lust a prima vista -- kara.

[Eiji Almasy.]

The recent trip to Cuba had done him a lot of good. Seattle had been rainy since March, and even all through the summer. It didn't look like they were moving anywhere warmer anytime soon, but at least he was beginning to look at schools up in the North-East section with more than half a mind of attending. His friends would undoubtedly stay behind, but that didn't bother him as much; he didn't often like using his gifts, but when it meant that he could go to some place like New York for his morning classes and make it back in time for a lunch date in Seattle, California or Miami, he thought he could make an exception.

Leagues more important than school was the fact that he still didn't know what he was going to do for his 19^th birthday. At fist, he'd wanted a proper dinner between the favorite members of his family and his friends, but that plan got scratched almost instantly when that person pissed him off and this person began to annoy him; plus, he concluded, he didn't believe all of his friends could be on their best behavior for anything longer than an hour. Anyway, he couldn't very well fly his mother out to Seattle, and so he decided to save the dinner occasion for something like his 21^st.

It was even more difficult, after that, to make up his mind. There wasn't anything he could possibly do that hadn't been done already; Kenneth and Tristan, while he loved them, had had their birthdays in Vegas[/b]. He couldn't hire out a hotel, again, because the novelty severely wore off after having lived in one for nearly 5 straight months, and every other time they were in a foreign city. Instead, he'd booked out the entire floor of the SkyCity restaurant in the Space Needle and was in talks with getting Steve Aoki to play the entire night. It was put together in a rush, but the relieved look was evident on his face as he came out of the post office; he should seriously start considering getting an assistant for this kind of stuff.[/color]

[ĸara вelova★]

Compared to Eiji's troubled thoughts about his impending birthday, the thoughts of another overshadowed his fears. Kara was walking down the street, carefully concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. She knew very well she was a graceless girl, and these next few days she wanted as few scrapes and bruises on her body as possible. In her trembling hand was a sealed envelope, and her focus was directed at the post office.

Her death loomed over her, and she wanted to send her family a letter, letting them know she was... alive? well? healthy? happy? All those things, but it was a lie. She wasn't alive, she was dead on her feet; a zombie going through the motions. She wasn't well, her sanity dwindled on the precipice of her mind, ready to jump off at the slightest push. She wasn't healthy, she had developed terrible eating habits and sleeping routines (which involved no food and no sleep). And she most definitely wasn't happy. Who would be happy, knowing they only had a few days left to live?

Her usually pale skin was chalk white, there were purplish bruises under her eyes. She was an animated corpse, and if one touched her, they would find her skin to be as cold as dead flesh. These sorts of things happened to a person when they neglected themselves. She didn't expect anyone else to care if she couldn't bring herself to give a damn.

She was just about to step into the small building when another person walked out. She didn't even notice who it was, she was so used to tuning out the world. She trudged around the boy she once called her friend, oblivious to his familiar aura. Kara had given up using her powers, feeling and influencing, altogether. What was left was an eternal numbness that echoed in her empty heart.

"How much to mail this to Madrid?" Kara asked the man behind the counter, voice dull and devoid of emotion. She was wearing those tattered old jeans that practically fell off her skin, hardly appropriate for Fall/Winter apparel in both style and practicality. She had on her winter coat though, and as usual, nothing but her bra beneath it. She'd brought her best shirt to be dry cleaned, and the man had given her a funny look. 'This?' He asked in disbelief. Who would want this top dry cleaned? He didn't believe her when she tried telling him it was for a special event, but he took her money anyway and told her to come back later.

She had her wallet in her back jean pocket, stuffed with all the cash she acquired over her time here (which she only hoped would be enough to do these few things that needed to be done). She looked around the small interior of the store at the postcards and souvenirs while the man behind the counter tabulated her amount on the computer.

[Eiji Almasy.]

It wasn't a panic attack; God, he was not that pathetic.

He'd been thinking about a lot of things, most of which held no importance in the world except for the fact that they were making his life good. He thought about what to get Kellan for Christmas, because it had to be a million times more special than her last two birthday gifts. He thought about Elliot and what she was doing at that moment; he thought about where Draco was going to be for lunch, and then thought about if Tristan was working at the diner, since their food was easily better than three fourths of the rest of Seattle's. He thought about where to go in the break between his birthday and Elliot's, and if they should maybe go to Rome for her birthday, or during the Christmas break. He thought about his family, and then started thinking about his girlfriend again. He thought about his friends and why none of his cars could ever be as awesome as Andrew's boat.

And when he was thinking about going to see his Mother for the remainder of the day, he saw her. She looked a lot different than the last time they'd met. The bruises she wore under her eyes made his face freeze in an expression that couldn't be mistaken for anything other than shock. His throat seized instantly and his palms rubbed almost fanatically against his jeans. Had she seen him? Was this some kind of test? He was waiting for her to turn around and do something, say anything; remind him she hated him, bring up what he'd done to her, tell him that he should go to hell and stay there.

But she didn't, only continued into the post office like she wasn't even aware of who she'd passed. As he was grappling with what was happening, he vaguely thought that it was unfair; had she forgotten him? It didn't matter, he told himself, but she had never affected him more in their time together, then apart, than in that moment. Eiji let the passing crowd push him against the outside of the post office, liking the hard surface against his back because he was feeling like he needed to sit down with his head between his knees, taking deep breaths in every attempt to quell the rising sickness in his stomach.

He had to remember that he hated her, more than anyone he'd ever hated in his life; and he didn't care, not about the way she looked gaunt, the way those jeans looked ill-fitted, the way he knew she wasn't wearing anything underneath her coat except for her bra. He didn't care, he didn't; he'd stopped caring about her all those months ago, after what she made him do.

[ĸara вelova★]

The old Kara, the one who might have cared whether or not Eiji saw her like this, might have some smug satisfaction with the way he was tortured now. She'd worked so hard before to have this effect on him, doing it effortlessly would have been a sick kind of triumph for her. But she'd done her best to just forget about him and move on with her life; he made it seem so easy, after all. She'd finally accepted he wouldn't be there when she died, a small hope she'd collected from the duration they spent together, and she had no expectations that he would be around after.

She paid to send her letter to Europe, giving the man the exact address of her former home, and hopefully to her family. Kara then perused the two aisles, looking but not seeing all the corny printed cards and stuffed animals. When she could no longer get away with occupying her time at the store, she plucked a keychain off the rotating stand it hung on and walked out.

As she stood on the stairs leading to the post office, she looked around, desperate to find something to do for the remainder of the day. Something to occupy her time so she wouldn't curl up in a corner and contemplate her death. She saw nothing to her left, and at first nothing to her left. But even if she wasn't consciously using her gift, she had always been a very perceptive person.

This is why she saw Eiji, looking as though he were about to empty the contents of his stomach on his designer jeans. Instinct caused her to tap into her powers, to instantly numb her from the flood of emotions she harboured for the boy. But she forced herself to push that blanket aside, to disallow her gift's interference. Maybe she should just turn invisible, and walk away. He clearly didn't want to be disturbed, and the instinctive maternal concern for him was easier to wave away than the other feelings that stuck in her throat.

But some twisted part of her wanted to say hello, even though she'd been going out of her way to avoid everyone she would leave behind in this life. He looks sick enough already. You don't need him to be even more upset in five days, but she scoffed, because even she didn't believe Eiji would feel much remorse for her passing. What harm could it do then?

She took an uncertain step toward him, brows puckered in concentration. Her gaunt eyes seemed to be contemplating her actions, still unsure if she should proceed. One more step brought her in front of him, and she looked around to see if anyone else was worried for the rich young man's health. No one else seemed eager to intervene, so she greeted him with a rather anticlimactic, "Hey."

[Eiji Almasy.]

When her voice reached him, he coughed to the side; a polite, discreet cough that people did in situations where they needed to dispel themselves of any discomfort. Expectedly, it didn't work. He took his time getting his attention back to her, hoping that she was somebody else, that he'd been wrong in his initial assumption. It had to be better than this, he could have been a little bit more lucky; any one of his friends could have been with him, Elliot, even a member of his family, and instead, as it probably always would have been, he was alone.

She looked bad. When they'd first met, she was pretty enough that he'd been attracted to her, and up until January, she'd still held that appeal over him. Now he couldn't even recognize the girl he'd met over a year ago. She held nothing of the qualities he'd once liked, and then he tried his hardest not to think about the ways he'd changed; for the better to her worse, because he didn't think he deserved it.

In spite of all the time he'd spent wishing he could fix things, wishing that he could have done things differently; the strain he'd put on his relationships because of her, and all the inconsistent periods where he'd almost needed to see her, to talk to her; now, it seemed almost pointless. He looked at her, expression revealing much more than he normally let, too much, but his eyes were lackluster. While part of him looked dull, another showed his abject dejectedness.

"Hi," he said, lightly, not overly loud; trying not to go mad from the surrealism of their encounter. She should have much more to say to him, if nothing at all. How many times had he contemplated seeing her in the past few months? He had never really thought about what he would say if the moment ever came, and now that it was upon him, no warning and no expectations, all he had to say was a stupid, almost obnoxious hello. He would have laughed if he could, instead, he glanced at his feet and made himself refrain from asking her how she was.

[ĸara вelova★]

There was no question about it; Kara was ugly. She'd never thought of herself any other way, so the change to her physical appearance went unnoticed by her. Eiji hadn't seen her in ages, so the time between him seeing her while she was healthy, and now, would be drastic. The brunette didn't realize, but the way he couldn't look at her said enough. And it just went to show how much she didn't care when she noticed she wasn't the least bit self-conscious. She supposed once you gave up, nothing mattered.

It was good he didn't ask how she was. Kara wouldn't know how to reply. Just like Eiji didn't know how to respond to her hideous presence. They were two ex-friends torn apart by their self-destructive personalities.

Why had she approached him? She wished very strongly that she could just walk away. She was socially awkward enough that she could probably get away with it without comment from his part. Manners were something Kara never held as a priority, so why should she embrace them now? Was she determined to make her last days count? Obviously not; look what she was doing with them. But something compelled her to stay where she was.

"Why are you here?" It was an innocent question. She didn't stress any of the words, it was just a simple query. No accusation, no suspicion. Maybe a bit of genuine curiosity, but her world certainly wouldn't crumble if he didn't answer it. If he had the courage to look at her, he would notice how her own eyes reflected his indifference, however, Kara didn't need to try nearly as hard to produce it. She really was a zombie.

But then it occurred to her. The notion had popped into her head before, but she'd never paid it any serious attention. Never had anything to do to give it any merit. Kara could behave in any way she wanted, and it wouldn't matter the consequences. And what it boiled down to was this; what did Kara want to do? What sort of person did she want to be?

The answer surprised her. She smiled, and the tiniest flicker of life passed behind her eyes. It was so brief, so fleeting, that even if Eiji had bothered to look at her, he might not have seen it.

"I was just sending a letter to my parents," She offered, and now she knew what she was. At least for today. She was going to be happy, and honest, and she refused to be haunted by the sword hanging above her head. Self-flagellation could only hold her for so long. Kara was going to rebel against herself. Rebel against the world. Maybe she would thank Eiji for that, if she decided to write a letter. He sparked her into an inspiring thought, and the will to carry it out.

No matter how little he'd done, he'd spurred her into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.

[Eiji Almasy.]

It came to him eventually, that she was looking at him. All the times he'd tried his hardest to teach her the simple courtesy of paying someone your undivided, focused attention, and how she had never done as he'd wanted her to; she'd chosen now to be, almost, gracious. The last thought had him looking up a little, from under his stupid, pretty boy lashes; appearing for all intent and purposes, unbelieving. He caught her small smile though and he couldn't say what happened next, but she changed.

Her face was familiar to him, he remembered. Despite the bags, her awful hair, the whole state of her; he remembered her face. He'd seen it enough times while they were together, and even after she'd destroyed his penthouse, even after she had punished him so horribly; sometimes he would dream of her.

He looked up at her more fully, straightened almost completely until he could stand in an attempt for a real conversation. He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to think too much of it either; he needed to do this, then maybe she would leave him for good.

"I had to authorize some packages," he answered, a quiet murmur like how he used to talk to her; he could almost taste the closeness that was once between them, but the more he felt he could push for it, the harder it seemed to push back. Maybe this wasn't about him at all; maybe this was something she needed to do, solely based on herself.

"Are you going home for the holidays?" he asked, because it struck him that he didn't even know if she was still studying anymore. He wondered suddenly, exactly what he had learned of her during their time together. She was still as strange to him as the day they had met.

[ĸara вelova★]

She nodded, as though his business at the post office interested her. It didn't, not really, was it once had. Before she might've been curious, but now she couldn't even muster up a satisfying illusion of curiosity. At his question, was she going home?, she gave a half shrug and looked down again.

"Something like that," And she didn't elaborate, or explain her choice of words. Home wasn't a place anymore, it was a state, and in death she hoped to find her place. Maybe even there, she wouldn't fit it. Maybe she was doomed for an eternity of being a misfit.

Attempting to use some social grace, Kara tried to do the polite thing. Return the question. "And you? Any holiday plans?" The words themselves were casual enough, but coming from Kara they sounded awkward in their unrehearsed manner. Her face adopted a quizzical look, but the question didn't quite reach her eyes. She was asking not because she cared to know the answer, but because she felt obligated. Their situation seemed backward to her; Eiji was the one who always had to put up with her, and now she was the one tolerating him. And even though she told herself she would like to leave, the thought was nearly unbearable. No matter how uncomfortable it might be to stand here in the pre-winter streets of Seattle with the boy she'd scorned, she still craved his company. And allowing herself to indulge in his society made her other pains temporarily numb - she focussed very hard on one thing at a time these days; walking, breathing, needless missions to the post office...

She took a break from staring at the ground to study his face before his answer. To see his face before his reply. When they were close, nearly inseparable, Kara could see the openness in his eyes, the thought he put into his words, the careful consideration. And when he was cross with her, if she could bare looking at him, she would see the closed cool mask he composed for times when she was around her. What would he be today? She examined the angle of his brow, the corner of his lips, the temperature of his gaze. Was she to receive a warm response or an icy rejection, she wondered with unattached intrigue. She wondered if it would hurt if he snubbed her, and half hoped he would, just to prove she could still feel her own emotions.

Empathy could be such a hindrance. It obviously gave her complexes, and on more than one occasion did she confuse someone else's emotions with her own. That was why Kara shut her powers off, or to the best of her ability, separated herself from everyone, these last few days. She was going to be on her own soon, be so alone it was deadly, so she may as well ween herself off of the cacophony of feelings she was exposed to every day. She had never felt so distant from someone as she felt standing there in front of Eiji. She was so completely cut off it was suffocating. If only she could reach out and share what he was experiencing...

She looked away, unseeing down the sidewalk as people walked further away and approached without a single glance in their direction. Maybe quitting cold-turkey wasn't such a great idea. The temptation was enormous, and it made her question why she bothered to shut herself out in the first place. She was sure it was for a good reason, but she couldn't remember it at this moment. She wanted to know what Eiji was feeling, and she could do that in less than a second. Studying his face was the human way to interpret someone's emotions. Right now Kara had never felt so inhuman.

She struggled with herself, staring down that road, giving Eiji a view of her unhealthy profile. The many piercings in her ear born of boredom and her innate stubbornness varied in luster; some rhinestones, a diamond, gunmetal, a paper clip... Her hair was tucked behind the skewered ear, and its battle wounds were visible. The boy wouldn't know, but he might notice a penguin with a bow tie, a manipulated cell phone charm taken from the phone Jessica used to humiliate her. It was a trophy, of sorts, as were all her baubles, and she wholly intended on wearing them to her funeral.

[Eiji Almasy.]

In less than two weeks, he was going to be nineteen years old. On another road in his life, he would have been in his second year at university; maybe he would have had the same friends that he did now, maybe he would still be with the girl. And he imagines that on an even different road, maybe he could have been with her. He had been awfully, so painfully close at one stage; his efforts to buy her new books and feed her, to dress her and all his attempts to hear her sing, to have her paint for him. He hadn't been trying to change her, he hadn't; while it had been more about him (don't be unfair to her because you're doing this for yourself), it had also been about seeing something and wanting to reconnect it inside of her (she's not her). He had thought for a while that fixing her would have fixed him, and then after a silly, drunken night at the Academy where he had been trying to find her and had found Kara instead, everything became irrelevant (she's different) and despite all he said to the arguments directed his way, it came back to the beginning (I can change her).

But he believed in many things, the first being that if he were meant to have loved a brunette, he would have loved her, almost without question. They had been almost good once, had to have been to have made his palms sweat and a nervous stutter settle in his chest for a lengthy month or so. Another, alongside needing to be strong enough to not second-guess himself anymore, was that there were different levels of forgiveness. While this was the year for so much change and upheaval, and while he was still at a point in time where he needed most of the crutches in his life but didn't want to need them as much, and wanted even less to keep using his friends as such; he wished that he could be more like the other boys he lived with. If he had to say it, if they ever talked about it, Andrew would be the least forgiving while Draco was more pragmatic.

He was always too easily swayed, too spurred by how he felt. He couldn't forgive her, but that didn't mean parts of him didn't want to. It was hard to continue hating, always was, but it was harder when she seemed barely there. More than half of her looked like it had left her and the dead eyes reminded him too much of his girlfriend back in those darker months. There was only one thing that said he couldn't have stopped this descent, and he wished that he had just done right by her from the very beginning. If maybe he had done something, been honest, anything; if only choosing one hadn't meant hurting the other.

She was trying, that became apparent to him and he wondered if anything he had done toward her had stuck. When she looked at him, he did his best to reveal to her perhaps the things he should have a year ago; I wish I'd told you, I wish I'd been clear, I wish I could have kept you, if only to help you from avoiding this. The pain and anger of losing his apartment had lessened, and the guilt that had beset him everyday after their last encounter became easier to overcome over time. She would never mean as much to him as she once did, and he would never want her as badly as he once had, no matter his intentions and motivations then or the ones that could come; but he would be lying if he said she didn't continue to hold the same intrigue as the first time he had met her.

"Yeah, I plan on going back home for a while, get Elliot to spend some time with my family, visit Kent around Christmas hopefully. Maybe some place sunny for New Years, I'm sick of the cold already."
It was something he could have easily said to a friend; an honest, plain answer that didn't really require any elaboration. To Kara, it became stilted around the area where he had to mention the blonde's name. He couldn't say for certain what appeal Kent held for him because it felt inconsiderate to him, to have to list all the people he cared for in his life, and simultaneously all the reasons why they had fallen out.

The pause in him became palpable, and the cold air was harsh down his throat where it became lodged for a moment. He didn't want to do this on the sidewalk; he didn't want to do this at all, but he'd also been having it sneak into his late night thoughts for the worse parts of the second half of the year. He ignored what all his high-bred, viciously-streaked friends would do and instead thought of another; the good one, and made up his mind before he could be sure of what he was even thinking.
"Do you want to go someplace quiet? I was going to go get lunch."

[ĸara вelova★]

She nodded along, feeling this was expected of her. Social situations were foreign to her, and all the formalities, especially with Eiji whom she had been so candid with before, was like brushing velvet the wrong way. Eiji didn't sound as casual as he once had either. Her hair fell in her face again from the movement, and she pushed it out of her way almost violently. She was probably more attractive with that black hair covering her face, but she didn't really care. Eiji'd already seen her, it was too late to hide anything. Plus, what was she hiding from? Nothing, now.

Then Eiji made her offer, and she hesitated. In her pause, she studied him, trying to interpret his words. Was he just being polite, inviting her to lunch? Did he regret the words as soon as they left his mouth? Her dead eyes flit over his face, saving his eyes for last. They looked wary, but she couldn't be sure without using her powers.

She should say no, she knew this. But the less rational part of her, the emotional one she tried so terribly to suppress, wanted to indulge in this one last time together. She didn't want it to end awkwardly. She wanted some kind of closure, anything that offered security to her suffocating fear. In the end, her feelings won despite her reasonable desires, and she nodded. Accompanying this action was a weak, "sure."

She didn't know where he'd been planning to eat. Down the road? Japan? Maybe she could talk him into taking her to Spain, but she knew if he did, she likely wouldn't have the courage to come back. No, she would reign herself in. It was bad enough she'd accepted his invitation. However, she couldn't bring herself to feel remorse for her decision.

"Where were you going?" Kara asked, gesturing faintly to their surroundings. Her words were swallowed by a passing car, and she appreciated Eiji having the foresight to suggest a quieter place. She lifted a brow, a rare physical expression. She was much different than Eiji remembered.

Before they went anywhere though, she had to say something.

"This," Kara motioned to herself, "is not your fault." She was done with festering guilty sores, done with making him the victim. She didn't want him to think this was his doing. Kara knew she would be just as grotesque if Eiji were still her friend, and she wondered if maybe their falling out was a blessing in disguise. If Eiji still cared about her as he once did, her deterioration would be more damaging for him, she was sure. She humoured the idea that this was her plan all along, but she wasn't a good enough liar to fool herself. She had been rash and obtuse, immature and hormonal, and she really did regret it, even if it spared Eiji from seeing her suffer.

She knew she looked awful, maybe not the extent of how terrible she looked, but she knew it wasn't pretty. The look on Eiji's face when she first spoke to him told her as much. If he accepted that he wasn't responsible, would he pity her? Would he be curious? What would she say? 'I'm sick' might not cut it, but then again Eiji didn't seem eager to dive into serious conversation. At least not yet. And if in the near future he urged her to reveal her secrets, she would just shut down like she always did.

Or will I? Kara pondered, no intonation in her thoughts either. Would she be able to keep to herself as she usually did? Now that her world was going to end, did that mean everything changed?

[Eiji Almasy.]

It was something very much like relief that plagued him when she agreed to his invitation for lunch. He couldn't say that he was familiar with the feeling, not when it involved her. If he hadn't been looking for the acquiescence, he would have missed her nod entirely, but he had been looking at her; eyes an unusual green, like seeing something again for the first time after years of absence, and it was nothing like how he had remembered it to be. Eiji suspected that if he touched her, she would turn to ash.

He shook his head a little to dispel his thoughts and leaned off the window pane, shifting in the direction of where he would lead them, about to answer her question when she stopped him.

It wasn't enough for her to absolve him of any wrongdoing; he had to forgive himself, and he didn't believe for a single moment that there wasn't anything he could have done to prevent where she was now. Simply saying he wasn't at fault wasn't enough to convince him. He looked at her, a note of incredulity apparent on his face; she had to do better than that. He wasn't looking for an easy fix, didn't she know that? Whatever they shared wasn't easy. It had always been physically taxing, at least for him; finding reasons to be near her in the beginning stages, then trying to maintain himself around her, even now she made him feel like there was something heavy on his organs.

"I don't believe you," he told her, the first frank admission he'd made all morning, and there he found the will to continue looking at her in that same sharp way he always managed.

"But we're not talking about this here. I know a cafe around the corner." He nodded his head to his right, and gestured for her to walk before him, mindful that she could always walk away instead of the well-known fact that she was a class klutz.

[ĸara вelova★]

Eiji had always been self-centered, Kara knew that from the start. She should have known that he'd blame her condition on himself. For the first time in her life, she wished she'd bothered to look in a mirror before she left. Maybe a little make-up would lessen the burden he felt when he was with her. But it was too late to do anything now, and if he was going to insist that this was his handiwork, she knew there wasn't much she could do to deter his opinion.

"Whatever you say," She shrugged in a non-committal way, and whether it was to his denial or the cafe he suggested, it would never be clear. She took the lead, taking extra care in her step so as not to worry the boy further.

When had she eaten last? She couldn't really afford to eat out. Nor could she buy groceries, because she wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to eat them all. If memory served her right, she recalled sampling a new ice cream flavor the other day...

"This way?" When she reached the corner of the street, she nodded toward the only cafe she saw. Her stomach growled at her as the scent of baked goods blew her way on the winter breeze. Her eyes flit to Eiji for his confirmation, and she tried to convince herself that the way he looked at her was the same way he regarded her before. It didn't work, but it was nice to pretend.

She used all her effort to quell the memories that were so eager to resurface. Just being near him, this dangerous proximity, was awakening all the things she felt for him before. It wasn't love - had never been love. But Eiji always had that way of making her feel safe. As though he could somehow protect her, even from herself. And he had, for the most part, a fact they both knew. One had accepted the inevitable, and the other had not yet realized the inevitable. Was it better this way? Kara could really use some guidance.

[Eiji Almasy.]

Her casual brush off irked him, and he frowned at her back. It occurred to him that taking her to lunch shouldn't feel like it was forced; not for any sentimental reasons, but for the fact that she reminded him of a time two years ago when his Father had tried to set him up with various rich, snotty girls. But then, she also reminded him of all the relatives he didn't like that he had to occasionally spend time with.

Watching her from the back was easier, though not any prettier. He couldn't see her face, so he couldn't wonder what was going through her mind. Not knowing meant that it wouldn't incite any reason to care. The truth was that she had really ruined him; and he wasn't so disparaging now that parts of him didn't want to help her, purely altruistically. He didn't want that though, didn't want to let himself be swayed by her, because he knew it was possible but he wouldn't put himself on the line for her again.

He made a noise of confirmation in lieu of actually saying something and strode passed her toward the cafe, taking care to not come even within an inch of her. There were reservations inside his own head, as well as the most unnatural compulsion to just talk to her; he blanked out both as he opened the glass door, wide enough so that it wouldn't hit her when he let go and stepped inside.

Eiji prompted a table for two and the waitress coming toward him smiled and began to head toward the vacant corner beside the window. He glanced back to make sure that Kara was still with him before moving to their table, removing his outer coat as well as his long-sleeved flannel button-up, knowing it'd undoubtedly become stifling for him eventually.
"Just a moment," he said to the waitress, sitting down in his seat, waiting for Kara to join him.

[ĸara вelova★]

Leading the way felt awkward, and she was grateful Eiji stepped in to open the door and take point. It felt a little less awkward, though not entirely natural, to be in his shadow. She followed him the the table the waitress gave them, and watching him divest of his outer clothes. She looked down at her coat, knowing she couldn't do the same. She sat an instant after him, not bothering to touch her jacket. It was rude, because it hinted she didn't plan to stay long, and maybe that was for the better. Some trivial etiquette would be what ended this pained meeting between former friends (if that's what they were).

She looked down at the table top. The surface was smooth and recently wiped clean, and she could see Eiji's hazy reflection where she stared. Everything was upside-down. Her morals, her instincts. And nothing was certain except for the proverbial axe hanging over her head. That was sharp as day, and sometimes she believed she might actually see it if she dared look up.

'What next?' Might be the next question, but always in conversations with Kara, less was more. She placed her hands on the table, her long, thin fingers rubbing together of their own accord, until the waitress pressed a menu to the table. The tragic brunette fumbled for it, and just watching her fall apart despite her best efforts was taxing to any audience. One might assume 'junkie', from the way she shook. A heroine addict who was overdue for her next fix. Which she knew would be preferable, if she had a choice.

Her stomach gave her away as her eyes skimmed the menu. She tried not to read anything, just pretend she was interested, but her mind made her pause at all the delicious titles, and then to their mouthwatering descriptions. Key words like 'warm' and 'fresh' had her swallowing back her hunger.

She pushed some hair off her face because it was agitating her nose, and then put the menu down. She sat back and let herself finally look up at Eiji. It would be so much easier if she could just use her power to see how he felt about this situation. If he felt awkward and was wishing he could leave, or she would, she might have the power to shed this final meeting before anything truly awful happened. But she wouldn't. She wasn't sure if she was able to influence or experience other's emotions. It used to come so naturally to her, but she was determined to put it to disuse.

Although maybe she should try? She could detach Eiji from her completely, let him leave the cafe with no remorse or regret or guilt. It might only be temporary, but if he convinced himself that these feelings were the truth, her impending death might not hurt him the way she knew it might while he felt this way. Maybe they could actually end on a good note? The idea warmed her, but she wondered if it would be worth it...

Kara choked back a humourless laugh, recalling their very first conversation, how he preached to her about friendship. She doubted he would agree with himself back then, that the joy of a friendship was worth the death of a friend. She knew she wouldn't be worth it, even as he attempted to convince her then.

"You're quiet," She commented. It wasn't difficult to recall the days when he would prattle on for hours just to pull some sort of response from her. His lack of conversation, although understandable, was slightly disconcerting.

[Eiji Almasy.]

Her sudden movement of sitting down caught him off guard and he glanced up to see what prompted her actions. There wasn't ever any explanation with Kara though, no straight story, and all he managed to see was her ducked head; he scoffed to himself, like he was any less used to her averted gaze than her bizarre behavior. He looked at her for a moment longer, even after the menus had been handed to them. She was begging for an intervention, and he had always thought that he would manage it one day, that if anything good would have ever occurred from whatever was between them, it would have been from any kind of help he would have been to her. He wondered if it was guilt that drove him.

Her observation cuts through his thoughts and he considers what he should say back to her. Silence had never been something he was used to, but his candor was exclusively reserved for his close circle of friends and even his usual quip he kept for strangers or family alike had been removed. How honest could he be with her? He couldn't say it would never be to the extent he had once been, if any at all. It wasn't either, that he didn't have anything to say to her, but the urgency he felt earlier was no longer there.

Eiji shrugged, and instead turned his attention to their waitress, grinning somewhat personably while he ordered a quiche and a plain white coffee. He never imagined that their encounter would occur in a cafe.

"The quiches here are nice," he told her; they reminded him of the ones his great Aunt made, and while at one stage he would have felt inclined to share that fact with her, he didn't then.
"Though so are their croissants. Have you made up your mind?"

It wasn't the nicest thing to do, asking her directly like that. He remembered her apprehension to go with him anywhere, especially if it was in public; he always insisted on paying for everything and doing things in excess. She looked like she hadn't eaten anything in weeks though, and if the only thing he could do for her then was make her eat something filling, then it was in good conscience that he would make damn sure it happened.