It's just emotion [Tate | Invite]

[Constance]

Coastside.

It was such a better place than the Quarantine Zone. Here, she wasn't assaulted with the scent of the dead. Here, she didn't have to look over her shoulder every five seconds in worry that a zombie would pop up from behind a couch and walk in its weird, limping way towards her. No, here, all she had to worry about was gangsters, blood thieves and a few angry cops. They weren't that hard to disperse. Granted, neither were the zombies, but at least they didn't smell. "Did you get the location?" Nathan asked, his voice a low rumble through her blue-tooth. It would have shocked her, had she not been hearing his heavy breathing for the past twenty minutes. "Yeah, I did. Get back to the apartment. I'll see you soon," she ordered, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. It was still hard for him to listen to her, something inside of him wanting to battle the power, but she knew she'd win. He was her... slave.

It was hard to think of him like that. He had been so dominant when they were together. Now, the tables had turned, and unlike her, he didn't have a choice. "Fine. I'll feed the fish," he muttered under her breath before ending the call. When she was sure there was nothing but silence on the other end, she pulled her hair up into a loose ponytail and dropped her bag to the ground before kneeling to inspect the lock. Breaking in shouldn't be too hard. There was no one in sight, and as she gave the knob a gentle shake, it nearly opened then and there. "And they hide important things here," she said in disbelief as her eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. The emotions spun inside of her and grew, causing her hands to tremble as she worked the lock, waiting for the click that would let her inside.

Not now. God, not now.

Lowering her head for a moment, she stared at the ground as she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the emotions as she twisted the pick once more. The door swung open after a 'click' and she grabbed her pack from the ground, slipping inside. She could hear the guard shuffling around a few steps ahead, humming to himself. He made it way too easy for her to avoid, and she chuckled low to herself. Turning her gaze over the floor, she located the terminal and in a few key strokes, had the inventory list and the cameras disabled. A box was tucked beneath the desk, and she couldn't resist. After all, she was there to take, right? It was free game. Lifting it onto the desk, she rummaged through it, finding useless paper, before she felt the plastic of the floor card. "Well, that was easy," she chuckled.

Palming it, she carefully made her way to the door, the guard still walking, unobservant. They really did hire the worse people. Sliding the card through the slot, she pushed the door to the next floor open and continued on. It was just as easy as the first one, the card found first try. She didn't even see a guard, so she took her time rummaging through the closets and boxes, tucking what she could into her bag before heading for the door. Hoisting her pack over her shoulder, she opened the door and was instantly shoved back a step. The guard on the other side came rushing at her, his gun drawn, and she slowly raised a brow. Calmly, she did as he asked, dropping her bag to the ground - and rolling out a bomb. Before he could react, it went off, and he crumbled to the ground. The alarms signaled over-head, the camera having caught it all. She could hear the pounding footsteps as more came to her location, and she muttered a curse.

Lifting her bag from the ground, she stepped over the unconcious man, his heavy chest rising and falling with his breathing. At least he was still alive. These bombs that Tate had introduced her to worked wonders. As she reached the terminal, her phone went off, the ringtone resounding in her ear and causing her to tense. "I'm kind of busy right now, Valon. What's up?" she asked as she hit a few more keys. She barely heard what he said, the sound of gunshots filling the air as the cops moved to her floor. There was no point in trying to further her exploration. The warehouse was crawling with guards, and she couldn't risk them finding her. "I'll call you back," she interrupted, ending the call and moving to the nearest window. Throwing it open, she tossed herself over the edge and landed in a crouch on the other side.

The illumination of their flashlights flashed through the shadows as they searched for her, and she gave a quiet laugh. "Close," she whispered to herself. At least she had gathered a few things. The night wasn't a complete bust, she told herself as she straightened, the neon lights of the diner catching her attention. Hooking her strap over her shoulder tightly, she made her way inside, taking note of how empty it was. The only person on the entire floor was a small, older woman who was red in the face as she wiped down the tables. "Excuse me?" Constance called out as she chose a seat, pack dropping with a thud onto the table. Her sudden voice caused the woman to jump, and she held a hand to her heart as she pulled her pad free and shuffled towards her, as if the hours on her feet were killing her.

"A coke, please," the blonde ordered as she rested in her seat, legs crossed at the knee. The sun had set in the sky, bathing the streets in the cool of the shadows. The server cast her a disgruntled look, the key to lock the diner up dangling from two pale fingers before she sighed. "Coming up," the older woman spoke, and Constance allowed a smile to play on her lips. "Thanks," she chuckled, fingers tucking a stray curl behind her ear as she dropped her journal onto the sticky table-top and flipped to the most recent entry. The words made no sense to her, the way they were jumbled together, jumping from one thought to the next. It was in her fine print, yet it didn't seem as if it had come from her own mind. "I need to get this under control," she said quietly under her breath causing the server to look up from the counter. "Did you say something?" she asked as she pressed the glass to the spout beneath the machine, the coke filling up.

"No, just talking to myself," she replied, hand outstretched for the drink when it was brought to her. She didn't even look up from the words, picking out a few pieces here and there that should make sense. Paranoia, depression, fear, jealousy, anger. It was all there, written in her panicked script, but it didn't make sense to her. She wasn't always like that, but she could feel it lurking. It was like a shadow in the back of her mind, threatening to take complete control if she didn't get ahead of the game. "Do you want something to eat?" the server asked, drawing her from her thoughts. "Chicken strips meal?" she asked, motioning to the first thing on the menu as she tossed a few wadded bills onto the table. As the woman moved off to make her order, she felt it.

It was like cold water had poured from the ceiling. It was the same feeling she got every time she was watched. Lifting her glass to her lips, she took another sip as the paranoia blossomed in her chest. Every sound became louder, more clear, and she heard the bell above the door chime when they walked in. Keeping her gaze on the notebook, she remained as still as stone as the thud of boots approached her table - and walked right past her, the man sliding into a booth a few down. Shaking her head, she pulled out her phone and sent a duplicated text to Valon and Tate before tucking it away, her eyes closing.

:: I'm at the diner. Come join me? ::

[Tate]

She had been busy in her apartment, organizing her plants as Melinda chattered away on her cellphone. The thrall was almost as useless as most peppy teenagers, but Tate only asked simple tasks of her – she had already since assumed the girl’s brain was too small and she would lose her mind if asked to do something complicated. “Pick up this, pick up that. That’s all you ever ask of her.” The red head ignored the dead woman speaking to her as her pale fingers neatly plucked at dead leaves. Bluehearts, Monks Hood. What else did she need to start growing? She closed her eyes and exhaled quietly, lifting her dirt covered hands to her temples as she tried to remember.

Muskroot.

That was it.

When the phone went off, she lowered her hands and peered at it with narrowed hazel eyes. Cai was in the Crypt, Melisande doing whatever. She hadn’t seen Lady in months. Cavanagh and Bianca generally just sent her emails... and Miss Chatterbox was still talking behind her in the other room. Standing up, she rubbed her rump as she felt she was sitting on it for too long before going to collect the device. Melinda didn’t even look at her as she leaned over the dark haired woman’s legs, the toes of her boots scraping and getting caught on the hem of Tate’s light blue tee-shirt, revealing the colorful tattoo against pale skin on the shorter woman’s stomach.

Constance.

That explained it. Only Constance and Valon ever texted her, and she had put a distinctive annoying tone, Barbie Girl by Aqua, as Valon’s ringtone. It would go off at text or phone call. Specifically, she had “I can act like a star, I can beg on my knees” for the text ring. Skimming over the text message, her eyebrow lifted softly as she glanced at her thrall. “Slut, go get dressed. We’re going out.” She ignored the glare that she received for calling the female a slut and sent a text in reply to the tiny blonde she’d become close to.

‘Be there in a bit. Need to shower, sending Linda the loud mouth.’

Once the text was sent, Tate straightened out and removed the device off its charger before she wandered in the direction of her bathroom to take a quick shower, cleaning underneath her nails as she went. After a little bit of time, she came back out wearing a fresh pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved tee-shirt, drying her hair partially with a towel before jamming a blue beanie down over her wavy red hair. As promised, Melinda had left already for the diner and Tate moved outside with a whistle escaping past her lips before making her way down to the ground floor and out behind the Wickbridge transit. She focused, and then began running. Within seconds, the tiny killer found herself standing outside.

From where she stood, Tate could see Melinda lazing her way in the direction and Constance inside. Rolling her eyes, she headed inside and moved to where the blonde was sitting, “Can’t eat, unfortunately, thus Linda will be.” She mumbled under her breath to the female before frowning gently in concern. Reaching over, she squeezed Constance’s shoulder firmly. She really needed to have her meet Cavanagh later. The relaxed Allurist probably knew more about what to do with emotions than she did. Tate generally just shut everything out. “Are you alright, Connie?”