Glass and staple

She had described her harmlessness in great detail, but I still wasn't convinced.
Call it stubbornness or cautiousness, all I knew was that I wasn't prepared to take her words wholeheartedly as truth. As she rocked back and forth while gripping her heels, sitting across from me on the bed she had been using as her personal hibernation area, her expression seemed to take on a gleeful contentedness that made me think she had already forgotten that little practical joke she had played on me earlier. I won't even get into the particulars of something like that being self-classified as a practical joke.
Glowing shafts of amber had slowly been flowing further and further into the room, filtered through the curtains and pristine clean glass. It was a nice morning, all things considered.
I walked over to the long rectangular window that overlooked the city below, a set of pop plants that I had taken from another room sitting comfortably across the mantle. I hadn't even realised that this was one of my 'usual rooms' that I frequented, which made this woman's appearance and my subsequent, no, supposed misdemeanor seem more like a transgression on her part rather than mine.
Can you fault somebody for lying in their own bed, and conversely, can you forgive a woman for sleeping so deeply and comfortably in another person's bed that she's left a permanent body-print in its mattress? I slid open one of the window panes, hoping that some fresh air would clear down my emotions, and placate her overemphasized vigour.
I turned back to her to be greeted with a beaming smile, her teeth almost white and clean enough and lips almost wide enough apart for the sunbeams to bounce off them and blind me.
Peering into those perfect, tiny rectangles, I could almost see my reflection staring back.
"Oi! I haven't exactly forgotten how we first met, you know? Don't think I'll take any more of that behaviour, buddy!"
And with that I was thrown on my back once again. By the force of those gleaming white teeth.
"Hey! You could have cracked my teeth in two! These are my adult teeth, you know! I've got no second chances here! Wait, no, that was basically a first kiss, right?"
"Guehahaha! First kiss? A first teeth clink I would agree with. You're a little immature, you know that? Actually, you look like a kid too... Hey, how old are you, huh?"
"First whatever, what about my teeth? And my innocence? Have my first teeth clink stolen by some unknown woman of questionable character is definitely kinkier." 
While I was overstating things, and it was my dodge backwards that contributed more to my falling flat than her attack, it's not like she was free of culpability entirely.
"Somebody who so brazenly tucks himself in to bed next to an unknown woman of resplendent character should be more than accustomed to kinkiness, I would think."
"Don't go assuming things on your own, and don't think I wouldn't catch that promotion in character you slid in there. Seriously, I had no idea you where in there, and actually, I had no idea anybody beside polite-glasses and I were even on this floor, or the upper two thirds of this building."
"Well, I can't argue with that, I suppose" she pronounced, falling backwards herself on to the pillow she had been in a deep slumber against a handful of minutes ago.
I was almost expecting her to already be fast asleep by the time I pushed myself up to my feet again, snoring cartoonishly with bubbles of snot expanding and contracting from her nose. It wouldn't be too far out of character.
But there she was, snapping her fingers like staplers, almost triggering a psychological response in me, but whispering in a silky voice that was in contrast with her prior rough enunciation; "Peace, peace".
Maybe I had already been psychologically conditioned if a peace sign was lower than a reproduction of a stapler on my visual image hierarchy in this situation.
With my own emphatic sigh, I leaned backwards against the windowsill, blocking a solitary beam of amber that had illuminated her features, still mouthing 'peace, peace'.
"I accept your peace offering" I admitted. If I didn't cede now, I knew that people with her personality would never give up or admit their part of the blame. Even if they did somehow slip up, they would still deny it to the bitter end.
The worst part is it wouldn't even be bitter for them.
A one-way bitterness.
Hopefully I had trimmed that at the root, leaving the rest of the plant free from disease.
But that didn't mean I had to find her agreeable just yet.
I still couldn't glean her character fully, which put me a little on edge.
Add on to that the fact that I had basically only conversed, and quite limitedly, with polite-glasses for a good while now, adjusting myself to normal conversation was proving a little difficult.
I don't want to self-label myself a misanthrope or anything, but I hadn't exactly been the most sociable prior to this job, anyway. It's not that I didn't like other people, though I did dislike them at times as much as anybody else, but dealing with them proved too much of a hassle.
I could do with small doses, but extended contact wore me out entirely.
This is all to excuse myself for uncordiality, or maybe an overdose of cordiality that naturally comes from un-assuredness.
Well, whatever. I think it's best not to overthink social situations anyway.
I wouldn't just blurt out anything and everything like this girl, whoever, but some people have a firmer natural filter than others.
"You surrender then! Your territory shall be mine, as recompense for the war effort!"
...was filter the problem here?
I think this girl is just batshit insane.
But it might just be an insane I can work with.
I haven't felt this kind of bubbled up mixture of emotion in... In a while.
"My lord I implore you, those territories are required for my subsistence not to mention my subordinates'. We shall serve you with great attention and loyalty, and ask you of only this."
My half-prostration forwards, one hand on my chest, other out before me like I was holding an invisible platter of food, was convincing enough that she played along with great amusement, her lips parting with joy.
It felt like talking with a child in some ways.
"Well, how can I ignore such a desperate request for subjugated to conqueror? Very well, be as you were, you shall have your land. This fine abode served me well in the time that I had claimed it, and I shall be content to pass it back into your hands."
So she was aware of it...Don't argue so defiantly against it if you're going to admit it so easily! Was she saving it for a joke just like this one?
Could she have predicted something like this happening, or was she just placing all her bets on the wild card called hope?
I resumed my cross-armed stance against the windowsill, while she flopped back on her back after flaunting her arms about like a queen ordering around her retainers. I turned my chin to the side, facing my little pot-plant friends, trying not to notice the folds and curves of her clothes as she so unreservedly twisted and turned.
Her features might be smooth if not a little harsh, but she was well endowed enough that wearing such a thin shirt, and only a shirt at that, signaled some lack of preservation on her part.
Maybe she really hadn't expected anybody to come in here, and made herself comfortable.
Which begs the question, "what are you doing up here, anyway? This level is privately owned, I think, so you're probably another one of those eccentric employees, right?"
It was beginning to appear very much like a prerequisite for getting hired was having some kind of distinguishing personality, a unique quirk and overall character image.
Which made me even less confident in a promotion from errand boy.
They must have seen something in me, right?
It wasn't just taking what they could get, right?
"No, I'm what you would call a freelancer. I'm my own boss, assistant, employee, and coworker" a triumphant mumble came from beneath a silky white pillow, her face thrust into its soft centre."Don't shove your face into things when you talk. It muffles your voice, you know?"
Her head darted up, before she recited "No, I'm what you would call a freelancer" once more.
Was that some kind of memorised line like the 'thank you and have a nice day' recital they have at supermarkets?
I didn't have the heart to crash down on her with the information that I heard her the first time.
It probably wouldn't have phased her, and she would've just continued on anyway.
Now that she was sitting upright again, and the atmosphere was less murderous and tense, and more relaxed, I could truly appreciate her beauty candidly.
It's not like that was the only thing I was focusing on, or something that I was working towards uncovering, but it was a natural response humans have to one another.
First impression are strong, even if they don't matter more than the second, third, or fourth.
A good looking person can only get so far on a half-baked personality, but it could at least give them an extra push upwards.
I don't want to go into another lecture about her looks, but she really was appealing to the eyes, and it made this conversation run a lot smoother, even unconsciously. I was almost starting to forget how we had first become acquainted.
"Oh, in that case, how did you get access here? Unless they're still renting out these rooms for the extra money. I suppose that's understandable. What's the point in keeping these floors empty if they're perfectly useable."
But what pricked at my mind was the question of why I hadn't come across her before, and why polite-glasses hadn't spoken a word about any kind of arrangement like this one. He seemed to be the type who would care about delineating situations in their factual entirety. "Well, you could say I just moved in here. What about you, what's your deal? You must be pretty important if you're holed up here by yourself. Something bad happen to you?"
"I'm not exactly by myself, since polite-glasses has been watching over me. But I suppose you're right in assuming something bad happened to me. Honestly, it's so bizarre that it feels unreal, even idiotic to say it aloud. Like I've been wanting to be a manga artist since I was a kid, but now that I'm finally writing it on my future prospects sheet, it's sinking in just how naive that kind of dream is."
"That bad, huh? Though you kind of strike me as a kid who wouldn't have cared about things like nativity or impossible dreams."
"Let's just say the impossible dream never really had a proper send off."
I didn't want to linger on that topic. Neither the events that shackled me here, or my dreams. I was happy to let them float out into the azure ice sheet that was the morning sky. Behind me the noises of a rousing city had begun to travel in through the open window, and a gelid breeze was their boat.
"It's quite impressive isn't it? The view that is. It's a shame it'll be torn apart like plastic packaging in a year."
"What's stopping that from being equally as beautiful?"
Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, narrowed with a feeling of perplexment, before she rubbed them with the back of her index finger, then spun back around to crawl beneath the covers.
"You didn't strike me as a nihilistic kind of guy."
"I don't meant it like that... I'm not the kind of person that thinks death and destruction is somehow a picturesque representation of life's ephemerality. I'm hoping for the opposite. We don't know what exactly is ending our world, so we shouldn't just assume something violent and destructive. It might be a beauty like plum blossom petals falling to the earth."
It was a characteristic but violent line of thinking that humans are accustomed to.
"I see I see. You just might be more correct than you think."
"Hm? You make it sound like you're privy to some kind of information on that subject."
"Not at all, not at all" she smiled back at me, her tone mocking but believably sincere.
"But as someone who is beginning to see that we share similar values, there might just be some truth to your words."
"If only you could see the truth in my words sooner..."
It would have saved me a lot of terror at her hands.
"Ah! I almost forgot. Don't go crawling into bed with me again, or else Mrs. stapler will return via popular demand."
"The only demand here is on your part."
I couldn't tell if she was scatterbrained or just dedicated to her quips.
"At least tell a lady your name first."
"Hahh, I guess you're right. However..."
"However?" she questioned, her head perking up at my unusual reaction.
It was a little difficult to convey, but, "I don't really like telling people my name. It's kind of been a bad habit since grade school. I've gotten into a couple of arguments with teachers and classmates about it."
"Wow... That's dedication, even arguing with teachers. You didn't strike me as the type."
"It's beginning to look like I don't strike you as much of any type."
"Well, you know, it's good to have an open mind" came sheepishly from her lips as she scratched the side of her supple neck like a cat.
"Being too open minded is the same as not having a mind at all."
"Maybe that's true..."
"Don't prove my point so blatantly..."
Returning to the topic, the girl spun her finger in a circle like she was casting a spell, before pointing it back towards herself.
"My name is lady."
"In this day and age, that just might be a deep-cut reference."
"Calling somebody's name a reference is kinda insulting, you know?"
"You're just getting back at me for refusing to give you mine."
"Well a business transaction always had to have two ends."
"Haven't you heard of charity?"
"Not at all."
Maybe she really is just an eccentric, sheltered high-school girl.
It would explain away a lot of her behaviour, and she certainly was able to look the part.
They say you shouldn't ask a woman their age, so I held back on that one.
"Your clothing could be considered charity for the eyes."
Only to let slip what should have been held back with greater determination.
Her leap forwards flashed shards of traumatic memory into my eyes, visions of staplers and a bloodthirsty glare, but this time I was prepared.
Though, twisting my head to the side only does so much when being bulldozed with a pillow.
That much surface area is difficult to sidestep.
"I wanted to sleep comfortably, okay?!"
But to my fortuity, she backed down after only one swing.
As she nestled herself back into a comfortable position, I promised to make sure to think before I spoke next time, especially with this girl.
It was high time I stopped amusing myself with quipping back and forth, anyway.
"Did you rent out one of these apartments, then? If that's the case, I wish you would keep to the one you paid for instead of wandering off into other people's."
"Hmmmm, well, it's not exactly like that, either."
"You've got me... I can't think up any other kind of explanation. I'm sure you're giggling to yourself with joy that I'll never be able to guess."
"Hahaha, well, you've got me there. But a girl is entitled to her privacy, so you'll just have to keep wondering while I keep giggling."
It's not like she wasn't right, but it was beginning to become a little suspicious how evasive, or rather, secretive she was being.
Though it might come off as rude or even slightly sociopathic, I needed to be sure that she wasn't posing any real danger to me or polite-glasses.
It feels strange, even unnatural to hold such sentiment about other people, but my encounter with the Burning Man, and let's not forget the Princely one, had altered my instincts somewhat.
Overheard rumours of a killer on the loose fluttered back into my mind.
This world was becoming a dangerous place.
"I guess that's understandable. By the way, you must have seen polite-glasses, right? He's acting as something of a supervisor to this level, so I'm almost certain he's at least introduced himself."
If she hadn't and had nothing to hide, she would admit it easily, but if she hadn't and had some secret motivation for being here, she would lie about it.
By making it sound like meeting him was a prerequisite for entry, and if she was here for secretive and dubious reasons, she wouldn't want to admit to not having met him, as it would seem like she had infiltrated this place malevolently.
"Mhm, he seemed quite... How do I put it..." came quickly from the edge of the bed, her head dangling over the mattress while she scratched her chin with a look of intense concentration.
"Well, he's got his character traits held tightly, doesn't he?"
"I suppose so. It's hard not to be distinguishable with a scar like that. It's the kind of thing you see battle-crazed warriors with in anime, not a strict-looking salaryman type."
"Ahh, well, some women find that kind of thing attractive, you know? Like, he's been through harsh battles, but still tries to be normal at the end of the day. It has a quite but pitiably cute dignity to it."
If polite-glasses had heard that comment, I was sure his brow would have wrinkled like you had told him with straight-faced assuredness that aliens run the government, and a stern lecture would have made up half your afternoon.
But what's more worrying how easily, how deftly she was able to lie her way through interrogation.
I hoped she couldn't see me tense up at her answer.
But was I wrong in assuming her hostility? What if she just didn't want to seem out of the loop? What if she was only an illegal squatter, and didn't pose any real threat to either of us? Memories of terror and the sensation of a blade against my eyelids welled up against my senses, and I unconsciously raised a finger to my right eye.
If even she didn't harbour any ill-will towards me or polite-glasses, it was undeniable that she possessed a dangerous amount of aptitude for violence.
I guess catching a break isn't in my forecasted fortunes for today.
I could only hope that chronic stress didn't catch up to me too soon, I've heard it's side effects are awful to deal with.
Speaking of, this purportedly air-headed girl rolling herself up like sushi in the snowy white embrace of the bedsheets like some kind of gourmet sushi roll was truly going to be a nightmare to handle.
If her personality was an act, it was convincing in all its stupid cuteness.
Her manipulation of a boy's emotions are something a certain Faye would probably be proud of.
It's a shared weakness among men, and women that were experts in wielding it had the world at the edge of their nails.
As I looked out on to the waves of tiled roofs and flat grey buildings, my heart began to thrum with vigour.
This was dangerous.
I had left the secluded stability of a privately resigned fate below me, ever since I had been led along by that many headed woman.
Seriously, is there an invisible collar lining my neck or something?
Every woman I've met has attached their strings, and it feels like I'm being pulled in any direction their capriciousness desires.
I just hope they don't drag me off the precipice we've been toeing for a while now.