Pool

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

The phoenix paused, which caused it to dip close to the water and get the bottom of its wings wet, which was met with a screech. The phoenix then found its way onto the concrete beside Aspen, and then the fiery bird puffed its feathers with irritation. "Wow." The phoenix's tone was sarcastic, and agitated, and it almost matched the tone of Anna, like a mockingbird. The fiery bird was better than this lowlife woman, whoever she thought she was, and Aspen shook her head with a little smirk. "You're quite the feisty one, aren't you?"

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

As was common when she found a situation--or another person--especially irritating, Anna allowed a bit of repressed Oklahoma accent into her voice when she spoke, so that it came out a sickly sweet drawl: "Oh, honey. You don't know feisty until you've spent a little time with me. I'm the fieriest girl on this side of the Mississippi." A little smirk parted her lips; though she knew nothing of Aspen's condition and the pun she'd just made, it was still a stock expression. The best way to infuriate a person past reason was to stroke your own ego--the sweeter you spoke, the better--and then shoot them a smirk, as condescending as you could make it. In all her years, Anna had found nothing that won her an advantage faster. People were remarkably easy to dance around when they were angry; it was almost stunning, just how fast tempers got to heads. And nothing on the planet made people more vulnerable. If there was going to be an argument here, Anna intended to be the one to initiate it--and end it, when the time finally came. She was nothing if not good at jumping into catfights; her time in the group home had taught her the skills.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

A shriek from the phoenix sounded irritation, though the great bird seemed amused if anything. This girl, this lowlife, thought she was so much better, and thought she could scare some sense into Aspen, did she? The phoenix flapped its wings and let out another screech that could have been laughter, and the laughter was echoed by Aspen herself, a rather unpleasant sound. Aspen held her hands up, almost as if in surrender, though she did not feign innocence, and instead offered a sly little smile and a smirk. "Why, my apologies then, Miss. If you think you're queen of this place, then be my guest." The sphinx would have told Aspen that no, the asylum did not have Anna as their queen, but her brother as their king, and the sphinx would have chosen to irritate Anna even more, but the phoenix was proud and non-confrontational. And so Aspen simply shook her head. "I meant no offense, Miss. I want to be here even less than you, I'm sure." This was true for the fiery bird, who once again found itself dangerously close to the water of the pool.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Anna actually snorted. "Oh, I bet," she said sarcastically, with a roll of her eyes. The accent was gone just as quickly as it had appeared, faded back to wherever it went when not out to amuse or irritate. "I just bet you do, sweetheart." She turned her dark gaze to the stranger, annoyance glittering there like new metal, bright and sharp. Who, exactly, did this pasty redhead think she was? Smarting off at eight in the morning to a stranger who hadn't, until just now, had a bone to pick with anyone except her nurse? Anna didn't know, but she knew she certainly didn't like Aspen's attitude--or her assumptions. "Talk to me when you nearly drown," she snapped at her now, none too kindly. "Talk to me when a nurse practically forces you out of your clothes and pulls this fucking thing over your head. Then we'll see who doesn't want to be here more, hm?" If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. The too-sweet remark and smirk hadn't worked, so maybe open hostility would. And if not, Anna supposed she could always get up and leave; tell the girl off and then find Samuel and tell him to pull the stick out of his ass and get over himself, because she hadn't wanted to go to the pool anyway and she'd met a smartass little girl while she was there. That might be more trouble than it was worth, but it sure would be satisfying.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

And Aspen raised her hands, and the phoenix huffed and seem to say, we don't need her, and then Aspen didn't reply. Instead, she turned from the girl, her eyes stretching out across the pool and following the phoenix, who, with this rude girl out of its mind, began to once again fly around the pool with its feet grazing the surface. Aspen's own feet dangled in the water, and as she kicked them gently ripples of water appeared in near perfect circles, and there was almost an entire change in Aspen. No, the phoenix was still there, but it was gentler, now, less confrontational and just the slightest kinder. The bird landed by Anna, then, and curiously let out a few squawks before hopping towards Aspen and taking off once more. "My apologies," she finally said, in a quieter tone than before, and her voice made it clear that that was that.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Fine," Anna said, less in response to the words and more to the unspoken sentiment beneath them. Culling the argument before it began was all right with her--she was certainly in the mood to pick a fight, but even she had to admit that by starting something here with this girl she would be misdirecting her anger. She hadn't been the one to force her into this swimsuit, after all, or make her eat a breakfast that set her stomach to aching. And she certainly hadn't been the one to suggest that she come out here in the first place. No, only one person had done that, and he definitely was not a glassy-eyed redhead with an attitude. And so Anna decided to push her anger to the back of her mind, instead drawing her feet up out of the pool and giving the stranger a milder stare. "Look," she said, "I'm sorry I'm being such a bitch right now. I just don't feel good and my nurse is pissing me off and it's too early for all of that." She turned her head up to indicate the sky--pale gray, a morning in overcast--before she offered the stranger a hand. "So here's me, offering an olive branch. My name is Anna. Who are you?"

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

The phoenix gave a shriek as Aspen extended her hand in return, and when the redhead grabbed Anna's hand and shook it the bird found its way onto Aspen's arm and pecked at the exposed skin, which brought a quick movement from Aspen and another shriek from the bird. Aspen was quite used to pretending her creatures didn't exist, however, thanks to the strange looks she received from strangers, and so none of Aspen's movements seemed out of character. "My name is Aspen. It is a... pleasure to meet you." The emphasis on pleasure was said in tease, and was accompanied by a small smile that portrayed it as such. "Why is your nurse making you angry?" A loaded and hypocritical question of course, and Aspen seemed to realize as such after she said it, seen through the narrowing of her brows and then a little shrug. Her own nurse had her irritating habits, and Aspen could certainly understand why any actions from some of the nurses in particular would, as Anna had put it, piss a patient off.

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"So many damn things," Anna replied, smirking with amusement. "Spirits, where do I start? He's a guy, for one. A little bitch with an attitude, to be perfectly honest--but then, don't take my word for it. Most guys seem like that to me." She shrugged noncommittally; it wasn't untrue. She found most people of the male gender to be hotheaded and entitled and insufferable, particularly those who had fully embraced popular and societal culture. "But the others you can take my word for: he's bossy. He talks too much. He has an ego bigger than the moon. He thinks he knows everything about everything but he's so. Damn. Ignorant." She smiled and shook her head, but it was a vicious expression. Thinking about why she didn't like Samuel Fairchild only made her more dislike him more. "And that's just his personality," she told Aspen. "Which you didn't ask to hear about, I know, but I couldn't help myself. Anyway. The meat of it is this: he got me up at eight in the morning just to practically pull this down over my head"--she gestured down to the black one-piece pointedly--"and make me go swimming. Even though he knows I hate wearing these types of clothes and I'd rather shave my head than swim." In some back part of her mind, Anna was quite aware that she'd just given away quite a bit of information, information that could be incriminating if it fell into the wrong hands; but she was on a roll, her thoughts annoyed and angry, and once she started talking it was difficult to stop. She could only hope that Aspen wasn't the sort to go snooping--and if she was, to deal with that mess when it was made.

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

Aspen chuckled, and her phoenix perched itself on the redhead's shoulder, cocking its head to the right and then to the left and allowing it to land finally on the girl across from her. Anna seemed like a rather wily personality, and though the phoenix was not one of her creatures that spoke to her, Aspen could almost hear the words coming out of the bird's beak: You think you know a nurse like that, don't you? But you truly don't. Erin is a sweetheart and you know it. She only wants the best for you. Perhaps this nurse only wants the best for this Anna. And Aspen said those same words, though her tone indicated that they were wistful and she knew it. "Could he possibly only be trying to do good for you?"

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

Anna actually threw back her head and laughed. "Was George Washington black?" she retorted. Samuel Fairchild, trying to do good for her? Thinking of someone other than himself? Unbelievable. No, absolutely impossible. The Indian girl did not believe for a second that that was the case; old Sammy just liked to hear himself talk and have his orders followed, from what she could tell. They had not sat down and had a single heart-to-heart since he had been assigned to be her "nurse"; every interaction of theirs followed roughly the same pattern: Anna, I want you to do this. Shut your trap, Samuel. I'm your nurse, Anna, do as I say. What if I don't? Then I'll call the guards. Oh yeah? You do that. And go fuck yourself while you're at it. As far as she was concerned, the young man had not shown himself to have a single redeeming quality, in the personality or looks department, for that matter. And he still smoked those damn cigarettes almost every time he came to see her, despite the fact that he knew how much she hated them. "Nah," she told Aspen, shaking her head. "He cares about as much about me as George Washington, too. He doesn't want what's best--none of the nurses do. That's part of why I hate it here."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

The redhead nodded in agreement, and the phoenix let out a soft coo of the same kind. The more and more the phoenix spoke to this wiry young Indian, the more and more Aspen grew to like her. Sure, Anna had complained nearly nonstop since Aspen set foot in the pool area, and sure, she came across as rough and abrasive, but the Indian was interesting, and she brought a smirk and a laugh to Aspen's lips. "That's for sure," she agreed with a little chuckle. The fiery bird shrieked. "I wonder why any of the nurses are in charge, here; they aren't certified, they never went to medical school, and they're not even good as therapists. What are they honestly here for?" And the phoenix flew down off of Aspen's shoulder, and began teetering dangerously close to the edge of the pool. Aspen kept her eyes on the bird, though she refrained from reaching out to touch it, and she spoke to Anna without looking at her. "They do next to nothing for us, and, in your case, they make us worse."

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

"Some of them," Anna amended. "Most of them just don't give two shits. Which is kind of a problem, but..." She shrugged again, recalling what Raven had told her the day she'd met Samuel, as they prepared for bed: Apathy is better than ignorance. It was one of those rare nuggets of wisdom that was not followed by a second, more troubling phrase (she'd even thought he was going to say "And easier to use, too" or something of the sort, though he had not) and reflecting on it now Anna supposed he was right. "It's not like we don't stereotype around here, too," she added, and she could almost hear her brother's laughter. Was she really defending the staff? In short, yes. She supposed she was. "They wouldn't have applied for the jobs if they weren't qualified. Even if the state does turn a blind eye to half the shit that goes on in the mental health department, signing on people unfit for this kind of job en masse is still illegal. They can do their jobs, the problem is they just don't." And again, she offered a shrug. "But really, who cares? It's freedom in it's simplest form, if you get right down to it. At least we're not under a totalitarian dictatorship."

[Annie, Have no fear of perfection-- you'll never reach it.]

((I'm really running out of things to say here. Shall we fade?))

[Hope , I belong here more than they do.]

((We may fade.))