Chapter Text
Typically, the ones who had requested you were young.
The hemocaste system has of course been done away with-- the party at Karkat and Dave’s the night of the official announcement had been spectacular, how could you forget the purpose of such a celebration?-- and the law was no properly blind (heh), but that didn't mean certain patterns didn't pop up regardless of color. Like younger trolls. The younger they were, the fiestier they were. It irked you, maybe because it reminded you too much of the brash group of friends you had known on Alternia, starstruck and dumb and thinking they were invincible.
Vriska drifts off down the line, her bored curiosity ever insatiable, as you go through the drills with one of the trolls. Blah blah just drugs blah blah I plead the whatever. You’re practically yawning, etc etc.
And then.
“Uh… Terezi?”
“Hold on Vriska-- what do you mean, ‘got it legally’? Sopor is illegal to consume outside a recuperacoon, Mr. Rotten Strawberry Jelly, and it looks pretty damn baked to me, so I’m partial to believe that you cannot, in fact, walk away right now.”
“Terezi?”
“I said, hold on, Vriska-- no, stop crying, it will not help you, nor look good on the report. Or the newspapers.”
“ Tereziiiiiiii !”
“Oh my gog, hold on a second, WHAT, Vriska?! What do you want!?”
“Come here.”
You huff and toddle over, wildly tapping your cane in front of you, pretending to have to actually use it just to give you an excuse to whack a few people in your annoyance. You come to Vriska’s size and pause. Vriska smells of apprehension, anger, butl-- most uncharacteristically of all-- nervous. “Why do you smell nervous,” you begin, eyebrows furrowing, “I know something is bad when you get nervous.”
“Just… fuck. Smell in front of you for a sec,” she says, “and tell me what you see.”
Hm. You take a whiff. A troll rounded up on the wall. Tall? Pretty thin, reeks of malnourishment. Of sleep; he’s barely awake, definitely doped up to hell and back. Smells of regret and sadness and rage and…
And…
“Vriska,” you speak, wanting to sound sure, but your voice comes out wobbly, “Vriska, what is in front of me right now.”
“Do you wanna know?” Vriska hisses. You hear her shuffle around herself.
“Do I,” you whisper, disbelief flooding your system, inch by inch, “do I want to know?”
“Probably not,” Vriska mumbles a little. “Buuuuuuuut, you’re gonna ask anyway. Why? Because that’s just how Pyrope rolls.”
You take a step forward. There is something rotted about this troll, rotted and familiar in a way that is making your nutritional sac do flips. You extend your cane and poke at the barely there troll. He quietly whimpers at the poke, but that is all you need to place the voice.
You sigh.
“Ok,” you say, stepping back, “ok. So. That. He’s. Here. Huh.”
Vriska frowns, and you can taste the bubbling anger in her chest steadily replacing her confusion. It changes the air around her. “I thought I left him in that fridge.”
“You… did.”
“Then what the fuck is he doing back here???????? We sure as hell don’t want him. Don’t need him. Don’t even think about him! So how the hell did he crawl his dirty, scrawny ass back here, and how the hell did he--”
“Vriska,” you interject, the clarity of your voice calming even yourself. “It’s fine.”
Since your reconciliation, Vriska has done this with things you found touchy. And while you appreciate it, you know it’s coming from a good place (as good as Vriska can get, anyway, you can meet halfway there), sometimes, in classic Vriska fashion, she overcompensates. And right now, you don’t need her words.
You need as much silence as possible.
You carefully approach the troll, not wanting to name him yet for fear of jinxing it. Slowly, you kneel down and reach out. Your fingers skim along his neck. A misshot on your part. They trail to take him by the chin, which gets another whimper out of him. You pinch the skin hard. The smell of sleep is still heavy on him, but he is definitely regaining some consciousness.
You slap him.
He gasps, and yep, that’s all you need. You stand, ignoring Vriska’s call of your name, and you stalk over to an officer, snapping to get his attention.
“See that troll over there?” You stab your cane in the direction of the clown, “I want him locked in solitary, immediately.”
“Wh… what?”
“I want him locked in solitary, immediately, without questions, orders from ME , ok? Just do it.” You tilt your head in the clown’s direction, mind racing.
“I just… it’s nothing… it's nothing abnormally... bad." You shrug, his eyes locked on you like your pusher is locked on panic mode.
"I’m just not taking chances this time.”