(Untitled)

[carefulwishes]

"And the precog?"

"Bring him in."

So Eden will. Did this particular precog paint her death? Yes. Is she a strong confident woman who won't let a little thing like that stop her? Yes. (A voice in her head whispers No, but that's the voice of her insecurities. She knows it well. She can ignore it. She has a job to do.) She hops the subway and keeps

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[viridian_hue]

When Isaac opens the door, he looks like death warmed over--what else is new?--and he's covered in paint--again, standard--and for a long moment, all he can do is stare at her. Maybe it's not the same girl. Maybe it's just a weird body-double thing. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Heroin does weird things to the body, to the mind, he knows that. He could be hallucinating, giving that girl's face to someone who reminds him of her. Or something. Way to rationalize.

"Can I help you?" he finally asks.

[carefulwishes]

Eden (forces herself to) smiles at him. "My name is Eden McCain, and I'm a big fan of your work."

It occurred to her that it was gruesome. Macabre. Gallows humour. She said it anyway.

"May I come in?"

[viridian_hue]

"Sure," he says, mystified and holds the door open for her, still staring. "It's a mess." The last is something like apology as he just looks. There's no mistaking it. It's the same girl. She's on a canvas in the corner, even. How's that for unsettling?

[carefulwishes]

Eden smiles, faint and distant and distracted and trying to be none of the above.

"You're an artist, you can get away with mess." She walks further into the studio, scanning a painting or two, but her gaze is caught by the mural on the floor.

He said he had to save the world. This doesn't look like it gets saved.