Hysterical Encounters of the Third Kind [Semper]

Gavroche was used to getting up early, but today's early rise was not for the usual preparation of the tavern for hungry District citizens. He had taken it upon himself to practice his reading, despite how frustrating it was. His uncle had always tried to help him, but didn't always have the patience for Gavroche's slow and labored attempt at reading a single page out loud, so after about half an hour, the one-eyed man would put a hand on his nephew's shoulder and tell him that they would try again some other time. However, that had been nearly three months ago. The boy figured that his uncle had given up on him, but he would prove him wrong. He wanted to one day be able to read an entire page without stumbling over every word, and eventually read an entire book. But for now, things needed to be taken in small steps, starting from the very top and slowly hacking his way through.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, book open in his lap, he slowly traced his pointer finger across the old tea-colored page underneath each sentence, sounding out the words and slowly stringing them together into sentences. The font on the pages were incredibly small, forcing him to squint in the dim sunlight coming through his open window and bend over so that his face was close to the page.

Gavroche was roughly halfway through the second page when a sudden scream from downstairs made him jolt, the book falling from his hands and onto the floor. His head whipped around to face where his slightly-ajar door was, blue-green eyes wide with sudden terror. None of the kitchen staff were supposed to be downstairs just yet and the only people that lived at the tavern was him and his uncle, though the man was usually out picking herbs and vegetables at this early morning hour. Soon after the scream had started, it quickly stopped, leaving Gavroche sitting rigid. What should he do? He wasn't a good enough fighter to defend the tavern against thieves. But why would someone be screaming if they were robbing a place?

Another scream sounded. Not knowing of any other reason as to why this would be happening, he jumped off the bed, grabbed his old, dented trumpet to wield as a weapon, creeping as quietly as he could -- despite the protests of squeaky floorboards -- out of his room and toward the stairs.

Holding the old instrument up in a defensive position, the boy edged down the stairs, his eyes scanning every bit of the main tavern room as it came into view, spotting a panicked-looking girl against the wall. She didn't look like a crook -- far from it, in fact. She was only in a nightgown, which startled him into standing frozen at the bottom of the stairs, simply staring at her. "Who--.... who the hell are you?" Gavroche demanded in a stern, yet wavering tone. He tried to hide his fear of this girl by masking it with narrowed eyes and keeping the trumpet up in case he needed to attack her for any reason, but the fear in his eyes was obvious. "What're you doing here?"

The boy took a step back when the girl began throwing questions right back in his face. He was used to the obnoxious roar of drunkards, but a single voice being directed at him nearly made him crumble. Instead of seeing the girl in the nightgown, he saw a massive man towering above him with the same colored eyes as his own.

"I'll give you something to cry about, you useless runt!" The man yelled, raising a clenched fist high above his head. Gavroche curled up into a tight, tremoring ball on the ground, trying to cover his head with his small arms. The "phantom pain," as his mother told him it was called, had flared up in his abdomen, nearly crippling him in front of the colossal man, which never ended good for him. "I haven't done anything to you yet! Why the hell are you crying?" His booming voice was stern and demanding. Gavroche winced as if the words had been a physical blow. "I... I.... i-it hurts...." The little boy answered between sobs. "You don't know what pain is yet!" The man snarled, bringing his fist down onto the little boy's head.

Gavroche shook his head, clearing his mind of the memories he so desperately wanted to forget. This girl, even though she was shorter than he was, had enough vocal power to make him back up against the wall by the stairs, eyes wide with terror as she came closer. He couldn't find the voice to tell her that the tavern belonged to his uncle and that they both lived upstairs, and instead he found himself staring at her teeth as soon as her lips turned upward into a smile. What were those long pointy teeth? He had seen animals with those kind of incisors, but never a person with with such long teeth; his own canines only stuck below the other teeth by just a point. Surely she must have been some sort of monster -- obviously no one had seen her overnight, as she claimed, and she was able to sneak in without anyone hearing. Perhaps she was just fooling him by hiding her true intentions behind the façade of an innocent girl.

The smile had quickly vanished from her face as she held out her hands, saying that she wasn't there to steal anything. Blue-green eyes carried their gaze down to her hands, finding them empty. If she wasn't there to steal anything, then why was she in the tavern? He didn't quite believe the story that she fell asleep and ending up staying the night since nothing like that would ever happen, but how else would she wind up where she was in front of him? Maybe he had forgotten to lock the front door...

When she asked him for some pants, he was completely thrown off. The terror on his face was reduced, but still obviously there, and replaced with confusion. Pants? Why would she want pants? Gavroche's eyes absentmindedly traveled down her body to her bare legs, but as soon as he realized that he was staring, he quickly diverted his eyes, feeling heat rise to his face. "Er... yeah, sure." He answered hastily, lowering the trumpet and turning on his heels and starting for the stairs, not bothering to mention his name. "Up here."

Frequently glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't going to jump him, Gavroche headed up the squeaky stairs to his room, heading over to a lone wooden shelf against one of the walls. Setting the trumpet down at one end of the shelf, searching though what few pairs of pants and shorts he had. All of them were threadbare, frayed, and had tears in them, but none of them looked like they would fit the girl. Again he looked over his shoulder at her, studying her actions for a few moments before turning back to the shelf, finally picking out the smallest pair of jeans he had.

"They may be a bit big on you," He said, holding them out for her to take, still watching her carefully. "Are you sure you don't want shorts? It's going to be hot as hell outside...."



((All the more to terrify the poor boy. xD ))

Gavroche quickly retracted his hand as she took the pants, as if her hand had been a snake that was striking out at him with its fangs. He still didn't trust her, but as she quickly put the pants on, he couldn't help but feel heat rising to his face, not knowing whether he should turn around or keep watching her as he had been for the past few minutes. Before he could decide she had the pants on, but he still felt awkward for having watched her the whole time.

He quickly turned his gaze to the open window beside his bed to at least have something else to look at while she spoke. Hang around? But she terrified him! For all he knew, this girl -- Liseolette -- was a ghost with the teeth of some animal. Why should she stay? He could very easily kick her out of the tavern, even chase her off with a knife if need be. 'But we could always use the help.... Uncle's been complaining about not having enough help these days....' I dropped my gaze to the uneven wood floor, mulling the offer over in my head. She seemed quite fervent about helping out so she could stay, which also freaked him out a good bit.

Apparently she could also cook an omelet, but that wasn't what caught his attention. The animal teeth were flashed when she smiled again, sending a pang of panic through him again. What were those? He wanted to ask, but that would be rude, wouldn't it? 'Oh well. What's the harm in her staying? There'll be other people around in case she tries anything. It's not like I'm going to be alone all day.' "What... what are those things...?" He asked hesitantly, slowly raising a finger and pointing in the general direction of her mouth. "It's... er, I guess you can stay... but tell me what those are first." Despite the fact that she had called him Hubert, he didn't mind. He wasn't comfortable with telling her his name at the moment.



((My muse died about halfway through. Dx ))

Gavroche flinched at the popping sound the tooth made when she yanked it out, leaving him startled and gawking in awe. He had never seen any teeth that could be taken out like that, and when she held it out to him, he curiously peered at it, examining the thing before she placed it back into her mouth. Why you would even have something like that, he had no idea. Gavroche, for one, was certain that he would never want to own anything like that. It freaked him out too much.

So maybe Liseolette wasn't a ghost after all, but that still didn't explain why she was in the tavern before operating hours.

What threw him off even more, though was what she had said she was: a vampire, or something. "What's a vampire?" He asked hesitantly, feeling stupid for not knowing. Judging by the name, vampires sounded evil, whatever they were, so maybe they were some type of Capitol mutt that this girl was just obsessing over. That would had to have been the Games sometime before the past three or so ones since his uncle always had the Games on in the tavern when they were happening. As far as he knew, there were no mutts with long teeth.

“You won’t regret it, I swear!” I say excitedly. “I’ll make you breakfast okay? I want to repay you for being so kind to me!”

"Er-- no!" He cried, reaching out to try to stop her, but it was too late. The girl had already taken off down the stairs, talking to him and tripping at the same time. Gavroche went after her, stopping halfway down the stairs when he realized that she was standing on the landing, telling him how bad that would have been if she had missed, and apparently now his name was "Turtle," which he didn't mind. But still, he wasn't going to tell her his name.

A small sigh was about to escape him when he saw her trip again. Breath catching in his throat, Gavroche watched as Liseolette fell through the window, disappearing with shards of glass sparkling in the sunlight around her.

"Liseolette!" Racing over to the open window, he looked out and saw her lying in the middle of all the glass bits, looking like she had seen a real ghost, or something. He bolted down the stairs and out the front door, running over to where she was and knelt down beside her, leaning over her face a bit. "Liseolette, are you alright? Did you get cut anywhere?" He had noticed the red on some of the shards, so he began looking over what exposed parts of her body there were, searching for any gashes in her pale skin.



((Gah, I'm so tired. Dx ))

Before Gavroche could really comprehend why Liseolette was being so still, she lurched up and put her arms around his neck, sending the boy into a frenzy. His blue-green eyes grew wide as he suddenly felt horribly invaded and as if she were asphyxiating him, causing him to try to shove her off of him as quickly as he could. Never mind the fact that she was screaming that she was burning and needed help -- he wanted her off of him now.

His silent plea was answered when she suddenly threw him aside and ran off, leaving him nearly hyperventilating and his hands grabbing at his throat. Nothing was there. He then put a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breathing and comprehend what had just happened. Liseolette had apparently thought that she was burning, which was strange since glass tended to leave clean cuts behind as long as you weren't stabbed with it. He wouldn't be surprised if she had, in fact, been stabbed, but that made him worry. Still somewhat gasping, Gavroche turned around and headed back into the tavern, closing the door behind him and making sure it was shut. He'd worry about the glass later; right now, he paused to listen to sobbing. Surely that was her since no one else was in the tavern at the moment.

"Liseolette..?" He called out hesitantly, his voice wavering as he still tried to recover from her nearly strangling him to death. Carefully going up the stairs and avoiding the glass shards on the ground as if it was a minefield, the boy found her lying on the stairs and sobbing. The sight of her in such a bloody and weeping state gave him all sorts of mixed emotions: he wanted to help her, run away, hug her and comfort her, run away. But if his uncle found out that someone had been hurt in the tavern and Gavroche did nothing to help, he would be in quite a good bit of trouble. Spotting the sunlight catching on glass embedded in her skin, he grimaced. "Come on downstairs. I'll get that glass out." Even though Gavroche knew that would require touching her, better to have a little bit of contact than to have his uncle chew him out.

Heading back down the stairs, Gavroche went behind the counter and searched the shelves, eventually finding some tweezers. Setting them on the bar, he then went back into the kitchen and got a clean wash rag and filled a fairly clean pail with hot water and brought it back out, setting it beside the tweezers. Pulling up a stool and sitting behind the bar, Gavroche motioned for Liseolette to come sit down across from him.

Instead of sitting across from him, Liseolette came around and sat right below him behind the counter. Gavroche watched her for a few moments before getting up and scooting the stool away, picking up the pail and setting it on the ground. Turning around, he went and got a candle-lit lantern that always hung above the bar and set it down beside the pail. Picking up the wash cloth, tweezers, and a spare glass jar, he sat down in front of her.

Moving the lantern closer to where her hand was, he took the tweezers in his left hand and held her hand in the other, gently picking out the shards and dropping them in the jar as she spoke. He didn't answer her for a while after, concentrating as much as he could on getting all the glass out from her skin and then dabbing it gently with the damp cloth to get the blood away.

"The window was old anyway," he said, turning her hand over and giving it one last search before motioning for the other one. "Why don't you like the sun?" Maybe she felt that the sun was some source of evil the same way he thought physical contact with other people was bad. Perhaps she had had some traumatic experience also. Gavroche looked up at her with his blue-green eyes. "Don't worry about paying it back, Liseolette." Though he sounded calm, the boy was on edge for having to touch her hands and be so close to her to get the glass out. He would have much rather just given her the items needed to take care of herself, but his uncle wouldn't have liked that. She had gotten hurt on their property, so it was their responsibility -- or his, rather -- to take care of her. He looked back down, ready to start on the other hand. "My name's Gavroche, by the way."




((Blehck, I'm not proud of this post at all. Dx ))

He looked up at her. "Sick? What do you mean by sick?" Gavroche knew that staying outside too long would cause your skin to turn red and burn, but only if you were outside for a long time. When he was outside, though, he tended to stay in the shade of the trees to avoid the nearly unbearable heat of the sun. But to have someone hold you down outside just so you would burn up to a crisp, that angered him. No one should have to be forced into enduring their fear like that. Gavroche, for one, knew that he would go bat shit crazy if he were locked up in a small room for more than five minutes because of his claustrophobia. "The bastards." He muttered, squeezing the tweezers tightly in his hand, determined to not let that happen to her while she was in the tavern. If he didn't have to endure his fear, she wouldn't have to either. 'So that's why she latched onto my next... well, it makes sense.'

A short, small laugh -- more like just a quick exhale -- sounded from him, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I think I like Turtle better, actually." He didn't really want to tell her why since he felt it would be embarrassing, but he could hardly spell his own name. He knew what letters were in it, but he always somehow managed to screw up the placement of them and it greatly frustrated him. The word "turtle," on the other hand, was one of the ones he could actually remember placements and spell it properly, so the word made him feel good about himself.

He looked at her when she said his name, though he quickly carried his gaze off to the side as he thought, biting his lower lip a bit in concentration. His uncle would usually have people with high tabs clean tables and the windows, but that seemed a bit too much, in his opinion. All the tables were sticky with grime, beer stains, and even a few dark red smears of blood. His uncle might have had her clean dishes, which seemed reasonable. Most of them were clean anyway from the previous day, so that could do. "There's a few plates and glasses over by that sink that would use some washing," he said, pointing to a sink not too far behind her. "Hold that thought." Gavroche set the tweezers down, got up, and went over to the other end of the bar and pulled out one of the drawers. Rummaging through it, he picked out an old roll of bandage that they mostly used to tend to drunks who had gotten into fights and such. However old it was, the elasticy fabric was still in decent shape, so he took that, along with a new clean, dry cloth, and went back over to her. Tearing a piece of the cloth off, he took her hand again and placed the fabric on the wound, then bandaged it up. "Do you have anymore cuts anywhere?"