Christi
◇ Another day, another afternoon spent working on her pride month passion project.

□ Cooped up in the Cradle's own music area, Margo had spent most of the afternoon behind the drum kit, splitting her time between actually trying to record and gabbing with her friends back home; turns out, being up and active at two in the afternoon in Sweden meant she managed to catch her bastard brothers on their first break period. It was nice and all, but even a dedicated musician like her needed a break, and with hunger pecking away at her like a woodpecker on the side of an oak tree she figured it'd be about a half decent time to call it a day, to hang up her sticks and close GarageBand down until the following day, when she'd be walking through the doors again most certainly.

▪︎ With that, she rose to her feet and stepped out.

□ Where, though, was she going to go? Back to her room? Things had been awkward ever since a few nights prior, when an angel sighting turned into an apocalyptic unveiling of the truth¹ behind this place. Those angels, those nutjobs out in the industrial park, were far darker than she'd first known, there was one of their kin *In* The Cradle, and they were out to kill her. Pretty grim; *Maybe someone should have gave her a gun?* Margo's mind was not well-adjusted, as most Americans tended to be, and thus her main internal suggestion for keeping this former angel safe was a gun.

▪︎ Absolutely terrible idea, but... Who cared?

○ She rounded a corner and saw a rakish girl lingering at the other end, fiercely pale skin and an unnerving look to her that somehow commanded Margo's attention. She approached.

◆ "Hey."
Angelo
Wandering the corridors early in the morning, the dim hallway lights made her stand out as she slowly paced through the place, looking around and taking closer looks at any signs on doors or any indicators of information, yadda yadda, she felt like she had to know this place for however long she was going to stay here, as it might be useful, or was it to satiate her curiosity? Yeah, it was both. She heard footsteps among the near silence of the place approaching her slowly, they sounded heavy, and approached fast, a wide stride, probably someone tall.

She turns, at the sudden *'Hey.'* The girl's face still seemed a bit odd, too pale to be something breathing, yet this girl looked pretty damn alive. The small girl looked Margo up and down, her large eyes with giant black irises and pinpoint white dots in the center of them were all unnatural, and gave them an effect as if she was always looking at Margo even when her eyes looked away.

Her face made no attempt to return a kind emotion, met by a cold, marble mask, looking unamused, maybe bothered if one was to overthink. Her clothes hid her body well, too overized to discern anything outside of her shoulder width, but her large mass of curls and frizz hid that as well.

Soon the seconds-long silence was permeated by her small voice, returning Margo's word with an equal.

"Hello."
Christi
◆ "What's your skincare routine, man? Because, like... You're fuckin' *Glowing,* And the pimples on my face would like to know how you do it."

□ Railed off with a bit of friendly humorous sarcasm, she raised one hand to her cheekbone, pressing her fingertip against a pimple for extra effect. Maybe it was an unusual approach, a weird opener, but she wasn't exactly trying to woo this rakish twin-tone lady, so she didn't particularly mind being a bit awkward and stiff off the drop. After about four hours alternating between drumming and tormenting her friends back home she felt the need to chat to someone, anyone, and if this diminutive lass was closest then she'd be the one who'd hear it all.

▪︎ She leaned against the wall, her shoulder blades pressed into its cream bricks, and let out a hum. 

◆ "That... Was a bit of a joke. A weird icebreaker. Whatever. For real, though, you're absolutely *Striking,* In the most platonic, friendly, non-weird way possible." She spoke, confident yet slightly stilted. "What'cha up to out here? Heading to one of the art rooms? Pretty cool how this place has an entire wing just for the arts, especially considering the fact it's a goddamned prison."
Angelo
She was confused. Was this a joke, or was the girl serious? She still felt the need to snicker, letting out a raspy sound out through her nose as a reaction. She didn't exactly know how to react so she just took the most literal option. 

"My skin is just like this. Asides from that, uh, a bit of lotion of it's too dry, I guess..." 

More people kept approaching her, but she didn't care, it helped her pass the time as she wandered aimlessly though the corridors. She analyzed Margo's body language, she seemed stiff, but she gave the air that outside of this she was a relaxed yet adventurous person, or maybe she was wrong, regardless, it will he interesting to get to know this girl.

"Thank you?"

She, once again, had no idea how to respond to a compliment, her head tilting to the side a bit.

"I'm getting a feel for the place, arrived here yesterday, met people along the way. Might take a look at one of those art rooms within thos place, which, yes, looks like a prison as far as I've seen. Gray architecture, overgrown exterior to hide the barren, depressing structure, minimalist interiors and exteriors, heavy doors everywhere literally tipped from prisons, gates seemingly everywhere and the rooms look like a mental institution's." 

She listed out all of the characteristics that made this building look like a prison with a small smile forming on her face, numbering them on her fingers, then looking back up at Margo with the tiny smile.
Christi
◆ "Oh, uh. No worries. That was a jokey remark, I'm assuming it's your parahumanity that gives you your tone." Margo calmly replied, easing up a tad now that she had herself pressed to a wall. Something about her back being pressed to something was nice. "Sorry if it's weird. I'm... Not exactly smooth sometimes."

□ So, this girl had a raspy voice, and short as her time had been at the Cradle, she already saw it for what it was at the end of the day: a prison. Then again, was that anything special? Or just a fact of life that many long-time residents had come up with various alternate views on to cope with being imprisoned through most of their teenage years and part of their early adulthood? Even now, she felt robbed, but ultimately there was nothing she could really do except keep on living life to the best of her ability, aided by wealth, a noted lack of fear to get out there and get dirty, and the natural urge to rebel and make the best of her short time as a teenager.

▪︎ And so far? She was doing well, though her room had a regrettable lack of a pint of vodka between the couch cushions and guns hidden in reptile enclosures.

◆ "So, you just got here yesterday? Gotcha. I remember my first day. I got escorted in pretty peacefully, thankfully, but I also kind of walked into an empty room. My roommate keeps almost nothing in there, so I had to do most of the heavy lifting for decoration." She casually spoke, eyes fixing themselves on various details of the walls; a railing, light switches, a socket... So on and so forth. "But honestly? Much as this place *Is* A true blue prison by any definition of the word, it's really laissez-faire. Like, fuck, there's a big lake about an hour and a half from here by bus, and... Man, I've been there to go fishing. *Twice.* As long as you aren't stabbing people or throwing an absolute shit fit about being here then you'll be fine and dandy. Anyways, how'd you get sent here? Anything to write home about, or utterly mundane?"
Angelo
She listened with interest, keeping an unwavering eye contact the entire time. She noted how the other girl seemed to have a lot of confidence, just going up to her and rambling on and on. She gave a simple but moderately detailed answer. "I kept lashing out and nearly attacked my parents, but I just ran away. They still found me."

"About that lake, I'd like to see it sometime, maybe you could take me there?" She asked with a smile, genuinely interested in the idea of just vibing on a boat in the middle of an inky black lake, she found the idea itself to be relaxing.