❝there is nothing i want more than for her to be happy and smiling, not to have tired eyes and stress fostered between her bones,❞ he softly spoke, tongue running moisture over his lips. ❝i don’t doubt you mean everything you say, but i guess bigger fish to fry when you have a company at your beck and call,❞ he tried to reiterate. ❝we’re talking about the same people who voted for a reality show bubbling idiot as this country’s president, so i can’t really say i’m shocked,❞ he shrugged, shoving his hands into his back pockets. ❝you aren’t wasting my time, but if you must go than i won’t stop you. duty calls.❞
A strange, bemused expression softly cast over her face, eyes wide and calculating. For a moment it remained so, before the sharp. discerning look was quickly replaced by something vague and warm. “She’s grateful,” She responded, lips parting on an exhale before spreading into a smile. “That you want that for her,” She tacked on as an afterthought. Fragments weren’t really her thing, to say the least. “But right now, it’s not feasible. She has this big, billion-dollar project coming up, which means late nights until that pesky perfectionism is satisfied.”
Whenever she felt even moderately out of place or awkward, she had a tic. It wasn’t anything special and everyone had one of those. A tic or a tell that gave them away even when their facial expressions and body language might not. For some, it manifested in a twitch of the nose or the mouth, biting nails, tugging at fingers, or toying with a lock of hair. For Vale, it was always more of the same, letting her chestnut locks down only to soothe down her hair and tie it up again. She practiced that ritual then, making sure her hairband was tightly wound around the thick of her hair. “Plot twist. One or both of us is in a persistent vegetative state and are experiencing an alternate, nightmarish universe where gigantic cheetos can run and win a presidential campaign.”
With the ball back in her court, Valeria wondered if she should just call it a day and leave Ryder to whatever broody, artistic boys did with their free time. After all, the world of machinery and loose parts beckoned her, like always. A beat passed before the brunette adjusted the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder and saying, all too seriously in a way that contradicted the playful edge in her gaze. “I have two hours before my Muay Thai class and there’s a new cafe by the boardwalk. I hear their donuts are good, but as a scientist, I prefer forming observations though trial-and-error.” The brown-eyed girl tugged at the string of her hoodie. “Would you be interested in lending yourself…to science for a little while? A second opinion will mitigate any confirmation bias in the final report.”
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