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Tuesday, 24 January 1989, McGill
Meg knows that she is going to have to deal with Roe-bear McCrory, somehow, and soon. Parker and Laura are right about that.
Right now, though, all Meg wants is to get out and away. She'll deal with the rest of it later.
Somehow.
It's easy enough to leave the ladies' room by the door opposite the one she came in through, to take the other staircase down and out, to go anywhere but the library.
Meg doesn't even look back as leaves.
If she had, she might have noticed that the door to the end of the universe did not completely close behind her.
Right now, though, all Meg wants is to get out and away. She'll deal with the rest of it later.
Somehow.
It's easy enough to leave the ladies' room by the door opposite the one she came in through, to take the other staircase down and out, to go anywhere but the library.
Meg doesn't even look back as leaves.
If she had, she might have noticed that the door to the end of the universe did not completely close behind her.
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Oh, there's still wrath aplenty, bubbling under the surface. And--if she were to be honest--a little thread of glee. This guy has been creeping Meg out for weeks. Parker finds, in a primal, about-to-kick-ass way, that she is looking forward to nipping Roe-bear's little crush in the bud.
Or, you know. Wherever else it might hurt.
The calm, though, probably comes from the company she's in.
"Okay," Parker says, quietly, as they step from Milliways into the deserted ladies room. One door is still swinging closed. "That must be the one Meg left through. Which means Roe-bear is going to be through that one."
"I say we invite him in for a chat."
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"I am allowed to twist his arm?"
She means that very literally.
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"In fact, I'd say twist anything you want."
This is going to be a no-messing-around interview.
"Do you need help grabbing him?"
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"No."
And then she moves out into the hallway, stride changing as she does so.
There's more hip in it, for one. And a lot less purposefulness.
Go figure.
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"Didn't think so."
She shakes her head as Laura leaves, and then casts an eye around the bathroom. She quickly spots what she's looking for.
Parker fishes the doorstop out of the corner and wedges it firmly under the the other bathroom door, blocking access.
The more private they keep this, the better.
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Instead she's approaching the boy that looks up when she enters. Scent aside -- photo aside -- he is not very subtle.
"You're Meg's friend, right? Roe-bear?"
She smiles, warm and a little sweet.
"She said she wants to talk to you. If -- well. It needs to be somewhere private. So. Um."
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking halfway to nervous.
Roe-bear folds like a bad hand of cards.
That makes him doubly surprised when, as he enters the bathroom, X grabs his arm, twists it behind his back, and slams him into the wall while nudging the door shut behind them with her heel.
Go figure.
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And to appreciate the fact that Roe-bear is very unimaginative when it comes to profanity.
"So. Roe-bear," Parker says pleasantly, folding her arms and leaning against the wall where she can see his half-squashed face.
"We need to have a little chat."
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"It is better to stop. Now."
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Parker leans in a little closer. (No danger--it's not like he's getting loose from that hold.)
"And Meg does. Not. Like. You. She doesn't want to have anything to do with you. She's not being coy. She's not playing hard to get. She's not going to come around to your poser, emo-boy charms if you just keep pushing her. She wants you to stay the hell away from her."
"And that's what you're going to do. You are not going to approach Meg. You are not going to talk to her. Call her. Send her notes. Leave flowers outside her door. Watch her from a distance."
"In fact, if you see her, I expect you to run your ass in the opposite direction like she is a live grenade loaded with anthrax that has just lost its pin. Do I make myself clear?"
It's kind of hard to tell. Roe-bear is, by now, sputtering, and very red in the face.
Whether from anger or extreme pain, it's difficult to say.
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Her voice is flat now, and completely affectless.
"And I do not think you are very good at hiding."
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Parker leans in, still closer.
"Now. Roe-bear. We don't want to hurt you."
She pauses. Considering for a moment.
"Okay, I'm totally lying. I'm perfectly fine with hurting you, and I think my friend here is, too. But we're charitable girls at heart, and we would be inclined to let you live a long, if sad, life."
Roe-bear is, by now, whimpering with something like panic. She leans again, a little closer still. And this time the smile is nowhere to be seen.
"Now. Whether you do that with or without your dick is entirely up to you."
Perhaps it the mention of that particular portion of his anatomy, but Roe-bear chooses this point to lose any and all control over his bladder.
Parker eyes the puddle forming on the linoleum with a raised eyebrow, and turns to Laura.
"Do you think we have an understanding with him?"
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Then she lets Roe-bear fall to the ground.
"I think he needs to change his pants."
Which is to say, she is pretty sure he understands his position.
Such as it is.
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"We'll be keeping an eye on things. And if you bother Meg again, we'll be paying you another visit."
She steps back, kicks the doorstop out of the way, and opens the door.
"Get out."
Roe-bear, showing clear signs of intelligence for the first time, wastes no time in scrambling out of the ladies room.
Parker watches the door swing closed behind him.
"I probably shouldn't have enjoyed that as much as I did, should I?"
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"Once is okay."
Twice --
That might be more problematic.
Might.
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If you make a guy piss his pants, it's a pretty good sign that you've gotten your point across.
"We'd better head back before someone comes to see what the commotion was."
Besides, their work here is done.