Chapter Text
A Louboutin is aimed at Helen’s head. Its pair has been snapped in two, seven-inch So Kate heel ripped from shining red sole, after being thrown at a rock. The shoe is no empty threat, nor is it an ineffective weapon in Jenny Lewis’ hands. She’s good at improvising, proven time and time again by the various headlines she’s pushed on behalf of the Anomaly Research Centre. Also proven by the creature lying hogtied by a Dior belt that matches Jenny’s lipstick.
“Are you quite finished?”
“Don’t tempt me, Helen. Just,” she gives one of her signature mid-sentence hard exhales through the nose, the god-give-me-strength, “Tell me when we are, and,” brandishing the shoe, “tell me we can get out of here.”
“I’m not a computer, Jenny, you can’t give me commands.” Planting her hands on her knees, Helen pushes herself off the rock she’d propped herself up again. Tracked by Jenny’s shoe, she meanders towards the creature that she had been following. Crouching by it, she tugs at the belt holding its feet together, keeping a safe distance from the head that thrashes around to try and keep her in sight. Curved horns protrude from its cheekbones, and a set of stubbier horns jut upwards from the upper jaw like extra teeth. Its mouth and general body shape are reminiscent of a crocodile. “This is a Cretaceous-era creature. Kaprosuchus, fast, carnivorous.”
“Not what I asked.”
“You didn’t ask anything.”
“Not what I wanted to know. Where are we?” Jenny’s patience is admirable, but Helen has a knack for wearing her down at record speed. She remembers how to press Claudia’s buttons, and the same things set Jenny off. There’s only so long before her tights start to ladder and when she stands on her seventh stone she’ll regret using her shoes as projectile weapons. A few caught branches later and her dress will seem like yet another impractical fashion choice. It’s a conundrum as to why Jenny wears so much white when she has a field position, but Helen can’t really criticise the neckline.
“I don’t know,” she does, of course she does, “If he’s here, most likely what you’d call Africa-”
“You would also call it Africa, we’re from the same time.”
“-couldn’t tell you when.” She could, of course she could. She won’t. They’ve landed in a period with breathable air, though it’s on the margins, and that’s all Jenny really needs to know. Jenny has a healthy suspicion of Helen, which is entirely fair given that every time they meet
someone
ends up on the wrong end of their own timeline.