where: maria's place when: afternoon, mid-march whom: @ishinoyamato
Maria and Yamato had been friends for a long time at this point and she could probably count on one hand the people she trusted implicitly; he made the list. Whether that was for good or for ill had yet to be determined, but it did mean that in times like this when the quiet had started to get to her she could call him up and ask him to hang out.
Did it mean that things were going to be happy go lucky in their exchange? Fuck no, probably quite the opposite. She'd asked him to come over to her place — a two bedroom in one of the run-down neighborhoods at the edge of town that had seen better days but had a few modern upgrades on the inside from the money she'd made with the club over the years — and closed the door behind him as she led him in, veering off to the left to the kitchen.
It had been where she'd grown up, this house, and it had memories seeped into its pores of her father and the lengths he went to to provide for her. She could still smell his cologne sometimes, though she knew that was insane... it had been left vacant for a while when she'd joined the Sinful Ones and when she'd finally moved back it had taken some doing to get it to feel livable...
but her father's ashes were scattered in the back and she'd keep hold of that place as long as she could. Her attention turned to Yamato as she spun around and leaned back against the counter, "I fucking hate this, by the way. I hate not having a direction to go in. I hate being disrupted. I hate this fucking shit and I kind of want to kill everyone involved."
She's fine, really.