shoplifter | Old Game Inboxes.

[She nods, rather casually.]

... It always hurts. [With slow intent, she lets the metal sink back down between bone and tendon; her face is that of someone waiting for an elevator to reach her floor, a sort of languid gesture.] It cuts through a lot, coming out... You just get used to it, though. We had a lot of practice sessions.

[A drip of blood plops on the table as she slowly extends the claws again.]

Usually, it heals very quickly — I heal, very quickly. Bullet holes and stab marks, they used to close up in a few seconds. They take a few minutes now... but the things that can kill people, they do not kill me so easily.

[ There's nothing but matter-of-factness in Laura's tone, nothing beyond neutrality in her expression, and it makes that pitting feeling in Wynonna's stomach that much more intense in contrast — because she knows that face, knows how long it took her when she was that age to school her features into something that couldn't be used against her. No weakness permitted, not even a shred of it.

It's impossible not to look at those claws, the blood that dews up at Laura's knuckles when they're unsheathed, weapons out of nowhere, buried inside those small hands, and Wynonna forces a swallow. ]

Bullet hol — wait, you're saying you've been shot before?

[ Which explains why Laura was prepared for the possibility of Wynonna doing it, and God, there's nothing she wants to do more right now than unholster Peacemaker and throw the whole thing across the room just to get it out of here. ]

[And once more she nods, like it's the easiest question to answer in the world.]

Many times. Especially in some of the trials, after my 'mutation matured'.

[Quoting doctors is one of her many skills.

They mostly thought she wasn't very bright, but she... has quite the memory.]

The place I came from did not see us as a success — they terminated the project, and they started killing the children. Many of us escaped thanks to the nurses, but we were hunted. [She finally puts the claws away, and though there are unpleasant wounds on her hands, it doesn't seem to be bleeding very much; the healing is already slowly in effect, even if it takes a minute or so in this town.] The bad men, they called them Reapers — they chased us. A lot of them hurt me.

[She looks down and away, unsure if she wants to see the woman's reaction.]

I hurt a lot of them, too; I killed a lot of them, every time they found me.

[ It's a heavy subject, with even heavier implications — there's a lot Wynonna can figure out, filling in the blanks by what Laura isn't saying, and even considering the possibilities of what those supposed doctors did to test out the limitations of what she's calling a "mutation" is something she's having a hard time wrapping her head around. Not that she can't understand it, or fathom it, but the limits of her rising anger and frustration over what Laura's been through are being tested big time.

Instead of reacting too visibly, she tries to let her teeth worry at her bottom lip, fingers twisting together. ]

I bet you did. [ Fight back, that is, soft and impressed praise in her tone; she can sense that much about Laura, and that inner fight isn't just something you lose, either. Just like a piece of you is forced to adapt to survive when those kinds of life-or-death stakes are on the table.

She leans forward, but only goes as far as resting her forearms on the table, keeping her hands in full view. ]

Did you have anyone to go to, back home? Anyone who could watch out for you there? [ The thought of Laura having to return to surviving on her own isn't one Wynonna even wants to dwell on right now, even if she's demonstrated that she's more than capable of doing it. ]

[She considers the comment carefully.]

... You mean adults?

[Because there's a very different answer, depending on what Wynonna's looking to hear.]

Not necessarily.

[ Even on her best and most responsible days, there's not much Wynonna considers about herself that could be termed adult, even if her driver's license says somewhat different.

But age doesn't necessarily equal maturity or even capability, something that's been made eternally clear to her via her sister Waverly, aka the littlest Earp. ]

I guess what I'm trying to say is... you wouldn't be alone when you go back, would you?

[Ah, she sees.]

... No. There are other children with me. Like me. Not all of us made it to the border, but there are enough of us that we can fight as a group. And look after each other as best we can.

[It's better than nothing, even if they're all so terribly delayed socially.

One only hopes the mutant children can adapt... well enough.]

Okay.

[ It's not a lot, but it's something, enough of a reassurance that Wynonna doesn't necessarily consider the possibility of Laura leaving with anything close to dread. Maybe it's more like low-level wariness.

Either way, she glances up slowly, watching Laura's all-too neutral expression. ] And here? Wait, that's right: you told me there are too many people keeping an eye on you?

[ And now, apparently, she's got ~~Frank~~ Pete to add to that number too. ]

[She nods slowly, thinking about all the adults she's ran into so far.

And the first thing that comes to mind is:]

... They're a pain.

[Ha!]

[ And that unfiltered answered prompts a grin, unexpected and definitely unplanned from Wynonna because she ducks her head to hide it for a few beats — and the smile's still tugging at the corners of her mouth when she eventually looks up again. ]

Yeah, I know. Sadly I don't think that ever changes no matter how old you get.

[... Maybe that deserves the slightest smile, one that almost seems to creak with how ill-practiced and unused it is. But after a moment, she looks down, sobering a little.]

Thank you for helping Pete.

He's a pain, but I think he is a good one.

He'll be okay.

[ And she manages a smile too, at the tail end of it, even while she leans forward a little more across the table to try and meet Laura's gaze when it dips downward. ]

And, you know, I think you might be right about that other part.

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