2019-10-06 - Time Travel and Contractors

Kelsey had totally mastered the art of Voice to Text since her whole "wood chipper" incident, even though she wasn't a fan of using it in public places. People didn't need to hear her conversations. Nonetheless, the blonde's voice could faintly be heard as she started to walk inside Kelly's Gym. With her arm still bandaged up pretty tight, it was unlikely that Kelsey had come to attempt any workouts. More likely, she was seeing if maybe Joey was around to give her sympathies about the arson attack on the building. Intense blue eyes surveyed the gym, taking stock of what all was already fixed and what was still in the process of being repaired.

Her attire was simple, a pair of dark blue, torn jeans with a white tank top and a black and green flannel hanging open over top. It was getting chilly out, but Kelsey likely wouldn't stop wearing this type of ensemble until the snow decided to fall.

As the afternoon crept in, the after burned creeps and their morning-afternoon routines came to a heralded close, putting the Gym's inside into that eclipsed state of being near-empty, before the night crowd people decided it was their time to take an appearance. By the circuit board, nailed into a wall on the deepest corner of the gym, was a singularly striking, strangely-dressed man looking down at the ground, hiding his face beneath a red, fire-framed hard hat. He wore a jacket coat down to the waist, its sleeves receded to the elbows. It was colored beige, full of cyberpunkish marks, cuts and flaws all thorough it. The front had the caption sewn on a patch left of his pectoral area that screamed; "Aim here for success!" right above his supposed heart, however cynical the notion. Long, cargo chinos with the ankle bands pulled up to the calves, and sneakers colored a mostly black, somewhat white set of shades that reached his ankles, looking as if he had just come out the backstage of a concert from The Cure.

At his feet? A toolbox. Allen wrench, seven different types of plyers, a thumb-thick spooling of roughly twelve meters of red, copper and aluminum wire. The board looked to have been entirely reworked and renovated during the morning Nasir spent at the local, giving it an entirely new coat of red paint, and graffiti'd at the framing top the words; "Red ones go faster."

The cellphone gets pocketed as Kelsey finishes, giving an upnod to one of the current patrons that she vaguely recognized before continuing to drift along the edges of the interior. It would seem that Joey Kelly was nowhere to be seen this afternoon. Ah well, it couldn't be expected to spend all his time in the Gym. It was good to be out of the house anyway, and weaning off the pain meds - nice as they were. A clear head was important. She posted up against a wall, people-watching those doing their workouts.

The same wall, in fact, that Nasir was working at. The red hard hat caught Kelsey's peripheral vision first. Then she turned ever so slightly to get a better look. Peering at the man, more specifically, his coat. Then the rest of his outfit, and finally to what he was working on. "Please don't tell me you came all the way from a dystopian future just to fix Kelly's Gym up." A touch of a smirk resting on her lips, though there was curiosity in those blue eyes.

It took perhaps a bit longer than the necessary for Nasir's head to reel back, and return a glance towards Kelsey, but in the end it did. He had been working long, after all; a grueling twelve hour shift of freelancing that had him fucking around with wires and other mismatched voltages all around Joey's shop, and it'd take generations to find the extent of Nasir's jury-rigging all thorough the Gym's machinated insides and cabling affairs. Macgyver would be proud. His eyes were dark and obscenely baggy when they did find Kelsey's, framed by rings of lackluster sleep and hungover that plagued him still, because who'd go so deep into transmission lines as he did without being drunk out of his fucking mind?

"Shit," a brief, forced smile; a harder, vision-straining squint, and Kelsey was soon a Sun, whom's glare he couldn't withstand. He lifted up a palm and re-adjusted the conformity of his torso, succumbing further into the backless chair to instead press into the cold, cobbled wall. A deep, hoarse grunt huffed out his throat and he looked away, then, towards one of the speed bags. The one that had, specifically, kicked his ass the day prior. "Why does it have to be dystopian? Can't people have decadent clothing and live happily in their aesthetically questionable choice of attire? Man, it's like that book, from Phillip Dick, the one about that Maze; the fucking.. The uh, the.." he hung on the idea, his left palm rising with no small degree of stain to click his fingers, snapping for remembrance to reach his head. "--.. The fucking thing, with the Maze; "A Maze of Death?" uh, whatever," he finally looked back, once again, addressing her eyes. Wholeheartedly expressive as they were, while his own only could every truly express a forlorn touch of never truly belonging.

"You're taking the budget? I'm almost done, I already hashed out how much this all's going to cost Joey."

"Isn't it always dystopian?" Kelsey gave a dramatic sort of flourish with her bandaged arm, grimacing because that was not a good idea. When she did, the sleeve of her flannel moved to give a glimpse of said bandage and the fact that she was missing her middle and pointer finger. Then the arm carefully settled back to her side. "Humanity's too greedy, too selfish, too fucking awful and immature to do anything but ruin the world they live in? Even if it looks pretty on the outside - it's usually always corrupt and rotting on the inside." A shrug of her shoulders. "A Maze of Death. You're right. Think I had to read that in college for something. But hell if I remember."

Kelsey could sympathize with that look. She'd been on the fringes of society for a while now, even if she was trying to reintegrate. However, she flashed Nasir a grin. "I don't work here, but if you wanna toss me some numbers I'll pass 'em to Kelly anyway. Just cause I'm a good Samaritan." And Joey was one of the few people she rarely felt like punching in the face! "Name's Kelsey. Don't think I've seen ya around here before."

It was strange, to be engaged on the given notions. When had a girl ever wittily replied to him on the works of K. Dick, the man himself? Not once, and so his eyes lingered off to the side, wide-eyed more than they've been the past ten years of his life, to stare at the floor in forlorn shock. Why, yes, A Maze of Death, she had agreed, and so his eyes closed and he tilted his head, looking her way with them sealed still under his chin's subtle tilt. Eventually, they opened, blinking a couple of times in finally admitted surprise. "Nice shit man. It's not his best work but anyway."

Nasir finally stood up, digging his gloved left palm beneath his right arm, squeezing down into it with a bicep to strain the glove and pull, freeing his palm clear. Unlike the impossibly sooty piece of leathery and metal-padded cloth - for safety, of course - his hand wasn't nearly as filthy, but instead full of a vascular touch that spread pronounced veins across his coarse, gritty palm. He offered that palm to her while approaching a single step, his other hand working the hard hat off his head. He wasn't exactly the polite sort, and even then; even with that outstretched appendage, there was a sense of rebelliousness about his every deed. Dystopian indeed.

"Fuck that, you look like you'd end up inflating the numbers so you get a cut yourself. I'll tell him in person-- name's Nasir. Haven't we met before?"

Kelsey did indeed look like the type who would do precisely that. Like the sort of person who might not give two shits what you think about her or what she has to say. "Well shit, there goes that plan to make next month's rent. Guess I'm just gonna have to paint a couple more fences before the snow falls." Kelsey gave an exasperated sigh that ended in a chuckle as she clasped his hand in a firm, but brief handshake. Her own hands might normally show signs of some kind of laborious work. Maybe flecks of paint, or a couple blisters. However, today they were clean and neat. Her hand was smooth to the touch against his own coarse one. Then her hand falls back to her side, studying him a little more closely when he asks if they've met before. It's a question she hears more often than she'd like - but at least the question is better than those fucking looks some people gave.

"If we have, can't say that I remember it. And I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I'd met you before." He had that tall, dark, and damaged thing going on for him from what Kelsey could tell. "Unless, of course, you really are from the future and I'm the near spitting image of some long-lost love, or best friend, or family member or something. Not gonna lie, that'd be kinda bad ass." She flashed him another grin. Though it also totally seemed like she was very much open to the idea that someone could be here from a future time. With all the shit that went on in this town? It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest.

If she hadn't caught the irony on the late address then, she wouldn't know, and she'd soon find - if she looked still at his visage - that sardonic amusement made utterly at her expense. He chuckled briefly under his breath, head shaking a brief back and forth with closed eyes before seeing them open again, eyeing her. The sway made his curly hair messily swing in the ebb and flow, yet the thicket was such that it just magnetified back into its usual, tightly combed form. "I don't know about that. It'd be one sorry loser who's got to come back in time to find his stranded quasi-love painting some other loser's fence like she's in on that Tom Sawyer business. And you do strike me as the Tom Sawyer type."

Finally, he let his eyes divagate to the more shallow aspects of her; to her hair, her attire and the aesthetic message her looks tried to convey. A subtle rise of one bushy, dark brow; an eloquent tilt of his lips below the recently groomed, clipped drop of his beard line, and he returned a grin of his own. Not quite as mirthful, not entirely of joy or gregariousness, but it was something. Positiveness didn't look well on this time traveller, after all. Gotta go back, back to the past;

"Either way, obviously I'm just a contractor. Joey told me the place got burnt up a week ago, and the whole wiring mesh went to shit. I replaced it, brought new fuses, tied a new harness of circuit breakers and restructured the whole board in one long fucking day, so sorry to burst your bubble. You could always come with me into the future, though? It'd take some time, however," Nasir explained, the last attachment of his reply made with a wry; with one cheeky smirk of unequally long incisors, worsening the aspect of mischief he emanated.

"Tom Sawyer? Eh, I dunno. I'm a terrible schemer and thief." Kelsey mused as she relaxed against the wall a little more. "But I agree, it would be pretty lame. Then again...that's probably exactly how it'd go in the real world." Well, only if it happened anywhere else other than Gray Harbor and at the end of it all - well, the time traveler might just prefer the fence painting.

Her hair was down, reaching just to her waist and while it was brushed through - it was very much half-hearted work. No make up, no jewelry, and her clothing was geared towards her personal comfort. She wasn't trying to impress anyone. If Nasir studied her eyes at all, he'd see there was something beneath the mostly friendly exterior. She's seen some shit. She's been through some shit. But she's just gotten better at controlling it.

"A contractor with a cool coat." Kelsey chuckled, letting her gaze sweep the gym and then settle back on to Nasir. "Yeah I heard about the incident. Part of why I came by today - was hoping to catch him. Ah well." She looks past her conversation companion, towards the area he was working on. "It looks like a pretty good job that this place was sorely in need of. Make sure you don't sell yourself short when it comes to charging him, yeah?"

There's a wry smile on her lips to match his smirk as he made his offer of coming to the future. "Tempting, but I don't think you'd be able to handle me for that long." While there was a tease to her tone, there didn't seem to be any kind of challenge behind it. More that Kelsey was just pretty sure there were few to no people that could handle her particular brand of self.

He lingered on that smile, regardless of the implication in her response. He let that silence between the two, at the lack of his immediate response, linger, and do so much more than it needed to. Many failed to preserve mirth when they smiled, much like expressions faded when an individual took too long to take a picture, but that wasn't the case with Nasir. His remained pristinely sly, the high of his cheekbones made concave by dimples subtly hidden under the scraggy outlining of his prodigious beard, it littered with a nasty dozen of ginger hairs, the only thing he got from his mother.

Other than that nasty fucking temper.

"Oh yeah?" Nasir eventually replied, seeing a brow smoothly transition to rise beyond its counterpart, feeling challenged - despite her intentions - and seeing to it with a jokingly derisive attitude. "I guess you're right, you do look like you'd be a bit of a sacrifice. And I can't handle fucking sacrifices right now, especially with.. Well," he'd cast a brief glance over his shoulder, towards the manipulation of electricity and wiring behind the breakers, and what remained of the recently scraped, obnoxiously painted red panel. "Lack of a steady job and all-- you'd be buying your own milkshakes," he cautioned, a true tease he delivered by turning his head back her way.

It was strange, how he found himself unable to break that hurt on the edge of his mouth that reminded him he had been doing the closest thing to smiling for a steady ten minutes now, here; there, with Kelsey, which was an exercise he wasn't conditioned for. It actually hurt, and he had to grimace the lower end of his countenance to bring a semblance of balance to his forlorn ways, and gruffly re-assert his often depressed dominance. "I've got some more words to share with him myself, but I suppose that'll come at its own time, in the future. When he's not entirely busy."

Nasir may have mastered it, but Kelsey's expression shifted to something a little harder to decipher as those blue eyes continued to study the not-time traveler. Hard to tell what exactly she was thinking about, but that smile slipped back in to place when he spoke again. "Got that right. I'm clearly too high maintenance to be paying for my own milkshakes." Good hand resting on her hip and she even tilted her head just enough to seem like she was sticking her nose up. It didn't last long. She couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up at the notion of her being high maintenance. Kelsey relaxed again against the wall, though her hand remained on her hip.

Kelsey focused on his face again catching his little grimace and the slight change in his demeanor. A knowing sort of look fleeting over her own features, but she didn't comment on it. What was the use? It wasn't any of her business. "I'm sure he'll be easy to find soon enough." She ran her tongue over her top set of teeth, as if thinking of something, pulling her gaze from him - to the other few patrons. "So do you come around the Gym a lot? I'm pretty much a regular." She offered, as if maybe that's how he recognized her. If he had been being serious about thinking they met before. "Well, was before this shit happened," Motioning briefly to her other arm. "But will be one soon again."

Other worries, other demons and other concerns came upon him then, once a sudden trepidation washed over his body like a bad feeling does upon the superstitious. But he wasn't superstitious, and this only but made it worse. Regardless, there Kelsey was still; there a need to socialize and normalize himself to more earthly issues, such as sustaining the illusion of gregariousness that kept him from being probed by the secret police on the very real possibility he could indeed be a sleeper agent from the future. That'd suck, probably;

"Come around the Gym a lot. Hrm.. I guess, yeah, before-- not this one, though; no. When I lived here we all went to the park, we had some weights to work with-- a more public realm there, Capitalism hadn't sunk its paws on us that hard just yet," he followed her gaze then, to study the patrons. He didn't rightly care for faces, however; his gaze was one of thoughtful longing, as if staring into a depth elsewhere, and renouncing the short-sighted fielding of addressing those nearby. Always a step ahead of the now, perhaps he was indeed redundantly a man of the future;

He didn't linger away from her long, however. Sooner than later, tottering his head curiously back in her direction; bringing his lower lip within the bite of a single canine as a thought crossed him- one he didn't let time pass before sharing. "So what kind of marital abuse got your arm fucked up?"

Might suck, but it'd be a kick ass story to tell the grandkids one day. If you lived to have grandchildren to tell it to. Anywho....

"Before?" Kelsey quirked a brow. "Where were you before coming back?" A simple question, just that idle curiosity. He was a new face after all. Even if Kelsey didn't socialize much, she was rather familiar with most of the faces around town. New faces were interesting. New faces potentially had interesting stories.

He asks about her arm then and Kelsey looked down to it. A barely perceptible shudder running up her spine as she slowly pushed up the flannel to show him the arm. A bandage wrapped tightly from her wrist to her elbow. "Would you believe me if I told you I got caught in a wood chipper?' Looking back up at him. Maybe it was a look in her eyes, or just the way she asked the question. Nasir might get the feeling that whether he said yes or no - that was the story he was going to get. Be it the truth, or otherwise.

But why lie about it?

"Be glad ya can't see underneath this. Looks like it belongs on Frankenstein's Monster now, not a person." She mused.

It was the sheer instinct in him that made his own main, left arm reach out and hover a hand close to her limb, from below. It didn't matter that in this instance, he was taller- he sought to cup it, at first, but stopped himself only a few centimeters shy of touching her elbow, and giving wrong aid to she who didn't need it, and more importantly, didn't ask for it. Funnily enough, it smoothly transitioned into a quasi hover hand a finger's distance from the bandaging. His head tilted left, then right, and it was obvious how studious he was of seeing through the many facets of her wound. His deep, reactive thinking dilated his eyes in notorious preconception, and passion uplifted his otherwise droll features to a much more engaging set of looks.

Ones that didn't change his response, irregardless of that look of PTSD she gave him,

"Nope, don't believe that," and on that he sat, furrowing his brows something fierce at her. He was perhaps all too stubborn at the idea, but a wood chipper? Why, she'd have eight arms by then, of course.

He did some motions with his hand for her arm, his index finger doing a back and forth that pointed to her wrist and up to her shoulder repeatedly, "See," a beat; "Some girl told me that I'd be able to fix this eventually. Like it was something I could do, you know? Like fixing the crankshaft of a totaled ATV, or getting better quality oil for a truck's engine, and I'm thinking, fuck-- it's going to suck when the bandages do come off, and your arm's stitched like you came straight out of a mummy's coffin, when there's the possibility I could make it go away." he let his words linger there, in the air- was it an insult? Was it genuine concern; was it a shallow throw at her looks, and something less obvious? His was a purposefully dry tone, and an expression that acted host to nothing but monotone assertiveness.

"But a milkshake may fix it better."

Kelsey went tense as his hand reached out so unexpectedly. An instinct of her own perhaps. Watching him study her bandaging so intensely. Maybe mildly fascinated at the expression, drawn to it. Though was snapped out of it when he spoke up again. "Yeah, you seem like a smart guy. Didn't think you would." She said simply, slowly pulling her arm back and letting the flannel slide down.

Listening curiously as Nasir spoke about the girl, there was a thoughtful noise that escaped her. Studying him again. Perhaps, not him precisely, but the area just around him. Finally seeming to take note of the smokey shadows coalescing lazily around his being. Semi-transparent. It was how she perceived those touched by the Veil and it's powers. He had the Glimmer. Of course he did.

Normally, Kelsey was more than happy to go about poking and prodding at ways to see if she could make people confront the truth about everything. Like that Clarissa chick from the bookstore. "Hey, if you wanna fix it - go right on ahead." A challenge, perhaps. But not spoken in a way like she didn't think he could do it. More that she thought he could and wanted to see if he believed he could. "I can do a lot of things but - that's not one of them." She offered him up another smile.

"A milkshake would make certainly improve the healing process. I'm positive of it."

A challenge he was very clearly not ready for. It was obvious he half-expected to be confronted on the lunacy of it all, for he himself seemed to lack that perceptive know-how that came with being inundated by the curse of the Veil. It's not that he didn't see the framework of black that made a contrast to her light; it wasn't that he failed to feel, and be affected by that thing, that unnameable fact that lingered on those 'afflicted'. It was more than not being loquacious but instead reticent to have to acknowledge these new truths in his life.

Glimmer? The Veil? Communion with the Alien, and the surreal? A step into a pit of dementia that had no return.

"Shit, fix it? Na'-- I was kidding; na', don't think-- no, hell no. I'm a mechanic, electrician; I'm a hustler of all things made out of metal. People? Nope, not people," he shook his head, proving flimsy beneath her expectations. Instead, he worked a smile; a not-so-easy smirk for her, to transition away from a topic that to this day; to that very moment, telegraphed still a tremble up his spine;

One that made his head turn almost dogmatically to the side before forcing a modulated, smooth response that didn't fit the deep baritone he naturally spoke with. "Right, hey-- see, that sounds great though, a milkshake? I'll probably be here for the rest of the day, I think; maybe for the rest of the night. I'm thinking the owner may need more than just the wired checked, and you never know, a chance to make more money if he needs to make more changes," Nasir elaborated, offering a subtle smile of his own; an announcing to what he'd request next, done with a careful mimicking of writing on imaginary paper in his hand.

"If, however, you give me your number... I'm sure we can work something out, once I'm out of this joint. You may have to pay for your own milkshake the first time, but I've got plans to striking it Trump rich in the future," his right hand rose at the promise, crossing his heart in toothy amusement.

Time. All things come in time, be them good or bad. Or neutral. It was testing the waters and Kelsey filed the information away for a rainy day. A later day. When she knew more about him and what made him tick. So Kelsey smiled that smile again, light and more or less friendly. Easily stepping away from the topic things far more unpleasant than milkshakes.

She finished her phone out of her pocket and went about unlocking it and going to the contacts area before handing it to Nasir. "Here - why don't you give me your number and I'll text you so you have mine." A brief, final glance around the gym before looking back to Nasir, amusement in her eyes. "I'll bet it'd be cheaper to tear the place down and start from scratch."

Kelsey would wait patiently for him to input his number and she simply pocketed it when he would give it back. She'd text him later, back at home. Because Voice to Text was not for the public's ears. Not really. Not to her. Whatever.

"I guess it won't break the bank to pay for my own milkshakes until you strike it big, yeah?" Kelsey winked and there was a beat of pause before a seemingly random question. "...You a dog person?"

And there he was, shook; thrown off his element when that phone was indeed held out and towards him. A part of him had imagined all of this to be one sick, sardonic exchange that'd culminate in them both parting ways laughingly- him dressed like a clown in shearling leathers of a wrong generation, her a soul that wouldn't waste effort on the aforementioned, and yet, there it was, that little piece of machine held his way that, had he taken a moment longer to catch, perhaps the idea he never meant to take it in the first place would've been wrongfully proposed.

Hell no, he took that shit.

And chubby, clumsy fingers went about trying to mimic a finesse they certainly didn't have in working the smartphone's touchscreen. His were things bloated in sandpaper strain with a life of work; of industriousness and inspiration towards all things made with grip, and they betrayed him then, as he tried to stupidly input his cellphone number.

Eight, five, four; seven, four, six; seven, five, three-.. Fuck, fuck; fuck, fuck, fuck, and he failed, and he fucked it up; and he tried, and retried. Dark Men be damned, a greater evil came upon him then as anxiety; as the possibility of giving her the wrong number and seeing her text some greasy, neckbearded menace sustained on the promise of selling ice cream to neighborhood children manifested in his head. Some more attempts, some more mumbled cursing in fleeting Arabic, and bingo.

Seven, five, four; thirty, forty-eight, bookmarked to a so-called Greasemonkey, an entitling that had him giggling softly at the tease made utterly at his expense while returning the phone.

"Hell yeah I'm a dog person. We worked with them in JSOC, every other day-- that's the answer, by the way, to what you asked me before. Don't get tricked by the looks, I was with the army for twelve deployments, but I don't like talking about it. I consider it a mistake, still, serving."

Just as he was surprised that Kelsey offered the phone, maybe a little part of her is surprised he took it because- as horribly cliche as it sounded in her head, this was a little different. While she might maybe have an ulterior motive -wanting to introduce him to reality- it wasn't in the forefront of her mind. It was just...milkshakes. It baffled the blonde woman, truth be told. And yet, she hoped it didn't show on her features. "Perfect." Giving him a smile when he handed her the phone back and she slipped it away. The Arabic was noted - not knowing a single word of it herself but she'd watched enough media over the years to understand the way it sounded at least.

Later on, she was definitely changing his name from Greasemonkey to Time Traveler. She still wasn't totally convinced.

Her eyes widened a touch. "Twelve deployments? Fuck me, that's insane." Kelsey cleared her throat. "Well, we won't talk about it. But good. That you're a dog person. Otherwise-" Otherwise what? Kelsey inwardly groaned and chided herself. "Otherwise there'd be issues." She decided on. "Because, cats are okay - but dogs are definitely better. Also, I have a dog and he's a people person. So, you know, it'd be really awful when you came and picked me up if he tackled you to say hello and you didn't like dogs." A little awkward sounding but she grinned again as she pushed herself off the wall. Fake it till you make it. Or something like that.

"Anyway. I'll let you get back to work. Sooner you finish - sooner we can figure out some details. " Pushing her good hand through her hair. "It was good to meet you Nasir. If you see Kelly before I do, tell 'im I said hey."

Smooth transitioning everybody, smooth transitioning. Bless her, indeed, for the only reaction he had to the affirmation of his yours was two confirming nods of his head, and no more. There wasn't pride in this veteran's eyes- no recollection, not a singular inch of nationalism.

He tried to trail after her with his eyes within the groans and changing expressions she chided in, to try and catch something to examine beside her words, but the deed failed. He chose to smile instead; a simple thing, he'd come to find later on in retrospect, to sustain the glee as they spoke. "Otherwise?" he echoed with her, yet not in his mind, but in words. His head tilted slightly, and he made for a serious - and faked - expression that saw his head turn in disgruntlement. "There'd be issues?" he repeated yet again, the head tilt crossing to the other side of his proverbial shoulder road, becoming host to even more doubts.

"Before you throw cats under the bus a second time, remember this; cats and dogs can live in perfect harmony, so why not have both, instead of-- instead of making it a competition?"

He let the suggestion linger in the air, in part in the fault of catching himself staring longer than sociably acceptable at a thing as mundane as seeing a stray set of locks be affixed behind an ear. He shook his head, made to squint with his eyes and loosened his mouth enough so that his lips appeared like a dog's jowls when that head did go back and forth in brief, unspecified denial.

"But right, I'll tell him. Hopefully next time we talk I'll have a shower going for me, and something more than harnesses and this ugly ass safety vest. Take care, Kelsey," he made sure to pull up said "safety vest" strapped beneath the jacket, which made the cohort of dark, maroon colors shine failingly with that horrible apple green, but safety first right folks?

He finally turned and made way back towards his chair, setting himself down with a huff - as to hint to building exhaustion - before spooling a massive portion of the wiring in his hand, continuing the task of reeling cylindrically the cord until it was bundled like a rope's circle, and that'd take its sweet, sweet time.

Why make it a competition? Kelsey thought about that a moment before giving a smile. "Maybe I like a little competition."

A little, tiny part of Kelsey wanted to find an excuse to linger . She wanted to keep talking to tall, dark, and damaged. Keep learning more about him. "And maybe I'll even dress a little nicer too." Kelsey offered with a laugh. Oh lord. Kelsey was glad when he started to walk back because she needed to get out of here.

Finally turning away, Kelsey headed towards the door. Lifting her good hand to her cheek she could feel the pale skin was a little warm to the touch.

She decided to blame it on a throbbing arm as she stepped back out into the cool autumn air. She was only halfway back to her Elm Street home when she pulled out her phone to text Nasir's number.

"Hey, it's Milkshake. I'm busy tomorrow afternoon but otherwise just hit me up if you want to get together." If. Not when. Because Kelsey still wasn't convinced this wasn't just something spurred on by being in the moment of...what? Intriguing conversation?