CoR Unpack

illirica

illirica

Well-Known Member
Aimee had grown up.

By most accounts, she still had some growing up left to do, but Rhetta's memory still wanted to superimpose an adolescent over the young woman who was currently curled up on a couch, nursing a cup of something and possibly a hangover. Rhetta wasn't going to blame her for the last, if that was the case. Getting piss drunk was a very understandable response to everything that had happened.

Jacques would have been proud.

She kept that thought to herself. It wouldn't help. There were a lot of things that she could say that wouldn't help. Rhetta was, in fact, fairly certain that anything she said wasn't going to help, possibly because she was the one saying it. Things had never been easy, between her and Aimee. Rhetta wasn't good with kids, and Aimee had, unfortunately, been one. Maybe now things would be different. Maybe not. She was still pouting like a kid, anyway.

Rhetta kept that to herself, as well. She wasn't going to antagonize Aimee about that, especially after the whole kidnapping situation. She had found out, in a very clear instant, that she would have been quite happy to murder a whole bunch of people for the sake of a kid who didn't even like her, which surprised absolutely no one. That was just being a Bloodstone.

Baron had sorted it out and brought her back. Of course, with everything else that had happened, maybe some of what Aimee had been going through had gotten overshadowed - or maybe it was all just part of the same situation. Regardless, Aimee wanted to go get her things from her apartment, which Rhetta could understand. There was a certain amount of security in having something to call your own, and everything in Aimee's life had gotten pretty well fucked up lately, so it made sense that she'd try to retrieve something. Naturally, the Pack didn't want her going over there alone, because that was just asking for another kidnapping episode, and then Rhetta really would have to go murder a whole bunch of people for the sake of a kid who didn't even like her.

Not that she wasn't up for it, but those things took time, and it was probably a good idea to get the stuff out of the apartment first. She took a half step forward from where she'd been lurking in the doorway, letting the past anchor her and approaching the future.

"Aimee. Let's go."
 
While she was healed physically from her kidnapping, Aimee was most definitely not mentally or emotionally healed. If anything, she was more broken than before, which was not good. Her fingers tapped on the cup in her hand while she stared at nothing. The thought of being babysat didn’t sit well with her and since Rhetta was babysitting, Aimee was even more put out. Of all the people to go with her to get her stuff it had to be that bitch?! Scowling, she sipped on the coffee, despising the taste with each sip. The only reason she was drinking it was because she was hungover and didn’t want to lose her shit with Rhetta.

It wasn’t that she was just pissed off with having to be escorted to her home, she hated that she was losing her independence. However, there was that other part of her that was scared of being kidnapped again or killed and it was that part that wanted to move to where the Bloodstones were located. It was a catch-22 and she was irritated because of that. Being scared meant she was a child, damn it and she wasn’t a kid anymore! She had to prove she was a grown-up or they’d treat her like a young one forever.

If only she had grabbed her gun she could have shot her roommates and none of this would have happened. Bet any of the others wouldn’t have left their weapons behind, especially with their roommates acting weird, which now that she was able to think about it, they had been. She acted stupidly and paid for it and ultimately was the reason people were hurt and Ragenard was out for the time. Frowning, she curled up on the couch and squeezed the cup tightly while doing her best to ignore her trembling hands. Every time she closed her eyes, the events flashed through her mind and while she had wanted to stop drinking, she hadn’t. No, she drank to keep the thoughts away because if she was smashed, she couldn’t remember things.

“Damn it…” Cursing softly, Aimee wiped the tears off her cheek with the back of her shaking hand and she wished she had someone to confide in, someone who wouldn’t judge her or berate her for being so stupid. Hearing movement, the brunette looked up and couldn’t help but snort at the sight of Rhetta. Guess it was time to go get what was left of her stuff. Who knew what the roommates did to her things? Hopefully, they didn’t find her stash of cash or of booze.

“Right, let’s go…” Aimee spoke softly, looking at Rhetta as she slid off the couch. Putting the cup down on the coffee table, she ran her fingers through her hair and walked over to the older Bloodstone.
 
Aimee had been crying. Rhetta didn't pretend not to notice, but she didn't say anything about it, either. Her mother would have known how to handle that. She had always been good at managing people's emotions. Rhetta, not so much. She could interpret them well enough, going through a carefully learned list of actions and reactions, but mitigating them wasn't something she specialized in. Eventually, Aimee would deal with her feelings, one way or another, or she wouldn't. Rhetta certainly wasn't a therapist.

Aimee got up, though, which was to her credit. She didn't try to make excuses or say she could not possibly do this or expect Rhetta to babysit her through whatever this was, which was good, because Rhetta was definitely not the sort of person who should be babysitting anyone - and Aimee was old enough not to need it. Old enough to be treated like a prospect, really, which was fine. Rhetta could handle prospects well enough.

"You armed?" It was a question, and also a reminder, just in case Aimee was thinking about going anywhere without a weapon. Properly trained, she would be fine without one, but properly trained was something that Aimee still definitely wasn't. Rhetta supposed that was just one more casualty of the whole prison stint - if she'd been around, she could have nudged Jacques into doing something about that. There were a lot of things she could have done, if she'd been around.

Baron was going to handle it, and presumably the rest of the pack would be helping handle it as well, but learning how to kick ass didn't happen overnight, and that meant until that point, Aimee better be packing. At least she knew how to handle a gun. Someone had done that much for her.
 
Was she armed? Hell no she wasn't armed. She didn't have her gun and hadn't asked Baron to give her one. Honestly, a gun was the last thing she had been thinking about though with what had happened to her, she should be packing twenty-four-seven. Her dad would be so disappointed in her because she wasn't being smart. Frowning deeply, she crossed her arms against her chest and shook her head at Rhetta, trying to be cordial toward the bitch.

"Nope, I never got a gun from Baron and mine is allegedly still in my bathroom at my old place." Fuck, old place. While she did agree with Baron and Ragenard that she needed to move back to the pack, the independent Aimee wasn't thrilled about it. She liked her space and her place was pretty fancy. Much better than the places around her, that was for sure. Huffing softly, she kept her arms crossed, slightly puffy eyes glaring at Rhetta.

"Can we just get going already? I need to see what my roommates did after they beat the shit out of me and left me for dead. Hopefully my stuff isn't gone, but I wouldn't be all that surprised. Either way, we don't like each other and the quicker this is done, the better, right?" Aimee's voice was very sullen and she almost said something about her father being dead, but kept that to herself.

"You being armed is fine, right? Or go run and grab me a gun..." Either way, it was clear she was quite impatient.
 
No gun, just coffee. Regrettable, really. At least she'd put the coffee down; Rhetta considered that an improvement. The attitude could still use adjusting, she thought, but then again... well. Aimee wasn't the only teen to have ever had an attitude problem. In fact, that was pretty normal.

"I don't have a gun. I am a finely tuned ass-kicking machine. Also, I have knives. Lots of knives. Want one? It's a terrible weapon for you, but it'd do as a last resort. Or if you want to go get a gun we can do that, otherwise, sure, let's go raid your place. We should see if we can recover that gun of yours while we're there, good call on that."

The idea of recovering the weapon probably hadn't actually crossed Aimee's mind, nor all the reasons to do so besides, potentially it's mine and I want it, but Rhetta was willing to give her credit for mentioning it even if she hadn't thought it through to the endpoint. Besides, it's mine and I want it was a good enough starting point, as far as she was concerned.

Rhetta started walking towards the door, assuming Aimee would follow her. She didn't think Aimee was actually going to want to go get a gun, because even though that was tactically a good idea, Aimee wasn't thinking tactically. That was a big part of why the Pack didn't want her going alone; too many feelings about all this, not enough distance.

That was fine, Rhetta could play bodyguard well enough. She doubted Aimee's roommates would even be much of a challenge - in fact, it might be kind of fun to have a little discussion with them about the whole situation. Maybe she could even teach Aimee a few things while they were at it, if it didn't go too quickly. It didn't have to go quickly. Rhetta was good at taking her time, when she wanted to.

It was actually probably in their best interests to stay the fuck away from her dead friend's daughter while she was around. Rhetta wondered if they knew that, or how long it'd take them to figure it out.
 
Knives? That reminded her that she never got her knife from Baron from way back when the den burned down. Wait, not Baron. Who had it...? Bastien? Yeah, Bastien. She would have to ask him about it later, when she saw him again. Right now she needed to focus on not angering Rhetta and getting her ass kicked. She knew without even being told just how much of an ass-kicking machine the other woman was, but of course she had to be told. Scoffing, Aimee shook her head at the offer of the knife.

"Last time I had a knife, my wrist got broken and it was lost. Or not lost, whatever. Bastien has it still, I think." Aimee shrugged and followed behind Rhetta, not really wanting to go get a gun. She wanted her weapon and no one else's and would get it back hell or high water.

"I'm not stupid, you know. I know you don't want to be doing this as much as I don't want it to be you. I haven't forgotten my childhood and the bitch you were towards me while your nose was so far up my dad's ass you could smell his breath in his mouth. He's dead yenno... betrayed the pack and my mother. Killed her... and if I could, I would kill the bastard myself." The words slipped out and she pushed past Rhetta, leaving the room quickly. She seriously debated on going to get a gun, but opted to remain near the doorway, knowing she wouldn't need it. Rhetta wouldn't let anything happen to her, right?

"Sorry... let's just go get my stuff and then we can talk about things if you want. We're family after all, right?" Man, she said and thought right a lot.
 
"I never thought you were stupid, Aimee. Just untrained. That's on us, not on you." She kept walking, towards the exit, since the decision seemed to have been made - in silence, for a while, because Aimee would bring up Jacques, and now Rhetta was thinking about him. Again.

"Your dad and I had a complicated relationship." This conversation was already painful, why not make it more? Rhetta'd been a bit of a masochist since preschool, after all. "He was my parents' friend first. I was a child - but he didn't treat me like one. Back then, I thought that was a good thing." She shrugged, acknowledging... something, maybe, but whatever it was, she didn't say. "I still do. But that's me. And we all know I'm pretty fucked up."

"I was proud of myself, because I could take it. There weren't a lot of people who could. I figured that was a good thing. Training, for what I wanted to be. It got me there. Things changed, when I got older."

They'd gotten to the exit, so she pushed it open, holding it and scanning the yard, making sure there wasn't anything out there that needed an ass-kicking right now. "Things changed when he met your mother."

Aimee knew what had eventually happened there. For a while, Rhetta knew she hadn't known. She'd been a child, after all. Not a lot of people knew, even now. It was - again, complicated.

"She figured she could handle him. I figured she couldn't, but it wasn't my say. I tried to keep the heat off, a bit. I wasn't doing it for her so much as because I knew I could, and I wanted him to know it."

Another pause. Another scan of the yard, looking for ghouls, or ghosts.

"Closest I ever came to killing him was when your mother got pregnant with you."
 
It wasn't solely the pack's fault that she was so untrained. She was also at blame to an extent, well her body's fault. She wasn't like the rest of them. Her healing ability was non-existent and it was dangerous for her to fight with the others to the extent they wanted to spar. Sighing at that thought, Aimee continued to follow behind Rhetta, resisting the urge to glare daggers into her back as she explained her relationship with Jacques. She just remembered how much as a youngin' she hated her and how she was forced to clean up blood one time. Hell, it was more than one time and she could still smell the Den. Oh, how she missed the Den and not just for the alcohol. Was it jealousy? Was that why she hated Rhetta so much because the woman could take the fighting and she couldn't.

Fuck.

It was. She was fucking jealous and that just made this entire endeavor all the worse. Sighing as they exited the building and got to the yard, she also looked around, not really wanting to be kidnapped again. Hell, this was the first time since they brought her back that she had even left the fucking building. Her attention was briefly sidetracked by Rhetta's words and she blinked while looking slowly towards the other woman.

"Why? Why would you nearly kill him when mom got pregnant with me? Didn't he want kids?" If he didn't, that would certainly explain a lot of things.
 
"Of course he wanted kids," Rhetta said, because that was an easy enough thing to say. It wasn't untrue, but it was easy, which made it worth less than any of the other truths she could have picked. There were a number of them, after all. It was, as she'd already told Aimee, complicated.

"He helped raise me, after my dad died." That was also true, and maybe a little less easy, if Aimee thought about it - but Aimee wasn't thinking clearly, so maybe Rhetta needed to spell it out a little better. If nothing else, at least the conversation seemed to be distracting her somewhat. "So I knew how he raised kids."

There it was, or there that was. Rhetta'd already told Aimee she knew she could take it - and maybe Aimee could have taken it too, if she'd come out differently, but her mother'd been human, and this was how that had ended up. She'd known ahead of time exactly what Jacques would do to a kid, because she'd been that kid. She'd been proud of being that kid. She'd sought him out, not in spite of how he treated her, but because of it.

And, because it wasn't easy, and because they were close enough to the bikes now that Rhetta could get the hell out of this conversation quickly if she had to, she added: "I didn't want her to have his kids."

Her. Aimee's mother. Because she'd never been good enough to handle him, even if she'd thought she had. She'd died for it, but Aimee was still here. A lot had changed since then.

Aimee was still his kid.
 
At least he wanted her, that was a plus. For a brief second, she thought Rhetta would have said the opposite and that might have crushed her a lot. Instead, she was confused and instead of speaking, she continued to listen to her and her brain finally started to process what was being said. Sometimes being hungover was more of a hindrance than she liked. So, Jacques was really rough on Rhetta, but Rhetta liked it and she was afraid that he would be the same with his own kids. That made sense, but then she was born and...

"OH hell..."

The more she thought about it, the more she started to realize that everything Rhetta did to her when she was a child was to keep her out of Jacques's range. Out of his willingness to make her into a fighter. How many times could he have killed her because he tried to treat her the same as the others? Probably a lot and that made her shiver just a little. Man, he must've been really disappointed in her. Did he hate her mom because of her? Frowning at that while also realizing they were reaching the bikes, Aimee chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"You stopped him from beating on me under the guise of sparring but... you couldn't stop the home life. He was such an angry drunk... killed our dog too." She shook her head and looked away from Rhetta. "That's probably why as soon as I could, I moved away. You and Sel were gone and well... I just needed to be on my own. I was safe where I was living, or so I thought. Both Rage and Baron tried to get me to move back, but I refused and look what happened." Aimee shook her head and finally dropped her arms with a slight shrug.

"Thanks for yenno... when I was a kid and taking me to get my stuff. I know you've got more important stuff to do, so thank you."
 
"I know." She'd known, about the home life. About the drinking. About all of it. She'd been close enough, to know. Close enough to cover up a few things, here and there, but she'd tried to do what she could. Besides - the sparring hadn't just been for the kid's sake. She'd wanted it. It had always been like that. Jacques had always been like that. They'd been awful for each other, in all the right ways.

She missed him. She should have been here.

She didn't really have much to add about the moving situation. Baron had undoubtedly been right, but Aimee didn't need to hear that right now, especially because she already seemed to know. That, and because it shouldn't have been unsafe for her to do it, or at least, it shouldn't have been the sort of unsafe that ended up like this. If the Bloodstones hadn't been weak, no one would have dared try it.

She shook her head a little at the thanks, not wanting it. "I don't have more important things to do." This was Pack business, this was what she did, that made it important. It was enough, for her. It always had been. Doing this was the sort of thing that made sense, the sort of thing that felt right - for the first time in about five years.

"I'm here now." She hadn't been, but she was now. "Let's get on the road and get your stuff."
 
She... knew...? Did that mean she knew about everything happening at home? Knew and didn't do anything to stop Jacques or at least try and talk to him about chilling out or something. That sat wrong with the teenager and she frowned deeply yet again. Instead of lashing out though, Aimee just remained quiet and did her best to keep her emotions at bay. The last thing she needed to do right now was cry and scream at Rhetta. That would just bring others out and the last thing she wanted was for anyone else to know what was brewing deep inside of her. Still, it seemed unfair and she kicked the ground lightly with the toe of the borrowed pair of shoes.

"You knew... and yet..." No, it wasn't fair. She couldn't blame Rhetta for anything. It wasn't like her father would have listened to Rhetta, would he? She would never know. But, maybe if Rhetta had been around, Jacques wouldn't have betrayed them. Or maybe he would've, she didn't know for sure.

"Never mind, it doesn't matter anymore. My mom and dad are gone and I'm nothing but a fuckup in a pack of fighters." Lord, she was pretty damn pathetic. "Sure, let's go get my crap. Not sure if we can get it all on a bike though. Unless they torched my stuff, I have a lot of clothing." Though, most of it was stripper attire. OH HELL. How was she going to hide that now? This sucked massively.
 
Parents gone, nothing but a fuckup in a pack of fighters? Rhetta smirked, and retaliated with a "Same, girl." Probably not what Aimee had been getting at, but it wasn't exactly inaccurate, though Rhetta wasn't sure how the kid was going to feel about the comparison. Besides, Aimee was still in her teens.

"I'm not stealing a car for your stuff, Aimee. I just got out of prison." Rhetta had no real desire to go back there - except...

...Well. She'd known what was expected, in prison. Maybe that was why dealing with Aimee seemed easier than dealing with everything else. It was a bad situation, but at least it was one she knew how to deal with.

"Let's just get out there and find out what's in good shape, and if we need a bigger vehicle, we'll call and have someone bring one by while we sort things out there." Sometimes, the solutions didn't have to be difficult - or violent. Admittedly, those usually weren't as entertaining, but then again, Aimee probably didn't need more violence right now.

Of course, if someone tried to hurt her, Rhetta was definitely going to get violent. That was just a given.
 
Same? Aimee blinked at that and found herself just smiling. Yeah, maybe in that sense they were similar, but Rhetta was useful while she wasn't. Well, not in the fighting aspect of the pack. She was still pretty good at playing darts and was employed! She didn't want them to know though and was desperately trying to figure out how to... oh wait, Bastien knew. Did the others know too? Did he come back and tell them? Probably, so what did it matter? She shook her head at her basketcase thoughts and realized they were just standing there like a bunch of dweebs.

Rhetta had a good idea, though it wouldn't have been the first car Aimee had stolen in her life, but no one needed to know that. So, instead, she just nodded at the suggestion of going there and calling for a vehicle if necessary. Besides, now that she thought of it, the majority of her stripper outfits could fit in a backpack. She wasn't too worried about it, but didn't want to leave much behind, so it just depended what all was there and untouched. The two got onto the bike and it wasn't long before they reached her apartment. Leading the way up to her place, Aimee swore loudly at the busted door. Snatching the piece of paper, her swear grew louder.

"They're fucking evicting me?! Seriously?!" Snorting, she kicked the door, the bastard object falling into the entryway. "Perfect."
 
The place wasn't in great shape. Rhetta had expected that. She knew what an apartment looked like, after someone made a statement. Sure, she was usually on the side of making the statement, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten. She'd done a fair bit of that with James, back when things had been the way they were supposed to be.

The eviction notice on the door was a nice touch. Rhetta quickly scanned it for information as Aimee grabbed it, a quick once-over because it wasn't likely to matter much anyway, but it'd have the company name on it, and someone would be interested in that. It should have been Ragenard, but he was still out. Desmond, then, she supposed, although if the status of the paperwork on his desk was any indication, this would likely get buried. Still, it'd be there, in case they needed to go out and adjust anyone else's doors.

"I don't know why you're surprised," Rhetta stated, quite calmly, folding the notice and tucking it into the sheath with the knife she was least likely to be using today. "You're a wolf, aren't you?" Baron had spent a lot of time trying to work on the Bloodstone's image, but the public opinion on werewolves still remained mixed, at best, and it was all too common for people to be looking for an excuse - any excuse - to do something to push them down. She stepped into the opening on top of the door, eyes shifting around the room, looking for little indications in the shadows, listening for the sounds around them, seeing if she could catch a scent of someone who needed an ass-kicking today.

Or maybe it would just be empty, and the only thing they'd have to deal with was sorting out how much stuff Aimee was bringing back.

"Your gun was in the bathroom? Where?" First things first.
 
Aimee wasn't stupid, not really. She knew eventually that her Bloodstone tie would come back to bite her in the ass, but she didn't think it'd be like this. Her fingers flexed at her side, and if Rhetta had not taken the notice, she probably would have squished it into an unrecognizable ball. She sniffed softly, doing her best to keep from crying yet again. Her emotions had been wacked out since she woke up and that pissed her off. If she was honest with herself though, she had always been emotional, but usually it was anger, not tears. Sighing, she turned to look at Rhetta and snorted while raising one shoulder in a slight shrug.

"Of course I am a wolf, but I've been doing fantastic at hiding it up until now. Whoever busted my door fucked me and I get why it happened, but that doesn't make me any less irritated. I liked having my own abode... my space to do whatever I wanted without anyone getting in my business. I liked my independence." Aimee's voice was soft and while it trembled just a little, she managed to keep from sobbing.

"It is what it is..." She added, following Rhetta into the apartment that stunk of booze like usual. She didn't hear anyone nor did she see anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't in their rooms. So, she kept from moving any further and nodded at the question.

"Yep, it's in the bathroom. Down that hallway and the first door to the right." Aimee pointed as she spoke, the door open to show that it was the bathroom. She couldn't wait to get her gun back because next time she was keeping it with her and shooting the bastards in the groin.

"Bastard one and two's rooms are further down the hallway on the left and mine is the room on the right." Deciding to give the layout beside the kitchen and living room, which they were stood in, Aimee ran her fingers against her forehead, her hair covering the knife scar she got from the Scions. Other scars were appearing on her body thanks to the beating, but she really hadn't looked at them. Hell, if it wasn't for Collette and Jesse, she probably would have died. She still wasn't exactly sure how she didn't perish and how she was standing where she was in a shortish period. Her clothing covered her still healing wounds and her stubborn nature was probably helping her stand there despite not being completely healed. Her ribs were still busted along with her left arm and right leg, but it definitely could have been worse. She could walk and move and at the moment, that's all she cared about.

"All of the kitchen stuff can stay... I just want my gun, money, and clothing." Yep, just the important stuff.
 
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"Hm." Rhetta's instinct towards Aimee's pretense that she wasn't a wolf was that the obvious solution was not to pretend, but what worked for her wouldn't necessarily work for Aimee. Aimee's healing was terrible, as was all too evident by the bruises stippling her body, the fine little scars starting to show up here and there. She wasn't like Rhetta, completely unmarred by everything she'd gotten into in her life, and if she couldn't tank it, then hiding was a viable strategy - but she should have been hiding close to someone who could protect her, not out her on her own.

She should have been with the Pack, but she hadn't seen too much of them aside from her father, and so perhaps she'd expected no help from that direction. Perhaps there wouldn't have been any, even if Aimee had expected it.

"If they trapped something, it'll be the bathroom with the gun or your room," Rhetta said, sidestepping the other conversation, since it didn't seem to be leading anywhere. "I'll go in first. Stay back six - no, eight feet. You're still healing. If it goes bad, your priorities are stopping blood loss and keeping the heart going. Cut it out and squeeze it if you have to. Twenty-five minutes. Understood?"

It was the same little speech she'd have given any of the prospects she was going into a situation with. No long-winded explanations, just the very basics: if this goes very wrong, this is how my healing works, this is what you need to do to keep me alive. Rhetta wondered if anyone had ever talked to Aimee like that before - like she was an asset who was expected to do a part, and not some helpless thing to be coddled.

Well, Rhetta had never coddled her before, that was certain, but it wasn't like their relationship had been fantastic. Aimee probably wasn't going to like it if it all ended up a bloody mess, but it was her damn apartment, and Rhetta figured she could deal with it. She moved past the girl, heading for the bathroom first. She had her doubts as to whether or not the gun would still be there, but she wanted to see, just in case.

This door, at least, was still on its hinges. Rhetta stepped back, and fixed that situation with a kick.
 
The hm that came from Rhetta was enough to let Aimee know that her idea of hiding who she was wasn’t the right way to go, but what the hell was she supposed to do? Stay with the pack under their rules? She didn’t want that. No, like she had just said, she liked her independence. Maybe her father was part of the intense need, but she didn’t want to dwell on that long enough to analyze her true motives. Exhaling deeply, she shifted her attention from the kitchen back to her packmate and pressed her lips together in distaste at the thought of the roommates having set traps.

“I doubt they’re smart enough to set traps, but alright. I’ll stay back and let you do the thing you do best. I’ll keep you alive, I promise.” She smiled faintly, knowing that while they weren’t necessarily best friends, they were pack and she was determined to keep her alive. That was the entire reason she faced off against the Scions back when they were burning the Den. That didn’t mean she liked not being coddled and didn’t want to get bloody again. She had gotten used to it and maybe that was also why she was the way she was. So many reasons why she was the spazz she was.

“Good luck… hope my gun is in there.” Aimee called out after Rhetta as the woman moved to the bathroom door. Swearing loudly when it was kicked in, she smacked her forehead in disbelief. Why?! Why the hell did they have to break stuff? At first, she was pissed but then realized that she was being evicted and suddenly she didn’t care.

“Anything?” She hollered, making sure to stay back the eight feet. Honestly, she wanted to go sit down and relax but now wasn’t the time. Too bad she was starting to hurt all over again thanks to all the movement. Pushing it a bit too soon? Her? Naw, never.
 
There wasn't an explosion. Rhetta wasn't certain whether or not to take that personally, but she moved into the bathroom anyway, locating Aimee's weapon in a moment and retrieving it, habitually checking the clip and making sure it was in working order. It seemed to be, which she found insulting. The Bloodstones wouldn't have left a perfectly good working weapon behind, but she supposed not all Packs could be as good at this as they were. Presumably there were people highly placed enough in the Iron Jackals to have done a good job with this, but they'd pushed it off on a less competent crew, and now it was this.

Rhetta handed back the gun to Aimee, maintaining proper awareness of where she was pointing it the entire time and making sure the handoff could be completed properly, without a misfire. Even though she didn't prefer guns, she certainly knew her way around them. Her father had made sure of that, though. She thought he'd hoped she'd take up long-range arms like he'd preferred, but it had never gone that way. She didn't think there had ever been a chance.

"Clear for now. Anything else you want out of there, or should we go get the stuff from your room?"
 
Nothing happened? Yeah! Nothing happened! That meant she wouldn't have to do what Rhetta said to keep the woman alive. Things were looking up and the teenager slowly limped toward the bathroom, hopeful that the same could be said for her bedroom. Cocking her head to the side, she spotted the gun and squealed softly. It was there! Happily taking it from Rhetta, she was sure to be as careful as she was so that neither was accidentally shot. Wouldn't that just be fabulous? More like it'd be painful for her because Rhetta would probably kick her ass. That thought reminded her of when she tried to shoot Baron out of paranoia and she couldn't help but frown. Was she stable enough to even keep a gun? Probably not but she wasn't about to mention that at the moment. She needed security and the gun gave it to her.

"Great at least they were dumb enough to leave the gun and not booby-trap anything. They weren't all that bright, honestly." Bright enough to kick her ass though. Shuddering as the memories poked into her brain, Aimee tightened her grasp on the gun before snapping out of it at Rhetta's question.

"Err, yeah... I need my toiletries... I'll get them while you check my bedroom for a trap." Aimee stepped into the bathroom and grabbed a bag, tossing items into it, things that she knew the railyard didn't have. Plus, she paid a pretty penny for her body wash, shampoo, and conditioner. Also, her fancy hairdryer and brush! Things that she didn't want to have to rebuy. Things including her makeup and glitter.
 
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