Graffiti Casanova

On The Offence

But I couldn't ignore my conversation with Bennie, however much I wanted to chalk it up to her boy-craziness and go home.

But I hadn't yet. I was still sitting there. I knew better than to call Dad again tonight to check up on him. It made me feel sick to talk about it with him. But he was getting more sensitive to the topic by the day, and these days we were ignoring it altogether, which left a different kind of sick feeling in my gut.

I couldn't decide which was worse.

And so finally, since I'd wasted so much time sitting in the parking lot already, I figured I might as well.

I started my car and drove to the only place I could think of-- Sirena's newest piece.

Bennie read about it online and had told me where it was. I hadn't heard if Casanova had responded to it yet. Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe I was the biggest idiot on the planet-- no, I definitely was. After these past few weeks, with everything that had happened, that title was pretty much solidified. If I could look like an idiot on national television, I could look like an idiot to no one.

Because that's who was there when I arrived-- no one.

I parked around the corner, out of the ring of light emitted from a street-light on the corner of the vacant lot. The piece was on the other side, so I got out and trudged across the weed-infested lot. The moon was bright tonight, and I could see my path well enough. But as I neared the insurance office building on the other side, the weeds grew taller. Thick bushes lined the edge of the lot, almost as if to shield it from view of the office workers' windows.

I squinted at the wall, which belonged to an abandoned building kitty-corner to the insurance offices. A small light, orange and flickering, sent a glow across Sirena's dragon but left the cartoon of Casanova in shadow.

I was about to step closer to get a better look, when a dark form darted out from around the corner of the abandoned building.

I stumbled and ducked behind a bush, heart rate accelerating. I peered around it to watch. It was a man-- tall, hooded, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He slipped it off, turning to set it down beside him and rifle through it.

The shadow of his profile from his hood was all wrong. Was he wearing a gas mask?

It had to be Casanova.

I didn't move. He wouldn't stay to talk if I made it known I was there-- he'd be out of there in a second. Like he said when he'd spoken to me about the lily, he wasn't risking his identity on me. So I stayed quiet and watched.

He shook out his cans, movements quick and deft. I held my breath as he lifted one to the wall, and paint began to crawl over the brick like a live thing.

Everything he did was practiced, intentional. There was no wrong move, no slow move, no pause. It was a sort of magic, I thought as I watched from behind the bush.

He'd outlined the shape of something, I couldn't tell what, when out of nowhere, Casanova whipped around, facing the bushes, facing me. I froze, heart pounding. I was about to step out from behind the bush, apologize like a bumbling fool and hope he didn't run away-- but someone else stepped out from the shadows of the office building just ahead of me before I could make a move.

Casanova didn't move a muscle, just watched the new form approach. As it moved out of the shadows, I saw it was a girl-- a woman. She sauntered into the soft glow of the flickering light, which illuminated her hair. Bright, fire-engine red, knotted in dreadlocks that hung down her back, which was covered in tattoos that peeked out from under her skimpy tank-top.

"Look what I found." I could hear the smirk, the laughter in her voice from where I hid.

"Sirena." Casanova's shoulders were tense. This was Sirena? I didn't know what I'd expected but this small, exotic woman somehow wasn't it.

"Casanova." Sirena drawled. "You're really back, aren't you?" She didn't stop when she reached him, she circled around him, lazily inspecting him, his unfinished piece, his equipment. She paused in her circuit to look at him. "You're not just responding to my slash, are you? You're really back?"

"What are you doing, Sirena?"

"I liked having you gone, Cas, I have to be honest." She stepped to the wall, tilting her head at what Casanova had painted. "It was nice being at the top for once." Sirena reached out and traced the lines gently. "But I think I like having you back better. I'd gotten lazy. This will keep me challenged."

"It's not a competition."

"Yes, it is." Sirena turned to face Casanova. "Of course it is. You know this better than anyone; you've been at the top yourself."

"I have a crew. We're a team. I didn't get there by myself and everyone knows it."

Sirena's smile leaked into her voice again. "Yes, we do indeed." She considered Casanova once more. "Just more people who can snitch on you when they're caught. Haven't you heard Platt's war is back on?"

"More reason for artists to stick together."

Sirena stepped back. "Keep painting your cute little responses to my challenges, Cas. A year can set you back a long time, I understand. You have a lot to make up for, it doesn't just happen overnight." She faded into the shadows again, laughter at her own joke fading with her.

I sat, stunned at what I'd witnessed, and holding my breath to see what Casanova would do next.

He was still for a second, but then he lifted his can and the strokes appeared like magic, paint flowing once more as if nothing had interrupted him.

I watched until he finished, slipping away into the shadows. As I crept up to the wall to see what he had painted, a smile tugged on my lips.

Instead of a cartoon of Casanova in the dragon's jaws, it was a cartoon of Mayor Platt.

Looked like the war went both ways.

Long chapter to make up for being MIA! Chapter song is Blood On My Hands by Royal Blood :)