Work Text:
“If you’re going to kill yourself, don’t use a gun, that’ll just be really messy. You know they’ll make me clean it, or even worse, they’ll make me and Sheffield clean it. Think of us.” Ysabelle reasons, perched on his desk, she leans down far enough that he can see down her top, intentional he’s sure.
A cigarette dangles from her hand loosely, dwindling down further and further. Her breath is heavy with the scent, and though she doesn’t exactly blow the smoke in his face, she makes no attempt to hide it the way Jinana would, leaning out of an open window anytime she smoked near him. Ysabelle on the other hand had drawn the curtains in the office, dimmed the lights and set what she insisted was the proper mood to voice their woes, the only light source being the burning of their cigarettes.
He doesn’t smoke, a habit he had tried years ago as a youth that just made him wretch in a bush while his mother hurled insults in his direction. However Ysabelle insisted, saying it was going to make him feel better, with a giggle and a brush of her long blonde hair, she lit a cigarette for him, promising him a lucky, and then a kiss on the cheek. Her lip gloss left a sticky mark on his cheek that wasn’t erased even with a damp napkin he fished from his drawer.
“Wow, gee, thanks for the consoling.” Obrien flicks the tip of his cigarette off. He hadn't even brought it to his lips, but the warmth of the burning tip was enough to ground him.
“Well come on, look at me. You think this is what I wish I was doing?” Her voice sharpens, and she leans back on his desk, crossing her legs. “I graduated nursing school with honors, recommendations and letters!”
She puts her cigarette out in the cup of coffee on O'Briens desk, ignoring the soft breath of protest he released. “I’ll make you more.” She snapped. “I fuckin hate this place—I hate that bitch with her fucking creepy ass eyes-“
“Argilla, she's two.”
“And yet she’s a god.” With a bitter laugh, she snatched the cigarette from O'Brien's hand. “Don’t waste my lucky, it’s from Vashti.”
“Like I was saying,” She continues, propping her feet up on Heat’s desk, ignoring the fluttering of papers that were disturbed by her heels. “You should try to numb it out.”
“Wow, great idea.” He says, breathing out slowly. “With what?”
“Sex, pills, drinks!” She laughs bitterly, throwing her head back. “You don’t think Sheffield and I are hooking up because we’re in love, do you!?”
Full blown laughing herself to tears, Ysabelle drops her cigarette butt back into his cup of coffee and gathers herself. She sits up, running a hand through her hair to push back her bangs before pushing O’Brien back in his chair, making room for herself to straddle him.
“We do it because it’s fun, because for a split second in this fucked up world there isn’t death and decay and the blood of children on our hands. What is on our hands is-“
“Ysabelle your knee is crushing my thigh.”
“Would you prefer it to be somewhere else?” Her finger is dedicated to twisting a curl of his hair around. Her smile is intoxicating, he was sure that if he had felt anything more than disdain, he would have allowed her to peel back his lab coat and bite him.
“On my desk, preferably. You know I don’t li-“
“You don’t like women, yes I know.” She sighs, her breath makes him flinch. “It’s not about like, or love.” Ysabelle removes herself from his lap, the buzzing of the beeper attached to her hip drawing her attention away. “It’s about lust.”
Her smile is dazzling, she fixes her top, buttoning it back to hide the black lace that peeks out from underneath. “You know, we’ve offered, and our doors, among other things, aren't closed.”
Ysabelle blows him a kiss, a harsh laugh following after as she allows the door to their office to slam shut.