What…the fuck. These days, it seemed like Damien’s past was just raising from the dead as if he’d begged for it. How long was it? Eight, nine months? Somewhere along those lines. So, all in the same week, not only did Kira, his ex and mother of Lyla, come back out of fuckin’ nowhere, but so did Mila, it looked like. He didn’t see her right away, of course, didn’t expect her to be stood there in line like she was, obviously – he had his attention focused on the pager in his hands, fussing around with the buttons to see who it belonged to but if he learned anything from “technology” back in the 90s, it was that the older it was, the more complicated it was.
At her words, a tautness to them, a tensity – he looked up, a small sigh leaving him along with a roll of his eyes and a small, barely noticeable smirk. “You could,” he quipped, his smirk growing. “I mean, I don’t know the shit you’ve gotten yourself into these days so who knows. You might be undercover, using this shit – he held up the pager – as an excuse so no one thinks it’s you.” He paused, watching her expression for any indication that he’d pressed buttons, they had that in common; their fire, their impulsivity. “Haven’t seen you in like, a million years. What’re you doin’ here? Whatcha been up to?”
She couldn’t help the feeling of amusement ( and, perhaps, a bit of satisfaction too ) while witnessing the pure shock on Damien’s face. With how tied her life had been to Valencia before, the last thing she ever expected was for several months of distance and silence to stand between her and...any of them, really. Where he was concerned, specifically, there used to be a messed up sort of balance in her head: She felt better being near him versus the alternative, yet she couldn’t stick around too long without feeling every nerve on her body charge with frustration and annoyance.
Her eyes mimicked his, rolling in exasperation as a barely audible scoff left her lips. A chord was hit by the simingly harmless comment. “You know what?” The brunette reached out and gently snatched the pager from his grasp. “You got me! I somehow walked out of Anita Yegorova’s office with my neck intact, so the first thing I did was go to a super-academy that gives out diplomas in eight months and sends their ducklings undercover in nine.” Once again, her jestuous tone was a little more intense than usual, despite its low volume. She didn’t dare speak of Valencia’s leader louder than that or disrespect her in the slightest. If there were any sides, she’d never switched. All she ever craved was her freedom; all she ever wanted was to spend a lifetime trying to clean the blood off her hands. She hoped that all of them — Damien included — knew that she’d never do them dirty. But maybe he did. Maybe his claims were a harmless joke that only looked to taunt her. She was no stranger to doing the same to him, after all. “Aw, you thought it’s been that long? You must’ve really missed me.” Truth be told, she didn’t think he had. He was a single father with way too much on his plate, and she was just a woman he didn’t know much about. “Well, I’m here to get a cup of coffee and read my book. Obviously,” she quipped back whilst holding up the book on her side. “And I’ve been up to...you know, doing stuff. Music related stuff. I sing in every bar in town now.” Pride and excitement gave her eyes a special kind of spark whenever she mentioned her accomplishment. Chances were, he would’ve seen her too if he indulged in that kind of lifestyle; if that much was even possible. “—I mean, except Lewis’. I wouldn’t dare step foot in there after getting a gig at St. Peter’s.” The former rat shook her head once more, a tiny smirk flirting with the corners of her mouth. At last, she darted her eyes onto the little tech piece in her hand. Two seconds later, utter confusion took over her features. She glared down at the little device, as if the power of her stare could intimidate it into revealing its secrets. “Yeah, I’ve no clue how this works.” Soft laughter bubbled in her chest, her shoulders deflailing in defeat due to her admission. “You should probably leave it at the cashier,” she suggested whilst reaching out, a silent request for him to get it back.
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