St. Peter's Asylum discussion

[Ten brownie points for whoever guesses Stephen King reference]

Walls have been decorated in one color; pink. Different shades in different spots from whatever Cleo could get her hands on that was pink. Pen, crayon, chalk, a lucky score once where someone had actually given her paint. An "accident" with her originally white sheets and a bright red bra gave the potential murderer pink sheets as well. The nightstand across the room (she would move it, but it has been drilled to the floor) holds a picture of Cleo and a ginger girl with green eyes; Abigail. The same name is written repeatedly on the pink walls, the breast cancer ribbon marking the space between each written name.

RP here.

Jason trotted up to the door with Cleo in tow, sliding it open and stepping inside. He paused just by the threshold for a look around; there was so much pink. It actually hurt his eyes, all those shades of the color. "Good Lord, Cleo!" he breathed. "How much pink does one girl need?"

"What? It's completely necessary. It reminds me every day of why I'm here and what I need to do." She grabbed his hand and drug him into her cell. "Besides, it's much prettier than the boring white everyone else has. It makes me special."

"Oh, you're special all right," Jason teased, ruffling her already frizzy hair. He allowed himself to be ushered into the room, simply using the time to take in all the color. It wasn't what he was used to. "By the way, Cleo, what is it you need to do anyhow?" he asked. "You've talked about having something to do a couple times and I have no idea what you mean."

Her unoccupied hand rushed to try and recover her hair with no change. It would be ponytail time soon it seemed. "Well, until you came along, Abigail was the most important person, most important thing in my life. I guess what I need to do is keep her important. And try to make up for what I messed up on." Cleo guided Jason to the pink bed, eyes gazing around the walls as she bit her lip.

"Oh." Jason gave a brisk nod. "Well, don't stress too hard over it. Everybody makes mistakes." Out came his sociopathy, for the boy found it hard to relate or even be sympathetic. Death was such a natural part of his life, he just couldn't feel sad about it. Not even for Cleo.

"Yeah, but this was a really bad mistake. I kinda feel like I should have done a better job." The girl sighed, not wanting to run their day of adventure into a day of pity-partying and sob story-ing. She released Jason's hand for a moment to pull up her hair and then ski her fingers around his, comparing the two against each other.

"What are you doing?" Jason looked down at their intertwined hands, a look of amusement passing over his face. "It's just my hand."

"I know, but it just looks so different compared to mine." She had to try hard not to smile when she met his eyes and held up their joined hands. "See? Your's is way bigger and much more calloused than mine is."

"And more scarred, too." Jason traced a small scar on the back of his hand, sighing. He'd got it from his father, in what he liked to call "the clothing iron accident". Though it was no accident, and the brief sadness followed by hard anger proved that.

Lips met the scar, as Cleo didn't know what wake to say just yet. "Well scars show that someone's really tough. That's why you don't see any scars on me. Plus, scars are extremely attractive to girls." She snickered, looking up at Jason with a grin.

"Really?" Jason grinned back and gave her a playful swat with his free hand. "Then to you I must look really hot. I've got scars everywhere, especially on my back." That last part was said darkly, and he gave another involuntary sigh. Well, he figured, it could have been worse.

Cleo scoffed, trying to keep the topic light for a few more moments. "Yes, Jason. I think you're so hot. More and more of my dreams are becoming of you instead of the usuals." Her free hand ventured to his back where she could feel some bumps through his shirt. "How did you get so many?"

"Parents." Jason grimaced and glared at nothing in particular. "Sometimes, when I was bad, they just lost it and hit me with whatever was on hand. Most of the time, that thing was either hot enough to burn or sharp enough to cut deep."

Cleo frowned deeply, her bottom lip jutting out long enough for a bird to settle on. "Jason, that's terrible. They shouldn't have done that to you." She leaned over and pressed her lips to his shoulder, as if she were hoping that somehow her kisses would be able to erase the scars and memories for him.

"Wasn't so bad," Jason muttered, trying not to wince at the lie. "Everything was fine as long as I did what I was told. And sat still. And didn't speak unless spoken to." He sighed. Who was he kidding? His home life was awful, and anybody with a brain would be able to see the affect it had had on him. It had made him a killer, for God's sake!

"Jason, you are the worst liar in the whole history of liars." The girl in pink scolded in a light teasing manner. "Your parents sound like awful people and if I ever see them, you'd better hand over Ares and let me at 'em."

Jason couldn't help but chuckle at that. "You would go at both late Tuners with a switchblade just because their parenting sucked and the boy affected happens to be one you like? Geez. Talk about dedication."

Cheeks burning, Cleo could only muster an eye tool and a scoff or two before she could say much. After a small laugh of her own she came up with a pathetic comeback. "Well, no one ever officially said 'I like you.' You're sort if assuming things, don't you think?" She grinned, unable to even finish her sentence without falling apart with more blushing and grinning.

"Nope." Jason popped the 'p' and grinned. He quoted her, using a stereotypical high falsetto for her voice: "'I like you too, Jason. A lot.'" His voice dropped a good few pitches, back to normal. "Remember? Back in my dorm?"

The young diva let her has drop in mock outrage. "Okay, first of all, I sound nothing like that. Nothing." She swatted at him with their intertwined hands. "And second, I don't remember saying anything like that."

"Liar," Jason grinned, and swatted her back. "You do so remember." He decided to add, just for kicks, "And my impersonation was pretty spot-on too, missy."

"I absolutely do not!" Her convincing squeak at the end of her mock outrage was just as convincing as her lie. "I remember nothing of the sort. The last time I was in your dorm we were with some nurse and I would never say anything like that, especially not in front of a strange man cleaning out your puss wrists. Yum."

Jason grinned; he loved teasing her like this. "No, I mean a few days after that. When that goth dude brought you in 'cause I was rampaging? Your lips were all over me, Cleo. 'Yum' is totally right."

[XDDDDD IM DYING INTO MY PILLOW RIGHT NOW.]

Cleo almost slipped up with, "Well its not like you were exactly fighting me back it anything," but she quickly caught herself. She was determined to win what little tease game they were playing, and continued to play clueless. "Jason, is this your way of telling me you've been dreaming about me? Because I don't remember doing anything of the sort."

((Okay?))

"Hold that thought a moment," Jason said. He untangled himself from her, walked over to the wall, and promptly slammed his forehead against it. "Ugh! Damn you and your lies, Cleo!"

[Just because of the "Yum" thing. I just found it too funny.]

A very bad word that children should never hear nor say escaped Cleo's lips then as she stared at Jason in disbelief. "Jason! You dumbass, that's concrete! The guards will tak you away for injuring yourself." She leaped from the bed and walked over to him, not sure whether to strangle him or to see if he was okay.

"Fuck the guards," Jason muttered, pulling back and rubbing his head. "I've suffered through plenty of concussions before. Self-induced or otherwise. Stop doting."

"I am not doting, why did you do that?" She waved her hands as she spoke, staring at Jason and then the wall. "I don't need you getting a concussion because of me. As it is, they say I'm on a tight leash when it comes to me being allowed to see or be with you."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I call bullshit," he said. "They've probably already forgotten about that, what with the murder and all. Everyone is going crazy trying to figure out who did it." Refraining to tell, of course, that he knew not only who had done it but also given him one of the murder weapons.

"Well fine, fuck the guards," Cleo exclaimed with a sigh. "But still, I don't want you hurting yourself. What was that even for?"

"For you being an idiot," Jason replied, and walked to the bed, flopping down on it. "Every time you do or say something stupid, I'm going to hurt myself. Just to make you reconsider."

Cleo followed him with a groan as she tried to wrap her head around the boy on her bed. What dd I get myself into? She grinned and then flopped down beside Jason on the bed, turning her head to face him. "But why would you do that? Sometimes I'm stupid just without meaning to be. I'm a complete airhead sometimes."

"Then I shall refrain from self-harm at those times," Jason said with a chuckle, turning his head to look at her as well.

"Well there aren't that many of those times. Most of the time I'm just being a tease." Still grinning, she managed to close her mouth tos tick her tongue out at Jason with a chuckle.

"And at those times, I shall feel the pain," Jason replied, trying to maintain a serious face.

"Unless it's the pain of you feeling my hand on the back of your head got acting like a dumbass, you're not gonna feel any pain." She leaned forward and pecked his lips with her own. "So there."

Jason snickered. "That so?" he asked, taking her hand. "That so, Cleo?"

"Yes," she replied as she tried to look serious, threatening if she was lucky. "Yes, it is." She intertwined her fingers with his, and then broke he composure when their eyes met again.

"I don't believe you," Jason murmured, and moved in for a kiss. "You're a terrible liar, Cleo."

"Maybe," she admitted and their lips met. "But you're an equally as terrible liar as I am, so we're just both screwed there."

Jason chuckled, breaking the kiss for a moment to say, "Maybe we should take lessons. God knows there are plenty of magnificent liars in this place."

"That is a great idea. It would be so interesting." She grinned at him. "Genius. Take back all the times I've called you a dumbass today." Theirvlips met again for another kiss.

"It would, wouldn't it?" Jason chuckled again as they kissed. "Who should be our teacher?"

"Well, who's the best liar?" Another kiss, followed by another one before Cleo managed, "obviously if they were great liars, they wouldn't be here at all, but still. We need someone here who's a good liar. Raven is always an option."

"Yeah, but for a teacher?" Jason pulled away from her and looked doubtful. "I dunno. He'd be the kind to use a ruler on our hands if we screwed up, don't you think? Or am I thinking of myself?"

"I'm thinking more that he'd put us on a stick and cook us over a big fire." Cleo pondered some more, disappointed that her distraction wasn't so close anymore to distract her. "So basically someone who can lie but won't injure us in any way, shape, or form."

Jason raised a disbelieving eyebrow, raising one hand to back her up a bit. "Wait wait wait, hold on. Raven is a cannibal?"

Cleo shrugged, glancing back at the doors. No guards yet. Maybe they were looking outside. Great day for them to stay inside. "I don't know. I thought Indians just threw whatever on sticks and threw them over fire. It's what they do."

((Raven: *glares*))

"Yeah, but other people?" Once again, Jason had to doubt. He didn't know much about the Native Americans, especially not the modern ones. "I mean, I knew they scalped people and everything, but cannibalism?"