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It's not often, that anyone pays attention to Calamity. They're pretty unassuming, a teenager in a hoodie with a backpack, just going about their business.
That is, of course, unless you happen to be looking for them, and have an eye for the sort of mischief they tend to get into, and that's exactly why they're now glowering in their seat at a coffeeshop, next to a certain Miz Lawless, warming their gloved hands on a cup of hot chocolate. Instead of, you know, whatever sort of mayhem they'd had on the books for today.
Sabrina Lawless is normally a rather dour looking woman. This is beyond that. This is the quiet, disappointed We Need To Talk look you get from your parents when they know you've fucked up. She's crammed into a booth opposite them, wearing a deep frown, and holding a cracked mug of coffee by the rim of the cup because her fingers are juuust too big to comfortably hold it by the handle.
Enough time passes in silence before she finally speaks that her coffee is almost gone - and when she does speak, she's not nearly as mad as she had been when she caught Calamity a few blocks back.
"... what're you doin', kid?" She looks tired - hell, she sounds tired - and that's new.
"Nothin'." It's the same thing they'd been insisting for the past few minutes. "I was just walking home. Promise." 'Cause you know, walking down dead-end alleys is definitely the best way to walk home.
"Kid," she repeats again, more forceful this time - though she doesn't raise her voice. It's all tone. She leans closer to the skinny 20-something. "Do I look like a fuckin' turnip?"
Calamity glares back. "Nah, you look like a fucking asshole."
Sabrina leans back in the booth and the whole thing creaks underneath her shifting weight. She fixes Calamity with her sullen stare, lips pursed so tightly that they disappear into nothing.
"You wanna sit in silence?" Her voice is a low growl. She takes another sip of coffee and then crosses her arms over her chest, looking even more surly - if that's possible. The look persists. "Fine."
They do keep quiet for a few seconds, sipping their hot chocolate with a glare that doesn't even come close to intimidating.
"The fence at the end of that alley's just wood," they finally mutter. "'S the best way to get home so I was gonna...make it easier to get through."
"... stop fuckin' lying, Kid." She scowls, leaning forward onto the table and resting her forearms. "I've been doing this shit since before you were born. I know the difference between casing a place and taking a shortcut."
"Don't call me Kid." They lean back a little. "And fine, maybe I was casing. Why d'you care? 'S not like I'm gonna do anything with it now."
"Stop fuckin' acting like one, then." Her voice is a low rumble, but she catches herself getting actually frustrated, and pulls back. "Fuck it. I dunno. I don't care."
That was half-hearted as fuck.
"Okay, mom." They make it sound like an insult. "I think you're the only one who does fuckin' care."
"You fuckin' wish, kid." She brings her voice down in volume. "There are people who will definitely care if you keep that shit up - and they are not as fuckin' nice as I am about it."
"Only if I get caught. Of if you fuckin' tell 'em."
"Or when you get caught. If I can figure out what you're doing, someone smarter than me definitely can."
"You've made it your mission to figure my shit out, literally no one else notices me."
Sabrina gives Calamity a scowl in response... and that's all she does for a few minutes before giving up on the tactic and taking a drink of coffee.
"... no. I'm just the idiot trying to keep your dumb ass from walkin' into traffic. This ain't a joke, kid. You get caught by the wrong people, and Bad Shit will happen."
"Yeah, I fuckin' get that. I've figured my shit out so far, you're not the only only lookin' out for me." They take a sip of their hot chocolate and wince at the temperature.
Sabrina laughs- err. Snorts. It sounds like the noise a bull makes when signaling a charge.
"Fine. You want me to stop giving a shit? I'll stop giving a shit, but that means I ain't gonna put my ass on the line next time you're in trouble either."
The last part is a half-hearted lie at best. Or at least even she doesn't believe it.
"I mean I never...I never asked you to do any of that shit." Their tone isn't nearly as scathing anymore. "I just don't wanna end up owing you shit for it."
"Then don't." She crosses her arms and looks out the window. "Not looking for a fuckin' payout."
"Everybody's lookin' for a payout." They say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world
Sturm shifts again, fetching a dark leather wallet from the back pocket of her jeans. She opens it up and tosses a wrinkled twenty onto the table - more than enough to cover her coffee, the hot chocolate, and a hefty tip. "Not me, kid. Enjoy your fuckin' hot chocolate."
... and then she gets up from the table and starts to head out the front, her usual frown etched even deeper.
She can probably feel just how much Calamity wants to pocket the twenty.
But she's halfway to the next block before there's a presence at her side, and Calamity looks up at her from under the hood of their sweatshirt. Not saying anything, just...lookin' a little sorry.
"... you didn't pocket that twenty, did you?" She doesn't look down at them - and honestly with how big her strides are, it's a wonder Calamity can keep up.
"Not that stupid." They definitely have to trot a little to avoid being left behind.
"Where're you goin'?"
"My business," her voice is gruff as fuck. "Thought you wanted me to leave you alone?"
"No, I wanted you to stop stoppin' me from doing shit. There's a difference."
"Not gonna happen." She grunts.
"...Why, though?" It's actually a genuine question, this time.
She suddenly looks up and turns to Calamity, scowling. "If you aren't gonna give a shit about yourself, I don't owe you that."
"I mean I just don't think I'm worth giving a shit about." It's matter-of-fact.
"That's stupid as hell," Sabrina grunts, gently shoving Calamity in the opposite direction. "Go on, scram kid. Stay outta trouble - or at least stay outta trouble on this side of town."
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