#nile.

[choicescreen]

@exitvelo, cont.

is that really what she decided to wear? nile finds herself biting the soft insides of her cheeks at the cliché. it serves to warm florence to her though. it takes guts to hug the corners of an art display in the art thief costume.

party city looking-ass.

her smile lingers for a few seconds. when she turns to face florence in full, it doesn't quite fade but instead rearranges itself into something else. querying. maybe a little healthily guarded. but her expression is welcoming enough, all things considered.

"yep." she pops the p. "nile and florence. we got two continents between us." yusuf would be so proud of that joke. "listen, i was wondering if we could talk. i know that's, like, the worst, most ominous thing i could say, but you're not in trouble.'

a beat. "quite the opposite, actually."

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@rvolving as yusuf said: "what is a dilf?" (innocently)

the ministry of time.

"it's an acronym. forrrr. dad i'd like to fuck." a beat. yusuf is an adult—a thousand times and more over—so she doesn't feel obligated to censor herself. still, goddamn. is he serious? "an older guy you find hot. doesn't necessarily have to be an actual dad. none of these twenty-somethings who happen to be fathers. forty-five-year old mi-ni-mum."

that last word comes out with its syllables puncutuated by muted claps, her palm heels slapping against each other.

"did, wait. hold on. i didn't even—did someone call you a dilf? that's awesome."

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@rvolving as yusuf said: "have a lot of fun. there’s lots of stuff to eat and drink. lots of pretty girls around." 😏

it's a wonderful life.

sharp, bright: "ha!"

"man, i feel like you're dropping me off at the dance."

her next exhale turns into some kind of breathy not-quite-laugh. she lifts her left hand and runs her fingers idly through her braids like that might dispel the sudden memory of her father and the last year he spent with them. like this, pumping her up on the l before her first school dance.

she remembers looking back once before pushing open the gymnasium door. he'd smiled at her, similarly to how yusuf looks at her now.

"i'll leave room for jesus. when i find me one of those pretty girls, i mean." and she mimes the awkward, straight-armed dance of an eleven-year-old, slowly swaying side-to-side in her seat. "allll myyyy liiiife, i prayed for someone like yoooouuuu. and i hope that you feel the same way tooooo."

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@inrovina said: "i haven't been shot at for days."

it happened one night.

a seven second pause. "excuse me?"

"that's," hm. "concerning?" she didn't mean for her tone to raise like she was asking a question, but there isn't much she can do about that now.

anyone else might have asked if he'd told the authorities. she would have, too, but nile's foundations have been shook, these past few years—not that there wasn't always an idea of how useless those people can be, deep down.

"are you, wait, are you being funny?"

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@falsedking said: i hardly recognized you.

maus.

a laugh tumbles out from the back of nile's throat, in spite of herself. turns out she should trust her instincts more. she'd been staring at the back of erik's head for the better part of twenty minutes, distracted.

the nape of her neck starts to prickle and itch. it could be the heat, sweat trickles down to the small of her back in long rivulets, but she guesses it has something to do with meeting someone from before. someone she was in the military with, no less. (she remembers her fellow soldiers and how they'd looked at her sideways when she woke up fully healed after having her neck nearly split in two. and then how she deserted. if only she could explain the unexplainable—)

she looks around for andy, who went off a couple minutes ago in search of a bathroom, but sees no sign of her. her leg begins to bounce, nervousness manifest.

"yeah, it's been, what, five years? that's crazy. what are you doing in brazil, man?" pot meet kettle. he could ask the same of her.

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@rvolving

" okay, " she starts, settling her weight on the couch. before kicking her feet up onto the ottoman, she toes her shoes off with her feet. " you're going to have to explain something to me, " is how she continues as she types in her passcode, finds the app in question, " how have you gone this long without knowing what instagram is? "

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@eulogier as andy said: don’t you dare laugh.

a tree grows in brooklyn.

" i'm not, " she promises, light and indifferent.

give it a few seconds. it is almost like clockwork, or something rehearsed.

she dips her head, a poor attempt at hiding her widening smile and the way her shoulders jerk. " i'm not! i swear, i'm not. not at you. "