Video | early hours 2.17

[64th]

[ there's an amateur shaky-cam feel to the video, which is not pointed at Cash like it usually would be. It's not really pointed at anything at the moment - it's kind of pointed at everything. Her room is trashed, furniture overturned and belongings strewn everywhere. When the camera stops moving wildly, there's mostly floor, and a corner of what appears to be a blanket. ]

My hair is falling out! [ it’s obviously Cashmere’s voice, though it’s taken on a crazy edge from not sleeping and the general panic that’s set in. She sounds totally off-kilter. The camera swings again, stopping on a pile of bright blonde hair that yanked straight out while she was brushing it. Maybe this seems like a fairly insignificant event to other people, but from her tone it's obviously very upsetting to her. ]

Something’s happening. Something bad is happening.

[ More camera movement, and this time she accidentally catches a glimpse of her hand - long fingernails and unnaturally white skin. ]

One of you did this to me. And I am going to find you. And I’m going to kill you.

Comments

[krangke]

...Okay.

(His voice is quiet, gentle. He's been there before. Recently, too recently, and he understands this on a personal level. He knows not to tell her how to deal with her own problem. If she wanted his help, she'd let him know. Just like he had let Tommy know.

I'm going to figure it out.

The words echo in and out of his brain and he shuts his eyes. I'm going to figure it out. Yeah, he had thought that too. Problem is, some things couldn't be figured out. He shakes himself hard and no- no this.

This wasn't a good thing. Not for her, not for him. He felt a horrible itch under his skin and that was a bad sign. It had his pinky idly twitching and he took a deep, grounding breath. Come on, Newt. Pull it together. Cashmere needed help.)

Please. Let me know- let me know if you need anything, Cashmere. You're not alone.

(Despite the waver in his voice, it's clear enough he's sincere.)

Do you- um - want a distraction?

(It's a fruitless question. There are some things you couldn't be distracted from.)

[64th]

[ she feels alone, even if some of that is forced solitude. everything feels off kilter and she'd rather be alone in her room, angry and ill (changing? into what?) than near anyone else.

maybe this is all a punishment. maybe she's done something wrong. maybe someone is out to get her. she doesn't know.

it is nice to hear Newt's voice and catch a glimpse of him on her phone (though she is trying very hard for him to not catch a glimpse of her.) ]

Okay. Like what? [ the promise of a distraction calms her, if only for a moment. ]

[krangke]

(Peter was significantly better at distracting people than Newt was. Newt was good at encouraging people. He didn't have the stories that Peter had. He had no memories and little imagination.

He bit at his lip, trying desperately to think. She seemed a little bit like the idea of a distraction was a good thing. He should have probably thought ahead.

He clears his throat and just tries to steady himself a little bit.)

I could tell you a story, if you like.

(He's been told he has a nice voice. The British accent seemed to comfort people for reasons he didn't really get but hey, he'd take it.)

I'd offer to sing but I'm bloody awful at it. But I could think of some neat stories, probably.

(Maybe. He was already trying to think of some.)

[64th]

[ he gets a small laugh out of her. she doesn't know if she'd call his accent comforting - but it's unusual and it catches her attention so that's something of a distraction itself. ]

Tell me what you're going to do when we all get out of here.