Fated Enemies (Wickedfire)

[firejay1]

Betty took a breath to steady herself. And then another. It wasn't like he had proof she was the thief he was looking for. Or that she'd been plotting his murder since they'd first bumped into each other a couple months ago. Actually, he'd probably guessed that part already. This was such a bad idea.

A few months ago, the very idea of her walking into a police station voluntarily would have had her in stitches. Granted, she didn't have any open warrants in this state, but still, she didn't make it a habit to flirt with danger, and the only other reason she'd have, to be walking into the den of her archenemy was to put a bullet in him. Normally, anyways.

Taking another huge gulp of air, Beatrice Leach, orphan, long-time thief, and perpetually cursed to be miserable, scrunched up her shoulders and walked into the police station, going right up to the front desk. With her best sweet persona on, she asked, "Hi there. Could I speak to a Police Detective Ashley Herriot?" She found herself biting her upper lip involuntarily.

"Can I ask what this is about?" The receptionist asked, smiling at her in a friendly manner, but clearly a little checked out.

She hesitated for one second, and took another breath. She'd thought she'd lost all sense of fear after years of being a professional thief, but even that history was apparently not enough to prepare one for this. "Please tell him Be- I mean-" She couldn't remember if she'd actually told him her name that night. "Just tell him it's about his baby." The receptionist stared at her, jaw dropping slightly. "I'm pregnant." Betty blurted. "And he's the only person who could be the father."

"Ma'am." The man in front of her said seriously, standing up. "If this is a joke-"

"Trust me," she said, hastily, "I would also rather not be here, but I don't know where he lives, and I can't- well, at least he has the right to know. If it changes anything. Not that it should. I mean, if you really think it's a joke, I can just walk out of here, and he doesn't have to hear from me again, but he probably knows better than anyone, that I honestly don't know... what would happen to a baby if it was stuck with just me." She really didn't want to be asking this of him. Hell, she didn't even know what exactly she was asking him to do, since with his track record, there was no guarantee the baby wouldn't be screwed anyways, but at the very least she needed a backup plan for if her curse rubbed off on the kid. If that meant risking losing custody of her baby altogether, well, that was just a risk she'd have to take.

"No!" The officer said, hastily. "Just- just wait here." He stood up and rushed deeper into the police station.

@WickedWitch

 

[WickedWitch]

The morning had started as all morning did for Ashley, this time the weather had turned from a pleasant cool temperature with very few and very thin clouds to a slight chill with clouds that hung heavy and made the sunlight a dreary grayish blue.. In normal cases, he would have shrugged off the superstitions he had once spent many lifetimes following and believing, but he had awoken in cold sweat and had fought to release himself from grips of both anxiety and the lingering itch of fear underneath his skin. Sleep was an odd concept to him, he did it, when he wasn't completely being slammed with work and he had forced himself to become accustomed to it, but nightmares were a thing that had haunted him for so long that he sometimes wished he would have grown better accustomed to it. He hadn't, and so his day had started terribly -like every other day, and he had hoped that work would make it better.

It had, for a little while, there had been no calls that had required him to leave the office and he enjoyed mundane work over on-scene observations, as one took much more intent that he wasn't ever well enough to keep up for too long. And now, the dreary start to the day was beginning to make sense. The receptionist, Henry, was standing in the arch of his door, the wooden cabinet beside the door was trembling from the sudden assault it had been dealt by the swinging door.

"Henry?" Ashley asks, a bit concerned.

Henry was just entering his twenties, a good few years younger than the detective, and sometimes he hated the vaguely fatherly concern he held for the kid. The brunette looks obviously stumped, like he had just been told something between a mix of bad news and good news, though more so tittering over the edge of completely bad. "Uhm yes, Detective Herriot, there's a, uhm, woman who wishes to see you.." Even as he's opening his mouth to deny the request, he still pushes himself up, "Is there no one else in the station that will receive her?"

Henry stumbles a bit to get out of the way, allowing the detective into the long winding hall. "Well yes, but she wanted to see you specifically." He says, following closely on Ashley's heel.

"Did she say why?" There's a short pause, where he's almost certain he could hear the other man hesitate, even if there was not even a gasp from him. "She's claiming that you've fathered a child." And then there's an even longer pause, where both men stand in stifling silence, Henry's face twisting into that of both worry and anxiousness, while Ashley's flitted through a mix of disbelief, surprise, and then finally settles on an undecided mix of both.

"Alright, I'll see her then." He states calmly, relieving the younger man of his worry. Ashley wasn't sure why the man looked so trouble, this was no doubt the work of some scammer, he had been warned many times by both his father and his elder brother by these types of things, but where they had gone through lists of how to prove he was not the father, Ashley did not have to worry about that. Out of all the lives he had lived, he had not once been able to come into being with a child. He assumed it was just another clause of his curse, or really, their curse.

So he walks down the hall with a new sense of relief, one that settles easily in his stomach.. Ashley is not quite certain the first feeling that stabs through his chest when he rounds the corner to be met with none other than the other bearer of the shared curse. It's not quite anger, not quite fear, or resentment, it's almost an acidic combination of how he always felt after a nightmare and how it felt being stuck out in the rain in the middle of winter. He feels so suddenly sick, that he's certain the paling of his face is instant and not missed by any of the other parties in the room. And then that all washes away in an instant, smothered underneath the furious rearing of humiliation and white-hot anger, he felt silly for thinking even just for a splittist of seconds that it had been real. He knew who he was standing across the room from, he should have known better than to hope. It never got him anywhere.

"I did not think you would stoop this low, or that you were this half witted to think I would believe you." Ashley states firmly, hoping to keep the air of faux calm, but not managing to catch the tell-tale hiss of his words.

 

[firejay1]

Betty sucked in a shaky breath, trying not to let him see her palms sweating, or the suppressed urge to pace which she'd never felt before. So he was going to be a big man about it, huh? That was fine with her, there was too much bad blood between them for either of them to want to show weakness in front of the other. "Yeah, you know. I'd love to be lying to you right now." She tapped her fingers against one leg. "I wasn't planning to see your ugly mug again until I had a plan in place to put you out of the misery of living with it either, but I've taken three pregnancy tests, and they all say the same thing. And unless you pawned me off on one of your buddies that night, there's no one else's it could be."

She glanced around the police station, oddly grateful there were only a few other people in the room, even though it wasn't as though she was the one who had anything to be embarrassed about to these people. Taking another shaky breath, she said, "You know what, I wasn't even sure I should tell you. But surprise surprise, I don't know if I have enough to cover the costs of seeing an obstetrician without insurance. And if you're thinking what I'm thinking about why this should be fucking impossible, well. We've never tried doing it with each other. Y'know... before." What was she even saying? She should just leave. If he really didn't believe her and tried taking her out now.... She wasn't going to lose this. She didn't know why she'd been given a baby in this life, but she sure as hell wasn't risking it to get in a fist fight with a trained detective. As much as she did want to punch him in his stupid mouth. Betty took a step back, glaring at him warily and instinctively grabbing the shirt in front of her stomach protectively.

 

[WickedWitch]

Ashley barely keeps his snarl to himself, his lips parting around an angry huff as he twists his fingers into the pockets of his slacks. Keeping himself anchored to the floor, and his hands to himself solely by his slightly flattering will. And also because Henry stood at a concerningly close proximity to him, and if the detective was to go in for what his hands were itching for, there was a good chance the kid would end up with a bloody nose. And not from something as civil as the weather changing.

"I wouldn't do a crime so heinous." He states through clenched teeth, his molars protesting when they grind unkindly into each other, the accusation regardless of their deep river of blood felt like an unfairly cruel allegation. With the statement, it also brings the severity of the situation, she didn't seem like she had come to him simply to go off parsing lies, and his uncertainty grows stronger when he watches her stare at him with a wary gaze and places a protective hand over her stomach. His own stomach sinks to his feet, and he hears a dramatic gasp from behind him, like Henry had also thought it had been some poorly made joke. It takes him very little to settle on a decision, one he's sure he'll regret very quickly.

"Alright, say you aren't mistaken. We should be certain, and for obvious reasons I'll go with you to a clinic." He says to her and then turns his attention to the receptionist, "I'll head out early, there doesn't seem to be any trouble for now, send someone out for me if it's dire." There isn't much argument, for obvious reasons, and when everything's settled he turns back to Beatrice, "Well?" He urges, motioning with his hands towards the stations main doors.

 

[firejay1]

Well, he believed her for now. Beatrice turned and made for the door, walking more confidently than she felt. She slowed down to let the detective lead her to his car, a fancy black contraption that suited her image of him as a snobby wannabe gentleman perfectly. He'd always been so high and mighty in every life, of course he'd have a black sports car. But Betty bit her lip and got in, looking out the window as he drove her to the clinic. She could've gone by herself, of course. She had enough saved up for a first visit, and come to think of it, if it turned out she wasn't pregnant, he'd just distrust her even more. Oh God, this had been such a bad idea. She tried squashing the treacherous thought that she hadn't wanted to go alone, as if it wouldn't be quite real without someone else as witness.

They spent the car ride in silence, Beatrice keeping her eyes glued on the scenery going by, though not really seeing it.

"I'm not lying, you know." She said, as they stepped into the clinic, still not looking at him. "I took the pregnancy test basically as a joke, because you know. That's not possible. Never has been. A year ago, I would've been panicking if I'd missed my period, but after remembering everything well, what's to even worry about. But 3 false positives in a row...." She sighed, "Well, it's not statistically likely, but you know. Maybe it's just the curse trying to trick me. Maybe."

She strode up to the receptionist at the clinic, moving before Ash could answer and trying to look more confident than she felt. "Hi. My name is Beth Leery. I think I might be pregnant. Here's my identification."

 

[WickedWitch]

There were a great deal of things Ashely would have been preferring to do, a great deals of things really, some of them possible and others not so much, but one thing he definitely would not like to be doing would be where he was currently. There had been a small moment, when he had watched Beatrice walk out of the station, and in the moment he had felt uncontrollably inclined to locking the main doors -therefore rendering her unable to re-enter but also keeping everyone else out- and continuing the work he had left for himself at his desk. He didn't, for obvious and less obvious reasons, Ashley chose to bite back the inclination and lead the woman to his car. His beloved car, that was equal part a show of what lifestyle he'd been born and raised in and another equal parts of his inherent affinity for vehicles, horses simply didn't for him quite as well. He didn't want her inside the thing he was embarrassed to admit was something he greatly adored, but every other car he owned had been discarded at his family estate probably never to see the light for as long as he lived.

The car ride, blessedly, does not contain any attempts at conversation. Beatrice doesn't try to speak to him, doesn't even look at him, and Ashley was definitely not much of a talker, so he doesn't try to start up a conversation either. Most of the ride sees Ashley solemnly staring steadfastly at the layout of the world before the hood of his car, his fingers turning white with their death grip on the steering wheel, a steady sensation building up underneath his skin. It's harder to ignore with the increasingly stifling walls of the car, there's an itch there, one that Ashely has been unable to completely remove ever since that fateful day. He writes it off, as he always does, with the excuse of the curse. But this is something deeper than that, his own misplaced regrets and unresolved vengeance, and the unsettling void in his soul that had followed him from one loss to another.

It is by sheer will he does not listen to it, regardless of how it progresses throughout his body and turns from dull itch to steady burn. It is by his sheer will alone that he keeps himself from completely flipping the car and praying to god that it ends up with him somewhat wounded and the woman in the seat beside him in a worse state. But his will is also paired with soft murmurings of an old fire he'd spend decades stomping out, it reminds about the possibility of a child, a child that could be his. A child he was praying actually existed but also didn't, because what would it mean? For him, for them?

It was an ugly thought to think, made him feel like his heart was bleeding something it shouldn't. There had been a time when the idea of a them was more comfortable, something Ashley found great comfort in, a bond he had wrongly assumed was unbreakable. But that had been decades, centuries earlier, in the present time though, the thought of a them made his empty stomach twist with nausea and his throat convulse through a phantom gag. They manage though, to get through the ride without any accidents, and Ashley trails reluctantly behind her and into the clinic. He listens to her talk, mostly because he wasn't sure he was even able to. His tongue felt heavier in his mouth, and if she expects him to add something in return, she's sorely mistaken because he merely folds his hands behind his back and gives her a lingering side eye before hovering behind her as she speaks to the receptionist.

 

[firejay1]

The lady took her ID, but gave her a slightly motherly smile, obviously noticing that she was nervous, gently confirming with her that she was here for a pregnancy test. Thankfully, the clinic was fairly empty, and it didn't take long for a woman to call her to a smaller room, asking her first if she'd been drinking a lot beforehand, and then giving her a cup to pee in. At least it was not much more painful or complicated in process than peeing on a stick had been. She gave them her cup of pee, and found herself sitting in the waiting room with Ashley, waiting for the results.

Just as they'd been in the car, there was silence between them, heavy and somehow all-encompassing, despite the strains of bland music quietly emanating from speakers in the ceiling. It felt like forever, sitting there in the silence, waiting for the results, and when someone called, "Beth Leery," this time she jumped up like she'd been shocked.

The clinician gave her a sympathetic nod, raising her eyebrows slightly, as she gently added, "You're allowed to bring your visitor with you, if you'd like."

Betty looked at Ash almost nervously. She'd been sort of avoiding looking at him, too. She nodded. "Yes uhm- It's- it's probably best for him to come with me, and hear- whatever it is."

She followed the clinician to what looked more like a small office, directed to sit across from her at a desk. To her relief, the lady did not ask who Ash was, and got straight to the point as soon as they were comfortable. "Our test confirms that you are pregnant, Beth." Beatrice felt like throwing up, staring at the person in front of her without really seeing her, or hearing her entirely continue. "It's okay to feel a little overwhelmed, and to take some time to process that. When you're ready, I can start walking you through your options for the pregnancy, and giving you a little bit more information on what to expect in the upcoming weeks if you decide to keep the baby, both in terms of symptoms and medical procedures."

"I'm keeping it." Betty blurted, hazily.

"That's great. Congratulations." She wasn't certain if the clinician was trying to sound soothing or happy for her, perhaps it was a mix of both. "To start, this means you should definitely set up an appointment with your primary care or OBGYN if you have one-"

It was going in one ear out the other. The woman kept talking for a bit, before Beatrice stood up abruptly, scrambling away from her chair as if it was the problem, still not looking at Ash. "Please excuse me for a minute." She said, and without waiting to be excused, she rushed from the room and into the bathroom, where she promptly burst into tears.

 

[WickedWitch]

Sometime, which is really only a few minutes after they've entered the clinic, Ashley sets himself up for disappointment. Not just because he was dubious of Beatrice's claims, but also because the entire situation was suffocatingly foregin to him, and if he set himself firmly in a pessimistic outlook, it would be easier to handle both sides of the coin. Or at the very least, that's what he convinces himself, and he's certain that no news could be nearly as worse as having to sit in tense but shared air while the lobby of the clinic hummed with the normal ticks that came from hospitals and organizations akin, and the lustreless music playing out of the clinic speakers. It wasn't too terrible, in his collection of lives, he had heard worse music, but when paired with the situation at hand, it was possibly amongst the worst things he could have ever experienced.

Ever so often, because he's uncertain if he's the only one feeling as he did, he happens a glance to the woman beside him, not to cheered to note that he couldn't read her nearly as well as he would have been able to due to the fact that his brain had fizzled out sometime during the moment of them leaving the station and entering his car. Ashley doesn't flinch as obviously as Beatrice does, when the clinician calls for her, he's surprised and barely holds back the curse that's almost exhaled with his relieved breath, but his eyes blink aggressively, involuntarily, and then the soundless reaction ends as quickly as it had started. At first, he doesn't know if she wants him to go in with her, and if he's honest he doesn't really want to go in. He goes, anyway, because he's told to and Ashley's too weary to argue otherwise.

He follows after Beatrice, casting his gaze over the room before he zeroes in on the second seat opposite of the desk, sinking into the chair as soon as she's done the same. The chairs in the office are much more comfortable than the lobby chairs, yet even then he can't find even the smallest inkling of comfort, not when the clinician confirms Beatrice's claims. The sensation of being dubious and slightly annoyed at their situation is suffocated under a biting glare of nothingness in his ear, he could vividly feel the phantom sensation of someone wrapping their hands around his windpipe and squeezing, leaving him staring blankly at the doctor while his eyes swirled with unshed tears. The entire left side of his face twitches from the sheer intensity of having to keep his emotions from showing on his face, he watches with an impassive face and trembling fingers as Beatrice excuses herself from the room. Her obvious hysteria leaves both Ashley and the clinician in a silence partly contained of concern and the other part indifference, the concern majorly coming from the woman behind the desk.

"I can imagine this has been a very rough journey for the both of you, it's understandable for you to feel scared. The best thing would be to communicate your fears with your partner, it would make this incredibly difficult situation much easier.." She says after the silence has stretched thin enough to become uncomfortable, Ashley wants to go and correct her, because any world where the two of them could be referred to as partners had long since been lost. But decides better, and merely gives a mute nod. "I… I appreciate the advice, could you explain the best course of action from here?"

The doctor gives him an understanding smile, and then goes into a lengthy explanation, and though the entire conversation and their situation was still something his brain was feebly trying to wrap itself around, he actually manages to catch most of the really important bits anc catches even less of the slightly other bits that don't seem to need much attention.

 

[firejay1]

It took ten minutes sitting in one of the toilet stalls for Betty to stop crying. When she opened the door, she looked calm, but she could see in the mirror how pale her face was. She leaned over the sink for a couple seconds, and suddenly violently wretched into the sink. Thank God she hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. But despite how ill she still felt, her more analytical side was setting back in. She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth, pulling her fingers through her hair to smooth it out from her heaving.

When she returned to the room, she was stone cold calm. She kept quiet beyond a few straightforward questions, an eerie level of stillness even to those. She didn't take any notes, but she wasn't one of the best thieves around because she couldn't adapt to bad situations. She was given a packet of papers "to help her understand her options," and the two of them walked out the door.

She didn't go straight to the car when they left the building. Instead, she leaned against the warm brick wall, looking straight ahead resolutely. "We need to talk. Cause I'm not getting rid of it. So the only question is if you want to be involved."

 

[WickedWitch]

All in all, regardless of his not wholly present attention, he manages to find their exchange rather informational. Even getting a few of his larger concerns answered before Beatrice returns, and with it any inkling of comfort he had begun to delude himself into is shattered, and the rest of their appointment passes in forced calm silence from their side, a silence only broken every once in a while when they perk up to ask a question. The doctor takes this all in stride, which greatly helps it all go by faster. But by the end of it, when they're finally allowed to leave, he's teeming with confined energy, that the longer it stays all bottled up in his stomach, unspoken and unworked out, he can feel it start to turn his stomach and in direct consequence makes a furrow become a semi-permanent thing between his brows. There was a lot to unpack with the whole day, enough so that it felt like he'd be forever reeling from this revelation even in a couple of weeks, moreover there were also a lot of questions, so many questions. For himself, for Beatrice, and especially concerning the curse. In spite of it though, it wasn't like he would ever be able to actually get any answers any time soon, or any time at all for that matter.

Ashley's attention is at least brought away from the disheartening subject of thought, when instead of following after his own hastened steps towards his car, Beatrice stops outside of the building and leans up against the brick wall. Making him also slow to a stop a few feet away from her, frowning when a warm breeze brushes along the stuffy collar of his button-up. The question, he supposes, was a reasonable one, and definitely one he should have known was going to be brought up. And he wished, even more so than anything else, that there was absolutely no hint of hesitancy in his heart at the thought of being a father to a child. His own child. He had tried thousands of times to have his own family in a handful of different lives, but that did little good for him, only left him with a sour taste in his mouth, an everlasting grief for things he would and could never have, because they were many facts in the universe, and amongst them was that the curse was many things distasteful and it just so happened that it was also unrelenting in it's thoroughness. It made sure that what was told for him, was what he would be given, nothing more yet also everything less.

So there is much hesitancy, obvious only in the silence as he stared down at the slightly uneven protrusion of the sidewalk underneath his feet. Eventually, he reaches a small epiphany, the hesitancy was not something he would ever be able to truly shake. But at the very least, if it kept him stuck in the fear settled deep in the marrow of his bones, he would look at the more logical perspective of the situation. He was also equally responsible for the child, that would be, the barest minimum for now, his involvement would have to be strongly rooted in his self-placed responsibilities. Ashley takes a steadying breath, his hands twitch at his side almost involuntarily before he straightens his shoulders -he hadn't even noticed when they had slumped- and to stop his hands from doing it again he crosses them behind his back.. "It's my child too," He tries to say confidently, but his voice wavers and he almost wants to bite his tongue to keep it from showing again, it was a weird statement coming from his own family. "If you'll let me, I want to be included in raising them."

 

[firejay1]

For a long time, Ashley didn't say anything. That moment somehow lasted too long and yet was too short at the same time. She wasn't even entirely certain what she wanted his answer to be, if he wouldn't just use all of his clout to have the child taken away from her.

When he broke the silence with his answer, she let out a giant breath of relief she hadn't realized she'd been holding. That was... an encouraging answer. "Okay." She said, voice blank at first. "Okay," She repeated, this time with more confidence. This was a good thing. "But it's mine. Unless my luck.... Well, just because this baby seems to have escaped the curse just by existing, doesn't mean it won't be affected by either of our curses. And mine's y'know, more... constant of a problem than yours. I don't have anybody else to take care of it, if anything happens to me. If my luck keeps up, it's all yours. Provided it even makes it out into the world." She bit her lip and took another big gulp of air.

"I have a good enough ID to apply for health insurance, just not the money to back it up. I should probably move from my shitty apartment just in case. It's been broken into a couple of times, I just never bothered to move before because-" Because she knew better than to think a new apartment would change her luck with home invasions and robberies. "Anyways, how involved do you want to be with it while I'm pregnant? I need your help affording the doctor's appointments and a safer apartment, but I can deal with everything else myself." Jobs would be harder while pregnant, and she could never trust her nest egg of cash would last, but she'd always made do.

 

[WickedWitch]

The thing about having money, the kind that came from generations upon generations of successful people who in the end died with more money then should be allowed for one person. The thing about it, was that Ashley could never quite wrap his head around how much money was actually in his name. It was money so deep it made him uncomfortably guilty just having it sit unmoving in savings, only touched when he wanted to help someone, but even then. That barely did anything to it. Sometime, after his parents had passed, and the possessions and finances had been disrupted between him and his brother based on the will written in his father loopy handwriting, he'd come to the disconcerting realization that he had become one of the people that he had envied in one of his past lives. Too much money, as it proved, wasn't as luxurious as he'd hoped. Especially in the hands of someone like him, with his days numbered, and his ambitions barely existent. He'd attempted, on many occasions, to fund bigger organizations set on helping other people, and when it became clear the untruthful nature most of them catered to. He'd stopped. Now, Ashley just tried helping where he could and in places he trusted a good deal.

Even that, though had greatly helped to ease his guilt, never did give him the same satisfaction as actually doing something physically with his hands. Which just steadied the idea that he liked helping people, most people at the very least, but somehow Beatirc tittered between the undetermined edge of these people and people he didn't want to and wouldn't ever help. But this wasn't just about them, or the centuries long grievances shared between them, it was about the life they had made, that frankly shouldn't have even existed, but did. Against all odds. "I have more than enough money, I can pay for everything." He states, aware of how slightly pompous that makes him sound, but too tired to give it much more thought. "And, it would be better if we get you out of that apartment as soon as possible. How quickly can you pack?"

 

[firejay1]

Beatrice eyed him in an uncertain pause, but conceded. "Less than an hour. I pack light. And have never been able to hold onto anything of any real value." She muttered the last sentence, before giving him her old address. She added, "But where am I supposed to go on such short notice then? Do you keep apartments or hotel rooms reserved for your favorite mistresses or something?" She knew that last bit was petty, but it was hard to resist when he was being such a classically rich prick. Him offering to pay for everything pretty much answered how interested he was in actually helping raise a child, but that was just fine with her.

 

[WickedWitch]

Ashley nods, rubbing the knuckle of his fingers into his eyes, the area underneath his eyes feeling raw from the exhaustion of the entire situation, he felt like he could sleep for a good few centuries with how tired he was. He was at least grateful that his headache hasn't progressed any worse than a few ignorable aches every now and then, which was probably because he was being civil to a person he'd forgotten how to be with. The moment he thinks that, he almost wishes he hadn't been attempting to be calm for most of their conversation. Maybe most of his efforts would be for naught. Sighing deeply in ire, he drops his hands away from his eyes, rubbing them down a small wrinkle at the front of his dress-shirt.

"Is this how you're going to be every time I try and help you?" He asks tersely, taking a step back, suddenly feeling like the open air was becoming suffocating. "If it helps ease your gratuitous need for vindication, the answer is no. My parents had a thing for real estate, and while most of the things went to my elder brother, I was given our childhood home in the country and two condos in the city. The country is probably too secluded for you, so for now, you'll have to stay in my guest room until I can find the person renting one of the condos, another place for the time being." Then, realizing he was imposing and while he couldn't completely say he could feel any inkling of guilt when he was so annoyed. He at least kept a good bit of his manners, and adds offhandedly, "Is that a problem?"

 

[firejay1]

Betty rolled her eyes. It wasn't as though she had much of a choice on whether or not to accept his help for the sake of the baby. He didn't have to be so high and mighty about it. But she listened and nodded at his explanation. When he was done, she wrinkled her nose. Living with this rich dick. But hey. She was pregnant. He couldn't murder her, but she sure as hell could him. If she wanted to. But then who the hell would take care of the kid. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "It's fine. You're right. Secluded would be bad in case anything happened. And maybe living together will prevent the curse from acting up too much." Or maybe it'd rub off on him, and he'd get robbed blind. It would be awful for the baby in her stomach, but it would be supremely satisfying for him to experience her circumstances for once in his multiple lives.

She pushed off the wall with her hands. "Alright, then. Now that that's settled. If we're going to be living together for at least a month-" usually it took at least that long to get a tenant legally out even if they were willing- "we'll have plenty of time to discuss childcare details. Should we go?"

 

[WickedWitch]

"Yes," He says, this time less tersely, "We'll talk once you're settled." There was a thing; Ashley had learnt during the few moments he'd spent attempting to better understand himself, and that thing was that he held a terribly meager capacity for most emotions. Possibly a coping mechanism for all the many lifetimes of grief, and heartache, and angrily existing simply to be angry, or maybe even a characteristic he'd always had and had only just started refining it into something more noticeable. Though, he believed it was an odd mixture of both cases, which he thought made him an even odder person to attempt to understand, even as himself. It's why, in one moment, he's so angry and annoyed that his teeth are protesting painfully from where he was tightly clenching them, and his palms held the barest trace of crescent indents from his nails, and his shoulders are wound so tightly it almost hurts and are a little closer to the lobe of his ear then they were in normal situations. And then, Ashley's just not any of that anymore. Like someone throwing cold water over a burning piece of paper, instant and relatively sad. Because soggy paper was an already rather pathetic sight, and burnt soggy paper just made it worse, and it isn't exactly how he feels. But the analogy fits how quickly his anger and any other unpleasant feeling is soaked out.

He takes a breath, notices a blur in his eyes, rubs at said blur, and then takes one long final breath before retrieving his keys from his pocket. The coldness of the metal against his natural warm hand was a welcome contrast, placing him steadily back into the body he had unknowingly been slightly filtering away from. "Though," Ashley starts after some thought and after the two of them have piled back into the car, "A month isn't the correct approximation. I'd say a month and a half, at the barest minimum. I'm not in the habit of kicking out my tenants, so I'm not sure how the legal transactions could be done ethically within only a single month." He trails off in thought, fingers swiping against the leather of the steering wheel, repeating the process for only a shortly drawn moment, before he continues. "Nevermind, I'll handle it." And then he's pulling out of the parking lot, and into the growing bustle of traffic.

 

[firejay1]

"It wasn't an approximation." Betty snapped. "It was a minimum." But after that, she kept her mouth shut. She'd really have to learn to shut her fat mouth. She didn't want to waste time and energy throughout this pregnancy squabbling. Just thinking about the baby itself was draining enough. They didn't maintain much conversation as he drove to her crappy apartment. She refused to allow him inside her place, and came out with a duffel bag of supplies, her only current stash of cash, and a handful of clothes. She owned nothing of emotional value, as things she got attached to generally went missing or got stolen. Most everything else could be thrown away in future trips, and the furniture left for the next tenant of this crappy place. Honestly, if she left everything there, someone would probably take the room anyways, soon as the landlord realized she wasn't planning to stay or pay anymore.

Finally, finally, they made their way to Ashley's place. Her mouth set in a grim line, she looked up at the nice building. Most people would be impressed, or even pleased, but for Betty, expensive buildings in every age meant trouble. She'd been kicked out of most of them in many of the miserable lives she had lived, and any taste she might have had for markers of wealth in general was far overshadowed by the years that had drummed into her the impression that she was not welcome there. She touched her belly again for a moment, wondering if her child would grow up like that, too. Or grow up with wealth and come to be ashamed of her. The thought was depressing.

[OoC: Might be good for you to describe the building and his reaction to settling her in, then we can move alongs if we can think of any other plot!]

 

[WickedWitch]

It's easier, afterwards, once he's calmed enough that he doesn't feel like he's seconds away from exploding rather gruesomely from his own skin, like he can take a deep breath without shaking when he exhales. The drive to Beatrice's place is short, or long; as he couldn't find himself sacrificing his already unsteady focus to pay any attention to the blocky numbers blinking at him from his dashboard. When they reach her place, Ashley isn't allowed inside, and he thinks he should have thought that when he had offered his help in the moving process, that it would be assumed that he would attempt to actually physically help her. Initially he feels abashed as she goes to collect her things, because he had felt no previous inclination to do so; he had just planned to wait in the parking lot.

But when she returns with only a few things, he realizes the sentiment was useless, she barely had anything. Which Ashley is aware isn't an entirely kind thought, but it was the truth. And trying to make himself feel guilty for how the curse impacted their lives —especially when they both knew the cause— wouldn't do him any good, or leave him anything other than regretful and wallowing. His train of thought from then on just melts away, insignificant and small little trinkets taking up the space in his mind; mindless chatter about things to do, wondering how to handle the work that would possibly be waiting for him, and trying to recall whether he had left anything confidential in the guest room.

Ashley hadn't paid much mind to his own place before, as he was rather indifferent about the building; he liked that it was close to his work, and in a fairly good neighborhood, but other than that. He just considered it a place not quite like home, but close enough that he could spend time inside it without feeling like an intruder. But now, after they had just left Beatrice's place, all he can notice is the growing list of differences between his own apartment and hers.

It's not an overly large building, with only six floors and a basement, it wasn't depressingly modern, as it had been built more than a good few decades before he had moved into it, and while it was in a good neighborhood, a normal apartment was rented at a considerably fair price and while Ashley paid significantly more than that because he owned the only flat, he was glad that the building didn't completely confirm the assumption that he was a cliche trust-fund kid. The problem ends up being the interior; unlike the rather somewhat modest exterior, his flat was heavily furnished.

And not with furniture that a middle-class or lower-class person could afford; it was the type that one had to specifically request. While Ashley had been able to choose the place and was just considering setting up one room with a bed and a desk and calling it a day, his older brother had been adamant in decorating it, heavily. Ashley had seen it as a final parting gift, a farewell of sorts as he was planning to set out on his own for once and his only lasting family member would be too far away to help with his every passing whim, so not wanting to accidentally offend or upset the older man, he had just gone with it and agreed.

Which left him awkwardly standing at the threshold of the apartment door, staring down the hallway at where the living room door was slightly ajar, and very set on displaying the very expensive furniture occupying the room. He wants to make an excuse, and gets half-way towards opening his mouth to do so, before he decides very determinedly not to do that. "Just put your things somewhere, the living room is right through there, wait while I set up the guest room."

Then Ashley leaves her to do that, and takes out all the boxes he had been meaning to get rid but hadn't found the time to and had instead hidden it inside the guest room, even though there was a perfectly spacious storage area just down the hall. It's thankfully not too much, and he only takes a couple of minutes to relocate them.