they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

he'd been getting a little more daring with how long she stayed outside, mostly because it was hell being cramped up in her tiny abode for fourty-eight hours and she wanted to escape it for as long as humanly possible. That, and forcing herself awake for nearly the entire twenty-four hours of night let her zonk out for a good bit of the day. She'd still wake up feeling the suffocating heat now and then, but her body had become surprisingly acclimated and for the most part she slept soundly. It would be important to un-train herself to ignore the bumps and screeches of the day (those damn Vespers circled way too often for her liking); it would be dangerous for her to sleep through someone - or something - nearing her campsite when this dreadful season came to an end.

Sitting on a rock just outside her own personal little cave (really it was just a sheet of rock that had dislodged from the mountain and broke on contact with the ground) slightly southeast of the main gathering, Farrah was holding her knife in her left hand and sharpening it with the rock she held in her right. Her left arm was still in a sling, but she'd been pushing its limits lately. She'd broken it almost two months ago now, and was getting annoyed with the way her musculature was changing from disuse. Granted, she also wanted the arm to be functional at the end of all this, which was the only reason she still (mostly) respected the sling.

A figure was moving in her peripheral vision, but Farrah was used to seeing colonists going to and fro and preferred making as little eye contact as possible. Otherwise they'd ask why she wasn't with everyone else, or scold her for "wasting" herself by living on her own. Her reply was usually something synonymous to a spitting hiss. After so many of those encounters, they'd mostly left her alone.

But apparently this one hadn't gotten the memo. Stopping mid-swipe, green eyes flicked to the intruder. She was leaning on the target Farrah used to keep her throwing skills sharp, and looked way too comfortable for squaring up with someone holding a knife, which just made Farrah think of Logan. He'd learned smugness got him nowhere with her; hopefully this chick wasn't quite as a long a study. "No," he replied bluntly, keeping her expression blank aside from a quick creasing of her brow. "And I am," she finished, voice flat as she finished the stone's stroke across her blade. Leaning forward to rest her elbow on her thigh and let her instruments dangle between her legs, Farrah indicated the larger caves with a flick of her chin. "Run along to your colony, honey. There's nothing for you here." She could have been nicer, but that wasn't on her agenda for today.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

he chick started getting comfortable, which Farrah raised a brow at. That was question enough, and needed no words to back it up.

At the attempted casual threat, Farrah actually barked out a chuckle. "Oh, sweetie, your green is showing," she warned, smirking. "Careful thinking humans are your biggest problem here. Makes you an easy target," she advised, leaning back. Why she actually offered true advice was beyond her; maybe the girl made her think of herself, back when she let her ego rule her.

A casual glance was all she gave to the parkour adventure the chick next took, smirking to herself and shaking her head. Farrah could tell she made an effort to put distance between them, but it wasn't quite far enough. She bristled, but wasn't about to move to correct the problem, so she dealt with it instead. The wind blew the scent of alcohol off her canteen, and she snorted - not because she wanted to make fun of the girl, but because that was one hundred percent something she would have done, had her knife and pistol not been higher priorities.

Once again, Farrah raised a brow, gracing the girl with her full attention. If she was trying to suck up, it was working. "I have no interest in surrounding myself with those people," she divulged, even though what she really meant was any people. No thanks, she was good on her own. Rex had ensured that.

"A menace, mostly," she answered, sliding her knife into its scabbard, which was now located at the outside of her right ankle instead of the inside of her left arm (because broken). She couldn't wait to move it back - she hated the cliché, hated the time she lost bending to grab it. "What do you call yourself, since you're too new here to have a reputation?" The bite had her smiling smugly, just a little.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

he snorted as her unwelcome guest continued to show her naivety. Farrah didn't waste her breath telling her how completely incorrect she was, because letting her get eaten would be kind of amusing. Sinister... but amusing.

The next comment had Farrah's face wiping of anything but thinly veiled disgust. Yeah, she could get eaten. Pleeease get eaten.

Both their eyes caught on the barbecued once-person, and then Farrah's slid to the horizon. Sol was just about to break, which meant she needed to get back inside. Gaze shifting to the girl, she wondered what the likelihood of her fucking off was. Probably not very great. Sighing heavily, she extended and flexed the fingers of her left arm. She tried to do it at least a few times per day, so not all the muscles would completely atrophy... And it had become an annoyed tick. Thankfully Chatty Cathy over here wouldn't know that yet.. Though the sigh was probably indication enough. Oops.

Brows raised, she met said annoyance's gaze. Misunderstood? What was this chick, some kind of therapist? Pyschoanalyzing the brunette was one sure-fire way to instantaneously get on her bad side; she'd been forced into sessions when she was in juvie, and loathed every second. Having an outside party pry into her brain was beyond unnerving, especially when they'd been right. But Farrah didn't want to understand her anger, she just wanted to be angry. Coming to terms with that meant losing her edge, and she wasn't prepared to give that up. Thankfully, Rex had made damn certain that she was set for life.

Lost in her own mind, she mostly ignored the self-titled troublemaker until there was a break in the noise, indicating she was either waiting for a response or was just.. done being annoying. Highly doubting the latter, Farrah focused just in time to see Troublemaker's arm sweeping to the vast expanse of PE. Nostril flaring and jaw clenching fractionally, Farrah shook her head. "What fun is it if I just tell you?" she asked sarcastically, starting to rise. "That's for me to know and you to find out, sweetcheeks," she finished, and jumped down from her perch and crossed the short distance to her semi-cave, hoping she'd leave the girl behind. Her little house was only big enough for one person to stand, though two could technically sit semi-comfortably. To discourage that, Farrah sat in the dead center of the tiny space, which would mean that Trouble would need to displace her to sit down.

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

here were a few beats of blessed alone time, in which Farrah leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath through her nose. This was her forte - solitude - and if she could never give it up again that would be greeeaat. Of course, this planet never had that in the cards for her (who was she kidding, neither had Earth): Troublemaker made her presence very much known not fifteen seconds later, and Farrah's eyes popped open with a grunt. She said nothing, the fire in her gaze obvious enough, tracking the other woman when she entered her sanctuary.

Her expression didn't change with the compliment-turned-insult, her features a mixture of annoyance and boredom... until she crammed herself into the tiny space beside her. Farrah's head pulled back, a heavy frown tilting her lips. Instinct topped with a legitimate urge to stab the girl, her hand went to rest on the hilt of her knife. She didn't grip it, yet, but would have it at the girl's throat in a flash if she got even a hair closer. Try me, bitch.

And oh, she did. Was she stretching out in Farrah's meek but nevertheless legit home? What in the sweet.... Clenching her jaw, she leaned forward to semi hover over the woman. "There's a cave just up the mountain from here. Nice n' big, smooth walls, and as I hear it, recently abandoned. Why don't you make yourself at home there, instead of somewhere you are unwelcome?" she asked, making a point of hiding her smirk as she leaned back. It was a Worm cave, which she'd discovered thanks to Logan, and was also the reason her arm was broken. Trouble would fit in well there, she'd bet.

Thinking of the nearing daylight, Farrah's eyes flicked to her little cave's mouth. She had very little time to get mini-bitch out of here, before kicking her out was a death sentence. "Best scurry along, girl. Sol's almost up, and I'm tired." Running her hand along her scabbard, she pointed out, with a smile like acid, "And nothing else lives in here while I'm unconscious."

they call me a menace

they say that i'm cursed

Guest implies you were invited," she responded icily. "You were not." One brow shifted ever so slightly upward as the girl continued to get comfortable, though. What was with people on this planet thinking that wherever they walked, they owned? Farrah wasn't one to bring down a death sentence, but if this chick didn't get the fuck out in the next ten minutes, she would break her clean streak. Clutching her knife, she yanked it from its sheath and pointed out the tiny "cave". "That's mine, and that's mine, and alllll of this right here... is mine." she explained, the last area ending right over where the girl was laying.

Expression flattening as the girl insisted on being even more annoying than she already was, Farrah asked, eyes narrowed, "You don't happen to have a brother named Logan, do you?" Her tone made it evident she did not consider this a "plus".

The shoes coming off was the last straw. While Ms. Deathwish was asking her (very stupid) question, Farrah replaced her blade in its scabbard... So her hand would be free and she could quickly tip forward, grab the girl's shoes, and chuck them out of the cave, into the near-dawn. "Go back to the colony where you belong, little girl," she snapped, using the two words Logan had pissed her off the most with. She was exhausted, and wanted to sleep peacefully, without a perfect stranger shuffling through her things. She'd be damned if she was going to be robbed.