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Once Five had sobered up, he offered Luther an explanation and glanced down at the girl who slept on the other side of the bed. Somehow, she looked more stressed when asleep than she had done when she was awake. She was facing the wall, her legs curled up towards her and her braided hair behind her back. Scrunching her nose slightly, she clasped her hand against the sheet, clutching it tightly as she mumbled something incoherent.
It was in another language, Russian he assumed and he wondered just how many languages she spoke.
In fact, it made him realise he knew nothing about the girl, not even her last name. Obviously they had just met and in such odd circumstances, attempting to stop the end of the world. If they met in any other situations, perhaps he could have had the time to learn about her, truly become her friend. Sometimes, when he looked at her, he felt like he was seeing someone ethereal, someone undeserving of his eyes. He had only just met her but there was something about her that made him want to confess every little thing to her.
Maybe it was because of how similar they were, both escaping the clutches of the Commission and making it out alive. Or maybe it was for some other, unrecognisable reason.
Unable to dwell on it, he diverted his eyes once he saw the girl was waking up, busying himself with the mannequin next to him. Luther had momentarily left, leaving the two alone. If the boy had turned around and continued looking at the ebony haired girl, he might have found himself noticing the shift in her eyes, the way the darkness seemed to seek her, wrapping around her fingertips and begging her to release her power.
