Sheep [ONGOING]

Chapter 16: January 12 (Part II)

"We can join you in a few minutes," Scarlet spoke, the bustle of conversation within Charlotte's apartment merely static behind her. "I'm struggling to decide how long this will take..."

Beneath him, Sheep sat dejected, unresponsive.

"No rush," Ace responded across the air, answering from his station beside Sheep.

"They want to escort me upstairs," Scarlet continued, trailing the turn of her words with a smile into the phone.

"Makes sense," he shot back. "Best to be careful."

"Are you hanging in there, Sheep?"

Sheep's head swiveled to the phone, blue light bathing her face. Hesitance preceded her, focus cast somewhere in the direction of Scarlet's voice.

"Yes," she murmured finally, attention settling back on her hands. An answer out of obligation.

"That's good," Scarlet hummed. "I'd be happy to chat if that's what you need."

Silence.

"Speaking of," Ace interjected, scratching at the nape of his neck, "I'll, uh... I'll call you back in a few. Just if you don't make it up here first."

Scarlet jumped to reply. "That's fine! Do what you have to."

Reaching across Sheep for his phone, he pinched the device between his fingers, propped at his chin. "Thanks, Scarlet."

"Bye, you two."

Even at his eager tapping, hastening to hang up, Sheep held to her fugue, neatly poised in her seat atop the mattress. Ace's workout bag had been stuffed tight with Charlotte's old clothing and shoes, serving as her leg rest, and Ace was sure its persevering in her view had done her little favor.

"What're you thinking?" Ace nosed, nudging at her arm with his knuckle to earn her focus.

She pinched her tongue between her teeth, the lines of her face sinking.

"Hey," he chided, kneeling at her feet. His grip held the duvet, smoothed neatly over the edge of the mattress. "If I'm not worried, then—"

"I was supposed to stay," she sulked, a grimace pinching her chin. Her nimble hands bunched into tight fists, clenching the air. "You said I could."

"You still can," he assured her, earnest. "It's not permanent, Sheep. You're coming back."

He'd repeated the idea to himself before, spoke it aloud as if to manifest it, but wasn't enough of a promise regardless, Sheep dreading the worst. Even he knew his faith in the idea had been whitted shorter and shorter over time, less confident that something consequential wouldn't swoop her away first.

He scowled inwardly, fixed on the sight of her. "We're gonna figure stuff out—"

"I can't," she barked, her knotted brows threatening another sob at the expense of his sanity.

"You can with better help than two lousy strangers," he argued, softened out of sympathy. Tears, as many times as they had met him, didn't sting any less.

Outside, the chirp of a siren bounced off the window. Sheep's ears pitched, flinching, and her hands flew up to cover them the only way she could, balling them within her palms.

"If not for that break-in..." he tossed out, a nagging of his own at the presence of police. A belated thought—his speaking to Scarlet had made it clear enough—of Sheep's mirrored distaste, something negligible to him that she'd never quite explained.