Dead pan covering her face as she then gently blushed and looked to what she saw. Was Ruby just waiting for her? Did the goddess of destruction just made a murder for they to meet? This for sure smelled like trouble for the dullahan. “H-hello Ruby Rose…. Please tell me you didn’t just kill him to see me….”
It was only around noon, and Scout was exhausted. Her body was stiff and limp at the same time, her hair wound up in the signature bun that meant she was in her element. After stuffing her pointe shoes in her bag and tugging on a black dance skirt, she slipped on her outdoors flats and said goodbye to her instructor. Heather Peterson was, as usual, at the top of her game. She’d been a little sharp, however, protesting that Scout didn’t seem to be trying as hard as usual.
Well, it was hard to dance en pointe after a night like Malibu had had. She’d gotten to Potho’s Pleasure Palace at around seven for her shift, slipping into the gaudy patent leather shorts and bralette with the mile-high pumps. Her mouth stained red and her eyes dark and heavy, she’d been the star of the club that night. Malibu had pocketed more tips than any of the other dancers, and had been personally requested for lapdances the whole night through. She hadn’t gotten home until two am, sleeping for only four hours before getting ready for dance. Hadn’t she been the one to request more one-on-one time with Heather to work on her turns?
Scout had intended to grab a large chocolate milk from the vending machine outside of the school, watching her dollar bill being greedily swallowed. Except the chocolate milk never came, though she shook the machine impatiently. Her eyes fell to the red, digital letters that read ‘OUT OF SERVICE’ in big, capital letters. “ Damn it,” she exclaimed, smacking the machine with her hand. How 'out of service’ could a machine be if it could say that it was out of service?
Tugging her dance bag tightly over her shoulder, Scout spun around wondering where she could grab a quick lunch in the hour she had before she had to return to dance practice. Her forehead was slicked with sweat, and the light breeze that blew around her helped to calm the annoyance bubbling under her skin. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, willing herself to relax and to get her ass back on track. You’re better than this, she thought to herself, thinking of the embarassing pas de poisson she’d just done.
Opening her eyes, she became aware of another presence approaching her. She turned to see who it was, realizing it was the boy who she’d often seen around school, the one she’d spoken to the day before. Trevor Golwyn. “ I didn’t know you were a stalker,” she shrugged nonchalantly, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t like the way he looked at her, she realized. It was like he knew something about her, or didn’t trust something about her. Smells like trouble, she thought, thinking about the fact that she only had one secret. A secret that would kill her if it came out. She tilted her head to the side, ignoring the sense of dread in her stomach, “ You know, you never did tell me what class you’re taking.”