goodbye, sweetheart

who: eris and brett
when: early afternoon
where: spooky house of doom

Eris had gotten her shit together in her room, which really hadn't taken her that long. It wasn't as if she had a ton of stuff with her in the first place. Just things for their journey. Which...well, she didn't need anymore, now did she? Brett was pissed, and was probably disowning her, finally. Funny, how it was over something he got the truth over. She should have just lied to him like everyone else. Would have been easier. But no, she had her stupid truth thing with him. Fucking stupid.

Well, she wouldn't make the same mistake twice. ...or a third time. There was a note. She gathered the shit together that he would need or gathered from town himself, and put it into two bags. Her own stuff fit into one. Everything else could stay here. She did actually make sure that the shotgun shells were in with Brett's things though, what with her having given it to him. It wasn't as if she was going to ask for it back. She sat on the floor in 'her' room, staring at nothing as she downed at least a good quarter of the bottle. Then she grabbed up the bags, hers on her shoulders, and she headed out into the hall. Setting the bottle down on the floor, she looked down into Brett's room, to make sure that nothing was beneath her there, and she dropped first the one bag, then the second down into the room. The note pinned to the second one was pretty simple. All it said was 'I didn't lie to you'. Not signed, since that would have gotten confusing, now wouldn't it? Though she almost signed it 'Julia'. But then it would exist, in writing somewhere, and she didn't want that. Couldn't have it. No no and no. She didn't want to hand him more fuel, he had enough of that. More than enough. She'd told him so much. He could turn that around on her so fast...she probably needed to be out of town. Like...as far as a car would take her out of town. From there? Who knew. She was winging it at current, she couldn't be bothered to care.

Brett was sat on the floor of his room, by the end of the bed, the wheelchair in pieces around him. It had taken him fucking ages just to get the damn thing apart. Ages and half a can of oil, but he'd done it and he was busy cleaning each bit, scrubbing off the worse of the rust. By the time he'd put it back together again, it should be pretty damn usable. Uncomfortable as shit still, but at least it would work without squeaking and without him having to drag the wheels along.

He wasn't, though - thankfully - beneath the open drop. Which was a good thing as two bags dropped through where the ceiling wasn't and landed in a heap of blown up dust on the floor. "Hey, what the fucking hell do you think you're playing at?" Brett exclaimed, loud enough for whoever the hell it was to hear. He couldn't see them from here, and working his way through the maze of bits of metal and bolts was going to take some time, but bellowing was always a good fallback position.

"Giving you what's yours." Eris replied, though it was after a minute of debating on if she was going to answer him at all. She wasn't especially of a mind to do it, but figured she may as well. What could it hurt? As far as she could tell, everything was fucked either way. So...no backtracking on that score. She'd been waiting, of course, for things to go to hell. And now he had the excuse. Maybe she did as well. She didn't know. Couldn't be bothered to really care, not at this juncture. She was feeling very, very trapped and cornered, and alone. Not an especially awesome combo for her. She snagged her bottle from where she'd left it and took a long pull, unsure why she was waiting for a response from him.

"By dropping it through the fucking ceiling?" Brett retorted, figuring that, yeah, that was probably right. Why the hell should he expect any courtesy from the lying bitch anyway. He thrust away the hurt feeling and concentrated on the anger as he turned back to cleaning a wheel bearing.

"I didn't figure you'd really want to see me. Besides...nothing's breakable. And you weren't in the way." Eris pointed out, drinking some more. "I did look before I dropped them." she added. She'd probably have mentioned what was in the bags but she would have had to remember. She recalled some of the things, but in her head it was just a blanket 'everything'. So she didn't have specifics that were standing out in her mind.

"You mean you didn't want to face me - so you chickened out of giving me the opportunity of slamming the door in your fucking face - if that's what I was going to do. Didn't want to find out, right?" Brett corrected with a snarl. He didn't actually know if that's what he'd do. Honestly, being that his only method of transport was in pieces and that put the doorhandle above his head, he was thinking not.

She looked down through the ceiling, then slid down the wall, form curled up against it as she tried to catch a glimpse of him. She saw wheelchair parts strewn about. She saw a little of him, but not a lot. It wasn't the best vantage or anything. "Is that what I mean." she said. "Mad you're not getting the chance?" she asked, tone light. She should walk away now. Just...turn, head out. Not come back. ...or, not come back until the scientists dropped her back. She didn't really have any illusions about that.

"How the hell should I know what you mean Eris?" he said, not shouting any longer, but his powerful voice carrying well enough for her to hear him from where she was. He kept his head down, concentrating on his work.

She flinched a little bit. Again. She had the first time he'd called her that, and didn't really expect that it would stop being jarring. "You just told me what I mean. I don't really think it's spot on, though." she said. She was quiet for a few moments. "Eris. Greek goddess of discord and strife." she continued, before taking another drink. "Seemed fitting when I was about thirteen. Went by that til very, very recently." Like, yesterday. "That isn't what it says on my birth certificate."

"How nice for you," Brett told her, the sarcasm in his tone heavy and bitter. He didn't even give thought to what she meant. He wasn't really allowing himself to listen to her right now, wrapping himself up in his anger to avoid the hurt at having been lied to and let down again. He scrubbed harder at the bearing, getting rid of the last of the rust before he started oiling it properly.

She was quiet for a few moments, then pushed herself back to her feet. "Goodbye, sweetheart." she said, walking away. Best to go for that now. Before anyone heard them talking, before she had a run in with Everett, before Hannah went and got her friends to come kill her just on principal. Time to move on. and as much as walking out and being by herself left her feeling a huge wall of dread crushing down on her...she'd probably survive for a while. Her chances were better than if she stayed here, at least.

Brett let her go. He was better off on his own anyway. That's all he'd ever wanted: for people just to leave him the fuck alone. And finally she'd got the message. He bent a little more, scrubbed a little harder and pretended he couldn't hear her walking down the stairs.