..What If.. -- Club Alien

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What if I'm a snowstorm burning?

What if I'm a world unturning?

What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow

Much too deep?

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Kat was still reeling from the events of the evening as the stranger approached. The adrenaline was beginning to fade, leaving her feeling shaky and honestly, a little nauseous. Or maybe that was the drugs...who knew? Her head throbbed, and she knew she was destined for the world's biggest headache. She'd be lucky if there wasn't an inch of her skin that didn't hurt when the oxy lost its hold, in all honesty. She'd been put through the ringer, and while she was used to taking a beating, this one was worse than she'd had in a long while. If it wasn't for the stranger, she had little doubt she'd have been beaten to death or gutted right there in the alley.

Speaking of the stranger, he was advancing toward her. Instinct kicked in and she pushed away from the wall and back, putting a few steps between them. That he had been the one that had saved her in the first place flew from her mind...she was simply so used to men being less than pleasant to her that it was only natural for her guard to be up. Her wide, doe like eyes settled on him for the first time, and for a horrible second she was positive that the ground had dropped out from
under her feet. Even in the dim, shadowy lighting, the man bore a striking resemblance to Paige. He was far leaner, obviously tightly toned even under the covering of his clothing. His features were more distinguished, and his hair was vastly different...but despite these differences, the physical similarities were shocking. And with thatvoice...that horribly familiar voice...no. It couldn't be possible. It WASN'T possible. She was just high, stoned out of her gourd...that had to be it. Deep down, deep on the recess of her subconscious, perhaps Kat knew the truth, had known it very well from the first time he spoke...but that would be more than she could face, so her conscious mind pushed it away. Excuses are often easier to find than peace when it comes to the rough realities of life.

Her features were intense when she faced him, her long, matted red strands wild as they fell around her bloodied face. Her nose was still trickling, but the flow had mostly settled to a coagulated mess around her upper lip. It wasn't broken, thankfully, but it would likely swell in the coming days. She eyed his offering for a long moment, debating on if she should accept any further assistance from him. If she did, he was likely to expect something in return...wasn't that the way of things, after all? And for most men, those favors tended to be of sexual nature...and she just didn't have that to give. On the other hand, her clothes hung on her body in tatters. Did she really want to walk the streets like that, tempt another idiot to attack her?

She finally took the jacket, slipping into it and tugging it tight around her slight frame. It was miles to big for her, the sleeves almost comically long, but it offers warmth and concealment and felt good against her skin. "Hey, thanks..." She said, her sweetly husky voice guarded but honest in it's gratitude. She merely nodded to his suggestion of getting her things. She sure wasn't going to argue the logic of that idea. Feeling like she might keep the dizziness at bay, she collected her bag and purse from the pavement. Her hands shook as she pulled the ruger from her purse and shoved it in the waist band of her skirt. She would not be caught without a weapon at hand again. Not in this city.

She peered at the man as he asked if she had anyone that could pick her up...and for a crazy moment, she thought a hysterical laugh might bubble out of her. There were plenty of people who would love to give her a lift...to a ditch in the middle of nowhere! Or maybe they'd take her to the coast for a concrete shoe fitting! The absurd urge to laugh passed, and instead she simply snorted. "No...on both counts. I just got off a greyhound half an hour ago. I don't know anyone here anymore. I was hoping to find a hotel or something until I got on my feet." She shrugged her shoulders, wincing immediately at the action. Her abused muscles are already beginning to protest. His mention of the hospital produced a panicked look on her pretty features, and she wildly shook her head. "NO! No hospitals. No cops. Nothing like that. I'm fine. I've had worse." She looked nervously down the alley. The sirens sounded further away. "You didn't really call the cops, did you?" Her head was beginning to ache, and Kat held her fingers to her temples. "All I want is a place to clean up and to find a drink. If you could point me in the right direction, I'll get out of your hair."

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What if I'm the kindest demon?

Something you might not believe in

What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen

To sleep?

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