2019-11-09 - The Catalyst

Early November what's a walk in the morning? His niece got to rick or treat twice, she made a friend, and she's with her mom somewhere letting Joey worry about adult things for a while. Best day ever to no have a kid around for entirely all of the wrong, or maybe exactly right, reasons. The sky is a thick heather grey and calm and the remaining yellow on the trees is bright.

Joey's hands remain in he pockets of his leather jacket as he walks down the street It's Friday. The paper went out yesterday. Gave him a bit to think about in parts. Not the least of which is the candy tax. He is quiet and usually not the conversation starter between them, but enjoys the not-part of these talks all the same. "So...you met ma. Sorta." That's ongoing.

Nicole is dressed for the weather in her oft worn black boots, faded black jeans that are nearing a deep charcoal gray, black leather jacket, and an infinity skull scarf in black and white tucked in the opening at her neck and chest. Beneath the jacket, she wears a plaid shirt in grayscale tones. She has one hand hidden in a pocket, the other on her phone, ready to power up and snap photos if she sees anything Insta worthy. A lot has happened recently and she bears the weight of it all on her mind with as much grace as she is able.

"Sort of," she smiles, turning to look up at Joey. "Joey Lee Kelly, is this how you have a 'I'd like you to meet my Mom' talk with a girl?" She teases gently, nudging his arm with her elbow to make sure he knows she is teasing. Looking back to the street ahead, she mentions, "she was... really loud. And he was, so... there." He, meaning Brandon, the lost boy.

They make progress on the idle walk. It is definitely something and that something is a feeling. Nicole picks it up: a rogue feeling of panic, fear, distress. It's near and desperate. There's anxiety too from... is it Joey? Yeah. Yeah some of that is? Huh! Still they walk and Joey snorts to the question tilting his head to get a side glance in, eyebrow curious. "What? Shiiit, she does that when I'm trying to ignore her. Like... I mean I get being dead is probably boring as shit, but like stopping preventing things from happening so she can tell me, Joey, someone's doing a thing? Ain't helping. It's just." he takes a deep breath and shakes his head, "Hard sometimes. We're doing the best we can, and... I didn't know about Superman. That was..." His brow furrows and he shakes his head. He's not good with words about feelings but it's braodcasting clear he's in agreement that one was really rough, even for him.

The faintest of smiles picks up in earnest, "Maybe it's how I have the 'I want to introduce you to my ma' talk" His head wobbles in the slight amusement of that amid heavier topics. "Maybe I like testing how people deal with crazy bullshit. Or," he winks, "Maybe I'm still a meaniehead. I think that's what you called in in 5th grade. Couldn't argue that one. Pretty wise for-" Something's grabbing at his attention again and his green eyes take another glance around to figure that out. "A 5th grader." Huh.

Nicole can't help but chuckle a little as Joey talks about his mother getting loud when he's trying to ignore her. "I mean... so she might not be corporeal, but she still sounds like your mom. Like most moms in that sense." She smiles, nudging his elbow with hers, but she nods when he mentions it is sometimes hard. "I can only imagine." An odd feeling comes over her and she starts to look around at the surroundings as they walk the street. Reaching up to her shoulder opposite of the hand that lifts, she rubs at it lightly then looks up at Joey. "Are you okay?" she asks with mild concern, perhaps thinking that the tension in the air she feels is coming mainly from him.

Lowering her hand she seeks out Joey's, perhaps to comfort him if that feeling she is sensing is coming from him, perhaps for her own comfort. "Shit," she says with a smirk. "Stick around me... I seem to have deal with crazy a lot. Your mom is a breath of fresh air in comparison." She smiles gently in a bit of a flirtatious way with the way her eyes look at him. "You were a meaniehead. I was a genius fifth grader. Maybe you are still a meaniehead." She shakes her head just slightly. She does not seem to think he is currently a meaniehead. When she sees him looking around, she whispers, "you feel it too? it's like an unease settling on my shoulders, making me feel like... somethings gonna jump out at us. Twitchy."

When Nicole calls him a meaniehead still one eye squints shut and he sticks his tongue out at her making a face briefly. It's his very best and only effort of humor here. All of his closest friends are criminals and also a 4 year-old. There's not a lot of maturity precedent to go around here. He considers the question of being okay with a shrug, "Just a lot on my mind lately. I mean I dunno, it's not that I can't handle it, but the responsibility is a lot to adjust to." Not disappointing Felix for one, but also not getting shot for doing a shit job, while far from a concern with his criminal work ethic is no less real.

He pauses and looks down at her hand in his. Did this happen now? A bit ago? When he took hers he wasn't even paying attention like second nature. It gets a squeeze though with a wry, impish grin, "Yeah well lucky me you have questionable taste." He looks down to his pocket where it looks like something's poking out of the inside pocket of his jacket. A brown goose feather in the lining pocket? He reaches in and shoves it back down. There's a pause though and something has his hackles the fuck up. He takes a half lean closer to her and looks up and around. Something is off. Something is very off and he says faintly, "Naw. I think I hear something though."

For Nicole the street might feel too quiet but when Joey's attention is drawn towards a white house with shitty siding and brown brick and an unkempt flowerbed that's got leaves piled in it and is a bit overgrown? Yeah. That's the source.

Nicole happens to stick her tongue out at people all the time, so, they are equal on levels of maturity. Perhaps that is why they get along so well, and why she gets along with Jesse well too. However, on this occasion, when he does it to her, she grins and reaches across her body to poke her finger to the tip of his tongue if he isn't quick enough to pull it back before she touches it. However, then serious face returns, she asks Joey, "anything I can help with?" The things on his mind, that is. "I am fairly certain you can handle just about anything that comes your way, Joey Lee Kelly. Doesn't mean people who uh... like.. care about you can't help shoulder some of the weight from time to time." After she says that, she realizes it is probably in matters she can't help much with. Nodding, she looks up to meet his green eyes. "Well, at the least, perhaps, when all that weight you are carrying around starts to hurt your shoulders too much... let me massage them?"

Chuckling and biting her lip, she shrugs. "I mean, you're not entirely wrong. I do sometimes have questionable taste... but not where you are....." She is distracted when he looks down and sees a feather from his pocket. She looks at it then looks curiously to him. "Is there a hole in your pocket? I can fix that..." When he leans in closer, she looks up at him, then, after his whisper, looks around and takes a deep breath. She follows his scanning gaze until he looks at the house. Quietly, she asks, "what is it?" He seems more attuned to things, so she simply makes her inquiry.

Hey the offer is good and just because Joey's not the smartest man doesn't make him a fucking idiot either. Both eyebrows go up with a brief murmur, "Shit you can do whatever you want." He won't turn down a free- seriously what IS that sound? On the feather he murmurs absently, "Nah, I ended up with it tryin to keep some dude from flipping out while Erin was gettin her religion on." Frowning at the house now he answers, "A sound. Ain't... a good one." And that dine he walks over up the drive. It's a thing Nicole can feel: desperation and panic but not from the man in front of her. Despair and a hopelessness.

As he steps forward Joey's arm goes behind him and tries to arm block her in case. He makes his way around the side door and there's an overturned steel shelving rack that was holding tools and paint cans. On the ground half pinned under it there's what looks like some mutt pinned down and trying to get out. Hand grips the door knob and cranks the knob busting the door on frame with his shoulder letting it fly open.

"Oh fuck!" It's not much that can wash the color from the man's face. Rushing in he takes one hand and tries to force-shove the rack off the half-crushed whimpering dog that looks like he's been out here for too long. Malnourished like it can't afford to be fed, a garage door that doesn't look opened in a while. A Cadillac El Dorado that's seen better days. the water i the bowl is nearly gone and can't be reaches and there's a stain on the ground and some matted blood in the puppy's fur. It looks up at them tired, afraid, too exhausted and injured to move.

Nicole smiles at him with the murmur, but when he mentions the feather and how he came about having it in his pocket, she just looks confused, staring at his pocket. Just as he mentions the sound, she feels it; that slightly toxic, electric feeling of panic laced with the weight and darkness of hopelessness. It shows in her eyes, those emotions mixing with her own. He steps forward and she follows, giving him a small glare when his arm tries to hold her back. She quickly realizes why though, when he slams his shoulder into the door and busts it clear open.

His exclamation have her looking first to him, then inside, where she sees the dog. Horror crosses her features and she moves to rush past Joey. "Oh shit! Puppy! It's okay puppy... we'll help. She starts to crouch down but is too slow for joey's quick thinking. The shelves seem to rise up on their own and off the dog. Still, the pup does not move. Nicole goes to her knees by the pup; too injured to move, hopefully it is also not going to attack out of fear and panic. She doesn't even look around the garage, just tries to assess the pup, but she is no vet, no medic, doesn't even have a first aid card. Looking up at Joey, there are tears in her eyes, as if she can feel the puppy's pain herself. "What do we do, Joey? " It is then she looks around, eyes perhaps scanning for something she can put the dog on to pull or carry out without injuring it more, or causing more pain than can be helped. "Oh god... pup.... shh... it's okay... " but is it?

There's a ruckus from insideand the steps come close. Joey looks at the dog and there's a feeling there and it breaks through and the boxer looks to Nicole hurt and upset. There's a first for the books.

The swearing from the other side of the door and heavy steps.is the sound of a lower voice, gruff, not entirely bothering to enunciate and very irritated, "Will you shut up? God damned-"

The words come like thunder and concuss right into Joey's chest with the same lack of caring or concern like a fist from any one of his mom's boyfriends growing up. The words leave an emotional bruise good as any. In that moment he resolves a plan and looks back to Nicole with a look that wishes he could apologize for what he's about to do.

His hand grabs the paint can. When the door opens there's a pissed off man that looks note entirely sober looking past Joey at Nicole trying to figure out who the hell is breaking into his garage. "Who the hell are-" But it's Joey's hand on the paint can and in a turn catches the bottom of the guy's jaw on the upswing whipping his head up. Boot rises to chest and he shove kicks him back into the door.

Joey's head tilts to one side to stretch that shoulder and his neck doesn't pop. This isn't the movies, this is just wholesale unfortunate. Quietly Joey warns, "Stay out here." There's the sound of a second voice muffled yelling (What the hell, Ed?!).

If she were not already feeling the pain and hurt from the pup, Joey's expression when he looks at her would have filled her with those emotions. The sound coming their way, heavy steps, drunken voice, draws her attention to that door. She is staring at it, waiting to be found out, and doesn't see the initial punch to Joey's inner child, but she does see it when the paint can near her is picked up. Her eyes follow the line of his hand to arm to face. Their eyes lock in that brief moment, and whether she understands that look, or he understands hers exactly, there is a silent communication, an understanding before the door opens, breaking their focus. Nicole looks towards the drunken mass of anger. If anyone asked her later, she would swear she moved in slow motion, or Joey with a super speed. Before she can even blink, paint can is meeting jaw, boot meeting chest, body meeting door. Her mouth drops open, her hands still under the poor dog's head.

She can't move, whether frozen with fear or worry for the dog, she just can't. So Joey's warning is almost needless. But she looks to him with that warning and the voice coming from inside. "You can't go in there, Joey," she hiss-whispers. "We don't know how many there are inside.... Shit.. Joey." She is worried for all new reasons now, Her teeth biting into her lip so hard she can taste a hint of copper.

Joey tries to get a bead on how many are in there. Whoever they are are all fucking culpable at this point. He murmurs, "Well soon, just one." Hand comes out of his pocket and he lobs his keys to her. "Get my car, baby." From inside there's a flailing and someone sliding down a couple steps. Presumably 'Ed'. Joey steps into the house and while he doesn't touch it, the door drifts closed behind him in the backdraft.

There's a concussive wave of emotion coming off the world. What emotion is coming from where seems to weave a tapestry. From inside there's someone yelling Who the fuck are you?! is met with the familiar voice answering "Knock, knock, asshole." Inside there is a fight. Maybe it's best that the door is closed.

Sixteen years of being kicked around and treated like a mongrel rise to the surface like bubbling pitch. It's audible through the door, concussive sounds of fists impacting meat- surprise and fear flood the halls. These assholes pissed off the very wrong bad man, and it's behind that closed door and further into the house that he wades to apply his craft. Maybe that's the sound of a body hitting a wall, or the shelves of a pantry falling in on themselves.

He's not gone but for a short period of time; the couple minutes he is some how drag out in a mosaic of yelling and screaming until there's a sound of someone being startled. The SLAMMING of something or someone heavy into that door from the inside making the small mutt whimper, afraid. Then starts a sound that is everything one would expect; where rage turns to fear and pleading. There's a tinny hollow metallic sound that is absolutely not enirely mechanical. Is... is that a toaster? Well if it was it is not anymore. Now it's catharsis.

Nicole catches the keys and looks up to see Joey step inside and the door close. Alone in the garage with the injured pup, she doesn't seem to want to move, to leave it, or Joey, for a moment. She is caught up in that tapestry, swallowed by it all. She hears Joey's voice and then the sounds of fighting. Whatever is happening in there, she is not going to be of much help. Looking down to the injured dog, near lifeless, bloody, and she knows she can't do much for him either in this garage. So, keys in hand, she takes a deep breath and when she hears the sounds from inside, feels the waves of energy coming at her, she knows she has to just listen to what he said.

She smooths a hand over the head of the pup and whispers, "I'll be back. You just hang on." Gently, she lays his head down and eases her other hand out from under it before she gets up, ready to run out and down the street for Joey's car. Just as she stands, a body slams into that door. The pup whimpers and she lets out a small squeak of surprise before gasping a breath. She has to just believe Joey is okay in there, physically. She has to trust in him, or she won't be able to do anything. Tears slipping down her cheeks, her body trembling slightly, she exits through the broken door they came in and starts running as fast as she can, summer blonde hair blowing in the wind behind her.

When Nicole comes back a few things happened. It's not still transpiring and the chaos seems to have abated. The only story of what all transpired seems to come from any trace evidence on his t-shirt, the side of his neck, his hands and a bruise on the side of his face. All, some, or none of the spatter on him might be his own blood. Thankfully he doesn't look like he was fighting zombies wholesale, but he doesn't have to. The world is still.

He doesn't inform that he's put keys in the car. He doesn't mention to her that he called Graham and left him an urgent alert on his burner phone nor that he let Itzhak know he's calling in a favor and be on stand by before abruptly hanging up.

Nicole's greeted with none of that. When she pulls up the car he's greeted with Joey listening for the and walking out of the garage, bust door closing in the backdraft. He's wrapped the puppy in his leather jacket and is carrying the scared critter , but not spending too long in the street. Let's be real, It's Elm. There is left with the boxer the haunted, vacant expression on his face feeling like the young Kelly kid he was once. Tears and blood mat his face while his expression is vengeance absolute. His voice chokes the words calmly into being, "I'm a need you to drive."

There's a determination that is not going to be negotiated with, and he might be entirely gambling on her ability to be on board with that. He's going to find some way to remediate this however he fucking damn well has to. "There's a vet. Lives not far."

Nicole pulls into the driveway at the house as fast as she can without making a scene. She doesn't want to draw attention to the house, the car, or them. Seeing him standing there, waiting, bruised and bloody, carrying the poor pup in his jacket. She's putting the car in park as her eyes water up, a quiet, "Jesus......" slipping from her lips. Maybe he doesn't want her to get out of the car, but she does, rushing to his side. She says nothing, not knowing what to say in this moment. Glancing only briefly to the house as she walks him to the car, opening the passenger door for him with a nod that she would have to drive. There are a lot of emotions swirling within her; her own, currently. Some of them can be read upon her face; worry, a bit of fear, concern for Joey, and as much as she tries to deny it... a deep affection.

Once he is in, the pup still in his arms, she closes his door and rushes around to the other side. The car is still running, and she buckles in and sets it into reverse. All the emotions and the sight of Joey's haunting look makes her voice a bit quiet when she speaks. Setting the car in drive, she merely says, "just tell me where to go." If he were not lost within his own dark thoughts, he might hear that crack in her voice. Were he not focused on the pup and where they have to go, he might look aside and see tears start sliding silently down her cheeks. She doesn't want him to see her crying right now, so she just lets them fall as she tries to will herself to regain control over them. She can cry later. This isn't what he needs in this moment. In this moment, he needs her to be something solid for him; a rock, a wall, someone who just gets done what needs done. Only when she has to look to the left for oncoming traffic, does she subtly reach up with her hand to wipe her face dry. She glances towards him and the pup frequently, but not once does she invade his thoughts with asking questions that shouldn't be asked right now. She just drives, taking them to the vet he directs her to.

Joey isn't a guy that has a wide range of most anything much less feelings. Things are either 'ok' or 'about to be fixed' but aside from a few key moments in his life he's not really used to being truly, and profoundly scared. It wasn't when he got arrested and was taken from his twin. He resigned to that and it was crushing but that wasn't fear. The last time he felt this might have been when he was 16 and got the call from Jaime that ma was killed and everything was uncertain.

God he was empathizing with this puppy and he wasn't about to give up the injured lil critter. He knows too well what it feels like to have no one to fight for him and be stranded in a room all alone screaming at the walls hoping someone would come and help. He couldn't help mom, but he was going to find a way to help this puppy and not fail twice. The small dog of no particular breed; all white and brown and tired, lays it head into his arm with a tiny whine. He sniffs, jaw set and fueled by some purpose. He has Nicole right now though, taking that wheel, and focusing on what they need to which was saving a life and not the two that are conspicuously absent.

He picks the words he needs. He's in war mode but even right now he's trying to keep the sharpness of those words from being directed at her. "Oak Street." Yeah. They're going to have to talk about this later. This is pretty much the reason not to date Joey Kelly: the forecast is always cloudy with a chance of street justice. Right now he didn't have much of a plan and in spite of all his efforts him being himself was quickly becoming her problem, and you can't apologize for something you'll do again and again.

"It'll be ok. we'll work it out." And who can say if he's talking to Nicole, the puppy, or both. Whoever it is intended for he'll carry that plan through.