo eventually said, looking back down and chewing at her lip faintly. “Like, at first all I knew was ‘oh shit, dead lady in the shower’? And when I heard... I mean she hurt kids, Evan. And... and maybe I didn’t ever need to see how she died like that, but it was fucking hard to keep feeling bad for what happened when I thought about that.” It was another ramble, an out-loud exploration of her own headspace.
“And it was totally fucked to think that in this case, the people behind bars probably had better answers to shit like the dead pervert than the system that put them there.” Which seemed like a warped line of thinking, and clearly Mojo wasn’t convinced of it. But as of yet, she hadn’t found any answers or clarity, and somehow doubted that hanging out with a quintuple-murderer would change that.
Or maybe not, after she elaborated. Still, it was different to not feel bad someone was dead, and to pal around with someone who took it upon themselves to do shit like that. In the end, he shared anyhow, not sure how she'd react. "People who hurt kids don't fare well. I was the reason they didn't, in three cases. Two were pedophiles. The last was some guy who'd killed a kid. Guess I kind of decided they didn't get to keep breathing the same air as me. Or anyone else."
She couldn’t blame him, not with what Mojo had just confessed to feeling. More than the lack of guilt, there was the disconnect there, the knowledge that he’d killed only existing in an abstract way. Really, Mojo didn’t need or want it solidified. “It’s that line,” she agreed quietly, “Or that’s what my cellmate said; that even with people who’ve killed and stolen and done all kinds of horrible shit, there’s a line. And when someone in general pop crosses it, it’s like a pack of wolves dealing with an intruder.” If Evan hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve. Not that that made it easier to keep looking at him without wondering how he’d done it.
"Pretty much. For me it's just..." he paused, glancing away from her for a moment as he considered how to word things. "...I'm a cynic. You know that. I kind of hate most everything the world has to offer. I think it's a shitty place, full of shitty people, and nine times out of ten, if something can go severely sideways, it will. If someone sees an opportunity, they take it, even if it's massively fucked up. But children? They aren't there yet. And it's bullshit that anyone takes something innocent and ruins it like that. It's not fair. And yeah, again, I know. I know the world isn't fair, and I don't believe in 'fair' anyhow, but that's how it feels to me. Just...that it isn't fair. It's...offensive."
“I think it’d be worse, dealing with that when you’re a cynic,” Mojo observed intently, slipping off the work table and patting at her pocket to feel how her possible weapon was sitting. “When you’re not, yeah you probably get burned a lot more by the fucked-up parts of the world, but you’ve also got things to rally back with. And when you are...”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, slipping the probe free and setting it back on the work table, then folding her arms across her stomach. “I don’t think much would hurt more than remembering that the world can get lower than the filth you’ve already seen,” she told him, eyes never leaving Evan. “That people can be worse, take more, care less, leave behind wrecks who’ll do the same in time or just burn out early. Knowing the world isn’t fair doesn’t mean you don’t want it to be, even if it’s just for kids. Even if you know it’ll stop for them too.”
She wasn't wrong. He didn't say anything aloud, just kept his eyes on her. His agreement there was present, even if he said nothing, and didn't give any outward sign of it. It was merely in his posture. She was also right about there being no fallback point, no place to go even in your own mind that made things suck less. The end result was the world just kept getting darker, one shade at a time.
Smiling faintly and without humor, Mojo turned to reclaim her improvised weapon, slipping it back into her pocket before she started across the shop, closing on Evan. “This isn’t what you need right now Asher,” she pointed out to him, “I mean, I like talking with you even when I don’t like the talk itself? But you wanted distraction, and this is worse than what you were looking to ignore. And... and I don’t have anything against it, either. Can’t give you my memories that hold off the shittiest parts of what I’ve seen, even if I wish I could. I like when it’s obvious that you’re not wherever you are right now, even if I think it’s only ever temporary.”
How could it ever be permanent with his past? With willing murders, ones he was unrepentant for, and a loss that he still seemed to mourn? Mojo didn’t think she’d ever do much more for him than the fleeting grins. “At least you only believe in nine times out of ten,” she added softly, daring a little smile and shoulder-shrug, “That means there’s one in ten that’s worth hoping, even if the odds suck.”
He noted she'd called him Evan earlier, and went back to Asher now. His eyes tracked her movement, wondering how close she was going to get. "I suppose there's the one time out of ten." he said. "Not sure I've seen evidence of it, but my life wasn't completely fucked up before everything went to hell, so there's at least the idea that occasionally, I might be wrong." he told her. "But you're right. This is worse than what I was asking to be distracted from in the first place. So does this mean you're going to attempt distraction in a different form?"
She was switching between the two names easily enough, trying to emphasize one or the other if it was more sincere or joking, but really Mojo wanted to be sure she’d keep it right if and when she saw him among the others. “I could try juggling again? Except everything in here is either sharp or heavy,” she pointed out, stopping a good ten feet off with the memory of Evan talking about Edan and her tendency to get right up in his business. “I am open to suggestions, as long as they’re not too lecherous. Already had to address that once, I’d really love if I could make it a few days before repeating it,” she shared with a steadier grin.
"So that'd be a no to testing out the back seat?" Evan teased, eyes ticking to the car then back. "Who's already been barking up your tree?" he asked, figuring that was as good a subject as any for distractionary purposes. Maybe if he heard about other people's love lives or lack thereof, he'd feel slightly better. Or not. Who knew.
“The back seat?” Mojo scoffed dismissively, “Boy, please. Do you do ballet in a broom closet? Some things need space to be done right. Or at least they need a lack of mildew-reeking car seats.” At least he was willing to work with her and try to lighten the mood, and it was clear that Mojo welcomed that. “His name’s Reece, and honestly he’s a good guy,” she answered then, silently hoping that he was, and that this wasn’t along the lines of Evan’s warnings about risky people in here.
“I was dumb and wound up one night, and I kissed him? Spur of the moment kind of thing,” she admitted, “And he pretty clearly decided that meant we’d be having a slumber party eventually? And yeah... no. I’ve still got my own shit to sort out, and I knew I shouldn’t have done that to begin with. So I told him that, and I figure I’ll have to tell him again sooner or later.” For now she hoped they could keep things platonic, but Reece was a guy, and Mojo knew how guys worked usually. Evan, at least, seemed to have issues similar to hers(albeit far worse) and that would hopefully keep the problem from cropping up with him.
Evan had to flash a little bit of a grin at her comment about needing space to do things right. The grin said he had commentary he could add to that, but he didn't. It was also possible that a tiny part of him was thinking that whoever Reece was, was lucky for the kiss, but that definitely didn't reach articulation. Instead, other instincts kicked in. "Let me know if he forgets. You can always direct him my way, if he pushes. Promise I won't kill him, but I could always make sex the last thing on his mind for a few weeks."
“Is that the system we’re going to adopt here?” Mojo asked expectantly, “I distract you from emotional problems, you offer to physically solve my social ones?” She wandered a bit closer with those words, still shy of arms’ reach but accommodating a softer tone of voice. “It’s not a bad offer, but I’m cool with just hanging out, too. I mean, I’m pretty sure I can handle Reece, and if I can’t then I’ll let you know? But the weird genital threats aren’t going to be the reason I track you down in the future.”
"I don't know." he told her honestly, watching her eyes as she got closer, and he made no move to create more distance. "If I had my way, you'd wander back off, and not talk to me again." he admitted. "I like you. I don't want you hanging around with anyone like me. Which includes me, obviously." he continued. "With Reece, I just would worry. So, I have to put it out there that you, who has already assured me that you're not confident you'd be able to do anything to defend yourself, have someone around who'll knock someone into the dirt if they aren't on the level with you." he said. "Also, I never said anything about genital threats. You beat someone hard enough that they're pissing blood and shitting teeth for a few days, they aren't going to be up for getting pelvic with anyone for a while."
“My bad for conflating severe beatings with severe genital beatings,” Mojo faux-apologized, smirking at Evan with the words, then stuffing both hands in her pockets. It wasn’t defensive, but it was a bit of a cautious poise she adopted, as if bracing for some measure of bad news. “Look, Evan, if you don’t want me to talk to you again? I won’t. I like you too, but I can already tell that you’ve got a full plate going. And I wouldn’t feel right taking any of your time if I added to it instead of helping to wear it down. So if you think there’s nothing good in us hanging out? Say so, I’ll bail. I’ll even bail with a promise to let you know if I’m in trouble,” she assured him, managing to meet his gaze evenly. And it was clear in the bright blues of her own eyes that Mojo was serious in the offer. “But if there’s any reason you might want to do this again? Even just to stress-dump to me? Then leave who I hang out with to me, okay? At least as far as you. I won’t have a problem telling you to get fucked if and when you cross the line.”
"You aren't adding to stress, or anything." Evan told her, not wanting her to be confused on his reasons for things. That was actually pretty important to him. That she not be under the misconception that it was her, or that she was somehow adding to the shit pile that was already weighing him down. "That's not why I wouldn't want you around me. It isn't you. Or, not like that, at any rate." he said, sighing as he tugged his fingers through his hair. "You seem like a decent person. Could be wrong, but so far, I like you, you're funny, you're interesting, I like talking to you. You seem like one of the people in the world who doesn't suck. And I know me. I know how I get. Or, I think I do. Either way, I don't really want to experiment on you just how badly I'll fuck up someone else, with the black hole of fucked up that is my psyche. I wouldn't really want to do that to you. I'm sure you wouldn't like that idea either."
She had a smile for him at that, a smaller, sad expression Mojo fixed on Evan somewhat knowingly. What he was describing about himself? She understood far more than he could’ve anticipated. Mojo’d been raised around a mind like Evan was describing. “Try not to think of knowing me as an experiment, then,” she suggested, “Maybe just call it what it is; knowing someone? Having a friend again? I’m guessing you haven’t tried saying you did since you went in. And... and whether it’s me or someone else, if you can do that and not question it or doubt it or wait and wonder how you’ll break it into sharp little pieces? That black hole might suck a little less.” Yeah, it never hurt to finish with some wordplay, and Mojo knew it as she smirked a touch wider.
"And you would get what out of this?" he asked, watching her. He wasn't quite sure yet what direction he was going to go in. Desire versus practicality were warring in his head. The offer there was one he wanted, even if he thought it was an atrociously bad idea. But maybe it was simply being around females again that had kicked him a little, emotionally. He'd always connected better with them than males, and she was right. He hadn't had a 'friend' since he'd been put away. Though really, it was even earlier than that. Some analytical part of him recognized that it was just a human drive, people were social by nature. He just also still considered him a lost cause, on probably every front that mattered.
“Someone who reminds me to arm myself in a house of convicts?” Mojo pointed out neatly, “Who offers to watch my back if someone gets pushy, too. And lets me run my mouth, laughs at my 80s-music jokes, cracks their own, calls me on it when I get too sunny, and even makes those too-soon jokes about falling to our deaths after, y’know... someone fell to their death.” Which, inappropriate as it was, had her smirking again, hands still wedged in her pockets.
“I get a friend, you ass. Same as you. And maybe you’re right and you suck, so maybe it’ll be like a week-long friendship. I’ll take my chances if I get them,” she insisted, not quite sure how to outright say she understood more of him than she might let on. It had a lot of explaining with it, and Mojo didn’t think either of them were ready for that yet. This soon? It could come off as fast, pushy, clingy; three things she already knew didn’t sit well with Evan. If he went for it, maybe it’d come up in the future.
Evan considered, watching her for a few long moments. "Any last ditch efforts to convince me?" he asked, not actually saying if he'd made his decision or not, but he thought he'd ask. And there was possibly the faintest hint of humor in his tone.
Mojo chuckled coarsely at that, dislodging a hand long enough to tuck hair behind one ear again. “Well I could offer to kiss you in the pool and then freeze you out, but I think that’d do us both some harm, so... nope. I tried. Been cool hanging out, Asher, good luck in here and thanks for the pointers,” she answered in what Mojo hoped was a mock-goodbye. But if he couldn’t handle the terms and possible risks? She’d keep her word and leave him alone.