go cry about it, why don't you?

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would you be open to dating?

“I’ve... never, been... the best, at, the whole... dating thing. y’know, I was... real, comfortable, bein’ alone, -- always, had been, -- and, then, I got... used, to bein’ not... and, now, well, -- I guess... guess, I should be, by now, hm? maybe... yeah, I’ll, give... that, a try.”

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what is your favorite thing about yourself?

“I know... she was a, sad, excuse, of, a parent, -- and... that’s, to... put it, lightly, but, -- I’ve got my mama’s, blue eyes, -- and, it’s nice. to have... a piece, of her, still.”

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what's one thing that you would never leave your house without?

“probably… my Pop’s, old, St. Florian, Rescue Squad pendant, that’d he’d passed down, to me, whenever I… first, made Squad, what… seems, like… forever, ago, now. even, as fire commissioner, he’d worn, that thing, every… damn, day. It’d meant, a lot, to him, and, -- it means, a lot, to me, so, -- yeah, I mean, -- that, and, a cup of joe, most mornings. unless, I’m runnin’ all kinds, of late.

I feel, like… most people, might… say, their phone, and, while, -- it’d be smart, to make that a priority, I’m sure, -- it’d take more than two hands, to count, the amount of times, that I’d left mine behind, on accident, only, to realize, that I had, later on, in the day. I swear, I’d have thrived, back in the day, when… if ya’ had something to say, ya’ had to, hunt, that… someone, down, and… just, say it, y’know? I mean, I’d, much, rather… that, over, texting, -- but, that’s… beside, the point.”

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AMY TAYLOR. 

It wasn’t a rare occurrence that Amy’s teasing remarks or words sent Jesse into a spiral trying to defend his position and explain what he meant before she twisted his words in good-natured humor. A smile lingered on her lips, tugging the corners up as he talked, and her head shook gently side to side. “It’s okay, I was mostly joking and calling myself out because─ as history has shown─ I cannot do anything long term.” A bite of self-reproach laced her words that she wished she could have reined in, even more so when her own judgment was contrasted with Jesse’s. There was a time when Amy thought she’d be out there doing exactly those things (maybe not the President thing, that seemed way out of her league), but her life got derailed on more than one turn, dragging her further and further away from her goals. “You think way too highly of me, Jesse, always have,” she noted, flattered and scolding him at the same time for misplacing his faith in her. She might have grown and learned to accept her life as it was now, but she was still her own greatest critic and it didn’t seem like that would go away any time soon. Smiling a little as he went on, rambling his thoughts with no filter, her shoulders rose in a shrug. “I missed my home, and I think I’m finally ready to get my life back on track which I couldn’t do from where I was. Although the humidity I could have done without, I’ll give you that.”

Jesse and Amy’s stories were far from comparable, each, with their own angels, and, inevitably, their own demons. much unlike herself, there were ways, in which, he’d mastered the long-term. in fact, as far as his job was concerned, he’d clung to it. from eighteen, to, nearing upon, thirty-four, now, there’d been no question, as to what Jesse McBee would be doing, to earn a buck. firefighting was his calling. something, he couldn’t imagine his life without. even, when it’d nearly taken it from him. unfortunately, that fact, alone, throughout the years, hadn’t left much room for anything else, in the long-term. that is, until Danielle, -- who, he’d, once, thought, he’d spend forever with, but, -- even that, had been, just about, as short lived, as they came; and, that, there, was where he could relate. “that’s not your fault, though. not... really. stickin’ things out, for the long haul... isn’t, ever... as easy, as they make it out to be, is it?” a rhetorical question, he’d had his own answer to. not at all. taking a swig, long enough, to finish off, what’d been left in his bottle, he couldn’t help but release a laugh, at the notion, -- quick to grab another, before their feet had drifted elsewhere. with a hand, rested, casually, in his front, jeans pocket, he’d peered at her, through his peripheral, until he’d landed upon a picnic table, where he’d been the first, to sit down. “Taylor, if ya’ think there’s any chance, that I’d have graduated high-school... on time, without your help, -- then, maybe, ya’ aren’t as smart, as I’d thought ya’ were.” a genuine smile, shot, towards his friend, -- who, may’ve, had a point. “maybe so, but, -- if you’re askin’ me, though, ya’ don’t think near high enough, -- and, that’s, comin’ from, the hero, -- remember?” he hadn’t, even, begun, to have seen himself, as, anything, of the sort, but, her words were worth the joke, to revive. 

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KIP WEAVER.

Kip had asked Jesse to meet up at the pier, Parker strapped to his chest, as he listened to the waves crashing below them. He had taken time off work, how long that would be, he wasn’t quite sure, but he knew that he had to take that time. If there was somebody from work that he wanted to tell, it had been Jesse, which is why he had asked the other to meet him there. Besides, he actually enjoyed the time spent with Jesse, seeing the other as family and they often looked out for each other while on the job. He had been leaning against the railing when he heard the familiar voice, and he turned to face the direction it had come from. 

if there was anyone that Jesse had known to have had a mutual understanding of what it’d felt like to have gone to hell and back, at least, a few times, it’d been Kip. they’d came up, together, in a similar sense, and, they’d grown up, together, through their years, on the job. not a coworker, nor a friend, -- Kip, was a brother. far better, of an older one, than he’d ever had. as such, the, now, knowing, that he’d had a kid, was far more than yesterday’s news, to Jesse. it was, -- a lot of things, shocking, strange, but, above all, it was huge. certainly, a sigh to be seen, -- Kip, in full-on Dad mode, no less, with his kid, strapped, to his chest. “almost, didn’t recognize you!” he’d called, out, whilst he’d approached, thereby, rendering a turn, in his direction. he hadn’t much experience, in the kid’s department. no practice, in how to hold one, or in how to communicate with one, properly, aside from what little time that he’d spent his two, adoptive sister’s children. a rookie, especially; in how it’d made one feel, on the inside, when a baby’s eyes lit up, at first sight of you. “Jesus, Weaver… this is, just, -- wow, man.” hands, resting, atop his hips. “what’s his name?”

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LENORE FITZPATRICK. 

Lenore cleared her throat, as she reached out for the plate of cookies she baked the other day and took a bite, “Yeah, that’s fine, a beer would be nice,” she got that he was embarrassed, but it wasn’t like she had the hots for him or anything, she just saw him, simply, as one of the guys, or maybe, she was just far more into another person. “I won’t let my cousins know, so, if you’re upset about that… you’re safe.”

it hadn’t been Jesse’s intention to have made her feel bad. after all , as she’d stated, clearly, it had been an emergency. at least, in the eyes, of his roommate, and, generally, that’d meant something to him. though, -- perhaps, in a way, it’d struck a chord, with him. sure, it’d been... nearly, 6 months, that he had Dani had been separated, but, he was only human. one, who’d been wounded, to his core, at that, and, to him, it’d still felt to have been not all too long ago, that he was living with, and, killing spiders for, another girl, -- his fiancé. 

sighing, softly, as he’d peered inside their fridge, he'd grabbed two, unopened cans, of such, -- turning, to toss one, in her direction, as soon as she’d drawn close enough for him to do so. “comin’ atcha,” he’d warned, mid-toss, before resting the weight of his upper body, against their kitchen counter, with a toothless grin, at rest, atop his features. “I think, I’ll be alright, Lenny,” he’d assured her, a laugh, to follow, his speech. “now, where’d this... emergency, run off to?”

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AMY TAYLOR. 

“I’ve suspected as much, you cheeky, little devil.” Amy tried to keep a straight face as she shook her head at Jesse. Over the years a lot has changed, gone were the days when they were getting to know one another from the safety of a school desk, at a time when they were both finding themselves. Back then Amy was so sure of who she was and who she was going to be, that there was no other way forward than to shatter that entire image into smithereens. On the other hand, Jesse hadn’t had his life as mapped out as she did, and it seemed to have worked out on his favor. No longer was he the shy boy who asked for her help and blushed every time their hands touched during those lessons. Before her was a full grown man, with a whole new life behind him and ahead of him, no longer bashful in her presence, but still kindhearted and warm. It was a good look on him, she had to notice, now as well as the last time they had spoken, and she was happy that he found himself at a place like that in his life. She didn’t know many people who deserved it as much.

Pulling herself out of her thoughts, and, focusing on the tub where the drinks were cooling, Amy scanned her choices and settled on the safest one, chuckling at his joke. “I’ll just have a water, thanks.” Her battle with addiction wasn’t common knowledge, and not a lot of people knew she was eighteen months sober now, a streak she had no intention to break if she could help it. The look of surprise on his face had registered, and as she took the bottle of water from him, she arched her eyebrows. “You don’t think I can do it, do you?” In all honesty, she wasn’t sure she could, either. Half her life was spent in isolation from her family, far away from her past making sure that the burned ground she walked on wouldn’t take any roots. Trying to settle back into a life she hasn’t known since her high school years was rather ambitious on her part. “They say they’ve missed me, but we’ll see what they say after we have our first disagreement.” It wasn’t the likeliest thing to happen, but they were siblings, after all, and it came with the territory. “I couldn’t agree with you more, and I’ll drink to that name.” She clicked her bottle of water against his beer bottle, and watched his face change color like a traffic light. Modesty was a good color on him, and she watched him squirm as she took a sip of her water. “Oh, you absolutely do, and, the fact, that it makes you bashful, is a big part of that charm.”

running, what, remnants, of condensation, -- from, the water, that he’d passed along, to her, -- that’d clung, to worn, calloused, hands, through, his hair, Jesse’s mouth, had hung, ajar, momentarily, as he’d pondered upon, how, it was, he’d attack, a response, to her inquiry. “I… never, said… that.” his head, had shook, softly, to himself, as he’d kicked, up, at the dust, beneath, his feet, “you’re… Amy Taylor, -- I think, ya’ could… do, anything, in… the goddamn, world.” the one, thing, that’d, yet, to change, throughout, all, of the years, that’d passed them by. “guess… I’d, just, always… thought, it’d be… curin’ cancer, or… becomin’ President. not, wasting… your, Memorial Day, talking… to guys, like, me.” he’d shut, himself, up, with a sip, from, his drink, -- though, he’d smiled, against, the glass. “not… that, I’m… complaining, though.” far from it. in fact, he’d considered himself lucky that she’d done so. nearly, as lucky, as Wilmington, in its entirety, should’ve felt, to have had her, back, home, again. what, -- with the year, that it’d had, -- Hurricane Selena, and, all, maybe, she’d been, just, what it’d needed. “besides, -- I wouldn’t mind, seein’ you… around, more often,” a pause, and, then, he’d corrected, himself, “and… by, that, -- I mean, I’d like to. y’know, if… you’re, gonna be.” so much, for bashful. “if, ya’ don’t mind, me, asking, though... why? -- why, come back? why, now? and, don’t... tell me, you’d missed, the humidity.”

[fyeahsylveride]

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outgoing iMessage ➟ Dom

Dom: You think? Pretty sure if you're typing, ya' do

Dom: Uh, an entire brewery, maybe?

Dom: Clearly, we need to be supervised in the future

Jesse: 🥺

Jesse: Wait, no

Jesse: I meant, 🙄

Jesse: That one

Jesse: Maybe... Cleo should, next time? It kinda feels like she was there, last night, anyway, with how much ya' talked about her

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AMY TAYLOR. 

Not many people could make her feel the way she did when she was seventeen, head over heels in love, driven by dreams she was fearless and excited to chase. It wasn’t a feeling she liked to invoke, either─ knowing full well the fall that would follow─ but every time Amy was around Jesse, pieces and bits of that person blossomed, ever so briefly, in her smile and demeanor. And she was seventeen again, helping him understand a math problem, sharing snacks and seeing understanding light up his face, all thanks to her. It was a look not many had given her in her lifetime, and she cherished the fact that it still resurfaced in her presence, after all this time. “You promise to take those and share, and not just keep to yourself, right?” She teased as she’d followed him to where a selection of other treats and desserts was on display. “If you help yourself to one or two, it can be our secret,” she said with a playful wink, wondering if maybe she should try one herself. They were a specialty at the Taylor house, after all, if not her own. “Ah, Wes didn’t know, I decided to surprise everyone and show up unannounced,” she explained, tucking a disobedient strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it should be more long-term than before, but don’t hold me to that, I might wake up tomorrow itching to leave again.” Hopefully not, as refreshing as this journey had been. “But enough about me, how are you? Still playing hero and making ladies swoon, wherever you go?”

with, a lighthearted laugh, and, and, a scrunched nose, Jesse’s head, had shook, ever, so slightly. the teasing nature, of his mannerisms, equally, up to par, with, her own. “I promise… nothing, of the sort,” he’d retorted, playfully, -- that, good, ol’ boy, lopsided grin, of his, only, further, widening, the longer, he’d stood, before her. “a little… later, though, I’ma… drinks, and, then, desserts, kinda’ guy.” raising, higher, the bottle, of Coors light, he’d grasped, blue orbs, had flickered, from, the brunette, towards, the tub, of drinks, that, were sat up, near, there, -- realizing, only, then, that he, had yet, to offer, her, one, of, her own. “and, I’m bein’ rude,” he’d scolded, himself, “can I, get ya’ something, to drink?” taking, a step, in that direction, -- it was plain, to see, that, pickers, were slim. the soda, and, bottled water, were dwindling, and, as far, as, alcohol, was concerned, there was… beer, and, well, -- beer. laughing, softly, at, what, little he could offer, the gentleman, in him, had no thought, but, to do so, regardless. “your options, are… practically, limitless, I know,” he’d joked, -- his dry, sense, of humor, poking through, in, the, sarcastic comment.

standing, alongside, Amy, he took in, the sight, of the crowd, that’d gathered. the sun, that’d shone, down, upon them, and, the tries, scattered, throughout, Empie Park, -- who’s leaves, swayed, in the, light, early, Summer, breeze. though, as a certain, set, of words, had left, her mouth, it was her, where, his gaze, had fixated. a surprise, it was, indeed, to hear, them. long-term, she’d said. the slight, growth, of, his smile, inevitable, -- though, he’d tried, his best, to hide, it. in truth, Wilmington, was the last place, that he’d, saw, Amy Taylor, in, the long-term. the way, that, he, saw it, -- she could… do, anything. go, anywhere, -- that, he knew, for certain. when, she’d left, both times, beforehand, he’d been, disappointed, to hear, of it, sure, but, it was, what, was, expected, in, Amy’s case, -- this, though, this, had, caught him, off guard. In, the best, sort, of way. “well, how… bout’ that?” reiterating, her claim, “I’m glad, to hear it. I mean, for… your, uh, family’s… sake, -- Aubrey, and, Wes, I’m… sure, they’ve, missed you.” he’d, not, an idea, in, the slightest, of… how, to play it… cool, but, he’d, put in, an effort, -- nonetheless. “Wilmington… ain’t, so bad, after all, -- not, if, the company’s good.” something, he’d considered, her, to be, since, his days, at, New Hanover High, -- good company. “me?” oh, I’m… doin’ alright,” a, somewhat, natural, downplay, of course, “better, now.” in truth, an honest, sentiment. it was good, to see her. even, if, it’d meant, he’d, have to, fight, from blushing. “swoon?” he’d repeated, his face, reddening, naturally, “I don’t… do that, do I?”

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outgoing iMessage ➟ Dom

Dom: Hey, man, I'm looking for signs of life

Dom: Check one, two

Jesse: Dude, I feel like... ass

Jesse: Got a pulse, though, I think

Jesse: Tf, did we drink?

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VIOLET MURPHY.  

It was something that often rang throughout her mind, from time to time, the idea that Violet wondered if there had been anyone else out there who was prouder of where they came from, than she was. She could count on her fingers the obvious ordeals she’d overcome, but she was resolute on New York being her saving grace. It had taught her resiliency, how to avoid the bullshit in life, what the best coffee was, and, of course, it had provided her years’ worth of tips and tricks she’d shoved up her sleeves, regarding men. The state was, to her belief, the reason she had morphed into the woman she was today, and Jesse hadn’t been the first to ask her ferocious, independent behavior. “Mm-hmm, the one and only,” Violet replied, a fond smirk finding its way onto her lips as they reminisced over her hometown, “You should definitely visit, sometime, I’d kill to see your reaction when a taxi driver practically tries to run you right out.” Wilmington had definitely metamorphosed into a daily reminder that the townsfolk inside it versus the Big Apple were cut from a completely different cloth. Most days, Violet sensed that she’d needed to tone it down a bit when talking to some of the town natives, simply because the Upper East Side monster in her wanted to instinctively roar. But, considering her current company and his suaveness to be able to endure anything and everything (he was a firefighter, for crying out loud), made it appear seamless for her to be able to say what comes to mind without worry of judgment or confusion. Even his age didn’t squander the moment, nor did it affect Violet massively, if at all. Much to her not-so-much-dismay, she’d already gone on the merry-go-round of older men, but only a few being slightly older than Jesse. She was just grateful he didn’t take off, right then and there. “You know, you might even just be the first guy I haven’t scared, so good on you, McBee.” It was probably the first time they’d both shed some real facts about themselves, focusing on the emotional rather than the physical, and it almost astounded her that she hadn’t run away, yet. Being in the moment might actually be satisfactory, after all. “So, what exactly had to transpire, other than the Revolutionary War, of course, for you to want to be a firefighter? And if you mention a cat in a tree, I might just have to order another drink.”

“even, if it’s… the truth?” Jesse’d retorted, initially, -- the, amused, smirk, he’d wore, serving, as a compliment, to the joking, challenge, that the, sudden, quirk, of his right, scarred, brow, had indicated. in all, honesty, for him, -- there was, a multitude, of answers, to the question, that she’d posed. primarily, there were the ones, he’d told of, frequently, -- to the kids, in attendance, at NHFD’s, annual, school demonstrations. to the pedestrians, he’d helped, along, the way. the stereotypical, surface-level, one-liners, he’d spouted, to potential candidates, in, and, throughout, the recruitment processes, they’d hosted. then, there were the real reasons, why he’d did what he did, for a living. the heartfelt, motivations, behind, the firefighting bug, he’d caught, some… odd, 15 years, ago, now. the ones, he’d, generally, left, unsaid. untouched. especially, to those, who weren’t, at all, close, to him.

perhaps, it was intimate, atmosphere, they’d shared, -- seated, close, to one another, but, not, too much, so, -- or, maybe, it was, it was… the way, he’d felt, inside, with her eyes, upon him. good. he’d felt, -- good. when they’d met, at Vixen, he hadn’t wanted, to admit it, then, and, had no intent, to admit it, now, but, it was the first time, he’d felt… good, in quite, some time. thus, as easy, as it’d have been, to have, fed her, some… bullshit, answer, -- hell, a month, or so, back, he, likely, would’ve, -- sitting… here, now, there was, some, part, of him, that hadn’t wanted to. “the funny… thing, about it, is… I can’t, really, remember… a time, when, I didn’t. – want, to be… a firefighter.” shrugging, softly, he’d taken a, light, sip, from, his drink, before, he’d continued. “y’know, I mean… I grew up, down, the road… from, a station, as a kid, and, -- my Pop, -- he, uh, worked, for the department… for, near… to, 40 years. – easily, the best… guy, I know, to date.” it was his adoptive father, he’d spoke of, but, the details, of, the matter, hadn’t, made a difference. “school, was… never, really, -- my thing, either. so, after… high school, he helped me, in landing, a spot, available, at New Hanover, at the time. kinda… thought, that, if the job, had played… any, part, in makin’ him, the man, that, I… know ‘em, to be, -- that, maybe, I’d… turn out, alright, too.” a gap-toothed grin, ever-present. “what d’ya think, -- how’d, I do?”

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AMY TAYLOR. 

Most people liked to spend their Memorial Day weekend at the beach, soaking up the sun and enjoying some quality time with friends and family. It marked the beginning of the summer season at the marina, too, and the Taylors always had their hands full. But it was on Monday that they liked to split their duties and make rounds at the annual barbecue organized by the New Hanover Fire Department, in support of Wes and other first responders, and all the work they do to keep the people of Wilmington safe.

The event was nearing its full swing, the smoke already rising from the barbecue, laughter and chatter booming throughout the park filled with people in and out of uniform. Amy had used her lunch break at the marina to show up at the park, carrying some of her signature salted caramel brownies (okay, maybe they weren’t her signature dessert, but she still made them… or helped Candice out). Looking around, she struggled to find a familiar face that could be entrusted with her dessert (if she knew these people at all, she knew the food would be devoured in a matter of seconds), when her eyes finally landed on just the right person for the job.

“Excuse me,” she called out with a smile, laying her hand on Jesse McBee’s broad shoulder. “Do you happen to know where I can leave this, so it won’t get inhaled right away?”

the sensation, was strange. how, for an instant, at the eerily familiar, sound, of Amy’s voice, from, behind him, a part, of Jesse, had felt seventeen, again. it was, almost, laughable, -- the crush, he’d had, on her, back then. at the time; taken, and, entirely, out of his league. no longer, was he, the shy, teenager, she’d tutored, once, upon a time. no, there were clear distinctions, between he, and, the man, Jesse had grown, up, to be. charming, brave. accomplished. though, these, were, all but, subdued, as he’d cast, his eyes, upon her. surprise, evident, amongst, his features, -- as, it’d been, the first time, that he had had, in over, a year. “I… er, -- hi,” he’d managed, to sputter, after, a moment, where, his words, had seemed, to linger, inside, his throat. “I can… take those, from you.” a sheepish grin, in tow, and, he’d slipped, the tray, that’d held, her brownies, into, muscled arms. leading, the way, towards, the table, that’d displayed, the alternative deserts, that’d been brought. “I’m afraid, ya’ might… be, out of luck, there, though,” he’d snorted, after, a subtle, peek, underneath, the foil, that’d clothed, her brownies, “these, look damn good.” so did she, he’d thought, quietly, --  but, that, he’d keep, to himself. “Weston… didn’t mention, that ya’ were in town.” here, visiting, -- he’d, only, assumed. “how long, ya’ in for?”

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LENORE FITZPATRICK.   

“Jesse… I’m sorry for walking in on you, while you were showering, but it was an emergency! There was a spider,” Lenore grimaced at the memory of the one insect she hated, but more along the lines, she was embarrassed for seeing her roommate naked, “if it makes it any better, any lady is lucky to have the whole package?” 

the fireman wore fifty shades of red. heat, radiated, from blushed cheeks. he’d, hardly, taken the time, to rinse, what was left, of the shampoo, out, from, within, his hair, even, after, she had left him, to do so. thoroughly, embarrassed, he’d went a step further, than, merely, wrapping, a towel, across, his waist. he’d slipped, back, into, what sweats, he’d had on, beforehand, before, he’d graced, her presence, once more, -- simultaneously, towel-drying, his hair, -- beads, of water, clinging, to the bareness, of his chest. “ya’ couldn’t… knock?” at first, his head, shook, lightly, at her reasoning, behind, the altercation, -- though, by the time, her, next, comment, had left, her lips, he’d turned, from her, completely. unfit, to respond, to such, a thing. especially, when it’d came, from the lips, of a little Fitzpatrick, no less. “I… need, a beer. ya’ want one?”

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NIKKI THOMPSON.

It had been a day, to say the very least. Nikki was more than capable of taking care of her own home, or at least she thought so, herself. However, for today, she would have to consider herself beaten by their smoke-detector, something that had happened not just once, but, now, twice in one day. The first time had been bad enough, her whole kitchen filled up with firemen, Oliver running around with a mixture of feelings between excitement and horror over the sound that never stopped ringing. By the time she opened up her front door for another fireman she had no problem recognizing from earlier, an excusing look overtook her features, sorry to take up their time once more. Dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, in her defense she had been heading to bed right before the incident, confident that she could have looked far worse standing before him, given the chance. “Yeah, go ahead, — ” Waving him inside, not wasting any time to let him in, Nikki took a step back, allowing him to pass. “Anything to make the sound stop.” Needless to say, it was way past Oliver’s bedtime, the boy cooped up in his room with his hands over his ears the last time she checked on him. Making sure to close the door behind him, she was sure he knew his way around her place this time around, following behind. “I don’t know why it keeps acting up, — we’ve barely even been in the kitchen since you all were last here.” Raising her voice loud enough to be heard over the annoying beeping sound over their heads, she was sure that the male had a more reasonable explanation for what was going on even though Nikki didn’t actually need one, as long as it wouldn’t turn into a reoccurring problem.

it was far from uncommon, that he, as a firefighter, and, as a native, of North Carolina, -- with its, steady, coastal, breeze, year-round, -- had dealt, with a situation, such as this. at this point, in his career, if he’d had to, Jesse could’ve, taken apart, and, reassembled, the device, with bare hands. though, the screwdriver, he’d quipped, was much appreciated. “can’t seem, to catch’a break, can ya’?” strategically, blue eyes, were kept, primarily, to themselves, -- remaining, directed, towards, the task, at hand. outside of, a mere, moment, he’d taken, to gaze, upon her, on the route, that led, towards, the siren, that’d rang, throughout, the home. wincing, in distaste, as the noise, rattled, his eardrums, -- quickly, he got, to work, as Nikki’d stood, watch. it might’ve seemed, complicated, as a bystander, -- swift, intricate, movements, -- that’d, only, further, served, to indicate, the degree, of experience, he’d held. a cut, of the power, from, the circuit breaker, and, a removal, of the device, from its mounting bracket, later, -- and, at last, there’d been, silence. though, his job, was not, yet, done. “hope ya’ boy, hasn’t lost, too much sleep.” a comment, he’d made, subtly, as he’d fiddled, with, the device, furthermore, -- in search, of, the reason, behind, its malfunction. earlier, as he, and, his subordinates, had scanned, the home, -- ensuring, that it had been, a malfunction, after all, -- her son, had had a multitude, of questions, for him. with, the same look, in his eye, that, he was sure, he’d had, in his, the first time, he, too, had seen, a firetruck, in action, Jesse was more than happy, to entertain him, for the short, time, being. in truth, it’d been the highlight, of his day, to do so, -- in part, why, he’d been so, apt, to lend, a hand, -- the teasing, set on, by, his coworkers, ignored. “a lot, of the time, we’ll see, that, the humidity, ‘round ‘ere, can cause, this… sort, of thing, -- but, for it, to trigger… twice, in one day, is… strange.” inspecting, the device, fully, he’d sought, some, sort, of explanation, -- a means, of promising, that, she, could rest easy, -- when, it’d looked him, straight, in, the eye. the device’s, expiration date. key, information, that’d been, recklessly, overlooked, hours, beforehand. “say... when, was the last time, ya’ had, this, replaced?”

[upinsmke-archive]

JENNY HAYES. 

Jenny sat next to the male, on the stool, as she turned her head, to look over at him.  “You seriously can’t believe that they are the better team.” She scoffed, as she turned herself slightly to face him, shaking her head at his words. “I am baffled. I don’t even know if I should associate myself with you, anymore.” She teased, as she brought her drink up to her lips, taking a long sip of it, shaking her head, in disbelief. “I’m ashamed.”

he, couldn’t help, but, admit, -- Jenny Hayes, was one, cool, girl. there weren’t many, whom, he knew, personally, that’d have been, as eager, to spend, her time, catching up, with, a guy, who’d taken, her out, kissed her, goodnight, and, had failed, to call, afterwards. though, there, they were. friends, who’d seemed, to have been, rewriting, history, -- over, a ballgame, and, ice, cold, beer. “what, d’ya mean, I can’t? it’s, not... just me. it’s... it’s, the facts. the stats.” commercials, had begun, to air, and, as, a result, he’d focused, even, more so, on Jenny. his eyes, -- bluer, than, the water, along, the coast, -- rolling, in response, to, what comment, she’d made. “go on, -- take a walk, then, sweetheart. I’m, sittin’ pretty, over ‘ere,” he’d urged, her, jokingly. “there’s, still... some time, ya’ got, to hop, on, the bandwagon, though. ‘fore, your team’s, ass, is grass, and... I’m, twenty bucks, richer.”