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Sturm::kid what the fuck r u doin...
Calamity::nothing!
S::ur not 21.
C::how do u kno
S::because u look lik a fuckin beansprout
S::n i aint dumb
C::you gonna fuckin tell on me?
S::no but u shld b tryin to do less shit 2 get u in trouble.
C::watever
S::im not tryina be ur fuckin mom but come on
S::why the f u wanna grow up so fast its not fuckin worth it.
C::not like i had a fuckin choice
C::to grow up or not
S::yea u fuckin do. rite now tho
C::fuck u
C::i just wanna have fun sometimes
S::u buyin a beer in that bar could get it fuckin CLOSED. permanatly
S::they could lose their liquor license - anneliese could lose her job
S::not sayin u shuldnt have fun but theres better ways 2 have fun
C::watever
S::u always fuckin say whatever
S::look do u wanna fuckin turn out like me?
C::what else am i supposed to say?
C::"sorry ms. lawless, i wont do it again"???
C::u seem pretty okay to me
S::cause if so keep doing what ur doin and u can be a grumpy bitch all the time 2.
C::w h a t e v e r
C::can i still have doom patrol
C::for fin
S::just pick it up from the house.
C::i STILL dont know where ur fuckin house is
S::[address] andy will let u in prob
C::whos andy
S::new kid frum chicago
C::funny i know an andy from chicago
C::i think thats where there from
S::cool.
S::maybe its the same andy. Idk.
Sturm's place is up in Olney - right on the edge of the city. It's an old building - a shotgun house - the kind that's basically one big, long hallway with a few branching rooms going off to the sides. The kind of place you can't really tell how big it is from the street without going inside. That's definitely a good thing, though, because from the outside? It looks tiny and cramped. There's an old blue pickup truck parked at the street - Calamity'd probably recognize it as belonging to Miss Lawless - and Sturm herself is seated on the stoop out front, messing with her phone and smoking a cigarette with a sour expression.
Well, fuck. Calamity could come back later, or they could sneak around back, but when have they ever had any sense of self preservation? They lope down the sidewalk, their hoodie zipped and their hands firmly in their pockets.
"Came to get those comics." There's no hello or anything.
The grumbling giant doesn't say much. She nods at Calamity, extinguishes the end of her Camel Menthol, and then wordlessly pulls herself up from the stairs by grabbing onto the ancient-looking railing. It's a wonder it doesn't collapse under her weight, but it holds - and she makes her way up the stairs towards the front door. Once inside, she points to the yellowing cardboard box that contains the often-shuffled around collection of comic books. "Don't fuck them up. Want them back in one piece."
Calamity rolls their eyes and makes a beeline for them, carefully looking through the box. "When do I ever fuck up your comics?"
"Dunno," she frowns - and her hands disappear into her jacket pockets. "Then again, you do a lot of shit I don't fuckin' know about so I'm covering my bases."
She fixes Calamity with an intensely disappointed expression. Sturm's usually good about not letting shit like that show on her face, but it's hard to hide frustration behind smaller frustration.
Calamity glances at her. And fuckin immediately looks away. "'M not gonna fuck up your comics. Shit's important." Their tone has shifted from defensive to sullen.
"Maybe you oughta give as much of a fuck about yourself as you do about my shit, huh? Then nobody's gotta worry about it." For a moment, Sturm almost seems surprised that the words left her mouth with as much force as they did. The corners of her mouth twist back into that familiar scowl of hers - and then she wordlessly turns to transfer the box from it's space on the couch to the hallway floor.
"Fuck are you talking about?" Calamity scoffs, like they really don't know. "I'm alive, aren't I? 'S giving more of a fuck than most people in my fucking life."
Sturm works her jaw as she stands upright for a moment... before then leaning back against the wall. The difference in her height is very noticeable. "You know what I fuckin' mean, kid. Drinking when you're underage, smoking cigarettes, you've got a fake ID and you're fuckin' around with the goddamned mafia - and other motherfuckers? That's not the shit you do when you want to stay preserved. Use your fuckin' head - or do you wanna grow up - if you live that long - to be a burned out husk of a fuckin' person?"
Calamity stands their ground, glaring up at Sturm. "I wanna fucking stay alive - 'n that's not gonna happen 'f I'm by my fuckin self. I'm not stupid enough not to know that." They don't fight her on the cigarettes thing, that's interesting. "Who the fuck cares who I run with?"
"Okay, but those fuckin' thugs you run with? The fucking K&A? You think any of those mothefuckers are going to help keep you alive? I know you're not fuckin' dumb enough to believe that those bastards wouldn't sell you upstream in a heartbeat if it meant a marginal increase in their fuckin' profits." Sturm crosses her arms over her chest, and shrinks her shoulders - a deliberate act to keep herself from getting too angry in this conversation. "That's not how you live - unless you're looking to live your life in a fucking prison cell - or worse."
"I don't fuckin run with the K&A." Another scoff. "An' I'll be one step ahead of everyone else. 'S how I always am, fuckin...what I got now's better n' nothing, and if it turns out worse I'll get the fuck out. 'Ve done it before."
"Don't come into my house and lie to my face, Kid. You might not be a fuckin' member, but I've seen you little shits hangin' around their business - how the fuck do you think you ran into me in the first place?" Beat. "This is me assuming you're not dumb enough to be trying to rob them - which means you must be working with them? Or someone in your outfit is - which means you're fuckin' fair game for their enemies. You get that, right?"
"Look, I'm just a fuckin errand runner, alright? Sometimes it means I gotta go hang with 'em. I don't ask questions, that's how I get enemies. But do I look like a fuckin mobster?"
Normally Sturm can keep a lid on her emotions, but this conversation is nearing dangerous territory for her. She huffs - nostrils flaring and she's breathing through them heavily like some kind of pissed off cartoon character. "You don't look like a mobster - you look like a fuckin' kid who is about to wade waist-deep into something you're not going to be able to fuckin' swim your way out of. You want money? Don't mess with these guys - get a real fuckin' job. Seriously. You want friends? Hang around the comic shop or something, but for God's sake do not fuck around with the K&A because you're looking for friends? Come the fuck on, Calamity. Their enemies - the fuckin' feds don't care how much you actually know if you get pinched. They will wring your skinny ass dry if it means they can get a tiny spot of dirt on a bigger fish."
"Fuck. you. You know what? Keep your goddamn comics. I don't want 'em." They drop the box to the ground with a thud. "I've been doin' this since I was thirteen, 'n you're gonna come in here all high and mighty and tell me I'm fuckin better than the kinda people who kept me alive? They're not my fuckin friends, never have been. 'S more 'n that and if you had any fucking clue you wouldn't be standing there talking."
"You are such a stupid motherfucker sometimes." Sturm's expression goes rigid again. She takes a deep breath. Her brow furrows. Her scowl reappears. "... but I sure as shit don't know what I'm fuckin' talkin' about so why the fuck would you listen to me?" She pulls the pack of cigarettes out of her pocket and tosses 'em onto the floor at Calamity's feet. "You wanna smoke, and drink, and roll with mobsters like me so goddamned bad? I've smoked camels since I was fuckin' sixteen - so you can follow in my footsteps by starting there, and geting the fuck out of this house."
"See I told you." Calamity's voice cracks. "Told you you were gonna get sick of me, fuckin'...kick me out. Bound to happen eventually - and here I am. Fucking right." Their hands ball into fists in their pockets.
"I'm trying to give a shit about you, moron - and you're throwin' it back in my fuckin' face!" The throws her hands up. "What the fuck am I supposed to do? Watch you doin' the same shit I did when I was a kid, and just encourage you to do it?" Beat. "Well I'm not my fuckin' father - I'm not fuckin' playing games with people's futures n' shit - so if you're not going to listen to me, I'm not gonna watch and eat popcorn while you fuck up your life."
"Sure acting like my father," they mutter, staring at the floor. They know it's a low blow, and they're saying it anyway. "I don't need you lookin' after me, I said that shit already didn't I? So why're you tryin'a get all involved, just to get pissy when I don't follow your rules?"
"Fine. I won't, then." Sturm's scowl returns in full force, and she turns to leave the room.
"Fuck you then!" Their voice cracks again, and they kick at the box of comics hard enough to slide it across the floor a couple inches.
... Sturm doesn't stop. She just heads to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.
If Sturm's listening for the slam of the front door, it doesn't come. In fact, there's no sound at all from the front room now.
Sturm isn't - and while she's out of the room, Calamity can hear the sound of a coffee pot coming on. When she returns, the smell of coffee has already begun to fill the small space - and she's taken her hair down out of the braid and begun to pick it apart, leaving it looking wild and unkempt. She looks up from her boots when she gets back into the front hall.
"What're you still doing here?" Sturm quirks her eyebrow. Far from her usual gruff tone, her voice is quiet and soft. Confused.
Calamity flinches like Sturm's hit them across the fucking face, and tenses to run. But a second later they actually process how Sturm's said it. "'Re you kicking me out, still?" It's a whisper.
"Nope. You just seemed pretty keen is all." She gestures to the dented cardboard box, quirking a brow. "Hope that's the section with the Lucifer shit in it or I'm going to kick your ass."
"...Gotta catch me, first." It's quiet, but the corner of their mouth twitches up.
"Or just follow you slowly and wait for you to trip over something..." She sucks air through her teeth.
"Hey you've never fucking tried to catch me."
Blatantly false.
"...When I'm actually running."
"Maybe, maybe not." She shrugs. "Way faster than I look once I actually start moving, though, so I'd be willing to take the bet."
"Uh huh. Suure." They're teasing.
Sturm scowls, and her hands make their way back into her pockets. "Put a pot of coffee on - you want some before you head back to [neighborhood Calamity is from]?"
"There sugar? Or...hot chocolate? The shitty powdered stuff's fine."
"Got cream and sugar - no hot chocolate mix, though. Sorry." She shrugs - but honestly, it's unusual that she's got cream and sugar so...
"Sugar's fine, then. A lot, please?"
"Works for me."
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