Chapter Text
Tucked safely back in the apartment under the zoo, Casey and Patricia can’t help but continue to plot. Though Casey has a few reservations about the upper floors, she can’t deny how perfect the sub-basement of the old warehouse is for their needs. Together they make a list of all the things that need to be done, and of things they’ll need to get. It’s mostly for Dennis since he’ll be the one doing the lion’s share of the handy work. They’re both eager to find more sacrifices. Casey knows she’ll need to feed again soon. She can feel the ever-present ache of hunger grow fiercer inside her.
They discuss it all as casually as anything. Plotting murder should be a horrible thing, meant for late-night meetings with the curtains drawn suspiciously, but to Casey feels a keen return to blue-sky normalcy. They debate whether or not they should find more unworthy youths or hunt from an older demographic. Patricia favours the youths. She wants to steal the years they have left, long and shimmering with potential, she’s sure they’ll waste. Casey is more cautious.
“People will put their guard up more quickly if all their kids start going missing. They won’t notice if it’s lots of different kinds of people.”
They wonder about the other alters too. Will they all be on board now or will the Horde have to watch out for sabotage? Should they keep Kevin's job or dedicate themselves entirely to the Beast's mission? Patricia is all for it, of course, wanting to completely throw herself into the work of reshaping the world, but again Casey disagrees.
"It'd be too suspicious to drop off the map now," she argues, "And you guys still need the money."
"I suppose the doctor will worry as well," she concedes with a pout.
They talk about Casey's education too, and she admits she's doing pretty badly. She's failing most of her classes in fact. Casey's been a delinquent since the third grade. It's not that she doesn't understand the material, she's smart enough, but a combination of poor sleeping habits and systematic abuse meant that she just didn't care all that much about school.
"If I go back now it'll ruin our cover, and there's still almost a month before I turn eighteen. By then it'll be almost graduation anyway. I'll get my GED later." she waves her hand as if to dismiss the idea. Casey never expected to go to college, there really wasn’t anything she wanted to study either.
"Hm," Patricia doesn't entirely approve, but she doesn't argue either. It's one less thing to distract them from the work after all.
They talk for what feels like hours, Casey isn't sure for exactly how long. Without the routine of sleep, she often loses track of time. Patricia is explaining the ritualistic significance of differently coloured candles when suddenly she yawns mid-sentence. She covers her mouth politely, and when the hand falls back to the table it’s B.T’s.
“Hello again,” Casey greets him,
“Hello,” he replies, “We have to work tomorrow.”
“Oh?”
“Mm, Dennis took the week off to focus on...” he motions vaguely with a wave. “...all that.”
“I guess that means it’s bedtime, huh?”
“Food first. Patricia always forgets to eat.” he gets up to pull open the fridge. “It’s ‘cause she can’t cook for shit,” he says as he retrieves a jug of milk, then a box of cereal and a bowl from the cupboards. “You want any?”
“No thanks, I’m on a strict people only diet.”
“Ok.”
He returns to the table and Casey watches as he powers through two bowls of raisin bran before deciding it’s enough. It’d been mostly Patricia in the light the last few days, with only a handful of appearances from Dennis. She can’t think of a single time when either of them would have eaten. Or drank anything aside from tea.
Casey fills a tall glass of water and sets it in front of B.T. while he’s slurping up the last of the milk from his bowl. He thanks her and drinks it all in a few heavy gulps. Then it’s off to bed and Casey is left alone to her thoughts.
She washes the bowl and cup, and the mugs she and Patricia had been using, for something to do. Then she wanders the apartment, peeking into rooms, into closets, poking around the corners of the Horde’s life. They’ve come to another long moment of stillness. Is it just like this for people? Casey thinks of sleeping, of how things were before. She thinks of how she used to wake up early to get dressed so that when her uncle came to wake her up he wouldn’t catch her unaware. She remembers how he’d always scowl, clearly upset by the lost opportunity. She thinks of sitting in her room quietly, dressed and ready but not allowed to leave her room until he said so.
Casey strides into a different room, eager to leave those thoughts behind.
It’s the clothes room, only now that she has time to look she sees that it’s full of other things too. There’s an old, chunky looking computer on a desk surrounded by loose papers and what looks like well-read textbooks. Casey sits at the computer, there’s no internet - there isn’t even a browser icon to click on. The only icons on the desktop are one for a video recording program and twenty-three files folders each labelled with a name. Casey clicks the one with Dennis’ name. There are three .MOV files, each succinctly titled. There’s also a text file labelled ‘Jade I Swear to God’. Casey hovers the cursor over the first .MOV file, Dennis_01, but after a moment she decided not to snoop.
Instead, she closed the file folder and gets up to look through the rack of clothing. She can immediately tell which belong to Patricia, Hedwig and Dennis. But there are twenty other clusters of outfits. Some only have a few pieces; one of Kevin’s alters seems to really love sweater vests, another only owns one lavender gown, flowing and delicate. One of them apparently really loves clothes, their cluster larger than most of the others combined. There’s some nice stuff too, tasteful, a little retro and clearly male. She pulls down an insanely soft grey sweater, the label proudly proclaiming it ‘Prada’. She puts it on, because, shit, why not?
There’s an exercise bike near the door, and cycling related motivational posters tacked up behind it. Casey hops on it, giving the pedals a few experimental rotations. The resistance is pretty high. She wonders which personality it belongs to, but she doesn’t know enough of them to guess.
Slumping over the handlebars, bored and hungry (and fashionable!) Casey thinks she’ll go back to the warehouse. Maybe there’s something she can do there to help get things ready. She’s sick of waiting, wants to act, wants to feed, wants to see him again. Casey holds her breath to see how long she can. Hours pass.
Someone stirs in Hedwig’s room. Soft, bare footfalls pace up the hall to the bathroom. The shower turns on, but only for a few minutes. Eventually, Dennis enters the clothes room, still blearily eyed, and wearing only a towel around his hips. He sits down at the computer; after a moment of clicking around on the desktop, he turns in the chair and finally sees her.
“Oh god!”
“How you doin’?” Casey greets him, trying hard not to laugh.
Dennis marches over to the clothing rack and roughly pulls his work clothes from their hangers.
“Do you mind?” he demands.
Casey breaths in his clean, sleep heavy scent and grins at him.
“You’re a creep,” Dennis tells her, clutching his clothes to his chest.
“Patricia left a note for you in the kitchen,” Casey says as she leaves Dennis to his privacy. She presses a hand against the wall of the hallway as she heads back to the kitchen. The coarse concrete scratches her palm, but she feels no pain, it’s kind of nice.
In the kitchen, Casey boils water to make instant coffee in a travel mug. She then finds and peels an orange. Casey used to love oranges but now the bright scent, and vibrant colour of it holds no appeal. When Dennis joins her, dressed and ready she hands him the orange slices on a small plate.
“What’s this?”
“B.T. told me Patricia forgets to eat. I don’t think I’ve seen you eat either.”
“I don’t need to eat.”
“Dennis,” Casey holds the plate out further for him to take. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”
Dennis takes it from her, but just holds it, so Casey takes a wedge and touches it to his mouth. The scent of his arousal as he lets her press it into his mouth is sweet and rich.
Casey’s mouth waters.
“There’s coffee too,” she says as she steps back. She’d wanted to tease Dennis more, but this time it kind of feels like playing with fire. “Patricia’s letter is on the table. I want to go to the warehouse today while you’re at work.”