Mission Gone Wrong

Chapter 8

I sleep most of the afternoon. I know that I'll need to sleep for this train wreck that'll happen tonight. I honestly don't see how they can't see this'll end in murder, or at least some death threats. That's the only way I can see it ending.

"Alright, plan. Let's see, damage control is a good idea. I don't want what happened with Amory getting out, just like I don't want what happened here getting out. Calynn will want me to be on Mercy's Revenge anyway; if she hears a word about this she'll be the one killing someone. And Ace can't keep secrets worth anything, at least not from her.

"Now, I've slept so I should have energy. I can't let them know anything's wrong, so I'll act how they would expect me to act. Rebellious, arrogant, basically my personality. Also, if I can find a way to get a drink I totally will; I need one so bad. Well, I don't right now, but I will tonight.

"Oh, and if Calynn offers for girl talk, I need to refuse immediately. It's a dangerous slope, and I know it.

"Okay, let's look at what we have now. Damage control, drinking, and no girl talk. An awful plan, but it'll have to do for now, and if something goes wrong, I modify the plan and wing it like always," I say, all aloud, and like the feeling of control that I'm regaining with each word that I say.

"Do you always talk aloud? I've heard that it's a sign of insanity," A very familiar voice says from the door, and, not even glancing up, I retort back.

"Not always, just when I need expert advice."

"Which is apparently right now?" He asks, and I nod.

"I'm stressed," I blurt out, for nearly no reason at all, besides I need to tell someone.

"Yeah, I gathered," He says, nodding, and I give a half-smile.

"And a quick run-down of when I'm in stress is I talk aloud. I also make plans, and when the plans don't go accordingly, I get even more stressed. Common stresses are what we're doing now; meeting people. Talking to people. And no one here is friendly or on my side. So, needless to say, I won't be calm or calming down anytime soon. The only thing that can make me not stressed once I'm stressed is being alone, or when said stresser is over."

"That doesn't sound like much fun," Miguel remarks as he walks towards me. "Though, since getting the event over with helps, I went shopping today. You can get changed then we can go on over to the tarven," He says, as he lifts up a bag that I failed to notice earlier in my stressed out state.

I take the bag, and don't even have to give him a pointed look to get him to leave; he's already on the way out. Maybe the 'gentleman' thing isn't really an act. Maybe he does actually believe that he is one; he acts like it.

The thought immediately goes away when I look at the dress. It is slightly pretty, I guess. Though, it isn't my style, in the least.

I hold it up, and cringe when it barely goes down to my knees. At least it covers up other things, mostly.

Okay, I'm making it worse than what it really is, most likely. The dress is respectable, at least compared to what most other women there will be wearing. At least he got a decent color; an emerald green. As I said, it's about knee length, sadly. It had the lacy mesh sort of material scooping down, just enough to cover everything but low enough to make me uncomfortable. The sleeves are honestly my favorite part. Whenever I have to wear dresses, I love the type with these sleeves. The long flowy ones, the ones that hang off you and make you look like you're floating when you walk. It stops right at my elbow, with it collaring around my arm on both sides.

I get it on, and for once, smile. I look pretty again. The dress wasn't even as short as I thought. Sure, it's not the ankle long, full arm, high collar, ones I usually wear, but it still makes me look pretty.