⚘ aquarium

@⚘ : hedon l 。 Ezre could only raise an eyebrow at the statement the man had just made. Truly unconvincing, but she supposed this kind of cheerful was endearing in its own way — to other people, that is. She'd meet this type more often while she was on her modeling gigs, rather than on her daily life. That was simply to say that the worlds they lived in were different, but the other didn't need to know that. The stranger didn't need to know anything unnecessary or anything more than what could be deemed harmless. "Hone your instincts and reflexes then," she said, a hint of deadpan lacing her voice before she briefly narrowed her eyes toward his. That was when she'd noticed the difference in colors — she'd blame the dim lights for her current capability for distinguishing colors for now — and there was a new wave of curiosity washing over her face as she leaned forward, placing both of her hands above the mattress. "Hey, hey, are you wearing mismatching contacts? Is this a style I haven't heard recently?"

Pretty hard to forget... huh? She huffed lightly, before she placed her elbow above her thigh, resting her chin above her palm, head tilted slightly to the side. "Is that so?" That wasn't something she'd heard often. Of course, most of the people she'd interacted with before becoming who she was today ended up dead, and... now that she had a new identity, she merely just brushed off any comments of the sort. More than that, she was surprised that he hadn't recognized her yet — shouldn't her face be mostly everywhere? Nevertheless, she wasn't about to give off her borrowed identity right then and there. "Just call me Ez. Everyone does." Now the second part was a lie, but he — Donnie, she told herself — didn't need to know that. "Hopefully. Saving you doesn't come free, you know. Now... what shall I have you pay me for my well-needed services? And just so you know, I don't need money. What else can you offer me?"

@⚘ : ezre l 。 "Hey! I'm pretty decent at defending myself," he responds, with perhaps a hint of a pout settling on his lips. "It's just that I didn't see them coming." Not to mention most people are usually too intimidated by his height to pick a fight in the first place. Which, hey, that's great! Except for the fact that it also means people are too scared to approach him for anything else, leaving Donnie to his own devices. This girl - thankfully - didn't seem to be afraid at all. In fact, Donnie was the one a little on edge with how calm she was about everything. It got him pondering a bit in the back of his head as to why she could act so fine with this (almost like it was a daily occurrence...). "Thank you, by the way..." he eventually said, fingernails lightly scratching over the surface of the blanket he was still under. "For saving me, I mean. I'd probably be, uh, dead by now if you didn't." As awkward as it is he attempts a smile in her direction, the lights catching on his different-colored eyes. Then he coughs, trying to shove away the strange atmosphere as quick as it came on.

Pushing his thumbs together Donnie shrugged as she leaned back in her chair. "Well, I mean, you're pretty hard to forget." As long as you brush over the fact that he didn't recognize her immediately when he saw her face, but cut the guy some slack. He's injured and woke up in a new place, it's not like putting names to faces is his first priority. Speaking of names... "What's your name? I just realized I never got it the first time, but that's probably because we were both running." And then she'd just stopped and left him somewhere, out of breath and in a daze in some part of the city. Donnie then had just shook it off, glad he wasn't still being ganged up on, and headed home. Years later and the strange events of that day had been pushed out of his head until they were all dragged up now. "My name is Donnie, just so you know. Also, thank you again." He coughs. "Saving me twice in a row, that's embarrassing. Hopefully it won't happen a third time?"

@⚘ : hedon l 。 Ezre huffed. The lad seemed so small for someone of his height and build, and he might just be the softest man she'd ever seen. Ever. Perhaps the world she had lived in was simply too harsh for her to meet any soft hearts, but even so, she didn't know how she was supposed to interact with such softness. She figured that didn't matter — the two of them wouldn't meet again after today, she hoped. "Don't worry about it," she said, before her eyes focused at the other, as though she was assessing his whole being right then. There wouldn't be any merit for her to keep him longer than she already had, and she wasn't even supposed to be helping strangers when she herself was trying to run away from men that were even more dangerous than the ones that had stabbed the stranger. "You should know how to defend yourself, lad. There aren't a lot of people that would help you like I did," she said.

Truly. Humans preferred to be ignorant than to learn, but she supposed she could understand. There weren't a lot of people that were willing to put themselves in troublesome situations when they could have honestly avoided it.

She raised an eyebrow, and the gears in her mind began to turn. As he talked more, her eyebrows furrowed as her eyes narrowed at the other. University... A man coming after her — That was probably one of the times where she was running away from the Lafihna men, and at the mention of the hair, it clicked. "Oh," she said, blinking in realization as she eased back into her chair. She could remember that quite well now. When she had first stumbled upon a group of boys beating up another one, her first instinct had been to kick them all to the side as she was in a hurry, but she had almost tripped over the bullied. That was the only reason why she had dragged him around with her. "Oh. That was a long time ago, I'm surprised you still remember me." Genuine surprise painted over her face as she tilted her head to the side, before she heaved a sigh. "But that just means you need to learn how to protect yourself. I've saved you twice already." The first one might be unintentional, but they didn't need to point that out.

@⚘ : ezre l 。 She does have a point. It really wouldn't make sense for her to help him if she was part of the same group, but you never know! Donnie's seen the movies, especially the ones with spies and assassins. The triple agents he sees in them are so confusing, but he's sure they exist somewhere in the real world. Really thinking about it now, some semblance of terror snakes into his heart because...because if she hadn't helped him, he would be dead, and that's a lot to take in all of a sudden - but if there's anything Donnie is good at it it's ignoring anything that distresses him, so he shoves those thoughts so far down they can't possibly come back up again unless he's drunk or having a nightmare.

Dropping his hands to his lap they lay over his thighs, mirroring the way the girl sits as he blinks at her. He feels like she's probably dealt with this stuff before, considering how calm she is, and it makes Donnie wonder what she could possibly be getting herself into for this to be an almost daily occurrence. At least, it seems to be that way. The bandages around his torso and on other parts of his body were done extremely well - not that he would know it, but they look fine - and she's strangely articulate, so no stranger to the blood that he no doubt must have gotten everywhere else before she'd tended to his wounds. Donnie feels kind of guilty now. The first thing he should have said was 'thank you,' not accuse her of trying to do the same. He just naturally jumped to conclusions.

"Sorry," he then says, looking down like a toddler who was just scolded by their mother, apologetic. At least he's sitting still now, hoping he hadn't pulled anything during his mini-freak out. His heartbeat has started to slow back down to a normal pace, and he's not so scared anymore. Nervous would be the better word, because although she did help him, the girl was still a stranger (and one highly skilled in wound-treating, which makes her either a medical professional, or someone in a line of business that requires injury knowledge).

When she asks about the incident he mentioned Donnie raises his head, shrugging once while reaching up to scratch his cheek. "Um...it was a few years ago I think?" Trying to recall the memory he looks up at the ceiling, lost in thought for a moment. "Yeah, yeah...it was at the university. You just, like, barreled onto campus when it was mostly empty, and some guy was coming after you, and I - oh, crap, this is kinda embarrassing - I was getting beaten up by a classmate when you kinda grabbed me? I couldn’t really say anything because you were dragging me all over the city.” He shrugs again, hand dropping into his lap once more. “I had blonde hair then, if that helps?”

@⚘ : hedon l 。 A yawn had escaped Ezre's lips as she leaned against the chair, and she was already regretting taking in the stranger. See, she truly didn't have any reason to help him — not that she had a habit of helping strangers on the street, honestly. But here she was, a man she didn't know in her bed, waiting for the lad to wake up from having collapsed. Of course, it wasn't something she couldn't work with, though despite her lack of proper medical lessons, she had far too many instances where she had to tend to herself. But the stranger would still have to visit the hospital if he wanted to be rid of more unnecessary inconveniences that came with the stab wound. People these days were too... what was the word? Ah, inelegant. Tasteless. They were mere barbarians who couldn't even think of a more beautiful way to do the things they wanted to do.

Really, the lady hated that kind of men the most.

When the stranger finally stirred, Ezre decided to remain silent and observe first. After all, she didn't need a screaming injured man in panic. He definitely didn't seem the type to be a fighter, as far as she could tell from what she had seen. The man was rather lean, though there were some muscles here and there. But he was most likely unable to fight back, even with his size. That could perhaps mean that he was attacked by a group — that was what cowards usually did anyway. She honestly wouldn't be surprised. She waited until the other finally noticed that he did, in fact, have company in what must be an unfamiliar room, and when he did, she heaved a sigh at the other's words.

First of all, this man talked too much and way too quickly. She raised a finger toward the other's direction, eyes closing briefly. "Shut up for a bit, you're making my head hurt," she uttered, before she opened her eyes once more, meeting his gaze. "See, if I were with them, I wouldn't have patched you up like I did now, would I? Like them, I'd leave you to die — or maybe I'd even hide your body. Those idiots probably didn't even think this through. They'd get arrested if you died, and I wouldn't want that even if I were with them," she continued on, and she let her hand fall back above her thighs.

"And those classes you got in your freshman year wouldn't help you much. First of all, you're injured. Second of all, you're going to bleed if you move any more than you already are. Now stop being such a baby and stay in place — I don't want to clean your blood off of that bed one more time." She didn't know why she was shutting down each and every hope this man might have had, but that innocent face made her want to a little more — or perhaps it was a little bit of her irritation slipping into the surface. Both, perhaps. A weird combination, but she had an entertaining guest. Surely, she was allowed a little bit of this luxury, wasn't she?

She, however, couldn't help the rise of her eyebrow at the suddenness of the other's thoughts. "What?" she asked. Now, that wasn't specific enough. She had run away from a lot of guys in her life, and certainly, today wouldn't be the last. "Whatever are you talking about?"

@⚘ : ezre l 。 When he starts to wake up it's slow, almost lethargic - exhaustion cloaks him like a blanket, and if Donnie was thinking properly he'd chalk it up to the fear he'd experienced hours earlier. However, right at this moment that event is far from his mind, the young man so out of it that he thinks he's at home in his own bed. It's only when he comes to some more, and realizes that the surface he's laying on is a few sizes too small that he starts to feel anxiety creeping up his spine.

Donnie's eyes are still closed as he attempts to stretch, a low hiss pushing through his teeth at the sudden pain in his stomach. He's sore all over, and it's not the normal kind from a strenuous routine at work. That's a hurt he's used to - not whatever this is. His hand drifts to the lower half of his torso where his fingertips stutter over a series of bandages that d e f i n i t e l y weren't there before. Something must have happened, but what? His eyes slowly open, squinting a little as he comes face to face with a wall. His breathing is slightly off and it's a little harder to take in air as he attempts to start sitting up. That's when the memories come rushing back. The ambush, the beating, the knife - being left for dead. He freezes, a shudder moving through his body at the thought. If he's alright now though - at least, he seems alright, but maybe he has internal bleeding or something and just doesn't know it - then who (seemingly) helped him?

Sitting up completely Donnie finally turns away from facing the wall, and that's when he sees them. Them being...well, a stranger, but he assumes they're also the same person who patched him up. Even so he can't stop the small yelp of surprise that leaves him, fingers gripping the blanket and pulling it up over his chest from where it had fallen. "Who are you?" he asked, confusion lacing his voice as he realizes that 1) the person in the chair is a girl, a small one at that and 2) she's almost a little familiar even though he has no idea who she is. "You're not," he gulps audibly. "With them, are you? I-If you are, I know self defense! I took a free class in my freshman year and-! I mean I only remember how to push my thumbs into someone's eyes, but if I had my pepper spray on me you'd be a goner." For all his false bravado the young man sounds more like a five-year-old throwing playground insults. His confidence is lacking severely, and honestly, with his injuries he probably wouldn't even be able to walk without pain, let alone run away if he needed to.

It's when he's worrying about how to escape - if this was, in fact, a very dangerous woman - that he has an ill-timed epiphany. "Wait a second..." he pauses, eyebrows drawing together as he thinks particularly hard about a much older memory, pointing at the lady in the room. "Aren't you that girl that was running away from that guy? You know, like...a few years ago?" He doesn't get any points for being "oh-so-specific" with his description.

@⚘ : hedon l 。 Now, there shouldn't be anyone questioning what Ezre was doing by the aquarium, when she had something else scheduled around this time as well. Was it lectures once again? Or was she supposed to meet someone else? She wasn't exactly sure — she wasn't even the one handling her own schedule. All she knew was her free times, actually, and she could care less for the rest. It was how she'd easily slipped through the Lafihna security, which had supposedly boasted of their "perfection," yet here she was, free and not followed by those who were tasked on keeping her in their eyes. Of course, this was much, much better than being watched. She was a woman of stealth — attention wasn't something she was supposed to have. She was supposed to keep herself on the down low, her face easily recognizable by the public now (honestly, the Lafihnas), but when she'd smelled the familiar scent of blood in the air — a little faint, but it was a scent she was too used to not to recognize — she found a bleeding body, which was fortunately (?) still alive.

She'd found herself trying to stop the blood flow then, and for reasons even she wouldn't want to acknowledge, she had carried (bridal style, by the way — the man was unconscious and she might have thought him dead if it weren't for his faint breaths) him to a safer place. She had no idea if the lad she was helping was a criminal or something, since he semeed to have gotten stabbed out of nowhere, but hey, she herself was a criminal too — though the police were doing a poor job of tracking her down. Well, that might have something to do with several hideouts she'd prepared over the years in the city — they always came in handy, like right then. She had brought the unconscious man to one of them, and patched the other up, all while questioning herself. Why on earth was she even doing this? She had no reason to help a stranger — heck, she wasn't even the type to help someone out like this, and risk having this hideout become useless seeing as a civilian had seen it. She wasn't the type that saved lives; she ended them more often than not.

But here she was, sitting by the bed that was a little too small for the man (he was /gigantic/, alright? And she wasn't) as she waited for him to wake up. She leaned back into the chair, one leg over the other, arms crossed by her front. His face... was quite familiar, she thought as she stared at the other's visage, rather shamelessly, might she add, though she couldn't pinpoint where and when exactly she had seen this face.

Oh well. She'd find out soon enough — if he decided to wake up soon, that is.

@⚘ : ezre l 。 Paradisi is safe - at least, that's what the commercials and the police department will tell you. While Donnie has never really felt u n s a f e on the island he does realize it isn't exactly the paradise it's advertised as. Just like any civilization the city has its fair share of crime and incidences, but with how far removed the man is from them he just doesn't focus on those. Perhaps that's why it was so easy for him to be ambushed after work that evening. He'd just finished changing back into his regular clothes, too lazy to wipe the makeup from his face that glittered in the street lamp. All he had to do was lock the back door to the changing room when he was attacked from behind, taking a blow to the head that made his knees buckle and the key slip from his fingers, clattering to the ground.

After that, everything kind of just blurs together. Donnie thinks he tried to call for help, but his voice left him as a well-placed kick to the chest stole his breath. There was a burning sensation somewhere in his lower abdomen and when he blinked slowly he could something glinting silver - a knife? He couldn't focus on it, receiving several more hits to his arms and legs before whoever - or whoevers - attacked him fled the scene, leaving Donnie laying awkwardly against the building. "Filthy half-breed," they had muttered. His shirt was somewhat sticky with something that definitely wasn't water from the showers he'd used, and that's was his last conscious thought before everything went black.

[] w h e ez e hope this is alright - feel free to respond with as much or as little as you like !!