Is It Me That Makes You Sweat?``MALICE

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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Franklin was completely exhausted when he popped down on the hard couch in the stale-smelling den. He wanted desperately to smoke, but the male nurse was nearest the back door, and he wasn't in the mood to get all homo-erotic. Franklin draped his arms over the back of the couch, leaning his head on the hard cushion.

Today had been stressful for Frankie. Group was the same old boring self-pity party, but the doctor decided to focus more on his hatred towards his late-girlfriend more than was comfortable for him. So, after a few flipped tables and lunges at her, the guards restrained him and placed him on code red, restraining him to the bed for four hours. Afterward, he was forced new medicine that caused him to see people...or were they really there? Being here so long really fucked with his mind.

Now he was out, resting his muscles and sore wrists in the abandoned den, hoping to float away into a deep slumber in no time. His power had been muted slightly by ht medicine, and yet he could feel someone else's presence near him. lazily he rolled his head, happy at the sight before him.

"Oh, Hello..Malice.." Franklin smiled wickedly, leaning forward to press elbows into the tops of his knees. He'd seen her around before and learned her name through various people. He had an idea about her hot-headed personality. Franklin's grin grew wider, he'd been needing a good play thing.

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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
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PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
for you, darling ;D
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[Malice]

The Outfit

Malice's green-gold eyes were locked onto the offending male, a sneer on her face. Who the fuck was he? How the fuck did he know her name?

And why in the hell did he look so fucking happy to see her?

That devilish smile he wore actually succeeded in pissing her off, but then again, it didn't really take much to do that anymore. He was looking at her as though she was a piece of meat and he was a starving man.

Her eyes narrowed on him and she flicked her straight russet hair over her shoulder. He was attractive, but she really didn't give a damn. Not about anything anymore.

Malice glared at him for a couple more seconds then simply walked past him and sat down in her favorite chair by the window when all she really wanted to do was wipe that stupid grin off his face. She wanted to school him in what she was made of. Show him that she was something to be feared.

But she wouldn't.

She was still sore from her last visit to Floor Three, and wasn't quite ready to chance the trip again. She knew better.

So instead, she took to ignoring him and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her dress pockets. She stood up breifly to crack the window open as far as it would go until it was stopped by the bars that ran the length of it.

Malice lit up a cigarette and sat back down, enjoying the feeling of nicotine racing into her system and calming her.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin raised an eyebrow at the woman as she failed to speak back to him and took her seat by the window. He could handle being ignored, it only made him more relentless with his conversation bits.
"Hmm, they were right. Ms. Feisty. Nice to meet you too, My name is Franklin." He didn't bother to extend a hand, he knew she'd only take it to cut it off. Franklin's green eyes snaked over her frame, examining her colors. Red. Orange. a hint of yellow. Man, this girl was pissed. The only desire he could gather was for him to stop talking, which he knew he couldn't grant her. The last time he'd seen anyone's colors that dark was the night he became a murderer. It was funny to him how things could remind him so much of her, yet he tried so hard to forget it. It was so funny, it made him laugh, out loud.

Franklin's eyes snapped back from the spot on the floor he was staring at and focused back on Malice, watching her smoke and attempt to ignore him. Franklin scooted a cushion closer to her, leaning on the arm of the coach.

"I'm just going to talk until you answer me, lovely. Don't be afraid, i don't bite....unless you want me to." He winked at her, though he wasn't sure if she could see it. What a shame, he knew he was a good winker.

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[Malice]

Malice groaned and face-palmed. What an annoying man. And worse yet, she had a sinking feeling that he was going to just as he said he was; talk until she answered. She took a long drag off her cigarette, trying to ease the rage building inside.

But it only worsened when she caught his little wink out of the corner of her eye. The guy obviously thought he was tough shit and Malice wanted so bad just to knock him down a level. But she could. She refused to that hell named Floor Three.

And ignoring him wasn't working.

Unfortunately, this was the only room in the building that had opening windows and she wasn't allowed outside otherwise she'd leave.

Her green eyes slid maliciously over to his and she glared him down. "What the fuck do you want? Are you retarded or something?" She snarled. Bitch was gonna get what was coming to him if he kept this shit up.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin leaned back on the couch, giving her a triumphant grin when she finally spoke. Though, he wasn't really expecting her name calling to be so soon, but he just accepted it.

"I already succeeded in my first goal, huh?" He gave a small chuckle, shaking his foot as he crossed it over his other leg.

"Retarded? No, no, that's not it. Crazy, maybe, but definitely retarded. Why? Are you?" He knew he was getting under her skin fast and that at any moment she could explode and try to man-handle him. He found it funny how females were so 'tough' until they were up against someone who was finally dominate. Franklin was a joker and a player, but after beating countless women and killing two.....Whoa, did he say two?

"What's got you all hot this evening? Been to floor three?? Ohh, i love those trips.." He blinked slowly, recalling his latest visit. He was given a new medicine that made him trip for three days straight. The nurses had to force feed him because he thought he was a glass of orange juice. Sometimes he can still taste the citrus flavor in his mouth...

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[Malice]

This man talked too much.

Malice rolled her eyes and kicked her feet up onto the windowsill, ashing her cigarette on the floor. Now that she knew his motives she really didn't give a fuck. If he wanted under her skin, he would need to try a little harder than just being a chatty Kathy.

"You wouldn't know crazy even if it punched you in the face." She spoke in low tones. She'd been here for much longer than she cared to admit and in that time she'd seen a lot of things. Things that would make a man like Franklin piss himself in fear.

At this point, she was simply used to it. She didn't care.

Though tough shits like him did annoy her to no end. Especially when they pretended to know how she worked.

Malice knew who he was. She knew his "gift." He could read one's desire. Similar to her but not to her extent. He was no where near on her level.

Her foot tapped an unknown beat on the window pane and she stubbed her cigarette out on the wall, leaning her head back on the chair. She wished she could dive into his soul. See his fears. Scare the fuck out of him.

Make him run screaming out of the room.

Floor three had nothing on her.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin only raised an eyebrow at her. She obviously didn't know him, how long he'd been here or for what he was capable of. It angered him mildly. Sure she was powerful, he could tell that by the colors that bled from her tanned skin, but it was ignorant of her to just assume his personality and assume him to be weak.

"I believe you are mistaken. You wouldn't know crazy if it stabbed you thirty times, tied a chain around your body, carved his name into your chest and threw you off a high rise." Franklin stood to leave and noticed a guard nearing the door.

"hmm, do you have an appointment? I don't think he's looking for me." He turned profile and shifted his face so his bright green eyes could focus on her. This is when he took a few seconds to examine her. She had to be native-american, though her eyes seemed to be completely different. Her style was that of a casual teenager, he assumed her age to be nothing higher than nineteen. It was a shame really, for such a beautiful person to go to waste here in these stained walls. Franklin enjoyed her personality, though it was a lot more than he wished to deal with on a regular basis.

"I feel sorry for you." He whispered to himself as his feet carried him towards the bulky guard.

"What seems to be the problem, sir?" Franklin asked politely, blocking the man's view of Malice.

"Smelled smoke." Franklin rolled his eyes. They really did pick the brightest bulbs to run this god-forsaken place.

"Is that your tribal name? Surely they could think of something better..." Before Franklin could finish his sentence, the man pushed past him, nearly knocking him over.

The guard approached Malice somberly, mumbling something about hating his job. Franklin leaned against the door, watching the man's foolish decisions.

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[Malice]

Well this is interesting...

Malice stared at the guard that stood near her. Just stared. He seemed to flounder for something to say, knowing full well her capabilities and fearing her for it.

Bored, she propped her head in her hands. "Cat got your tongue, honey?" She said, her New Orleans accent making it sound more like Caht gawt ya tawng, hunny? The man just stared at her, mouth moving without sound.

Malice groaned, this was going to take forever. She just wanted to have a nice break and a bit of nicotine but first there was that idiot, Franklin, who wouldn't shut up and now this scared-shitless guard.

What next?

"If you came in here to bitch at me about smoking indoors, don't bother. I'm not allowed outside due to being a high risk" She stressed that word then paused momentarily, watching the knowledge sink in. "It's not against any law or protocol for me not to smoke and since I can't smoke outdoors, you're going to have to deal. Take it up with your superiors, fucker."

She cracked her neck and settled back down in the chair, hoping that the men would take the hint and get the fuck out of her sight. She was sick of seeing their ugly faces.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin watched the situation unfold. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall, completely amused. Watching the way she handled herself, Franklin couldn't help but to be that much more attracted to her. Too bad she was harder to talker to than Helen Keller.

As the men stumbled from the room, Franklin clapped his hands and sauntered over to the couch, taking a seat on the far end and stretching out so his feet touched the other arm.
"So feisty. I've never seen anyone with a permanent scowl before." Franklin gave her a cheeky grin and picked up a magazine from the coffee table. He snapped it open loudly and crinkled pages, hoping to cause her to lose her temper (what was left of it) again.

Franklin kept an eye on her colors, the red and blacks swirled around her tanned skin like smoke, flowing against the walls and the floor. He wondered what it would take to make those colors happier. He had a feeling it would take more than he could possibly give. Not that she wanted him in the slightest, however.

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[Malice]

Permanent scowl?

He obviously had no clue about her.

Well, if you can't beat 'em, join em.

It was something her mother always said. And though it was hard, Malice had always tried to do just that.

Her eye twitched like a classic cartoon with the headache that pounded there as he began to crinkle pages. But she steeled herself against it and looked over at him. It was as though she was the epitome of relaxation; feet kicked back, serene face, laid back.

After a moment, her classic, eerie Cheshire-cat smile adorned her face, making her eyes almost glow green and gold. She stared at him, dropping her feet and stood, movements slow and calculated. Her grin never wavered as she sauntered over to him. She moved like liquid grace, putting all her Cajun moves into play.

She didn't even have to try, she knew she was gorgeous.

Purring, Malice sat down on the arm of the couch. "What's in that head of yours, Franklin? What are you planning, boy?" Her accent was thick, eyes glittering with mischief. He wasn't just fucking with her for no reason, people always had motives.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin gave Malice a confused look. Was he dreaming? Surely he hadn't passed out in only a minutes time. Maybe she was high? Something was up.
"I was just wondering the same, Malice. Planning? Oh, nothing...a little this, a little that." He gave her a smirk and gazed down at the magazine in his hands, acting uninterested (well, as much as he could) in her conversation. It was hard to look away from her, the perfect skin and bright eyes were enough to send every man over the edge. He was sure she could have any man she wanted, but something told him she would never take that advantage. She'd much rather threaten them or torture them into submission. It was sexy, but macabre at the same time.

"Do you happen to have the time?" He asked, his eyes still fixed on the boring article before him. He quickly checked the date on the spine. 2000. No wonder this was completely wrong. Even if he'd been trapped behind these walls for some time now, he kept up with the world outside. Sort of a self-punishment. The world continues with or without him, and he would have to live with that until he died.

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[Malice]

He was a very bad actor.

Acting uninterested in her? She knew so much better. But to rid him of his...distractions, she leaned over to him, her chest coming very close to his face as she pulled the magazine from his hands. "Hmm. From 2000? This is boring." With that, she tossed it over her shoulder, letting it land on the floor in a mess.

"As for the time, Frankie, it's simply time for you to fess up. What is it you want from me? Maybe we could compromise. I give you something and in return, you give me something. How does that sound?" She straightened back up, giving him her classic smile.

It was always a good idea to have allies in the war, even if you didn't quite like one another.

An enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.

[Franklin Gabriel Halem]

Franklin watched as she flung his magazine and licked his lips as he listened to her talk. Of course she wanted something, this woman wasn't the kind of do things for kicks. She was much more sophisticated than that. If she wanted something, she was going to do something to get it, depending on how beneficial it was to her. Franklin sat straight up and patted the spot next to him.

"Well, Miss Malice, this all depends on what all you are wanting from me and what all you are willing to give. I'm not cheap, you know." Franklin figured he could be useful. He'd been around this place more than some and had been everywhere imaginable in the walls of this hospital. He had plenty of times he could have left, but for what? There was nothing left for him outside his cell. Franklin wasn't a total dud, and he was sure she was a woman of man talents. A chill ran down his spine just thinking about it.

he noticed her normally harsh colors beginning to mix with others, purple, a hint of blue; it was all very seductive to him.

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[Malice]

She slid down off of the arm of the couch into the offered spot next to him. The otherwise awkward move was made graceful and sensual, lifting her dress just barely. She kicked her heels up onto the coffee table in front of them. "No no, sir, that is not how it works. A smart woman doesn't lay down her prices first. Say what it is you are wanting and we could compromise on the price." Her voice was a southern purr and she looked him straight in the eyes.

She flipped her long, straight hair over her tan shoulder and relaxed back on the couch, admiring her nails in clear boredom. She wanted out, of course, but there's no way in hell would she be so stupid as to tangle with the Asylum's lap-dog tracker, Carrion Rogue. She'd seen enough returned patients to know the guy was good. Almost supernatural.

But if she could get out just long enough to take down her father, then her custody would go to the cheiftan, who could then sign her out of this hell hole.

The only question: How to escape long enough to get down to New Orleans and kill her father?