wrapping everyone around her perfect little finger [arlo/d3]

Arlo was suddenly thankful for this stupid communication device, fingers still sticky with coagulated blood that didn't even belong to him. The screen felt funny on his fingertips as he had to wipe away his fingerprints. The most unique thing a human can hold and all of it was still just made of Tavi. And Arlo was just- selfishly, briskly, and without hesitation wiping him away. How could a complete stranger feel- like- how did he even-? Some fucking District 8 kid with nothing but a cheeky grin, devious giggle, and maybe the best last words of all time to his name.

But he had said them in a whisper. No camera could have seen his lips because Arlo had been curled around him too close, no microphone could hear unless they all had some stupid fucking implants or something, but they were already coming to take his body away so it was loud as shit up here near the helipad. Helicopter landing. Heli-land? Copter colonialism hoop?

Arlo wished he could go with.

How fucking useless.

He stayed hidden and silent for as long as he could, curled up in a dark corner and biting into his kneecap when he needed to muffle his stupid fucking emotions. Again- 'So kill them.' -all he could hear- 'We'll burn this place to the ground.' -was a dead stranger. Y'know, the pretty and dead kind.

"Jimmy is de- dead, and- and I am alone." Arlo was alone, too. But that wasn't new. That was normal. "Jackson Reeves." And- "Arcadia." -apparently, Arlo knew nothing about anything and that was how it always would be. A Forrester and a Garner Meet On A Rooftop And Everything Sucks. Title of some memoir or a strange fucked up sex tape or something.

But he needed to leave because, well, there was fancy dust to make.