(Cont.) "You can't stand reality?" He threw her mask back at her. "Is that it? You want to live in fiction, right? You want to be a warrior princess or some shit? Well guess what, this isn't-"

"This isn't what?" Janine stood up and glared him in the eyes with hers. He flinched in disgust. "This isn't a utopia? This isn't a world of rouges and outcasts?"

"Even outcasts have a mask." He took her mask and was about to melt it, as custom to one loosing their right to a face with them. He had never done it before. It felt disgusting, vile, robbing her of an identity in them. He might as well murder her. He didn't want to do that, either. Instead of melting it, he threw it back at her. She stood there with it in her hands, staring into the eye holes. "You really hate the way things are?"

"It doesn't feel right." Janine whispered.

He cursed himself, swore under his breath, and put his fingers under his cheeks. He hesitated. He looked at her face again. She was kinda pretty. He closed his eyes and took off his own mask. "There, you happy?"

She smiled a little. She blushed, either out of surprise or awkwardness. "See, doesn't it feel nice not to have it on?"

He had to admit that it did, not that he took the time to notice it. When he changed his mask as he got older, he always covered his face with his hands until the new mask was on. He never felt the air on his face- not so direct. It hurt, really. His face was raw, wet; a mix of muscle water and blood. Maybe that's why she was red. She felt horrible for him being without his outer skin.

"At first it's going to scab over, and it's gonna be hard to move your face, but it heals." She said softly. (Cont.)