Hands to her mouth and breath bated, Amber watched Eric go through his second round of shots. One fell, two; it was hard to wait for the following shots, worried a third would follow, but in the end, the rest stood upright, perhaps mourning their fallen comrades.
Lowering her fists to below her chin, Amber allowed herself a little victory shake. She'd won a prize, she'd won over Eric, and, now it seemed, as he turned to her with the black thing he'd picked from out of the bucket, she'd won his plunder. "God, it's so tacky; your high school girl must've been easy." Assuming, of course, that there had been only one. Maybe he'd had a collection of fast girls; easy come, easy go. Amber wouldn't be surprised, if he had.
Amber squinted at the spider adorning her pinkie. It made her think of spinning webs, which-- was actually pretty appropriate for her. Manipulative little thing, entangling everyone its schemes. A smile stole over Amber's face without her even noticing as she poked at it, its near-rigid legs wobbling. The first thing Eric had ever given her was that rose, but as beautiful as it'd been, she preferred this scratchy bit of plastic. Inorganic and tasteless and something she could've tossed into the garbage without a second thought, it felt far more real. Something to keep. (The rose itself had been dumped immediately upon returning home. If she hadn't burned it, it was only because Eric's assholeness hadn't been worth the hassle of setting off the fire alarm. But it'd been a close call.)
And he'd called her 'his girl.' He must've picked up on her earlier slip, and was now echoing it because, because-- well, from his affection, it meant he'd liked it.
That and another realization made her smile grow wider: she'd won. Tonight would be up in her hands. They'd do exactly as she pleased. A rush of excitement ran through her, thawing out some the cold settling into her body. Amber looked up, beaming back at him. "Guess this means I'll be calling the shots."
Turning back to the booth, Amber sighed at the dismal choice selection. It was either that weird orange worm thing or a striped monkey whose limbs looked like they'd been stuck on by a stapler. All that flirting with the carnie had been for nothing; she'd thought to charm him into storing their big prizes while they frequented the rest of the fair, but even her larger prize was small enough to fit in her coat pocket. God damn him and his scam game. She took the worm and, as she put it away, told the carnie coldly: "I was going to donate our prizes to sick children, but they won't want these."
The kids stuck long-term in the hospital needed more serious things than toys, like medicine and therapy, but words like 'sick children' had an impact. The booth keeper visibly gulped, eyeing the stash of questionable prizes. "Are they very sick?"
"They are," she said, voice still steeled. "They have leukimia; you should see them, they're heartbreaking."
Okay, perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick. No one cared about generic dying kids that much, so probably it was probably more fear than sympathy that motivated him to wave where the largest toys dangled from their rack. "I guess if it's for a good cause--"
"It is," she assured him, tone instantaneously friendly, as if she hadn't just creeped the hell out of him. She plucked out a huge, mutant purple giraffe and pushed it at Eric, grinning wickedly. "As my official knight of the evening, you can carry that for me." She then took hold of his free arm, saying, "C'mon, let's go eat, I'm starving."
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Lowering her fists to below her chin, Amber allowed herself a little victory shake. She'd won a prize, she'd won over Eric, and, now it seemed, as he turned to her with the black thing he'd picked from out of the bucket, she'd won his plunder. "God, it's so tacky; your high school girl must've been easy." Assuming, of course, that there had been only one. Maybe he'd had a collection of fast girls; easy come, easy go. Amber wouldn't be surprised, if he had.
Amber squinted at the spider adorning her pinkie. It made her think of spinning webs, which-- was actually pretty appropriate for her. Manipulative little thing, entangling everyone its schemes. A smile stole over Amber's face without her even noticing as she poked at it, its near-rigid legs wobbling. The first thing Eric had ever given her was that rose, but as beautiful as it'd been, she preferred this scratchy bit of plastic. Inorganic and tasteless and something she could've tossed into the garbage without a second thought, it felt far more real. Something to keep. (The rose itself had been dumped immediately upon returning home. If she hadn't burned it, it was only because Eric's assholeness hadn't been worth the hassle of setting off the fire alarm. But it'd been a close call.)
And he'd called her 'his girl.' He must've picked up on her earlier slip, and was now echoing it because, because-- well, from his affection, it meant he'd liked it.
That and another realization made her smile grow wider: she'd won. Tonight would be up in her hands. They'd do exactly as she pleased. A rush of excitement ran through her, thawing out some the cold settling into her body. Amber looked up, beaming back at him. "Guess this means I'll be calling the shots."
Turning back to the booth, Amber sighed at the dismal choice selection. It was either that weird orange worm thing or a striped monkey whose limbs looked like they'd been stuck on by a stapler. All that flirting with the carnie had been for nothing; she'd thought to charm him into storing their big prizes while they frequented the rest of the fair, but even her larger prize was small enough to fit in her coat pocket. God damn him and his scam game. She took the worm and, as she put it away, told the carnie coldly: "I was going to donate our prizes to sick children, but they won't want these."
The kids stuck long-term in the hospital needed more serious things than toys, like medicine and therapy, but words like 'sick children' had an impact. The booth keeper visibly gulped, eyeing the stash of questionable prizes. "Are they very sick?"
"They are," she said, voice still steeled. "They have leukimia; you should see them, they're heartbreaking."
Okay, perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick. No one cared about generic dying kids that much, so probably it was probably more fear than sympathy that motivated him to wave where the largest toys dangled from their rack. "I guess if it's for a good cause--"
"It is," she assured him, tone instantaneously friendly, as if she hadn't just creeped the hell out of him. She plucked out a huge, mutant purple giraffe and pushed it at Eric, grinning wickedly. "As my official knight of the evening, you can carry that for me." She then took hold of his free arm, saying, "C'mon, let's go eat, I'm starving."