Sometimes it was spectacularly awesome, his forgetfulness.  It was ingrained enough that he generally didn't forget he was forgetful, which was helpful in daily life and conversations with new people, and it wasn't like he'd ever forgotten something like how to speak english.  That would be super awkward.  He'd never made it anywhere close to fluent in his dad's tongue before he'd died and Memo had moved across the continent in two directions.

Sometimes he forgot that he'd slept spectacularly well, and couldn't shake the knowledge that he hadn't slept at all, or that it had been completely useless.

So he was suuuuper tired, and had done what he did when he needed to work and was exhausted.  He had made a giant cup of coffee, and then loaded it with sugar.

And then chugged it, and made another.  And then a third.

He was sipping that third mug now, meandering around the shelter in mismatched socks (left foot tiny angry dragons of cuteness, right foot sparklekittens), somehow not mismatched chocolate brown full-finger gloves with turquoise cuffs, super comfy black sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with an amazingly soft fleece lining - lime green fleece, dark blue outside.  His hat was back in his room, though.  He wasn't going outside, probably, and this way he could flop on assorted furniture or counters or people and just snuggle into his hoodie.  So fluffy.

Memo might be loaded with sugar and caffeine, but his brain was also insisting on TIRED, and then he saw feathers and he wanted to touch them.  Except then he started nodding off and maybe on his way to leaning against them for a nap.

Astrid was having a terrible week. Maybe it was the incessant sunshine, or the fact that she hadn't made more than $20 over the course of the seven days, or maybe it was just that she was a gigantic pessimist. She didn't really care; she mostly just wanted something to eat.

So, she found herself staring at a pair of matching golden doors that reflected the sun's rays to an unnecessary extreme. She grumbled something about painting them black under her breath, and then pushed the right one open. 

The inside of the Sanctuary was not at all what she had been expecting. From the golden doors, she had presumed that the inside would carry a similar theme, but she was quite wrong. The young winged girl turned up her nose at the interior, and thought about leaving for a minute, but her stomach made her stay.

Stupid biology.

She looked around for someone, anyone that was around. Okay, she took back the 'anyone' when she saw who she was left with: a completely mismatched tattooed man lying on the couch. He was so annoyingly, brightly coloured that she thought maybe her eyes would start to bleed. Why couldn't everything just be black?

Astrid sighed, recognizing that she didn't really have any other good options, and turned to the man. "Food," was all she said, in a slightly annoyed tone, her French accent heavier than ever.

Zzzzzzzzzzkittens were fun, and fluffy, and cute, he should totally get a kitten but what if he forgot about it or forgot to feed it or??? That wouldn't be fair at all. Not one bit!

FOOD WHAT WHERE wait he wasn't actually hungry. He sat upright, blinking sleep out of his eyes again even though he shouldn't really have to, given, uh

What was he thinking about? He had been sleeping recently, hadn't he? Riiiiight, because he was so tired because he hadn't slept at all! Bam, braintired was back and caffeine took a back seat.

Oh hey, a person he didn't recognize! "Hello!" he said brightly. Kiddo had gorgeous wings. He wanted to take pictures of them but he didn't have his camera on him. That was sad. Wait! He was in the mutant shelter with the newly-shiny-again doors. So she was probably also staying here, so he would have more chances to take pictures! If he remembered. Or happened to have his camera next time he saw her.

"Can I help you?" Memo asked, in all earnestness trying to be helpful and completely forgetting that she had just asked for something.

It took the man almost a full minute to register her statement. Then, he looked like he had just come out of a coma as he blinked at her.

Seriously? He was asking if he could help her? How stupid was this nutcase?

Astrid jutted a hip and puffed out her wings to make them look larger as she glared at the man on the couch, giving him her full, dead-eyed, teenage wrath. She was going to make it very, very clear just how little she liked him.

"Food. Want. Food." She stretched out each syllable for the idiot so there was no way he could mistake her words.

She really needed to spend less time around people. It was starting to make her grouchy.

OOOOOOHHHHHH HER WINGS WERE SO PRETTY POOFED UP LIKE THAT!!! He wanted to take pictures and touch them and squeal like a fanboy over the cutest cute thing ever they were so awesome! His fingers twitched, and his complete obliviousness to the fact that she was trying to intimidate him was marked by the open joy at seeing such pretty wings.

Oh food! He knew where food was. It was in the kitchen, and he even knew what the kitchen - looked like. How did he get there, again? He held up a quick finger to the gorgeous-winged kid while he fought to remember. Nothing especially dramatic had happened there yet. WAIT he had a map somewhere!

"I can help with that! Once I remember how to actually get there. Gimme a sec." Map, map, map. He had copies in all sorts of clothes. There had to be one in one of his pockets here. Not that one, or that one, or that one. Oh hey, he had a text message! ... telemarketer. Boo.

He put his phone away and looked up. Oh hey, a kid with pretty wings! "Hello!/color]"

Was that look... Was that a look of joy on his face? He was staring at her with a look of joy. Did he know how old she was? What a creep.

A creep that was going to get her food, she reminded herself.

The weirdo creep was holding up a finger at her. He was actually holding up an ugly, tattooed finger at her. Like they did in movies. Astrid fumed as she stared at him. She seriously considered biting off the finger, since she'd heard that it was sort of like biting a carrot, but she ultimately decided against it. She needed real food, not disgusting man fingers.

So, she waited for the creep as he rummaged through his pockets in search of something. Astrid looked around, rolling her eyes, and trying to make it very clear how unimpressed she was.

Then, the man got distracted by something. His cell phone. He had gotten some kind of text. Then, he said hello to her.

Astrid screamed. At the top of her lung. She screamed loudly and repeatedly until her throat was raw. Then, she kept on screaming and picked up a pillow to beat the idiot with.

The kid with pretty wings was screaming.

Why was she screaming. WHY WAS SHE SCREAMING. WHY WAS SHE SCREAMMMIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG was she hurt? Did he need to call an ambulance or something? This was hurting his ears and he couldn't figure out why she was screaming and also it felt like his veins were vibrating, even the ones by his eyes and in his fingertips. Did his hair have veins? No, it wasn't like it bled when it got cut. So his hair was sugarrushing on its own. That was interesting. How much sugar must he had had? He must have been super super super tired.

"What is going oooonnnn??" His voice was still rising in a rather high-pitched wail when his vision flashed and the texture of the pillow imprinted itself into his face. "Wha??"

The idiot still didn't know what was going on! How did he still not know what was going on? He was the worst person she had ever met. Yes, even counting the harpy.

She stopped screaming for a brief second and looked at the pillow in her hands. It still had the imprint of his face in it. On second thought, the pillow was too good for him. Way, way, way too good. He need something sharper.

In a jerky movement, her wings were suddenly crystals. She pulled one from the bottom row, which were always the biggest, and held it up. Astrid admired how it reflected the light for a brief second before she plunged it into the creep's chest.

She dug the crystal in hard, gave it a few turns for good measure, then pulled it out and repeated the action several times over.

Then, she stood up, her anger subsiding as her chest heaved. It was the most evil thing she had ever done, and she could now add murder to her growing resume.

On second thought, it was shaping up to be a very, very good week.

Memo's biggest regret, when he realized that his chest hurt and he couldn't breathe? He didn't have time to even look at how pretty the shiny version of the wings were.

For a moment, he simply twitched and oozed blood onto the couch, and then eased into stillness.

And then all the markings on his skin pulsed white, his skin put itself together, and his chest began to rise and fall again. During the change from black to white, a number of small markings, mostly on his hands, flickered and faded out, and then everything left darkened to a duller black than before as he sat up and rubbed at his face.

Mrrrrrr mornings were hard. And this wasn't his room. This wasn't the first time he'd woken up somewhere unfamiliar. Well, it wasn't quite completely unfamiliar. It was, uh.

Um.

Oh hey, a person. "Where is this?" he asked, a little bit dazed. What was she holding? It was shiny. And dripping.

It was dripping blood. Memo glanced down. His shirt was torn and soaked in blood. Wait, how high up were the gashes? He fumbled at the holes, heedless of the still-warm blood staining his gloves, and then sighed in relief. His binder might be bloodied (again) but it wasn't damaged.

Wait a second. He looked back at the girl and her shiny wings and shiny murderstabbingweapon. "Did you try to kill me?"

Astrid stepped lightly on the ground, almost like a happy dance as she spun in a circle. She could hear the breath leaving the man in front of her, and she had never been more pleased with herself. Maybe she could even rob the place next.

As she turned back around, though, something was different. There were no more open wounds on his chest. Instead, they had closed into the same black marks as those that covered the rest of his body.

Her thin face twisted into an angry snarl. Stupid mutant powers, not letting stupid mutant men die. Why couldn't anything just go right for her?

>>"Where is this? Did you try to kill me?"

Astrid lunged forwards and grabbed at the ripped remains of the man's shirt. "Just shut up!" She yelled angrily, using one hand to raise the crystal in the air again. He really just needed to die, but she wasn't going to waste too much time on him. She was still hungry, after all.

Maybe if he would just stop talking...

Um.

This seemed like a very new situation. A rather young girl was very, very angry with him. And had attempted to murder him. Had murdered him? He had been told by police that it wasn't murder unless he stayed dead, otherwise it was attempted murder. But wasn't it also still murder if the person died because of an unknown factor, like heart trouble? So shouldn't it be murder still if he survived because of an unknown factor? She probably didn't know he didn't die.

Or did she? It wasn't like he wouldn't agree to prove it, or to let people try stuff on him. It wasn't like it hurt for very long, although it was hard on his clothes. He should probably do laundry. Laundry took effort but he remembered he had a really good way to get rid of blood stains in his phone in his Important Notes thing.

Oh, did he do something weird? Was that why she was upset? "Did I forget something important again?" he asked meekly, holding his hands in front of himself and hoping they could sort whatever this was out before she killed him.

Again.

Would this be the second time or had they been through this more than that?

Well... The idiot hadn't shut up, but at least he wasn't spouting nonsense. Her stomach rumbled angrily, reminding her why she had even gone to the stupid Sanctuary in the first place.

She could deal with him for a few minutes, she supposed. Especially if she couldn't kill him.

"Food. Need food." She repeated, stretching out the words again. There was no way she was going to put up with him being a ditz again.

Besides, killing him had been fun. Very fun. So, she could always keep trying that until she was bored. 

Or... Maybe she had just tried to kill him the wrong way... She took note of that in case he decided to be stupid again.

Food? "Food's in the kitchen," Memo said helpfully. "And the kitchen is.... gimme a second. I have a map around here somewhere." Would she kill him if he lowered his hands to look for it? It had to be in a pocket somewhere. He was always fishing out fuzzy paper balls from his laundry because he had copies in pretty much every pocket he owned.

Had going for the map gotten him killed yet? He kind of felt like it had. He couldn't tell how many times he'd been stabbed, or killed; he was really just going by the cuts in his shirt and the amount of blood on it. And the couch. And just kind of everywhere in general. When had his gloves picked up all the blood on him? He liked these gloves.

"I can show you where the kitchen is if I can get my map out without dying," he offered in all reasonableness.

>>"I can show you where the kitchen is if I can get my map out without dying,"

"Fine." Astrid sighed and took a step back. She would let him search for his stupid map. Again. If he forgot again, though... He was in for another stabbing, and this time she wouldn't aim for somewhere like his chest.

She held her crystal tightly at her side and waited for him to finish, making silent gestures that he should hurry up every few minutes. While she waited, she watched as the blood from the crystal started to pool at her feet. It was a good thing her shoes were leather.

She was going to let him liiiiiive! At least for a bit. Okay, okay, map. Map map map. Where was his map. Maaaaapppppppppp

Paper! Memo whipped the folded sheet out triumphantly, but it had been in his hoodie pocket and easily three quarters of it were dripping red. Memo blinked at it. It was very soggy. "I'm, uh, not sure how much of this I can read," he said quietly. "Stabbing me again might make you feel better, but I think that's why my map is so, uh."

The map split in the middle of the red part, too soggy to support its own weight. It wobbled for a moment, while Memo stared at it, and then the tear made it to the other edge and a chunk of bloody paper mush dropped onto the couch beside Memo.

That had been the part with the kitchen, hadn't it?