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Vamp Fatale was in her apartment again.
Mize knew this even before her key card finished scanning to allow her own entrance — how the woman had managed to swipe a copy of her key card was beyond her, but it had been weeks now of random, uninvited visits.
She was laying on the couch, the remnants of her 'civilian' outfit strewn carelessly on the floor, and seemingly engrossed in reading something.
Si mi abuela hubiera visto esto, she thought, shaking her head as she dropped her belongings loudly on the counter.
Her grandmother was long gone, though. Considering Alexandria's propensity to pretend Death did not touch them at all, it was a small miracle that she even remembered her.
Naturally, Garnet didn't so much as twitch. At least Mize could be thankful that her other favorite arcadion fighter wasn't present.
That's what she'd say, anyway, if she asked why the hell she was in her apartment again. She'd learned not to ask.
She had not meant to befriend one of the more prickly Heavy-weight fighters of the Arcadion. She hadn't meant to make any friends, really, but somehow she had earned a spot among a few of the other fighters.
She thanked her old gods every day for the fact that no one had caught her sneaking around the arenas and offices in her down time.
"You enjoying that?" she asked, keeping her voice level as she dropped down to sit on top of the backs of Garnet's legs. She clicked her tongue and turned back towards her, raising an eyebrow as she motioned to the booklet in her hands.
Booklet? No, a notebook. Hijo de mierda—
"Your notes are fascinating, darling," she drawled, laughing as she held the booklet out of her grasp as she lunged for it. "I thought you liked being around me for my exquisite charm and usefulness in the kitchen."
Mize hesitated, and she saw a flash of something sadder in glinting, golden eyes.
"Maybe I do," she said, gruff, finally snagging the booklet out of her hands. What was she supposed to do with that? "But less when you snoop through my things."
How much had she read? Mize had been compiling notes and information for months, she couldn't let this ruin everything—
The whole reason she'd become a fighter—
"I'd say I'm sorry, darling, but I'd be lying," she said primly, pulling her legs out from under Mize and leaning into her space with ease. "You've paid much more attention to us all than I thought. I wonder why that is?"
"I'm trying to get out of the low ranks — you know this," Mize said, scrambling for her typical, cool air with Garnet's closeness. "And to do that, I need to kick one of you out."
"And you thought it'd be anyone but dear Yaana? Or, bless her heart, Karina? You have notes on all of us — our fighting styles, our strengths, our weaknesses — with immense detail and accuracy. Please," she sat back, spreading her arms across the back of the sofa. "Be honest with me, Mize. Harpie Lady."
Hearing her real name alongside her stage name made whatever warmth had begun to fluster her freeze, and her gaze narrowed.
"Get out," she said, standing and turning away, holding the notebook tightly in her grasp. "Don't make me throw you on your ass."
Vamp Fatale whistled. "Easy, sweet bird. Do you really think you could?"
Mize looked down at her over her shoulder, her voice as icy as the tips of her fingers. "Wanna bet, murciélagita?"
She just laughed, standing and picking up the sweater and sneakers she'd deposited on her way in. "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets, darling."
Mize said nothing as she slung the fabric over her shoulders and slipped into the shoes, her mask firmly back in place.
Her eyes tracked her every movement until she paused at the threshold and looked back. Before she could open her mouth, "If… if you need something, Mize, I hope you know that all you have to do is ask."
Garnet's voice was quiet, dripping with something Mize had never before heard in it. Something she didn't dare try to name.
She didn't have the chance to respond before the door slammed shut behind her, and that damned warmth spread back out down to her fingertips.
"That's what you think," she muttered, shaking her head as she held the notebook tightly to her chest.
She was a far cry from the scared but determined young woman who had first come here wanting justice. She could not forget why she was here.
Vamp Fatale was likely her enemy, after all, with how she upheld and revelled in the very things which had destroyed her family. She couldn't forget that.