simplify, simplify

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[rosesonbreeze]

She's used to this by now; showing up to a foreign place, getting a feel for its present and past, and coming out with some opinion to its future. Anna's an old hat at dissecting everything until it's comfortable. Whether it's the abundance of cars - larger than those in Surrey, more American than the ones in her family's neighborhood. Or the mall itself, with its 90's architecture and worn paint job. Anna sees the urban sprawl proven in the sights, the busy sidewalks, and the rows of new development with 'as low as $999K' signs boasting from the highways.

"I think I take it back. I don't know if I see you here." Anna mutters, lacking in judgement but weighted in thoughtfulness. "At least, the way it is now. It's so --" Busy? No, London is busy. Their lives are busy. Instead, Anna lands on simply; "I guess, conventional?" And even if Aiden is seemingly straight-cut with his strategies and type-A personality, the truth is that he isn't. His growing fashion sense, the camaraderie within his team, the way he gravitates towards her face masks... The Aiden beside her is more textured than the white-picket fences papering over the history of the quiet town.

"Hmm... With a small football field, too." American Football, that is. Which inspires her to add; "Is that where you picked up playing ball? Before, you know, actual football?" Time across the pond mean she and Aiden have taken to calling it 'actual football.' "You know, you never told me - what were you like in high school?" An athlete with at least two jobs, that much Anna knows from conversation. But she means it differently; "Did you have any friends you kept up with? Or, like, teachers you liked?"

And during those big, formative years - where was Pops? It's a question that echoes, but she catches his right in time. "Oh God, yeah. Especially 'cause I was nineteen when I first came back? All my friends off at college, my mom was using my room as a sewing studio..." And yet, unlike now, there was a whole big family waiting for her the second she arrived. Someone to cook her favorite lasagna and pepper her with questions and kisses. Without a word, she places her hand over Aiden's, giving it a fair squeeze.

"It's okay to be weirded out, babe. It would be weird if you weren't."

[confusionism]

“Quiet,” he answers, which he kind of smiles at because it’s one trait he still carries today. But hey, it’s the truth. “Quieter than now. Pops signed me up for some ‘Kiddie Kickers’ camp when I was, like— four, ‘cause he thought I might come outta my shell some.” He’s not really sure it worked. Still, he hums as he considers, “Ball was the one thing that felt safe after we moved out here with my step-mom.”

The familiarity in the middle of nowhere was a relief he could never verbalize. Then, when things really fell apart — when all that was left was a little boy and his dad — the goalpost became the best point of reprieve. His performance in every game was the one thing he could properly control. These things are hard to talk about. Better to focus on easy facts.

“You know Mike.” Arguably his best remaining best source here. A fellow jock, albeit for the basketball team, whose aspirations for the NBA led him to becoming the (self-proclaimed) ‘go-to guy’ for all things automotive within Greater Phoenix. The more important part is the bright pink Wrangler they’re in. “I still dunno where he picked this thing up from.

“And everyone else…” Same old Aiden, chalking up all of his interactions to something distant. “I don’t think I was mean.” He never picked a fight that wasn’t justified. “Just didn’t hang around much.” Between all of the efforts to keep his small household afloat, plus the burning desire to prove himself worthy of success, “I think maybe I was more in-tune with people’s parents, and my bosses and coaches.” Mostly in the name of survival and self-improvement. “There was one month I spent every lunch following the school janitor around. Dude was kinda crazy but also crazy good with wires.”

All of that to say that Aiden grew up too young, too fast. It’s a harsh reality he carries in his shoulders, but as he’s coming to learn, it’s also something that Anna seems to hold the balm for. He feels it as he returns her squeeze.

“Definitely didn’t break as many hearts as you probably did.” One more red light and he lifts the back of her hand to his lips. Call it a transference of good energy, how he feels encouraged to add to the small joke. “Probably woulda broken my heart too.”

[miidnighters]

Cute, Poppy signs, thinking his plate idea is adorable and hoping he understands the sentiment she's trying to get across. It does earn him a little raised eyebrow at his defence of the yin-yang, though.

They carry their haul back to the table, and Poppy takes a second to tie her hair up while Gabe gathers all the paints they'll need.

Looks perfect, Poppy scrawls, her notebook set out between them so he can read her words easily. They're quickly followed by another question: What's your favourite colour?

Not for the bunny that she pulls towards her, that she's planning to paint in a pastel cloud motif (will that match anything else he might own? Probably not - but it's the way she wants to give it to him), but for the mug. The one she'll keep with her.

[confusionism]

"Ooh, that's a good one." Except Gabe thinks that all of Poppy's questions are 'good.' Call it an appreciation for natural curiosity, plus growing affection for his girlfriend. He takes a seat across her and hums. "—But it's also hard to pick. Let me think."

A true artist, he starts preparing their materials between them. Systematic and neat, with an underlying vibration to his every move, because he's that excited to be here.

"Maybe red? Like— maroon." He pauses from pouring the paint. "Or maybe teal. A darker shade of it." Laughing, he considers, "Maybe it's funny 'cause I'm always loud, but I think I like darker colors more." The stuff that isn't as vibrant as the smile he's always wearing. "How about you? What shades please your pretty eyes the most?"

Then he finally begins with his plate, giving it a coat to match the night sky. "It's cool if you can't answer me fast, by the way." Saying what doesn't need to be said. But it's the considerate thing to do, to remember, "We've got a lot on our hands."

[rosesonbreeze]

"I got your back. Don't worry. Worst case, I'll play the card." Code for the 'internationally renowned supermodel' card. Rare that she ever plays it, because Anna defaults to goodness and fairness above all else. No need to jump the coffee queue, or talk her way out of an overweight baggage fee. She takes the good and the bad, because she knows just how lucky she already is. Still, "Or I'll say you're grabbing a frisbee." Another worthwhile path out, and less suspect than Aiden coming back down without said cat.

Her gaze jumps between keeping an eye on the street, and tracking Aiden's movements - just in case. Though judging by the easy climb, it's second nature. The kind that's learned in childhood, the kind that always sticks. It's a new kind of intimacy, seeing Aiden in the space that made him. Even if it's a 'for better or worse' kind of situation. "You're looking good!" She calls out from the ground, a cheeky smirk because Aiden's bum in those jeans are working overtime moving up the branches.

"Okay," Anna nods, resolve unwavering. "So we're close. We can always come back." She hums, brushing a hand down the back of Aiden's pants. "I'd say we leave a note, but -- I mean, how big is this place? I think we could just drive back, right?" Lest Papa Fitzgerald moves through places the way Anna does, surely finding a man in his sixties won't take more than a day. Especially now that they know he's within sight.

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I could use a break." As if her white knuckling the first forty-minutes of their drive wasn't proof. Luckily, the second wave came when they started their adventure, and Anna's renewed after jumping into the passenger seat for a sip. "We can take the long way, yeah? It's still early for the pub..." Just heading into lunch, there's a chance the lunch rush might make Aiden's contacts less amenable. Though, once again, Anna's willing to play whatever card gets them to Pops.

[confusionism]

"I mean... Place like this, there isn't really a thing like 'too early' for the pub." Or at least, that's how he remembers it. But if ten years can take someone from being the foreign kid fresh on the green to the top guy with the world-renowned blues, then there's no exact saying how time has hit these streets. As they pull back onto the main road, the pieces slowly click into place.

Their surroundings are so much busier now. Certainly not at the same level as the streets they've learned across the pond, but it's hard to ignore the suburbia that's sprouted up in places that once lay bare. He supposes that there were signs from the start; the drive in was much smoother than he'd anticipated, and he hadn't missed the new walls on the edges of the widened highway. It only takes a second turn into some light bumper-to-bumper traffic for him to realize: every way is going to be 'long,' because there are just that many people here.

It would shock anyone coming back to their hometown after a long time away, yet Aiden doesn't show the surprise so easily. Not until they reach the end of a long strip mall, where one large building stands beside the curb. Unlike the traffic lights beside it, tall and shiny and new, the structure is cracked and fenced off with chain-link and tarp.

"Oh." He pulls up right beside it in time for the red. "Pretty sure I used to work here," back when the concave tiling was a vibrant green, and the windows weren't covered with plywood. "Never really looked like much, but the dumplings were pretty good." Not to mention 'free.' "Owner was a pretty chill dude, too." He wonders where Mr. Yang must have ended up.

The thought lasts all of five minutes, because they're suddenly looking down from the top of a hill. For anyone who's been here before, the view shows just how much this once-sleepy place has grown. Still, Aiden doesn't comment on it. Instead, he tilts his chin up, gesturing toward the field sitting in the middle of low buildings and rock alike. The closer they get, the more visible the structures beside the running track become.

"That's my high school." At one point in time, it had felt so large, with its two-storey main hub, and modular classrooms added onto the barren playground behind it. Now it seems but a quiet corner in the middle of growing buzz.

Aiden loosens his grip on the steering wheel. He has to admit, "Kinda crazy being back." After all, he'd had very little doubt about wanting to leave. "Maybe I was wrong." Not about coming here to begin with. "There's a lot of stuff I've never seen before." A new row of stores in front of the old bowling alley. One would have never guessed that there was a drive-in movie complex where a collection of bulldozers and haulers sit. "You feel like that the first time you ever went home?"

[rosesonbreeze]

It's unconscious, the way Anna smooths out the wrinkles on her top. Open palm lifted to her lips, checking her breathe, the car mint doing wonders. Pops wasn't just a topic of conversation, or a myth from Aiden's childhood. This was his dad, and in all their talk about him in concept, Anna realizes this is the moment itself. Flesh and bone, living and breathing. Mr. Fitzgerald in the flesh --

Or so she thought. As it turns out, nothing's ever that easy. Deciding to make herself useful, Anna peaks around the house. No mail poking out from the mailbox. Some bins out back, but lest she start digging around the trash, look immaterial in the search. At the mention of a cell phone, Anna nods, pressing her ear near the window. Nothing.

"Wait, what?" Look, it's not that Anna hasn't done some crazy things in the past. Didn't she storm right past Chelsea's reception, to confront a football manager about not calling her after a date? And, well, look where that's gotten her. So, after exactly half a second of hesitation, she nods. "I can go up, unless - want me to stand guard?"

Just in case anyone found it suspicious that two people jump out of a pink Jeep, and proceed to climb a tree near someone else's property.

[confusionism]

"Oh." And just like that, it's like the willfulness has been yanked out of him. Or at least— his better senses finally strike, and he realizes: that's probably a really stupid idea. Aiden doesn't live here anymore. He hasn't in over a decade. What are the odds that the neighbors are the same? The neighborhood sure as hell isn't. There aren't many (if any) ways to not make this all look suspect.

"Sorry." Neither of them should kick off this trip with an arrest for trespassing. "I'll—" he shakes off the rest of the absurdity, rubbing the back of his neck, looking up at the branches and then back to Anna. "I'll go." It won't take long anyway, and should anyone ask any questions, "Just say I was climbing after a stray cat or something."

The way up is easy. One hitch and it's as though he's sixteen again, heading up to yank some stray junk off the roof. Another few seconds and he's facing long windows set high above the living room. Dusty, but the shapes are familiar enough. The other side of the old door, a small, dated television, and frame hanging just above it. Aiden doesn't need to get close to know what it is. He can still remember when it was taken, during his very first 'team picture day,' back when he was six.

"Yeah." He makes his way back down and dusts his pants. "He's still here." He doesn't really know what to make of the confirmation. But before he has any doubts as to what they're doing, he nips at the inside of his cheek.

"You wanna head to our second stop?" He tilts his chin toward their very pink ride. "Still good to drive? I don't mind taking over." The keys are already in his hands as he walks and holds the passenger door open. "Might know a shortcut or two," which isn't saying very much in such a quiet part of the world, "or, like— let me show you around a little."

[rosesonbreeze]

"Got it." Anna can talk for hours on end, about any topic. But she also knows how to keep quiet, and let the silence speak for itself. That she understand how he feels, without fully understanding the why of it all. It's the sort of understanding that allows her to leave adequate room, for any visible reaction.

The park is everything and nothing like Anna expected. He talks about his childhood home with estrangement, but never shame. Modest in its set up, weathered in some places, seemingly fresh in others. Anna can't help but wonder - is that the state of his Pops, too? She's done well at keeping the speculation to herself. Whatever Anna might imagine about the mythical Pops - she doubts is anything close to the man itself. Time in an industry that chalks people up to fable has taught her that.

"This place is pretty big." Anna comments out loud, pulling into a parking spot. Reaching over to the backseat for a baseball cap (picked up at a gas station en route, an Arizona Wildcats hat) and a pair of sunnies. The last thing she wants in their quest is to let her recognizable face draw more attention to a sensitive topic.

"Good, I think I've got the hang of it. Helps that it's an automatic." One less thing to contend with while she's figuring out different maneuvers. "You ready?" With a deep breathe, Anna takes a step out. The hot sting of the Arizona, summer heat immediate on her skin. She glances around; a few neighbors milling about, an Amazon truck dropping off a delivery. Everyday reminders that this is just another day to most, except to them.

"I can see you here." Whether Aiden will hear that as a good thing, she's not sure. But at the very least, she sees the fragmented parts of his childhood come together. The smart and athletic kid, who undoubtedly kicked a soccer ball around, thinking about the different ways a ball can spin and move.

"Do you wanna--" She gestures to the front door, simultaneously nervous and unsure. But there's only one way to start.

[confusionism]

“Yeah?” If he takes offense to the idea, he doesn’t show it. Really, when he lets out a short laugh, it’s because, “Lotta the time I kept wishing to get out as soon as I could.” Nothing against the state, necessarily. Arizona is great when you can handle the heat and essentially perfect if you're fond of rocks. Don’t even get him started on the stars. There are plenty of good things here...

Just, maybe not here, here.

Like— yeah, it's good to see that the second roofing he installed looks intact after years, and that patched hole on the corner barely looks visible, but the rails of the tiny deck seem to be on their last legs, and the there are certain panels of siding that look like a strong wind could blow them away. Plus there's—

Damn. Stop stalling.

Aiden takes a deep breath and nods. Before he can hesitate, he skips all of the steps up and presses the small rectangle panel on the side.

Silence.

Of course it's broken.

He knocks against the pressed wood, then places a hand on the knob. Although it rattles some, it's still secure. He knocks again. "Pops?" There had never been any way to soundproof the walls. "You in there?" Leaning over, he does his best to peek through the mesh over the window. "Hello?"

And after another minute of nothing, Aiden decides it's time to really dig into their efforts. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the phone with his local number and thumbs his father's contact information.

"I don't think he's here, but... Sometimes when he'd leave his cell behind..." On the coffee table that was pushed up against the seemingly ancient television, or wedged into the cushions. Occasionally lost in a drunken stupor, but more often than not simply forgotten because of the stress of merely keeping up with life. "—Could still hear it," because for better or for worse, he almost always kept the ringer on...

Still, more silence.

"There's one more..." Curiosity triumphing over anxiety, Aiden finally starts moving around. He inspects the side of the unit and isn't surprised by the continued emptiness. He's as quiet as always until they reach the back, where a lone tree towers above them. He points to a high branch before gesturing toward the high windows right across. "Down for a little climb? It's—" his brow furrows and he's quick to explain: "We're not sneaking in. I never did that." He never had a reason to; Pops was barely home. "Just thinking, we can probably see in from up there."

[rosesonbreeze]

@confusionism | Anna and Aiden

Anything worth doing never comes easy - though Anna would wager a guess her adjustment to driving on the right side of the road is easier than all that Aiden's carrying with him. After a successful ESPY Awards night in L.A., they packed up the rental car. A bright pink, Jeep Wrangler (at Anna's request). A small thing to bring levity to the situation. Plus, it's Arizona - this way, they'll never miss it in the parking lot! Or so was her reasoning, and fortunately, Aiden is indulgent (or maybe distract enough) to go along for the ride.

"Just off here, right?" She nods at the exit ramp, validating the directions between Aiden and the GPS. For better or worse, the UK's highways are no match for the significantly larger and busier interstates in the U.S. It's an exercise in adjusting, in changing her pace of reaction. The kind of task that takes both their minds off the anxiety of what's to come from Aiden's homecoming.

"What are you thinking?" Anna says after a beat, coming up to the stop light. They talked over the plan: the trailer park where the Fitzgerald's used to live, the bar they frequently went to, and if all fails, heading back to their hotel for some rest. But a plan is only a plan, until you're in the heart of it. And Anna wants to give Aiden room; to change his mind, to delay the inevitable, or to simply take a breathe.

"The park? Or, did you wanna head back to the hotel? Grab a bite?" Really, there's no need. They've sat plenty over the six hour drive, snacked on the finest Chelsea protein bars and In-And-Out burgers... But she asks it anyway, glancing at Aiden's profile.

[confusionism]

For the first time in a very long time (since the day she barged into his office, actually), Aiden startles at the sound of Anna's voice.

Not in a very visible way, mind you, but enough to where his breath hitches, and he needs to shake out his thoughts. "Uh, yeah. Right here." He doesn't even need to glance at the screen or the rest of the street; he knows the way like the back of his hand. And while he’s grateful that she’s chosen to keep the stereo at a low volume — probably respecting his space despite the potential of their very vibrant ride — it’s clear he’s got plenty of noise in his head.

“Thinkin’ lots.” That’s the easy way to put it. But she’s no stranger to the simplicity that coats his strategic mind, and so he adds, “Just thinking about our plan.” He glances over and nods. “Definitely the park first.”

He was always going to start searching there. If anything, to confirm that Pops had never moved away— that maybe there's more hope than Aiden’s held for years..

Halfway down the next block, he catches sight of a colorful sign propped up high in the air. Perfection Valley. “That should be it,” he says, tilting his chin toward the large rectangle. “Weird, though. Used to be a thing shaped like an RV. Rusty and dusty,” just like the rest of the subdivision. As it turns out, the sign isn’t the only thing that’s gotten an upgrade.

It’s as though someone bulldozed the scraps of what it used to be and covered it up with a different kind of dream. The streets are newly-paved and lined with a series of modest, manufactured homes. Some have clutter on their decks, others have made use of the small spaces in-between, erecting bird baths and other 'lawn' decor. Aiden takes in these sights like he did at his first fashion show, curious but very clearly bewildered.

"You know... If it weren't for the path being right, I'd almost think we're in the wrong— oh." One structure stands out among them all, because it's an actual building on a stone foundation. And just behind that? The memories come rushing in. It's just like how he remembers it: a collection of metals, old and even older. Here, where the wheels run most often had determined where the roads lie, and once Aiden's finished guiding Anna through the twists and turns of this far-wilder section of the park, he leans back into his seat.

"This is it." As simple as what he used to call ‘home.’ It isn’t shameful by any means, but the old Fitzgerald unit is about as large as their flat’s living room. At least it’s clean. Or maybe too clean, because there aren’t the usual signs of occupancy. Then again, it was never like they were popular hosts while he was growing up.

For a second, he’s delaying the inevitable. “You still good? How’s it feel to successfully make your first long drive?”

[oddctelier]

open to: m/f/nb

plot summary: based on this

thread count: 0/2

IT HAD BEEN YEARS SINCE she had seen them like this, standing in the kitchen of her apartment with nothing but the kitchen's island between them. She'd tried not to think about them while they had been apart, mostly throwing herself into her studies and her work. But even now she couldn't deny that they looked even better than when they had been together. By pure chance they were snowed in, the current boy she was dating having left just in time. And before she knew it they were complimenting him 'he's a nice guy, he's got a good soul.' All things true but in the end they meant little to Meiling. "He's not you." The words tumbled out before she could even stop them and she swore she felt the air still between them. "Nevermind, forget I said anything." She said quickly.

[confusionism]

Rhys wasn't in the business of breaking hearts. Creating fond memories? Immortalizing the very best of those? Yeah— that was the stuff he'd left home for. 'Chasing a lifetime of fantasies,' as those who'd disapproved said, but he loved the life he built, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Of course, everything came with a price.

Broken promises and the kind of guilt that cut deep, then continued to burn even long after. That suffocating feeling that you just couldn't shake, all too familiar and all too potent, twisting his brow into concern and striking unease in his voice. "What was that?" He stepped forward and reached out, but stopped himself before he could touch her. "Meiling... I know I was always forgetting things," like where he'd kept the keys of his bike, and sometimes even what day it was, "but I'll always remember what you say." That was one part about their relationship that he was confident with. "What are you talking about?"

[vvisteriagrows]

open to : m / f / nb muse : blaire everett, 29, social worker. plot : you're my bf's / gf's roommate and i might be a little in love with you too

bare feet pad across cheap linoleum, steps illuminated by the glow of the clock on the oven and thin slats of light through shuttered blinds. blaire measures each movement and cringes at the slightest noise : the whir of the heat kicking on, the faraway sound of a car horn. this isn't her place, but the skin peeking out from between tank top and boxers would say otherwise — the most comfortable compromise between sleeping in what she wore out and sleeping in nothing. she's acutely aware of that, however, as she pokes through one cabinet after another in search of a cup. when she turns to see them in the doorway, her heart is hammering like a culprit caught in the act. " shit, i hope i didn't wake you. "

[confusionism]

first to bed, first to rise. it’s one of the first lessons that rhys ever picked up as a child, and since then he’s very rarely lived a day without practicing it— even now as an adult with a crazy living arrangement and an even crazier work schedule. freelance work is fast and hard. it demands full energy, and what better way to add to good sleep than with a hot cup of coffee? and so he ambles — no, he actually skips — toward the kitchen, humming a happy tune to kick off the day. “oh— hey!”

he eyes her attire before looking back up. “i didn’t know you stayed the night.” his smile could rival the sun just outside the windows. he doesn’t bother asking about tyler; the dude could sleep through the apocalypse. instead, rhys begins rifling through the cabinets, pulling out the good beans. “looking for something to eat? sorry if there isn’t much. i just got back last night…”

[miidnighters]

Poppy links her arm with his eagerly, leaving her things on the table to mark their spot. She's been thinking about this since Gabe invited her, wondering what she wanted to paint.

Since she'd left her notebook on the table, he gets an answer of her hand shaken in a so-so gesture. Poppy knows she wants something she can use all the time (to think of him), and something specific to them (also to think of him - she knew she was more than a little bit a sap).

One of the mugs is scooped up as they pass, before Poppy looks at the spread of animals before them. Her eye is also drawn to the dragon, thinking about the tattoo she'd spotted in a picture he'd sent her once. But then, there was a little statuette that was a trio of butterflies, which could be a cute callback to their inside joke.

After a second, though, Poppy reaches out to snag a crouching bunny and set it next to the dragon, arching her eyebrow at Gabe to gauge his opinion.

[confusionism]

"Oh?" Gabe's like a child in a candy shop. The possibilities! The creativity! The cutie pie sharing in the creative process with him! Trading glances between Poppy and the unusual pair of creatures, he nods. "I like the way you think."

Nothing new or unusual here.

"And as for my second one, I was kinda thinking..." He scoots over by two long steps and picks out a small, round plate. Holding it up, he circles his index and explains, "When customers need to take their jewelry off." But really he's thinking about a moon with flowers sprouting from the edge. "Not another yin-yang, I promise."

He's still laughing gently, even as they set their picks on their table and begin picking out their supplies. "I say we go full out. Every color we can get, 'cause really the sky is the limit." Two palettes full of potential, plus the tools for their artistic endeavors. "How does that look? Think we've got a masterpiece waiting?"

[miidnighters]

"Not a literal - nevermind."

Callisto smothers her laugh, shaking her head as she bags the last of the things he's buying.

"I just meant the seal on that letter carries a little bit of weight. I know the account, and if you told me you worked for them, we might not have had as much nastiness."

Now, Callisto is pretty sure he doesn't just work for the Estate, but just because they're on even ground now doesn't mean she's going to pass up an opportunity to needle him. Not when it's turned out to be so fun.

"Oh, yeah. There's a couple of shitty kids in there." Well. Some shitty, and some whose parents work a lot, so are left to their own devices, and get swept up with shitty kids. So it goes. "I didn't realise they had paintball guns though."

She's not sure what kind of good itll do to go look - scrubbing something like that by hand will send her into a pain flare, and using magic for something like that is probably superfluous (but that's what she'll do if she goes up there, of course).

There is a pause when he continues on to talk about rumours of trouble. Callisto is self-assured, sure, and confident in the protections on the store, but she's not stupid. She'll take a little heads up where she can get it.

Besides, she knows the store - and the apartment above - is warded against people getting in, but that clearly doesn't extend to objects. Like paintballs.

"I'll go have a look, and increase the protections on the store if I need to. Thankyou."

[confusionism]

"Oh." Lucas shakes his head. "Don't become accustomed to my presence; I'm typically the last resort."

Not only because the centuries have done little to dull his natural sparks of defiance, but because genuinely: he hates people. Or whatever the polite, mostly-tolerant version of 'hatred' could be. Plus, there's the fact that he hates flying. Hates heights. If it weren't for the fact that the world is wide and full of natural wonder, he'd be content to spend his days on the estate.

Well— and the longevity. He'd be lying if he didn't say that things didn't get a little boring after the first few decades. Blame the countryside, a fair shot from the hustle and bustle of modern progress.

But anyway, "What kinds of 'protections' do you mean?"

It's not his way of offering any sort of service; he's (begrudgingly) curious. Lest she think the concern is anything soft, "—Because that lock in the back also looked to be on its last legs." Another observation, if not just a little biting. Nothing personal, but he's admittedly very careful not to mess with the purchase she has prepared. He peeks across the spread and tilts curiously.

"Any other instructions for... All of this?"

[miidnighters]

It's the message that makes a difference to Poppy. The first time, she'dbeen so sure she'd been stood up - but they've been trading messages almost constantly since their date, so that worry is all but erased now.

She does make a mental note to start telling him their meeting time is half an hour earlier than it is if this becomes a trend.

Still, Poppy saves the photo he sends to the specific folder she keeps for it, texting back a drive safe and fiddling with her phone so the worker won't look at her too closely. When Gabe arrives, her smile is beaming - matching the bounce in his step with the way she welcomes.

Poppy nods eagerly, pleased colour in her cheeks at the kisses as she pulls out her notebook. The table in front of her is suspiciously bare, because:

I didn't want to start without you.

[confusionism]

"Well, then let me escort you over to the den, to pick out or stuff." He offers his hand, as warm as his expression, and leads them over.

The 'den' in question is but one corner of the open space, shelves upon shelves of ceramics in all sorts of shapes and sizes, ready to be transformed by their future beholders.

"Any idea what you wanna paint?" Gabe reaches for a small pot and holds it between them. "Seems a little small to grow poppies, huh?" He wears a silly grin for that one. "They've also got plates and mugs over there, but I don't really know if, like— if you'd want something to actually use," a practical item for a practical individual, "—or if maybe you wanna get a little bold."

He inches closer toward the next shelving unit, full of creatures from farm animals to jungle animals. "Could even get a little wild?" He does his very best to resist the plain dragon...

[confusionism]

( @miidnighters )

For what it's worth, this time he's only ten minutes late.

And he sent a message before-hand! A quick little selfie of him waiting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, in an angle that only an experienced artist could achieve. By the time he's through the doors of the Colour Me Mine, the heaviness in his expression has fully melted away, fully replaced by that natural glowy smile of us.

"I'm here!" Gabe announces, a skip in every step. He bounces to Poppy's side, patting her hip as he leans in and kisses her cheek. "Sorry again for the wait." Then he holds up his hand toward the door. "Shall we?"

[miidnighters]

Your store is far more resilient than it appears from the outside.

He's not telling her anything she doesn't know, and so Lucas earns a wicked smile for his troubles. The store wouldn't have lasted as long as it had if Callisto's grandmothers hadn't been smart enough to protect it, each woman adding a little something as they went. Callisto herself has been working on something to make the store undetectable by - or at least obscured to - satellites. It might seem a little bit doomsday in terms of thinking, but she certainly doesn't need to be on Google Maps either.

In any case, that line of thinking dissolves when he pulls out the little envelope and Callisto spots the seal on it - one she's familiar with, though the hands that offer it to her change just about every time.

"You know, if you'd led off with that, we could have avoided all of this mess."

Men.

Callisto is familiar with the Estate, of course. They've had an account with the store almost since the beginning - and while Callisto is smarter than to ever say so out loud (especially while Lucas is standing in front of her), it hadn't taken her long once she took over to work out that it wasn't a lineage shopping with her, but a single person requiring specific things.

"You can pop the envelope on the counter, thanks."

She's not going to count it, she knows Beatrice is good for it. Plus, she expects the hulking man still annoyed with how his day has gone won't take kindly to any perceived 'second-guessing'.

Not that it matters - Callisto blinks, bewildered by the question.

"Um. No? I don't get up there that often."

[confusionism]

"What mess?" He glances around, raising his brow and scrunching his nose. "I didn't knock anything over."

Defensive as always.

But if that's another item on the long list of inconveniences from today, Lucas doesn't dwell on it. He's as quick to focus on the more serious issues at hand, such as the fact that, "I believe there's a problem child in the adjacent building." He points to the ceiling and spins his finger. "Paint balls? Splatters of color all over your rooftop. And I suspect some other strange kind of game."

He may have been intent on breaking through that odd barrier in any kind of way, but that hadn't stopped him from noticing the junk strewn about— and not just the same kind as what's on her shelves. Old pieces of furnishings, seemingly tossed across the way. Were neighborhood kids testing their strength in such a stupid manner?

"I know it's strange," stranger than two beings with unusual sets of skill, "but I would take some time to inspect up there."

Finally stepping closer toward the counter, he places the envelope flat and then slides it forward. "—And not only for the paint. There have been rumours of... Trouble with places such as this." Filled to the brim with components that, when combined, could permit trouble. "All of that to say, the strangers from earlier may not have been so 'unexpected.'"

[ancgnorisis]

Natalia is trembling beneath the gun that’s pointing at her face, but she knows better than to let it show. Yet she knows the man holding the gun knows too well to see beyond that. Instead of answering she lets the silence stretch, her hands remain where they are, she is choosing her words carefully, because even if she’s told him she knows he won’t pull the trigger she is not so certain of it being true. “Because you already would’ve.” she says finally. 

 Natalia takes a single step closer, slow enough to give him time to stop her if he wants to. If he’s going to fire, better now than later. She keeps her eyes on his, refuses to look at the gun. Her hand comes up and settles over the metal. Inch by inch, she lowers the gun until it’s no longer aimed at her face. “You never hesitated before.”

[confusionism]

Lucas's grip tightens, but his resolve slowly melts, the longer their gazes meet. Breathe. His teeth scrape against the insides of his cheeks, and although his original intention still runs and repeats in his mind, he already knows he's lost. In the end, he can only feel the tips of her fingers against his hand.

"I would've." There are are a hundred little reasons why he couldn't. He looks away, excusing, "You were always the more reliable one when it came to... This." Pulling the trigger. Being honest. But instead of dwelling on all of that, he exhales deeply and shakes his head. "There's a price on your head," he explains. The cost of the experience under their belts. "I volunteered to collect it, but..." How could he betray the trust they'd long held? He was many things, but not a rat— not like the one who had wanted her eliminated in the first place. There's no time to think on it now; he needs to know: "Will you run?"

[etxrnaleclipse]

Gen shook her head slightly as she heard his response, wondering whether he was being truthful or not. It wasn't like he had a reason to hide things from her, she wasn't exactly known for her compassion, but something in her had changed in the months that they had been spending time together, and that made her worry about him. A strange feeling for someone like her.

"I don't think so. Not that I can tell, anyway." she replied, glancing around and trying to tell if there was any kind of lingering aches or pains. Everything had gone so wrong, she should have known better than to let her guard down so much, but being around Lucas somehow lured her into that mindset. The man who had once been such a bother, someone who she enjoyed tormenting and irritating so much, now had become someone who she trusted and could be herself around... And that was her mistake. Her father would be furious but for now, she had to focus on the situation at hand, and the question that was asked of her.

"Feels like rope, I think." She wriggled her wrists and felt the burn against her skin. "Yeh... Definitely rope." She sighed, wanting to find some kind of joke or snarky comment to make, but somehow being unable to. That was a first. "You can? Just... Shit, Lucas, be careful."

[confusionism]

It's good that she's talking. Whereas the earlier months of their communication had been rife with sharpness, with the mere thought of her voice grating at his nerves, he couldn't deny the relief now. It meant she was awake, and it meant that she was aware, and as he closed his eyes and continued to tug against his restraints, he imagined what snarky things they might say to each other once more, once they were out of this damned mess.

Finally: "I got it." Quieter than his breath. But in the dash of excitement, he stumbled forward and landed down hard, the heavy thud sending quakes through his entire body. "Shit."

Slow down. He knew the high value of patience. That and recklessness was what got them into this mess in the first place.

Lucas moved slowly, pushing himself up from the cold, damp floor, rising up to his knees, and feeling around for a better of idea of where they were. It was in this that he discovered a thin strip of metal, long and long-discarded, but malleable and full of promise. From there, it was like clockwork. He'd done this thousands of times before. A full minute later, he was repeating the same motions with the bars in front of Genevieve, his hands nearly shaking from anticipation.

"We have to move quickly." Carefully, but without hesitation. Seconds could mean the difference between life or death. He hurried behind her and began fumbling with the rope. "How much do you remember?" Small questions to distract her from how harshly he moved. "Can you get up and walk?"

[moonrvier]

Truthfully, Madison had completely forgotten about their annual trip, burying herself in work so she wouldn't think about how her and Gabe's relationship had fallen apart. It wasn't until she got a text reminder from one of their friends, Sam, that she even remembered, and by then, Sam wasn't going to accept any excuses Madison tried to give for why she couldn't make it. And, in truth, she hadn't meant to keep their break-up from their friends... She'd just been too busy. Or at least, tried to be so she didn't need to deal with it with anyone. "You're right, we need a plan." She nodded, secretly grateful that he'd agreed to keep up appearances. "You know, she asked me why we haven't been posting any new pictures.." And she was saved from having to answer when they arrived at the hotel. Madison thought for a moment before she angled her body so she was facing him. "We can say we've been doing long distance?"

[confusionism]

Gabe had never really been great at hiding his feelings. Maybe it was a product of his career — how there were pieces of him in every work of art he made — or maybe it was just his personality, almost always loud and clear. He grimaced.

“‘Long distance.’” That one stung. How many nights had he lay there in bed, wondering if those two words were a choice better than the break they’d agreed on? But he swallowed down the sharpness for the sake of their trip. “Sure. So then, uhm— what did we do for your birthday?

“And then there’s, like— our anniversary,” because they’d always been the type with stories about the adventures they were having, grand and silly alike, “and, let me think…” He could get away with saying that opening up his own tattoo shop had preoccupied him greater than anything before, but that didn’t detract from the holes in his perspective. “How’ve you been? Work, and…” His head shook. “I mean— everything. It’s been a while.”

[997111]