darker_london | Renee / Damien - A new friend?

It was Friday. Good Friday, to be exact. Deirdre and Caitlin had been to visit earlier today. Renee still had the make-up they had given her around her eyes. The doctors had taken the rest of it away from her, of course. But she would avoid washing this stuff off for as long as possible, even if the only time she got to admire herself was in the bathroom. There was certainly no way they would let her have a mirror in here.

Friday. In a little while, she would be allowed to write back to Ry. There would be two hours of supervised time where they could write, draw, do whatever with actual pens and pencils. All the patients were allowed otherwise were crumbly oil pastels, implements they couldn't hurt themselves with even if they tried to swallow the damn things.

But Renee certainly wasn't going to attempt writing a letter with them. They may have taken everything else away from her, but she still had her pride.

"So you're the new girl."

A male voice jolted Renee from her brooding. A boy a year or two younger than her stood in her doorway, leaning against the frame. From the hours of 11 am to 4 pm, they were required to keep their doors open, barring illness or other extreme circumstances. It was supposed to encourage sociability. Renee hated it.

"That's right. And who might you be?" she returned. The boy wasn't bad looking, she supposed. Longish blonde hair hung in his eyes, and he was possessed of pale skin and a slim figure. Regardless of his looks, though, she really wasn't in the mood for company...

"Damien," he answered.

Renee looked the boy up and down, taking in his trenchcoat, ripped shirt and the faded pentacle drawn in permanent marker on his hand. He couldn't have been in here for that long himself, then. There was a hole in his lip where a piercing would have been, until recently.

"Bullshit," Renee smirked. 'Damien' my arse.

"Fuck you, bitch," Damien spat, affronted. There was silence for a moment, as they both stared at each other. "What's your name, then?" the boy finally asked.

"Does it even matter?" Renee returned. "It sounds like you've already made up your mind about me."

"Whatever," he said, and turned to leave.

"Damien," she called at the last second. The boy turned to face her, an expectant look on his face. "My name is Renee."

He stepped back into her doorway again, seemingly appraising her. "What're you in here for, anyway? You look pretty normal."

"They think I tried to kill myself," Renee answered bluntly. "They're wrong."

"Bullshit," Damien pounced.

"Whatever," Renee spat back. "What did you do?"

"I nearly burnt my house down," he replied smugly. "I'm a Satanist. I was performing a ritual."

A Satanist. And your name is Damien. Of course it is. Renee smirked at the boy. "Satanists are full of shit."

"What, are you some Catholic bitch?"

"I'm an atheist bitch," Renee replied, imitating Damien's smugness at declaring himself a Satanist.

This seemed to give Damien pause. He simply stood for a moment, reassessing her. "I s'pose you're all right, then," he grudgingly conceded.

"S'pose I am."

Damien looked down the corridor for a moment, before turning back to Renee. "You gonna write a letter or something?"

"Yes, I expect so. I have someone I need to reply to."

The boy looked around again, as if making sure that no one was listening. "I'll walk you?"

Oh Goddess, he's going to have a crush on me by the end of the day.

"Okay," Renee shrugged, and picking up Ry's letter, followed the boy to the common room.