Lavi

[scrapdraught]

this time there are no otome points only deep concern

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[bookpapers]

[STOP LISTEN... sometimes you put on a friendly face that you think doesn't deserve to be liked because it's just a Face

but in this moment his face looks real, turning Cami's way as if he can pick up her tone,]

You don't have to! These can be our working clothes. We can hit up the market later and get you a pair of nice not grape-stained pants after.

spoilers....CW: murder, implied mouth gore

[scrapdraught]

[lavi no...embrace yourself ;;

also she laughs, nodding along.]

Fine, fine. They're dark enough anyway it won't matter, I guess.

[Except they don't make it to the the grapes.


Lavi all but skips out of the apartment complex, manila folders tucked precariously under his arm as he works his messenger bag open. He's dressed in casual modern clothing — office friendly, but playful. Both his eyes are in tact but the headband remains, as does a keychain of a cartoon hammer hanging off his belt. Some things never change.

He's going around the building to the back, where all the cars are parked. Coming the opposite way is a young girl, pretty preteen with her thumbs through the the beltloops of her shorts, backpack on and popping gum. She speeds up when she spots him.

"Hey, Lavi."

"Oh! Hey Amma! Sorry I was just leaving."

"That quick, huh?" Amma draws even with him, which seems to surprise the young man. "Camille shoot you down again?"

"You're so funny," he says lightly, stuffing a few of the folders into his bag. There's more than he estimated and it'll be a tough fit. "Especially since you know I've been seeing Nona. And even if I wasn't, your sister...she's just too good for a lowlife like me!"

He pulls a mawkish expression, playfully heartbroken.

"I don't know about that," Amma says slyly. "Why does she have you over all the time?"

"Work."

"Work on what?"

"Oh, this and that."

"You can't tell me?"

"You can read about it later, that's what a newspaper is for."

Amma's eyes harden a moment. Then, with a grin, she snatches one folder and flings it into an alcove, in by the dumpsters.

Lavi is shocked. For the first time a flicker of real irritation shines through. "Amma!" He runs to fetch his papers. "Come on, what was that for?"

Amma doesn't answer. She walks up slow behind him, her expression taut. Lavi clucks his tongue and crouches, picking up files and shaking loose the debris. He doesn't see her draw the fishing line out of her pockets. Loop it around both hands.

He does feel it when she slings it around his neck. There's a sharp shout, then she pulls hard, knee to his back and fists yanked high. Lavi has every advantage against her — size, strength, speed. Even age and wisdom.

Except the element of surprise is a bitch.

It's a long struggle. A mostly silent one, except for gasps and scuffling limbs. Strangulation takes minutes, not seconds like in the movies. You have to keep going after they pass out. Otherwise they might wake up. Amma waits. Amma holds out, her petulant snarl fixed on through the whole ordeal. She counts it out. She's done it enough times by now to know how.

When she finally lets him fall to the ground his face is swollen. He's still, limp as a doll. Easy enough for her to roll over.

She swings her backpack off her shoulders and rummages around. Pulls out a pair of pliers. She sets a knee on his chest for leverage, pries open his mouth, and gets to work.]