Sum of My Memories

Playing. Learning. Waiting. A lot of waiting. [Independent RP Blog for Clay Kaczmarek a.k.a. Subject 16]

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“You will suffer for the pain that you’ve caused us!”       One last curse, and the line was dead. He-       No! She! She dropped the phone, with a hand that was her own, a body under her control, with her mind and her will. The receiver fell, and shaking hands were stilled in the same warm, comfortable embrace that she’d been craving for a month.       Clay.       How could she have forgotten that this had all begun with Clay?      “Desmynn…” she breathed her name. Her name. Two Ns. A stupid choice, but one that had made her laugh at the time. She was her own person, though she couldn’t trust her voice just yet. A few more shaking breaths, and she turned to press herself closer to Clay, the loss of his memories be damned. All she needed right now was a hug. To be held.       Gold eyes came to focus, lost their hue to the soft hazels she’d been born with.       “You remember the two Ns.” She smiled up at Clay when she finally had her voice back, complete control of herself. For the most part. “That’s good news. I have more, but-” she glanced around them, at the filthy alley and at the corner of her vision where she could see the edge of the high rise. “Let’s get out of here, first.”      It didn’t take much more work than a high whistle - with a strange, bouncing echo through the New York night - to summon a car.      Her father had been with them the entire time, after all.      “What do you say to that pizza, Clay?” 

With only slight hesitation did Clay wrap his arms around her. It would never stop being disorienting, for the world to feel foreign and familiar at the same time. But this, he could provide and he pulled her close to his chest. His fingers rubbing her back, hoping to ground her. 

“I do.” Clay smiled and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Out of everything, I remember that. Sounds about right...” Even when he pulled away for them to move toward the car, he still stayed close. Still kept his hand in hers. Made sure he was close.

“Pizza. Sounds. Amazing. But maybe we can order to go?” 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Wiggling her way down the building in heels was significantly more difficult than getting up, but Desmynn did it, even if she landed a little more roughly than she desired. After staggering for a moment, she dug through her pocket, glad to find the dollar in change that she had left from getting an energy drink before her shift. She waited for Clay to come down before she went to the phone, leaning against it to make it look like they were having a playful conversation after getting done shopping for the night. If anyone passed by the alley, they wouldn’t think twice.      “I’m calling him.” Des stated, nodding her head towards the Templar building. “I have a… mild to moderately complicated relationship with this guy. If he - if he’s the one that’s the source of your problem-” The anger flared up again and Des had to breathe through it for a moment. No use getting heated when she was dancing at the edge of the bleeding effect. It would only end Italian.      “Well, let’s just say he’ll have a few problems of his own.” Not like Leon could fight, at least. But… Des might feel bad beating the shit out of him, at the very least. She slid two quarters in and prepared herself, thinking the worst thoughts that she could - the loss of Clay, the heartbreak that she felt the first night he was gone, the pain ever since then, her father’s anger at their separation - until the tears started to come to her eyes and her heart rate picked up. Leon would never turn her down in the state that she was in, once she got herself there.

As they made their way down, Clay continued to have a look around. Was any of this familiar? Sure, it’s...the city...but had he been here before? Again, it was hard to say. And nothing really stood out. Nothing that even triggered emotions or senses. He frowned a bit but he of course followed Desmynn’s lead and, to be fair, he liked it. Being close to her. It was nice. He felt whole.

“Shit... We must know a lot of dangerous people. What are we, like CIA?” His voice was low and he was only half-joking but at this point, who was to say. Again, he trusted her. He stayed close. He kept guard.

And all the while, the phone rang and rang, almost a bit too long. Until finally, a familiar slightly accented voice spoke from the other line. 

“How did you get this number?” Leon’s voice was low with a drip of a smile in his tone, cheerful but careful. 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Desmynn felt her expression fall with her heart. The phantom of her ancestor faded away when she blinked her eyes back to normal just to catch a glimpse of the man without the gold hues around him. Exactly as she thought, it was him. She’d never told him where she worked, of course, but it stood to reason that the Templars would figure it out in the end. They’d have to close the bar and move somewhere else. But that was a thought for another night. One that didn’t hurt nearly as bad as this.       “We’re not going in at all,” Des remarked, her body losing the tension that she’d carried ever since the bar. “You see that Apple store over there?” She nodded her head down the street, towards the building where people were pouring out at the last second before closing. “There’s a payphone in the alley beside it, ironically enough. That’s all I need.”      Des straightened again, preparing for the jump back across another building before they would have to scurry down into the alley. Of all the rotten luck, to have her friend… She always knew that was going to be complicated. Her father allowed it because it allowed them to keep closer tabs on at least one Templar agent… at the sacrifice of the Templars keeping close to them. She smiled at Clay as best as she could.       “It’ll be easy as pie.” 

Clay followed her gaze but he noted the change in her energy, in her expression. Something wasn’t right. 

“A pay phone? I thought you already...”

Clay followed close behind in any case. It was strange--his own hesitation. But everything was so foggy. It was as if he hadn’t had any sleep in days but that couldn’t be right...  Maybe the jumping just took a lot out of him. 

“What about the...whoever it is we’re after?”

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Desmynn grinned at him, the familiar warmth blossoming through her chest. “Pizza from that dump down the street that you love.” She thought it was a grease ball, but he came from the Chicago suburbs and he knew greasy pizza better than a girl that pretended to be from New York. She led him silently after that, roof to roof, and occasionally across streets they couldn’t jump safely. 

Until that path started to glow brighter, until the phantom of a man perched on the edge of a historic building looked her in the eye and nodded. Until she could see the golden figure again, just a few blocks down. She halted on the roof that they stood on, holding her arm out to stop Clay.

“I have him again,” she whispered, her voice not quite her own. Centuries old, too serious. Too stoic. More like a voice that she’d left behind. “Tread carefully.” 

It seemed that the figure, now that they were close, was just entering the building. A quick glimpse of him though revealed a rather young looking man with bold but refined tastes in nice clothing, his blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail. But certainly what Desmynn may have noticed was how heavily guarded this high rise was. Either that or...everyone was a Templar or some sort of hired arms. 

Clay sobered up immediately when they approached and he tried to see the faces of those below. Did any look familiar to him? The car that the target had been in was not in sight--it must have turned a corner before he could get a look. Still, the older Assassin clearly didn’t look particularly excited. 

“What’s the plan? I don’t think we’re getting in there that easily...”

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Desmynn moved to catch him, but Clay tumbled before she could make it. Still, she grinned down at him, holding her hand out to help heft him up from where he lay. “See what I mean? You’re a natural.” His first jump was a little clumsy, but she had no doubt that subsequent jumps would be better. Like the one that they had to make soon, because her target was moving again, heading well into the wealthy housing areas.       She ached to kiss him again, ached for the fun that they used to have trailing Templars into the night, jumping roof to roof together and just being. Two assassins that had formed an unbreakable bond. Two friends that knew each other better than anything else. Two lovers, who knew the pain of the other. God, she wished he had his memories. She wished that she had never been stupid enough to leave him on his own. She wished that she had been taken, in his stead.       “Ready for the next one?” she asked, still grinning down at him. “There’s a few more to go to Carnegie Hill.” Or at least, that’s where she thought they were headed. For now.  

“We’re jumping across buildings all the way to Carnegie Hill?!” In reality, Clay didn’t know how exactly far that was but he distinctly remembered it being not that close and he nearly fell to his death. He sat up, staring at her but--of course, she was dead serious--and he pushed himself up to stand. “Oh god, if we make it out of this, I could really go for something to eat.”

Pizza. Mm, yes, pizza and beer. And sitting on the couch with Desmynn. 

...Okay. Admittedly, that boosted his morale a little bit even if that was just internal. But the small memories, especially the ones that affirmed that he could really trust Desmynn, were most welcome right about now.

And so he followed Desmynn with little complaint, except for the occasional, “Are we there yet?” Which somehow made the whole thing feel a little more normal. Even fun. This was fun. What a weird concept. But he was rolling with it, and just as Desmynn predicted, he improved with each jump across the buildings. But still... What lingered behind his mind was the danger they were getting themselves into.

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“I know it should feel weird, but trust me. This is our normal.” Desmynn smiled at Clay, and it took everything in her soul to keep herself from leaning forward to kiss him. That was their normal. “But I can’t tell you anything else yet, not when I’m not sure who’s been poking around in your memories. And especially since I’m not sure if they don’t have you bugged or not.” Leave it to the Templars to put a mic under his skin. Ugh.      Desmynn tested the bounce of her shoes, and though it wasn’t great she was more inclined to land on the balls of her feet, which was better than nothing. The gravel roof wasn’t ideal, but she could make it work. They could make this work.       “Alright, just - watch what I do and try not to think too hard about it. You’re a natural at this.” Better than she was, anyway. Doubly so since she’ll be running with the migraine she could already feel pricking behind her eyes. “And if you can’t trust yourself, trust that I do.”       Without any further hesitation, Desmynn took off, and leapt from the edge of the building, aiming herself for the next. With something similar to practiced ease, she grappled onto the old bars of a window and crawled her way up the six feet to the next roof, and waved at Clay from the top. Not the easiest in heels, but she still made it.

Bugged? A flash of memory, though it’s unclear--words mostly.

What is that? You gonna microchip me?

Oh, don’t be absurd!

Clay inhaled deeply through his nose. That was it. Nothing else. And his gut told him whoever was speaking spoke nice words but it was still unclear if he could be trusted...

He snapped back to attention with a slight shake of his head. “I’m a natural at it. Oh god, what are we going to do?” But Desmynn was already off before he could say anything in reaction and he made a sputtered noise as she leapt. 

Oh. God. 

“This is a weird dream, wish I would wake up.” Clay muttered to himself as he paced a bit, anxious and nervous as he waved back at this mysterious, beautiful, dangerous woman that was sweeping him off his feet and flying across buildings. “Okay, fuck, she expects me to jump.” 

Another memory of the crisp night air against his face, the busy street below him-- oh god, okay, let’s just...give it a shot.

He gave himself some room for a headstart and planted. Deep breath. She said I’m a natural. And without thinking too hard on how absolutely batshit crazy this was, he gave himself a running head start as he jumped to the other building across the way...

...and nearly slipped as he hit the building pretty good. But just as Desmynn had no doubt hoped, his instinct was what saved him--he was rattled sure but clearly his hands knew where to go, his body weight used to his advantage so he wouldn’t tear a muscle. And he scaled the building to meet Desmynn at the top, shaken and content to fall onto his back at the top. “Holy shit.” He gasped out.

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“Don’t worry, there’s someone who knows.” But to assuage Clay’s upset, she did send another text to her father, with the direction of the trail. It was a shame, and she would have to save for a new one, but she let her phone drop after that, shattering in the alley below. It would be best if no one else was able to track where they were. She set her purse down on the roof after that, trusting that the assassins would be the only ones up here after this. “Here,” she continued, checking the safety on her gun before she handed it off to Clay. “In case.” She didn’t know what they were heading into, but she knew it might end up in a fight and she’d like him to have something to defend himself with.      “We’re going to track whoever I’ve got sights on,” she told him, standing and taking a few steps back so she could get a running start. “We’re going to find them before they get to their shitty little high rise, and we’re going to ask some very polite questions.” With a knife. And a gun. And all the frustrations of a scorned girlfriend. “And if they’re dangerous, well-” She checked her hidden blade, making sure that her shirt wasn’t in the way of the mechanism and finding herself pleased when it slid smooth and true.      “So are we.” 

That seemed to put Clay at ease and he watched the phone fall for a brief moment. “Okay, this should be weird, right? But this doesn’t feel weird, this feels necessary. What exactly -- who exactly are we? Is this like something regular for us, or...” 

The gun offered to him certainly distracted him and, with the same weird familiarity, he took it. Eyes shooting to her with widen eyes. 

“Uh. I... Okay.”

Clay didn’t think to question it further. But he certainly wished he drank a little bit more back at the bar. He checked the safety -- oh god, when did he even learn anything about guns? -- and tucked it safely in the inside pocket of his jacket, somehow it felt habitual. But still, he let Desmynn lead the way. 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“The roof.”      As much as she didn’t like the idea of leading him into it this way, they simply couldn’t follow the golden figure on street level. She grabbed Clay’s hand before either of them could think about it and started to lead him up the steps from the bar. The building was owned by the assassins, thank god, and she was able to lead him up from the lower level to the roof without much problem. It was an older building and not as tall as many others on the street, but it was a good start and she knew how to get to the next level without trying very hard.       She could even do it in heels.       As for Clay, though?       “You’re going to need to trust me on this one, big guy,” she told him as she pushed open the door to the roof. “I’ve got sights on someone - we’re going to have to follow them.” She let go of his hand to stand at the edge of the roof, scanning again until she could pinpoint the gold once more. She’d have to keep her eyes on for this, even though running with eagle vision gave her migraines worse than anything else. When she looked back at Clay, she smiled as encouraging as she could.      “I know you don’t remember much, but you can do this.” His mind might have been mostly gone, but she could tell - from the way he’d almost been ready for a fight in the bar, his posture, his willingness to trust her and the vague memories he was getting back. His mind might not remember much, but his body certainly did. “Just follow my lead, okay?” 

“The roof.” Clay repeated dryly. “Great. Trusting you here.” 

Dutifully, Clay followed close behind Desmynn. But when she revealed the plan, he couldn’t help the frown on his face. Something about that was...not right. No, it wasn’t that it wasn’t right. But his instincts were telling him something. “We’re going to follow someone...just the two of us? We should--shouldn’t we get help or something?”

But at the same time... It was odd, he wasn’t thinking they should call the police. No, not the police, but help. Well, that’s not really helpful.

“Okay, I’ll follow your lead but what are we going to do? Follow this guy and...? What’s the end goal? I mean, you said it yourself, we’re in danger. So if this person is dangerous...?” 

The figure was gone from view. Escaped? However, the trail he left behind was clear as day, the beginning point from where Desmynn last saw, just a few blocks away and heading to the nicer part of town, where the rich lived in their high rises. And the trail is short. Maybe the target’s was fluctuating with the New York City traffic... 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Leaving - they were leaving. The desire to find and track and hunt and kill briefly overwhelmed her, but Desmynn knew those weren’t her impulses, they were someone else’s, six hundred years ago. Fear slipped through her. They were leaving, and with them the last chance that Desmynn had of finding out what happened to her boyfriend.       Call her father. That’s what she had to do.       Desmynn left the bar, just barely holding herself back from vaulting over it. “Come with me,” she said to Clay, watching the place in the wall where she had last seen her target. “Come with me, and I promise that I’ll keep you safe and answer as many questions as possible. You’re here. It’s midnight. You’re meant to be with me.” As always, the barest of their truths. Des and Clay were meant to be together. Partners on assignment first, with shared trauma. Then partners in life.       Des reached into her purse, tugging out her phone and shot a quick text off to her father. Insecure, but hopefully good enough. Cross-streets, where she thought that the gold figure had gone. Tailing them. So he knew where she would be going.      “Do you trust me, Clay? Do you want answers?” Because Desmynn knew that she sure as hell did.

“With you.” Clay repeated and he nodded. That seemed right... Yeah. Here, at this bar where she was working, and at midnight. God, this felt like a bad dream... And now questions of trust were difficult to answer. How can he trust anything, anyone, when he can’t even trust his own sense of self?

But the look on her face stirred something else in him. Specific feelings, emotions. Like deja-vu. 

“Yeah. To answers. And yes. Yes, I trust you.” Clay inhaled through his nose as he looked at Desmynn with furrowed brows. “Where to?”

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

More than one. More than one. There was someone else, but Desmynn was already dizzy from two forays into eagle vision and seeing whispers of the bleeds. She had to clear her head before she could be able to fight - there was no way that she’d be able to fire the gun in her purse in this state. She gripped the bar, holding herself up more than anything else.       “Clay, you have to think,” she urged, meeting his eyes and willing him - with everything in her heart - to remember. To think, to know! “You have to think, for me. Where have you been for the past month, Clay?” Say his name. Remind him who he is. “Who have you been with? Who sent you here tonight?”       Who was trying to distract her?      She didn’t have long - she would have to slip back into eagle vision soon to be able to keep track of the figure, and they had to be long gone before that. “I need to know, because you’re in danger. We both are.” She did her best to lay it out calmly and smoothly, but Desmynn was never the best when it came to flying by the seat of her pants. She had to have a plan. She had to know things before she went into the field. Clay was always better, Clay had the brain for quick thinking, Clay was trained better than she was - by her father before the ancestors, by an actual assassin in the modern age.       She needed his brain now more than ever, and he didn’t even have it to lend! 

“I...I don’t--” Clay rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. I wasn’t sent here, I don’t think... I don’t think I was.” He glanced around the bar, suspicious now and uncertain. “I just... Look, Desmynn, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know. I was hoping that coming here would answer some questions, all I know is that I should be here and at midnight...”

 The very last thing Desmynn sees before the gold fades from her vision was what appears to be the figure stepping into something and sitting. Getting into a car, perhaps.

With a deep breath, Clay spoke clearly, in hopes that it might help him through the fog of his memories. “All I remember was this bar. I don’t remember how I knew hot to get here, I just did. And I just remember that midnight was the time. So I must have been meeting someone. But if you say we’re in danger, then we need to go--where can we go?”

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“More than roommates…” Desmynn whispered, watching the flash of gold. Too far. It was too far! She squinted, but the walls, the distance - if she was being honest, the severe lack of skill - hindered her. But gold, there. Just when she mentioned the Shirley Templar, just when Clay was remembering. Something, at least, even if it wasn’t what she wanted. She looked back down at him, and sound and the thumping beat of the music pounding back down on her. The gold slammed from her eyes, but the wispy vision of a man in a cloak lingered longer than she would have liked.       11:38. Desmynn looked from Clay to the back of the bar, meeting her manager’s eyes. She could see the barely imperceptible widening of the woman’s expression. She’d seen Clay, she knew. She would contact William.      “We’re slow - I’m off!” She shouted, hastily untying the apron from around her waist. Her manager nodded before she grabbed her purse from under the bar, checking discreetly for her gun before she stowed it away under her arm.       “Listen, Clay,” she spoke quickly, the rush coming through to her. They had to go - they had to move. Templar. Templars? She couldn’t take that chance, not with Clay, not now. Not when they were using him- Oh god, using him? To get to her? To her father? To the entire bar, an admittedly assassin run establishment? “Clay, you have to tell me who you’re meeting, now. Right now.”      If her haste scared him, shook him into anything - put up defenses at all? He’d been programmed. The thought turned her gut.       Close enough to see but not to get a read on. A flash of gold. Not close to home, but close enough. She needed to get him out of there! Home! Hidden, underground! With her father where they were safe!

Clay hadn’t even finished his drink--either of them--when Desmynn’s tone took a turn. But he stood when he saw her, his brows drawing closer, his stance taking the defensive and it was strange and off putting for him to feel like that was the only natural response he could make. 

“What’s going on?” He asked before he could register her question and then he shook his head, blinking in frustration. “Uh... Who I’m meeting? I... I’m... I don’t know, I’m not...”

There was slight movement from the gold figure. As if they were...walking, perhaps? But then stopped. Squatted down. And then stood and walked. Stopped. Arms animated as they stood. Perhaps talking to someone else?...

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

His body language was so comfortable, so familiar in this place, that the anger reared up in Desmynn before she could really stop herself. Now that she understood, now that she knew - it was a deeper rage than any she had felt in a long time. How dare someone take him away from her? How dare they do this to his mind? She knew what she was looking for. Bleeding effect be damned - she blinked her eyes from brown to gold once more, with ease she hadn’t felt since she’d gone spelunking into the 15th century.      “A little more than roommates.” she answered softly, though she still wasn’t looking at him. Red, red, red… Orange at the edges, but the intent wasn’t right. Red. Red. She glanced down at Clay - bright, soft blue. White like staring at the sun for just a second too long. She started working again, her hands moving before she knew what she was making.        Grenadine, a half ounce of maraschino, two of gin, topped with ginger ale. Garnish with two cherries on a plastic sword. She slid it down to Clay.       “Shirley Templar,” she whispered, scanning the crowd again. Red. “On the house.” Red. Blue. Red. Thirty minutes to midnight. If they were meeting their drop here, they’d be looking already. Another glance at Clay, and Des couldn’t hold the softness from her smile. He’d liked these, despite his taste for whiskey. “From me.”      Red. Red. Blue. Red.      There! The sudden flash of gold.

“Wait -- more than roommates?”

As he watched her move away, Clay could... somehow remember something. Something warm. A pillow against his side. Waking up, that’s what that was, what he was remembering. Waking up with a pillow beside him in an...apartment...and he wasn’t alone. 

Just as quickly as he remembered it, it felt like he would lose it but it lingered. A sliver of hope, even if he couldn’t make out important details. He remembered the smell. But it almost hurt to try to think of more and so he sighed, pressing his knuckles to his forehead. 

He blinked as his reverie was interrupted by the drink Desmynn pushed towards him at the corner of his vision. “Shirley Templar.” Another memory was bubbling to the surface as he reached out gratefully to the drink. “This is my favorite that you make. Your coworker made it for me once while you were on break... I didn’t realize until then that you always make it perfect.” He said with some astonishment, as if it even surprised him how he remembered something that specific.

Whether or not Desmynn heard him, Clay did not know. For unbeknownst to him, there was a figure, shining gold in Desmynn’s vision, and the reason why it was just a flash was not due to quickness of movement but rather... distance. Perhaps blocks away, it is difficult to say. But it seemed still. As if sitting or squatting. Again--at this distance, it was hard to say. But the figure does not seem to come from any direction near their apartment.

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Complicated? Desmynn didn’t like that. Whatever had happened to him, Desmynn was still familiar with Clay’s body language, and right now? Everything screamed that he was nervous, uncomfortable despite the familiar position he’d put himself in across her bar. Something was wrong. The person that he was meeting-      Without having to think about it, Desmynn scanned the crowd on the floor, blinking rapidly to adjust to her given talent. But no - there was too much ill intent in a place like this, she couldn’t determine a Templar from the average predator. Too much red soaked her vision, and she had to blink gold eyes again before her memories started acting up as well.       “Complicated, I can understand that.” Something was fishy and she couldn’t get to her manager. She could still get to the blade under her shirt, and to the knife on the counter. But in a crowded place like this? Desmynn would have to street fight.        And then Clay was asking her questions - to her surprise. She smiled as best as she could, trying not to let the pain of the last month seep too much into her expression. “Yeah - you had me worried sick there, Clay.” Worse. She’d been a wreck for a while there, but she’d had to come back, for her work. For Clay.

He dipped his head slightly as he regarded Desmynn. He could tell her mind was elsewhere. Maybe he was distracting her? In truth, he had no idea what he was doing here, had no idea what he was supposed to expect. But this was nice, in a weird way. The music was loud, the atmosphere was too much, the drink was --well, the drink was good... But even if he felt out of place in a bar like this, being here at this bar...somehow, it was right. 

“Yeah?” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. I mean... I didn’t know I was missing, I guess.” He immediately shifted, trying not to think too hard about it. “We were roommates?” 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Desmynn frowned, looking down at Clay from where she stood behind the bar. Missing for a month, comes back pretending to not remember her, right? Or maybe… Maybe there was something she was missing? Her mind started to go into overdrive, calculating, thinking. They’d been separated when he had gone missing, she hadn’t seen him go.       Or maybe she hadn’t seen him get taken.       What was the fastest way that she could discreetly contact her father? Phone? That would tip off too many people. Her manager? Of course. But how to get the woman over here without alerting anyone.      Friendly approach.      “So, Clay,” she started, leaning against the bar with a smile on her face, trying desperately to catch and keep his attention. He was acting strange. Stranger than the normal goofball Clay she missed so desperately. Drinking, even. Blank in the eyes. She hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. “Who’s the lucky gal?” Even though it stung to say. Assassin now. Girlfriend much, much later. 

Oh, wow. Desmynn was beautiful. And Clay couldn’t help but relax a bit, smile a bit when she leaned forward on the bar. Somehow this was...nice. Familiar? Is that what this was? Either way, he set down the glass and crossed his arms on the bar, a more comfortable position that again felt familiar. 

But her question was... yikes. Clay ran a hand through his hair nervously before shrugging a bit, giving her a little smile. “It’s...complicated. Uh... But, I have a question for you actually. You said I was gone a month?”

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

Wouldn’t you like to know, asshole?      “Midnight.” Desmynn replies, glancing over her shoulder as she set the bottle back on the shelf with more care than she had when she took it down. One break was enough for the night. She looked to the clock after looking at Clay. “An hour.” Which surprised her, she hadn’t expected time to have gone that quickly. She wasn’t closing, after all. Not on Tuesday and Thursdays, when she had… important matters to attend to with her father.      “Why?” she asked, rubbing salt in her own wounds with the overly polite tone she took with him. “Aren’t you meeting someone, Clay?”       Well… maybe not too polite, at all.

“Oh,” Clay followed her gaze to look at the clock. “Okay.” Time was weird, wasn’t it? As he watched the seconds tick by, Clay thought absently. Trying desperately to remember....anything. How could he remember what he’d forgotten? D-e-s-m-y-n-n. He remembered, at least, two N’s.

The blond nodded slowly and, as if he only just realized the drink was in his hand, he quickly took a sip of his drink. His eyes snapped to Desmynn’s over the rim of his glass and he exhaled after swallowing down the warm liquid. His brows raised. Gaze blank.

“What?” He asked with a bit of perplexion and then blinked as his expression melted into a strange look. “Oh... Oh! Right...I’m meeting someone...”

He tapped his fingers on the bar as his brows furrowed again, only deeper, distressed, frustrated. “I...forgot what time we’re meeting.”

Midnight. Midnight? Was that right? Shit...

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

“M-meeting someone?” Desmynn felt her heart sink. Of course. Right. That- sure. Two years with someone and you’d think they’d have accepted you already, but Desmynn ran over the past with a finer comb, sorting through memories. It took a while before they were able to be physically close, and she thought that was always on her part, even though Clay was just as sensitive as she was, but maybe… Maybe there was something else beneath that?      So he’d what - ghosted her for a month and found someone else then had the balls to come into her bar and flaunt it like that? And pretend he didn’t know her?      That didn’t seem like something Clay would do. But then again… maybe she just didn’t know him the way that she thought she did.       “Desmynn,” she finally replied, voice cold once she’d cleaned the glass and liquor up, replacing the tumbler and pulling their second bottle. “Desmynn Miles.” With hands steadier than she felt, she poured him two fingers and slid the glass across the bar. “That’s on the house. It’s coming out of my tips anyway.”       She’d be fine with that, she thought. She’d gone a month without his share on the rent anyhow, she could do it again, accidents be damned.

Wait...did he even have money? Clay’s brows furrowed slightly and he tapped his fingers over the bar nervously, not even immediately reaching for the drink he ordered. 

Desmynn Miles. Desmynn.

Pressing his lips together, he reached out for the drink and curled his fingers around the cool, damp glass. 

D-e-s-m-y-n-n. Two N’s. How do I know that?

He lifted the glass but didn’t sip it yet, instead watching the woman behind the bar as she moved. Well, if it was any indication that they clearly did know each other... Maybe she could at least help him, even if sh couldn’t answer all of his questions. “Desmynn? What time do you get off?” 

[subjectkaczmarek]

cantinagirls‌:

She knew something was wrong the second he leaned back from her. They’d come a long way together - their start had been a little bit rocky with physical affection, but the last time that Desmynn had seen him, Clay was wrapped around her like it was the simplest thing in the world. His hesitance was what struck her next, and the bartender felt her chest tighten.       Do I know you?      “Clay?” She asked, searching his face again, closer this time. Like maybe she’d been soaking in too many alcohol fumes tonight, maybe whoever had been three blunts deep before they got kicked out was still affecting her. But she was right from the beginning, there he was. Clay. Looking a little paler and gaunt than he usually did, but still her Clay, her partner, her-       She pulled back from him, hysteria and denial taking the place of relief faster than they ever had.      “Don’t be silly, Clay,” she admonished, flying easily into the routine of whipping out a bar towel to clean up spilled alcohol while reaching for the dust pan to clean up all the glass. “You- You can’t just go missing for a month and-and show up like you don’t remember me.” She smiled up at him, her lips wavering and her voice breaking like it used to before she got it under control with the pills. “I mean - you can’t live with a person for two years and just- just up and forget them after such a short time!” 

Okay, this was weird but--while it was strange and his first instinct was to panic--he oddly felt...relief. And frustration at the same time. Well, he didn’t exactly think this is how he might have met someone who knows him would go but it was a step in finding the truth... 

But, man, the timing...

“Hey, hey, okay,” Clay pulled up a barstool and sat hunched over on the bar, though he looked over his shoulder to look around the bar quickly before looking back at her. “Okay, maybe--wait, what? We lived together? Okay, you know what--now’s a really bad time. O-Obviously, you’re at work and I’m...in the middle of meeting someone. But--hey, what’s your name?”