2019-08-22 - Gamer Outing

Rebecca had basically focused on nothing but her work since returning from Southern California and her little sister's funeral. It was the only way she knew how to block out the memory of watching Kelly bleed out under her hands, of finding out that she might be partly responsible for her death, having helped bring back William Gohl's bones from the other side, of learning she is actually related to the mysterious Baxter family of Gray Harbor, and of the blame for Kelly's death being laid at her feet by her parents.

It took a persistent Itzhak to get her to leave her apartment hermitage this Thursday evening after finishing her day's work for Chef Vydal. He even got her to dress casually (for her) in a pair of jeans and a lightweight short-sleeved blouse in a shade of pale yellow. She steps out of the apartment building to wait for him to pick her up, cursing the sticky air.

The Stingray, deep plum that shimmers red when the light hits it, pulls up to the curb. The engine in that thing has an animal growl. Itzhak, slouched in the driver's seat like he might have grown there, mirrored sunglasses on, one elbow hanging out the open window, upnods to Bex like he's some kinda tough guy.

"C'mon, hop in." He reaches over to open the passenger door. "Hey, you look nice." Himself, he's dressed exactly as he always is: tight jeans, tight tank top, showing off all his lanky leanly-muscled bod. Apparently he thinks his tattoos are all the accessorizing he needs--aside from his ridiculous skull belt buckle.

Rebecca looks at the car like it's not exactly what she expected Itzhak to be driving. Clearly she has no experience with gearhead mechanics. What she was expecting? She isn't even sure, but it wasn't an expensive Corvette. Maybe in her head mechanics can't ever afford something that nice. It didn't even occur to her they could fix up a junker to perfection on the cheap.

She rounds the front and slides into the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling herself in. "Nice car," she murmurs, examining the interior curiously. Her hair is back in a low ponytail, and she has ballet flats on. Even dressed down is not quite. She likely doens't even own a tee shirt. "Where are we going?"

The interior is just as finely put together as the exterior of the car. A plaque on the glovebox reads 'Heartbreaker'. Itzhak watches Bex get in from behind his sunglasses, his expression a sort of aggravated curiosity. "Thanks," he says, crooked half-smile appearing. "She's my pride and joy. After Lemondrop, anyway." Then he looks front and shifts into gear. Does he seriously drive this thing eveywhere? That the Vette is made to run, not meander along small-town streets, is obvious even to someone who knows nothing about cars. "Control Pad, gaming store. If that's cool with you."

She doesn't want anybody knowing she games, is what Itzhak means, so maybe she doesn't want to be seen there.

"I imagine a car like this is not the usual for this town," Rebecca comments with a faint smile. "Better be careful it doesn't get stolen. Every car thief in Washington will likely hear about it and who owns it," she points out.

When he reveals their destination, for a moment she balks, but then she seems to say 'fuck it' internally. Her sister is dead. The idea of being ashamed to be outted as a gamer seems really stupid in retrospect. "I need a new gaming mouse so, sounds good."

Itzhak doesn't say he's proud of Bex, or anything, but there's something in the set of his shoulders as he pulls out on the main road. "Yeah, they probably heard about who owns it, they don't dare touch her," he says absently, checking his blind spot. "New mouse, huh? What do you like, you like a Logitech?"

It's not a long drive to Control Pad. Nothing in town is a long drive. Itzhak parks, gaining a couple of surprised, pleased, and/or envious stares from pedestrians.

"I'm a Razer girl. My old Abyssus finally died so it's time for a new one. I'm thinking maybe the Lancehead tournament edition or the Basilisk in Mercury White. " Rebecca looks out the window as the town passes by, as if seeing it for the first time. It's different from the low profile of the Corvette. Her lips twitch a bit at the sight of the stares from people around where they park.

"Do you have a reputation already, Itzhak? Why would they not dare?" she asks curiously, one brow arching skyward as her blue eyes fix on him.

Itzhak hesitates a split second before answering. "Yeah, actually. Yeah. I got a reputation." Then he gets out, making the car rock gently. No time to answer questions, games await.

He hooks his sunglasses into the neck of his tank top as he holds the door open for Rebecca, and once inside he's looking around genuinely impressed. So neon! So 80s!"Oh man, this is just like the nickel arcades I used to go to all the time when I was a kid. Now you know I'm old, but this brings me back. Damn nice."

"You're not that old," Rebecca refutes with a soft snort. She slides out of the vehicle and shoulders her purse, stepping inside and looking around curiously. She moves towards the PC gaming area, and the Razer brand section specifically. "So, you're not going to tell me about your reputation?" she asks, amused and flashing him a small smile.

"I feel old," Itzhak says, wry. He follows along, thumbs hooked in his pockets. "Uhhh. Well, yannow. Kinda what I went to prison for. GTA."

He's never told her before that he has a record, and although he drops it casually enough, his shoulders are tightening up. Rebecca doesn't want to admit she's a gamer. He's not sure how she'll react to realizing she's been palling around with an ex-con.

Rebecca seems surprised at the admission. It's not like she couldn't guess, with the various tattoos usually being a good indicator, especially the ones on his hands. And yet she still hangs out with him. She chuckles. "I wasn't sure what you were in for. I hope you are exceptionally good at that game then."

She leans on one of the endcaps and folds her arms across her chest. "I guess I should be up front then. My brother is a cop. If he finds out we hang, he'll probably do about 37 background checks on you while trying to convince me not to hang out with you. Fortunately, he's in Thousand Oaks, and I don't tend to discuss my personal life with him."

Itzhak tosses a hand, mouth tugging to one side: 'eehhh'. "He'll find I'm a real disreputable asshole. That ain't a surprise to anybody who claps eyes on me." He snorts, shaking his head, grinning. "That game. I can't say I'm an expert at it. Just fun to run around jacking cars and punching cops. Trust me, it ain't so easy in real life."

"My brother has background checked every guy I ever dated, the one girl I dated when he figured out we were dating, and every boss and professor I have ever had. He's a bit on the paranoid side," Rebecca notes with a shake of her head. "I don't care if you were in prison, Itzhak. You're nice to me, and that's how I try to judge people. How they treat me." She punches him lightly in the upper arm. "Unless you plan on doing something stupid that will get me fired from my job, then all bets are off,"she adds.

Itzhak takes the whap to his bicep, smirking back at Bex. "I stayed out for a reason, you feel me? Cleaned up my act. Hey, the system works." He rolls his eyes. "A lotta guys just keep cycling in and out, and they got their reasons, like they don't got nothing on the outside, or they just don't know how to do anything except steal and get high. You can get a kinda way in there, where you know your place, you know the rules, you know everybody. It's...fucked up, but it's comfortable, kinda?" He shakes his head sharply. "I'm rambling, forget it. Good for your brother, lookin' out for you."

“It’s not cool. It’s invasive and creepy. So I quit having relationships and just hook up when I have an itch to scratch. It’s not like I’m an ideal girlfriend anyway. I’m married to my work, and it’s demanding and stressful and consuming. And I love it, and only it.” Rebecca shrugs a little. “Anyway, that was probably too much of a share, but you showed me yours with your having been in prison so, we’re square on sharing.”

Whoops Itzhak fumbled that one. He shrugs his eyebrows in embarrassed agreement, looking aside. But he looks back at that part about just hooking up. "There ain't nothin' wrong with that. Nah, wasn't oversharing, I mean," he waves a hand, fingers first reaching then curling in like he's grasping something, "uh, yeah. We're square." Theeeere goes the flush, showing up to ruin his life some more. "As long as it's what you're into, ya know?"

Rebecca looks rather amused at the flush. It gets a genuine grin out of her, which is more than she’s managed since Kelly’s death. “Oh, you have no idea what I’m into,” she quips, waiting to measure just how red she can get him to turn.

She moves to peruse the offerings of mice with that amusement dancing in her eyes, which flit back to him to watch the reaction. She needed something like this to ignite the positive side of her emotional self again. She’d been entrenched, mired in depression.

Itzhak laughs, kind of ruefully, as he indeed blushes more intensely. "You're mean, you know that?" He rubs at his red face. Clearing his throat, he says, one eyebrow hiking up, "I don't got no idea. Anything good?" Teasing back.

He's glad, though, that she's teasing him. It lifts his heavy heart.

"Hmmm...wouldn't you like to know?" Rebecca teases with a wink. She picks up the box for the Lancehead in white and traipses past him, grinning. "Anything you need to get here?" she chimes merrily.

Itzhak hmphs, and trails along, his smile lopsided. "I might like to know. You never know." Making a dumb joke, but that definitely is classified as flirting. "Nah, I don't need anything from here. I'm well equipped."

Rebecca arches a brow at him over her shoulder. "Then why did we come here? You couldn't have known I needed a new mouse, unless my support has been horrible in Overwatch," she points out. Then she leans in and whispers in his ear with a devilish grin. Message delivered she heads for the register like a little blonde demon in perfectly tailored clothing.

"I never been, thought we could check it out--" Itzhak's mid-explanation. Then the whisper hits. He whooshes out a breath like he literally got socked in the gut. "Hrnf," he says, blinking dazedly after Bex as she sashays off. "Same. Goddammit, Bex."

Hey, it's been a really rough month for Rebecca. This is her first little bit of fun in a long time. She sets her purchase on the counter and gives the kid at the checkout her iciest expression as she announces, amusingly in a dead serious voice complete with perfect poker face, "I think this is the one my brother asked me to get him for his birthday. Is it a good thingamajig?"

Itzhak's glad Rebecca is distracting the kid, because he might be walking a little funny now and he's trying to make adjustments without looking like he's making adjustments. But he snorts and has to stifle a laugh against the back of his hand when Rebecca hits the poor yutz with her ice-queen act.

The kid actually looks at Itzhak, past Rebecca. "Um, yeah, it's really good," he says, sounding worried.

"Am I the one holding the thingamajig?" Itzhak jerks his head at Rebecca. "Or is the lady? They let you man the store like this? Oy gevalt."

Rebecca hands over her AMEX card with a superior expression, before looking back to Itzhak to give him an eyeroll the kid can't see. The way girl gamers are treated, it's no surprise she pretends she isn't one. Maybe that's her reasoning rather than it being disreputable in her field. She plucks up her purchase when the kid is finished, and links an arm through Itzy's. "Children suck," she mutters regarding the employee.

Itzhak's a little surprised when she links arms with him, but he covers it up well. "You'd think kids these days don't know women make the calls on buying stuff," he says, amused at the kid's expense. Now the two of them are an incongruous couple, her so neatly put together and fashionable and absolutely in control, and, well, him. "Yeah? Wouldn't want any of your own?"

"Maybe, someday. I'd raise them right though. Not like these entitled brats who don't realize girls can whup their asses in a MOBA," Rebecca declares with a smile. "Really though, can you imagine me handling changing dirty diapers?" she shudders. "I don't think my OCD would gel well with that."

"Nah, probably not," Itzhak has to admit, nose wrinkling. "Did some of that with my niece. Lemme tell you, I don't miss it." He snickers, as they stroll outside like they're promenading on a sunny beach to see and be seen. Looking down at her, he's privately glad she's acting more like herself. "You wanna go for a drive or somethin'? Or are you burning up to get home and plug that sucker in?"

"My mother had three. I really don't know how she managed since dad worked long hours and so did she. But she has a private practice so maybe she had the privilege of self-scheduling." Something Rebecca most certainly doesn't have. She's always on call, so to speak; the beck and call of Chef Vydal.

"We can go for a drive if you want. As long as we can head back if my boss needs me for anything. It's what he pays me the big bucks for and after what he did for me when I was home for the funeral...well I owe him big."

"More about what you want." Itzhak stops on the sidewalk. "If it's not transparently obvious, I'm tryin' to get you out of the house. So, if you got any ideas..." he trails off, lifting his eyebrows invitingly. But not flirtatiously; he doesn't mean that offer in any more intimate way.

Rebecca nods. "A drive then. Someplace away from the center of this crazy city. I could feel it pulling me back from California. But maybe a little way out won't be so bad." She does give him a warmer smile. "Thank you, by the way, for getting me out of the apartment. I know I've been hermitty."

"S'okay." Itzhak squeezes Rebecca's arm where it's latched through his. "You deserved hermitting. C'mon, get in."

He takes the Vette out on the road to the coast, which isn't long. "Turn around any time ya want," he assures Rebecca. "You wanna go fast? Or is this enough excitement for ya?"

Rebecca has her window down, letting the breeze blow over her face, killing some of the humidity. She sticks a hand out the window and makes a wave motion through the airstream with it, eyes closed, just enjoying the sensation. She opens them to look at Itzhak when he asks about going faster. "Open her up. I could use the thrill," she replies.

Itzhak flashes her a grin, sunny and brilliant and so, so rare. "Aye aye, Captain." He shifts and hits the gas and opens up that throttle and VRRRMMM!!! The Stingray leaps forward, leaving stomachs and gravity behind. The engine escalates from a growl to a roar. Wind whips sharply into the windows as trees go flying past, fleeing like deer. Itzhak's grin turns savage.

Rebecca lets out a primal yell when they hit warp speed, needing to let out all her anger and helplessness and frustration built up over the last month or some. Some strands of hair escape her ponytail and whip around in the wind, making her look mussed for the first time since he's known her. Even in the hospital, despite looking ill, she was put together at the very least.

This car was made to do exactly what Itzhak's making it do, and it has its own mechanical joy in doing what it does best. Itzhak laughs into the wind, glancing over at Bex--very fast, only a glimpse, this is too fast to admire her overmuch. "That's a great look on you!"

When he hits a hundred fifteen, he lets up the gas and coasts down to seventy. "God I love doing that."

Rebecca is laughing and crying at once. The pure relief on her face at just getting that out of her system is a wonder to behold. As they come back down to seventy, she wipes at her eyes. "Thank you. I really needed that. I've been so buttoned up since," Kelly's death goes unsaid. But in truth, since she got out of school. That mask she wears to be in the business she's in has been so tightly on for so long, she forgot what it was like to just be.

Itzhak's grinning so hard his face kind of hurts. He lets the car coast until he can pull over on the shoulder, so he can look at Bex and really take in all this emotion she's unleashing. "Yeah. I can see that ya did." Dropping his hand from the gearshift to take her hand, he gives her a squeeze. "...You wanna do it again on the way back?"

Rebecca squeezes his hand and laughs. "I don't want to get you a speeding ticket. That would be really bad for you, wouldn't it?" she asks. Does a speeding ticket send an ex-con back to prison? She has no real idea.

"It might be an expensive speeding ticket, but yannow what?" Itzhak hangs a youie, bringing the Stingray around. "To see you look like that? Worth it."

And he steps on it and the engine roars and FWOOM! they're going fast! He grins like a maniac into the pressure of G-force.

The manic glee returns as they speed down the highway and it's the best kind of medicine. The woman who always has to be in the tightest control just let's it go in this moment, and puts her life in the hands of a man who is only barely more than a stranger. It's exhilarating and like a drug high, only less damaging to the body, provided they don't wind up dead in a ditch somewhere. Rebecca encourages him with hollers and screams of joy.

They do not end up dead in a ditch. Instead they end up coasting back into town, with Itzhak beaming like he just got laid. "Wow," he says, studying Rebecca out of the corner of his eye as he drives. "Girl, when you let loose, you really let loose. I'm frikkin' honored you did it in my car." Teasing!

"Hah, you have NO idea," Rebecca quips back. She grins at him, a slight sheen of sweat on her brow, wisps of her hair sticking to it. She's lit up like a miniature sun. "Hell of a ride," she murmurs, still breathing hard from the excitement and adrenaline.

Itzhak's smiling at her kinda helplessly, like a big dork. "Aww, Bex, you know how to make a guy feel appreciated." He doesn't want to drop her off yet, and as a result is winding aimlessly through the town's streets. "Glad I could help."

Rebecca sinks back in the seat and lets out a slow sigh of pure pleasure. "That was almost as good as sex. Almost," she chuckles. She flits him a glance with waggled brows, teasing.

Unavoidably Itzhak blushes, but he's laughing too. "Yeah, well, if you ever wanna make a comparison..." He tips a hand back and forth.

Rebecca arches a brow. "Is that an offer?" she asks him, curiously. Clearly she thought he wasn't interested in her. She doesn't seem like his type, after all. Outside of gaming.

Itzhak performs a whole little Jewish nonverbal communication: he sucks in a breath, holds it, tips his hand back and forth again, the eyebrows go up. All to express an ambivalence that he maybe wishes he didn't have. "I'm tryin' not to jump into bed with anybody too fast. Especially maybe not someone who just went through a whole lot of awful shit. Seems like that'd be skimmin' awful close to taking advantage. I'm kinda seeing someone, and I kinda want her to be the break in the dry spell. ...That said, you and I got a certain compatibility and I like that an awful lot." The glance he gives her now is warm and frank. "So, it's an offer of negotiation?"

Rebecca looks just a tiny smidge disappointed in that. "Ah well, it was worth a shot," she quips. "It's ok, you're still my favorite tank." She chuckles. "So who is the lucky gal?" she asks.

"It's not a no," Itzhak says, amused, "it's a..." He has to think about it, and pulls over on a quiet side street. The wind rustles gently in the cedars. Turning in the bucket seat, Itzhak tucks a leg under him and faces Bex. "It's a, I wanna know you're sure and you won't regret it."

"That's a nice way to look at things, but it would be an absolutely no strings attached, we are NOT dating or seeing each other or doing anything other than having sex now and then. Just so you understand that. But if you want this girl to be the break from your dryspell, it sounds like you're invested in her a bit more than someone who would be ok with that," Rebecca points out with a small smile.

Itzhak really is amused, and now embarrassed, again. "Well, thing is, I'm actually perfectly okay with that. I'm...just like that? Always have been, caused no end a trouble before I figured it out. I like more than one person at once. I'm seeing this girl, kinda, and I'm also kinda hoping her roommate eventually agrees to a date or two. So from me, that's fine. And who I like, got near nothing to do with who I can have sex with now and again without dating 'em." He shrugs, like, what can you do, he's just like this.

"Birds of a feather. Well, let me know down the line, once you're over that hump," Rebecca quips, pun intended. She pulls the mouse box out of the bag to peruse it and shift her internal gears.

"I'm your tank, after all." Itzhak smiles at her. "And I'd love to kiss you." For now, though, he puts the Stingray into gear, and brings Rebecca home.

Rebecca doesn't look up from reading her specifications, though she smiles one of her secretive little smiles. It's a stroke to her ego, of course, him wanting to kiss her. "Your restraint is admirable. Stupid, but admirable," she comments lightly.

"Tell me about it," Itzhak says, eyebrows quirking in something like wry regret.

He drives considerably more sedately on the way back, quiet, until they pull up outside the apartment building. Then he idles the Vette, clearly thinking: his forehead is furrowed. "So." He looks over at her, smiling just a little in one corner of his mouth. "You want that kiss?"

Rebecca lifts her gaze to him finally, and there is a spark in her eyes. She's alive again. It was a good day. "You'd better make it a damned good one if that's all I'm getting," she threatens, unclasping her seatbelt.

Itzhak's smile turns downright wicked. His eyes travel alllll the way down Bex, taking his time, enjoying the sights. "C'mere." Leaning towards her, he brushes the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "I'll give you a good one, all right." He cups her face with that big rough calloused hand of his and dips in--and only barely makes contact, nuzzling her teasingly. And then begins to kiss her, slow and hot. No hurry on his part. He's got all day.

The order to come to him gets a devilish smirk on Rebecca's lips. She does so, in grand fashion, sliding over and turning around to straddle his lap. The feint makes her nip at the air between them with a slight hiss. When the real kiss comes, she slides into it like a hungry predator, her fingers sliding into his hair and curling there tightly.

Okay, he's got slightly less than all day. Itzhak groans low in his throat. He sinks into kissing her, utterly absorbed in the sensations of that, and of her fingers tight in his hair. His own fingers slip to the back of her neck and stroke her there, light among the tiny soft hairs.

He's breathing fast by the time he lets her go, and rests his forehead against hers, big nose nudging her cheek. "Hoo boy. You are trouble, Carr."

Rebecca is panting by the time they part, and she licks her lips before nipping his lower one, one last time, and sliding out of his lap, to gather her things. "You better believe it, Rosencrantz," she replies, winks, and gets out of the car with her purse and shopping bag.

Itzhak runs the tip of his tongue over his lips, catching the last of her taste, watching her get out with hazel eyes gone intense. "See ya online," he says, voice low.

Then he gets out of there before he can't stop himself from following her up.