She stares into the mirror, worried her lips aren't right. Clinique Black Honey -- everybody wears it. Before that it was Hard Candy, stolen from the bedroom next door. Her nail polish is chipped. She won't fix it. Not because she's too lazy, just ... not.
Lately she's been immersed in lessons. Bisecting an angle. Where to gouge at close quarters. Cross-hatching. Throwing back a shot in one gulp. The past perfect. The perfect low. Complex sentences. Compound fractures. Handling grief. Handling multiple attackers.
There's a voice behind her, from the window. She doesn't flinch. She's been expecting it.
She had tried to ask him in. Once. There'd been a hand over her mouth before she got to "-vite".
She walks to the window and raises it. He tosses her a foil packet. She nods. He leaves.
She doesn't tell him she's meeting Katie for a milkshake.
She doesn't tell him she's been using the condoms as water balloons.
She doesn't want to disappoint him.