Just ducked under Andy’s metal arm, eyes darting about the clinic in frantic, very open confusion before jogging past Stanley and into her father’s office.
Herman swallows, nodding pointedly to Stanley, before making a move to follow her.
Stanley is at his side in a split second. “Hey, Herman, she’s a good kid… You don’t need to… well, you know—,”
“I know.” Herman sighs, holstering his pistol to reassure the promise in his eyes. “I know, Stanley. I have to talk to her, though; tell her what I know at least.”
He shuts the blinds upon entering the office, entering the keycode and locking the door in nervous, fumbling movements before he turns.
Kate is flying about the room, overturning filing cabinets, drawers, and boxes, glancing at sheets of paper briefly with flying eyes before crumpling it and throwing it over her shoulder. She stuffs various things into her backpack every once and a while: a framed biblical quote, a bobble head, a couple pencils and medical journals—things that seem silly and useless to Herman in a moment like now, but he doesn’t stop her.
“Katie.” Herman croaks, exhausted and anxious; disgusted with himself, mostly. The smell of blood is still heavy in his lungs. “Katie, come on.”
She looks wild as she jumps about the room, eyes wide and constantly searching, and Herman notices for the first time that she has blood splattered across her neck and face.
“Are you okay? Did… did anyone—?”
“I killed your buddy. John Kendall.” She says casually, finally turning to him as she stuffs a few Stims into the inner-breast pocket of her over-sized leather jacket. Herman blinks, opening his mouth stupidly before shutting it with a ripple of a shiver running down his spine. “He tried to, first, Manny. He wouldn’t leave me alone, even when I pointed my gun at him and—…” She stops, exhales, and forces a shrug. “Well, I don’t regret it.”
“Okay.” Herman takes a deep breath—tries to, more like. “Okay. Okay, Kate, you need to go. Now.”
“Fuck you, Manny, I know what you did.” She snarls, rushing forward in the blink of an eye to shove him roughly up against the door behind him. “Jonas was my friend. Eye for an eye, right? Ever hear of that, huh?”
“I didn’t—no Kate, wait, I didn’t kill Jonas!” Herman knows she doesn’t really care, not about Jonas or her friends or him; not about anyone but her father. He can see a feral glint in her eye, the same that shone in Stevie Mack’s right before he stomped Jonas’ face in. “I didn’t stop it, but I didn’t touch him. I ran—I—I…”
“Huh. As per fucking usual, then.” She spits, still holding him up against the wall, her eyes searching his face in a quick flash. “You gonna arrest me?”
Herman holds his breath, staring down into the eyes that have terrorized him for nearly two years. She’s here, right now, and he could kill her—silence her and move on with his life. Pep would never know, and even if Freddie would hurt over her loss, Herman thinks that they could all move on. Her hurts would disappear.
Then again, she would probably die just as quickly out there. Herman winces at the thought.
“No.” He gasps, the answer releasing a tension in her that he notices almost immediately. “You know I can’t, Katie, not you.”
“Lucky me.” She grins, the expression more of an animalistic show of her teeth and the pinkish, bloody tinge to them than a smile, and holsters her pistol in the pocket of her jacket.
He hadn’t even noticed the barrel sticking into his stomach until it is gone.
Criminal 8a/8
Just ducked under Andy’s metal arm, eyes darting about the clinic in frantic, very open confusion before jogging past Stanley and into her father’s office.
Herman swallows, nodding pointedly to Stanley, before making a move to follow her.
Stanley is at his side in a split second. “Hey, Herman, she’s a good kid… You don’t need to… well, you know—,”
“I know.” Herman sighs, holstering his pistol to reassure the promise in his eyes. “I know, Stanley. I have to talk to her, though; tell her what I know at least.”
He shuts the blinds upon entering the office, entering the keycode and locking the door in nervous, fumbling movements before he turns.
Kate is flying about the room, overturning filing cabinets, drawers, and boxes, glancing at sheets of paper briefly with flying eyes before crumpling it and throwing it over her shoulder. She stuffs various things into her backpack every once and a while: a framed biblical quote, a bobble head, a couple pencils and medical journals—things that seem silly and useless to Herman in a moment like now, but he doesn’t stop her.
“Katie.” Herman croaks, exhausted and anxious; disgusted with himself, mostly. The smell of blood is still heavy in his lungs. “Katie, come on.”
She looks wild as she jumps about the room, eyes wide and constantly searching, and Herman notices for the first time that she has blood splattered across her neck and face.
“Are you okay? Did… did anyone—?”
“I killed your buddy. John Kendall.” She says casually, finally turning to him as she stuffs a few Stims into the inner-breast pocket of her over-sized leather jacket. Herman blinks, opening his mouth stupidly before shutting it with a ripple of a shiver running down his spine. “He tried to, first, Manny. He wouldn’t leave me alone, even when I pointed my gun at him and—…” She stops, exhales, and forces a shrug. “Well, I don’t regret it.”
“Okay.” Herman takes a deep breath—tries to, more like. “Okay. Okay, Kate, you need to go. Now.”
“Fuck you, Manny, I know what you did.” She snarls, rushing forward in the blink of an eye to shove him roughly up against the door behind him. “Jonas was my friend. Eye for an eye, right? Ever hear of that, huh?”
“I didn’t—no Kate, wait, I didn’t kill Jonas!” Herman knows she doesn’t really care, not about Jonas or her friends or him; not about anyone but her father. He can see a feral glint in her eye, the same that shone in Stevie Mack’s right before he stomped Jonas’ face in. “I didn’t stop it, but I didn’t touch him. I ran—I—I…”
“Huh. As per fucking usual, then.” She spits, still holding him up against the wall, her eyes searching his face in a quick flash. “You gonna arrest me?”
Herman holds his breath, staring down into the eyes that have terrorized him for nearly two years. She’s here, right now, and he could kill her—silence her and move on with his life. Pep would never know, and even if Freddie would hurt over her loss, Herman thinks that they could all move on. Her hurts would disappear.
Then again, she would probably die just as quickly out there. Herman winces at the thought.
“No.” He gasps, the answer releasing a tension in her that he notices almost immediately. “You know I can’t, Katie, not you.”
“Lucky me.” She grins, the expression more of an animalistic show of her teeth and the pinkish, bloody tinge to them than a smile, and holsters her pistol in the pocket of her jacket.
He hadn’t even noticed the barrel sticking into his stomach until it is gone.