Soft Touch

As Good As Mine

It had been at least a month since Wednesday's incident with Joseph Crackstone and Ms. Thornhill, and Enid's with the Hyde. Or, Tyler. It was difficult to switch titles so suddenly, for Enid especially. She never would have suspected someone like him could have been a thirsty blood-seeking monster.

The werewolf's scars had healed almost completely, just as she had promised Wednesday they would, and she was feeling much better now. She was back to her old, joking self, skipping around the halls and pestering Wednesday with her relentless rambling, which even the goth had missed dearly.

She would never admit it to anyone, of course, but if they were to somehow figure it out, she promised herself she would murder them on sight.

Wednesday currently sits at her desk, her hands frozen on her keyboard as Enid turns on an especially aggravating song to dance to, making sure it was on a higher volume than normal.

Enid was certainly observant, maybe too much so, and had quickly figured out which songs Wednesday despised most, and played them most often, making sure she danced hard enough for the floor to creak and shake.

Wednesday, though she despised the atrocious sounds of present-day K pop, was glad (or at least as glad as she could be) now that Enid was finally feeling better and returning to her normal self, seemingly forgetting about all of her encounters with the Hyde.

Of course, there were still times when Enid had to sit down and take a break when her unhealed wounds had started to throb, but even those were close to fully healing and closing, and that was beforehand. Now, Wednesday had returned to enduring Enid's special full-time torture.

Thing taps Wednesday's desk rather aggressively, silently telling her that her one hour writing time was over, and she wrote too close to nothing.

Wednesday sighs, glaring at the half-full piece of paper hanging out the top of her typewriter, feeling some kind of shame in herself for not being able to block out the distraction.

"Are you finished yet?" Wednesday asks, standing and glaring at said distraction, who pauses her dancing to try and catch a word of what Wednesday might have been saying, though her music was far too loud to be able to do so.

"What!?" She yells across their tape boundary, resisting the urge to laugh as the scowl on Wednesday's face deepens. Wednesday didn't normally raise her voice, so in order for her to ask Enid to turn the music off, she would have to cross the tape boundary, and break her own rules.

Wednesday crosses her arms, quickly learning Enid's despicable plan. She wouldn't be falling for it.

Wednesday tilts her head ever so slightly, and Enid grows hopeful for a moment, but it is short-lived as Wednesday turns and strolls out of the room, the door closing behind her before Thing can catch up.

The appendage turns to face Enid, who only shrugs, just as confused as he was.

=======================

Wednesday returns to their shared room hours later, her clothes and skin speckled with dirt, mud and blood, her hands empty, save for a rusted knife clutched in her palm.

Enid barely notices her presence, and continues talking with her friends on her phone until she does, jumping up and running across the duct tape line in the middle of the room to get to Wednesday.

The werewolf embraces the goth, not even noticing how dirty she was at first, and only realizing once she pulls away, cringing away from her. "I did not realize how dirty you were," she says, sucking in a breath through her teeth.