drink until you're dead | Suicide Squad vs LN@WB vs. mutt

I’m like—starting to like being present for every death in the games. It means I can sleep in again and not bother about the anthem. Only one face up there and well—

I don’t really want to think about it. The past is dead so let it stay buried. And you know, maybe I found myself looking for Bastian’s arms and maybe, maybe when he fell asleep I curled up next to him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. But it’s not like I like him for looking out for me these past few days or anything.

I don’t. Really, that's why I definitely didn't spend a few minutes watching his chest rise and fall and traced hearts on his shirt with a finger.

That'd be so lame.

***

So like—I wake up right? Because I had a really good sleep, laying in the backseat of the car. Laurence is a pretty good chauffeur; I’ll give him that. And it’s hotter than hot outside. Everything’s sticking to me and like-wow, can a girl get sponsored some wine coolers or what?

The dunes are pretty empty, or least they were for the last few hours. But we're like, stopping and I don't remember anyone asking for a pee break.

Oh, there's tributes. As soon as I catch sight of them, I grab the rifle I loaded last night. It's Whiskey. Whiskey, Sinead, the last remaining career and some stick figure that I think is from district three.

"Of course...it's the One that got away."

I giggle and wave at him with my bejeweled fist. He's muttering to his gals so I strike a suggestive pose with the rifle and blow a kiss over the top of the barrel. 

"Gingham! You're looking worse for wear." He says it like its a bad thing, but it doesn't stop his eyes from roaming over my body. It's okay Whiskey. I know everyone wants a taste. I'm going to rip the dinosaur patch off my shorts and replace it with a sign that says free samples.

"Wearing it well, though, I will say."

That's worth a wink. There's so much nothing surrounding us, that I kind of want to stop seeing everything but him. He's a lot more fun than most. Really gets my heart racing, and that's the most important thing. Adrenaline lets you know you're still alive, and living.

"We're due for a rematch. I just hope you have more stamina than last time."

I mean no duh, I wanted a rematch. Have to rest his reach and my flexibility. Did he get what I was saying last week when I said I wanted a rematch in our quarters? It's an odd look on his face as he takes a step away, glancing towards the dunes.

Whiskey you tease. That's a good way to get sand in uncomfortable places. And right now? When the game makers are spoiling for a fight?

Cheeky.

But that's around the time that something bursts out of the sand like a baby flying out of O'malley's mother. It sinks its fangs into Sinead's leg and I have to shake my head. It's called paying attention to your surroundings.

And I cock the rifle, aiming in Sinead’s direction with a playful grin. It'd be so easy, wouldn't it? To pop her head like a grape? But I let the gun drift lower, because these damn reptiles are a bigger threat than I ever thought they could be. The way Liza went out?

Like—

Not for me, okay?

“Whiskeeey,” I trill out like a songbird. “Such a bad boy, building a little harem and playing king.” The pout that worms its way onto my face is only mostly fake. What, am I not pretty enough for him? He surrounded himself with two rail-thin nobodies and a dark-haired wannabe career.

Gag. I thought he had better taste than that.

[Nylon attacks Baldur the pitfall lizard with rifle] ammo 11/12

kzL02LnVqsthrowing knife

9008 -- Miss -- 0.0 damage
Day 3 accuracy re-roll

throwing knife
9113 -- Knife in Chest -- 7.0 damage +1 mutt tamer
I pull the trigger twice, because I left the safety on at first, intent on sending the beast to lizard hell, whatever that is, before vaulting out of the car and hitting the dirt. Sand. Whatever. Sinead gets a reprieve this time, and it’s because I savor the look of fear on her face whenever she sees me.

It only takes a moment to sling the rifle onto my back, and I give the boys a wink before calling out to a guy who thinks he’s hard liquor when he’s barely a white claw.

“Stamina? Whiskey babe, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

And then I’m running after him.

I still haven’t decided what I should do when I catch him. Kiss him? Kill him? Both?

Is this going to make Bastian jealous? Gawd I hope it does.

I've always wanted to watch some boys killing each other over me.

Why do boys like him play hard to get? Like—

He wants to play, obviously. But he’s also running and—oh, he’s stopped. Holding out his spear like he’s planning to impale me with it. He is. Cause at the end of the games, only one of us is going home, and I think he’s realized its not going to be him. Yeah, he’s got a mean right hook. But he doesn’t have the “it” factor. The gamemakers know it too, because the lizard burrows towards him and almost takes a bite out his firm, supple—

Glass.

Get it? Because his name—

Ah, I guess you had to be there.

Dammit, will this thing back off? I’m kind of in the middle of something and a zippy lizard is not something I need interrupting me. The gun is in my hand before I know it, and I’m squeezing off another round in its direction. A girl could get used to this kind of firepower.

Of course, I aim at him first, before swinging it towards the mutt.

Have to keep a boy like him on the edge, you know.

[Nylon attacks Baldur the pitfall lizard with rifle] ammo 10/12

CiEItkkHcmthrowing knife
9083 -- Deep Gash on Back -- 8.5 damage +1 MT

And then there’s sand in my eyes and it burns, and all I can think of is how rude it is and the rage starts to rise up again. At least until he starts talking. Ohmigawd, he thinks I’m the one that offed Liza. Well, no reason to let him think otherwise.

“She got in my way.” It’s true, and a lie by omission. He can draw his own conclusions. Already is, anyway. I take a step closer to him, feet sinking into the ground. It’s ash, I realize. Like—you know, charcoal or the ends of a cigarette.

“No offense taken,” I say, pursing my lips and blowing him a kiss. “I know what I am.” That’s the first step towards confidence, you know. Accepting yourself. I know I make people uncomfortable; I know that I’m a backstabbing, fake smiling, shitstarting, gossip-mongering bitch that’s very, very positive about her body.

And what about it?

“You're the one that should be worried about Bastian. He’s quite the lady killer. Your little harem is in trouble, Whiskey.” Boys like Whiskey are easy to read, but not as easy to manipulate as boys like Abel. I bet he’s got some daddy issues; he’s got something to prove and he has to be tough.

“You seem tense. I think you need to get laid.”

And then I pivot on my heel, aiming a spinning roundhouse kick at his head.