2019-11-25 - Bond-ing

Starting to feel a bit like she suffers from split personalities, Nicole has been under some stress lately. She puts on a cheerful face for her friends, and definitely for her clients at work, but there are moments it gets to her. This might be one of those moments. She's had a long day at work with her hands in the hair of many an older lady getting their 'do' done for the Thanksgiving Holidays. Some families it's all about appearances after all. Thankfully she's had some breaks in between, with someone younger, wanting to rebel and shock their family with a cut or color that will leave mouths agape. She is tired though when she gets home.

Stepping out of her aging Honda Accord, she spots James Bond's car sitting outside his trailer. She knows which is his, it's the fanciest, of course, and lights appear to be on. Will she be interrupting? She doesn't seem to care as she goes marking across the Park to space 20 (hers being 33) and gives a few sharp raps to the door. She's dressed for work still, black trousers that widen towards the ankle, high-heeled ankle boots, and a black wrap-around blouse that creates a v-neckline as it snugs close to her body. It's chilly, so atop this she wears her leather jacket. Her hair is pulled up today in a ponytail done with a bit of extra style. Thank goodness it is for once not drizzling in this gray gray town, as she waits, as patiently as possible.

"Just a second," Comes the refrain from Yule, and a few moments later the door of the trailer opens. He's lost his coat inside, having stowed it away after it's use for the autumn chill had been accomplished. It leaves him dressed in a dark blue button up dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up halfway upon his forearms, the top two buttons undone. It reveals a black and red, gingham pattern on the interior of the cuffs and the button seams. A pair of khaki slacks and a black pair of ankle high boots completes his well put together look. Those brown eyes flicker over Nicole for a moment, before a touch of recognition comes from him. "Spot 33, yeah?" He says as he steps fully from the door of the trailer, and onto the small deck that is out in front of it. "Everything all right? If Nat isn't around," His sister, who runs the place, and a glance towards that trailer in spot 21 that is hers. "Happy to help out if I can." Cause that's usually why the residents come knocking on his door, the few rare times they do.

Looking over her shoulder, Nicole nods. "Yeah, the blue and white Vagabond." Turning to face Yule again, she cocks her head to the side. "So Sparrow hasn't bothered to point out where her best friend lives? Hmm...." This seems to make Nicole suspicious and a brow arches. Nonetheless, she holds out her hand. After a long day of shampoo, conditioner, water, gloves, work, it feels like it has been recently lathered in a lotion that leaves it soft. "Nicole Stein. Resident of 33. Owner of the Salon in town. Best friend of Sparrow." She waits for him to take her hand, but continues speaking. "Not here about my trailer or the Park. Here to..." Here, she pauses. Does she take the route she joked about and ask what his intentions are? Or should she be less confrontational to begin with. "Here to meet Trailer Park James Bond whom my dear friend is seemingly obsessed with." Did they know each other in the past? Probably not, he is way older than she is, and she is older than Sparrow.

Had he played a touch innocent in not knowing? That faint smile might indicate that, having waited to see what the blonde's reaction will be. It's a casual stance he assumes, until out his hand comes to match her own in a firm shake that doesn't linger longer than it should. "A pleasure to meet you, Nicole Stein." Given that age difference? Likely not, though surely Nicole would have remembered his sister Snow who was the same age, or even Noelle and Ellis who are just two years younger than she is. It's her comment of Trailer Park James Bond that has one brow arching upwards, before he picks up that hook without a second thought. "Hair dresser. Jello Wrestler. Savior of Joey's sexiness against Sparrow's attempts to take the crown for Jaime. Yeah. Q dropped off your dossier on the secret screen in my car." With that, he steps aside, gesturing for her to come on in, just in case the evening does decide it should come down anyway. "Might as well come in to interrogate me. So, this wrestling match over Double Trouble. You two just find random twins as an excuse so you and Sparrow can wrestle each other in jello, or is it all about the honor of these particular fellows?"

Nicole shakes his hand, her eyes remaining on his as she does. Her grip is fairly firm, though she certainly isn't trying to break the guy or show off anything. She does know his sisters, at least vaguely, mostly from her far younger years, though more recently having re-met them in the park itself; at least Noelle and Natalia. Just how many siblings does this guy have? "Yes, that would be me. Good on Q then. Still doing the job well." She doesn't skip a beat with that, walking in after the gestured invitation. Looking around her brows both raise, eyes wide as she takes in the gleaming appearance. "Holy shit, you really are James Bond. Where's the secret special weapons stash?" Turning to look at him she asks, "do I need to take off my shoes and wear little sanitary booties to keep the place clean?" She smiles at him in a rather lopsided, often disarming way. "Hey, it's not my fault she went googly-eyed for the wrong twin. She just liked to claim Jaime was the sexier, and well, clearly, she's wrong. Joey is, and since she wouldn't listen to rational debate, I had to take it to Jello." She shrugs as if the leap from friendly debate to jello wrestling was the natural order of things on a regular basis. It's not.

"I'm afraid if I told you that, I'd have to kill you. And I really do know what to do with the body." He offers back to her inquiry of that secret weapon cache, a ghost of a smile curling to the corners of his mouth. "Nah, not unless you want. But do make yourself comfortable." He offers up, even as the door is closed behind them. It's a step into that galley kitchen area, small as it is, giving her free roam to figure out which of those two couches she wants to settle in the front of the trailer, if either. "Care for an espresso, or something stronger? Have beer. Or scotch." It's a turn of his body, hip leaning up against the kitchen counter as he watches to see how she responds, head dipping into a faint nod of understanding. "Sounds like you had no alternative. I hope you are formulating a game plan - and one that doesn't play fair - in your bid to win." A small snort of laughter comes, warm and pleased at those descriptions, "Yeah? Googly-eyed? Sounds like it might be rather serious with you and Joey too then." It's all casual laze from his side, not a bit of tension or concern in that conversation, and it's always a question ready at his mind, "So how is it you and Sparrow met?"

Her expression stays a bit neutral at him knowing what to do with the body. She does, after all, know that he is the local ME. While she might be dying to get her shoes off after a day of being on her feet, she doesn't want to risk offense to the man at... feet that have been in high-heeled shoes all day. Not saying she has stinky feet, but one never knows until they come off, and then? Then it is just too late, so on they stay, clicking against the floor as she makes her way towards the couches, choosing the front most one, just under the window. When he asks about a choice of drink, her smirk lifts and one can practically hear the 'pfft' that is not actually uttered. "Something stronger, indeed. Espresso is best for, well, other situations. Beer too. Scotch will do just fine. Thank you. "Of course I have a game plan. The question is, will it be better than her own bid at playing dirty. We'll have to wait and see." She is certainly not going to reveal her plan to the man so close to her sworn jello enemy. "Me and Joey? He's. You know, it's... I enjoy his company." It takes a bit of concentration, a firming of her jaw, to keep the goofy smile off her face she usually gets when people ask for labels or defining words about she and Joey, but she manages. Once contained, she answers his other question. "I did her hair and she threatened to take me on an adventure that I agreed to. And..." her hands lift, palms up. "Here we are."

Once her preference is stated, he reaches up to a cupboard over head, pulling out to whisky glasses and a bottle that is still half full of scotch. It's a Highland 18 year old, and off the cork comes while Yule considers her thoughts on espresso. "Other situations? Yeah. We'll save that for when we get to the monologue the villain gives. You'll have to provide your own white cat, though." Those two glasses are given their fair share of that amber liquid, not too much, not too little, just right in that pour for conversation over a drink. "Yeah? Enjoy his company? Too many people want to know the destination. Wrap these rules around it. Expectations. And while there are moments that is wonderful?" His shoulders lift up into a nonchalant shrug as he heads towards her, those few long but easy steps taking him to the front. One of the glasses is held out for her to take. "I've been close a couple of times. Traditional, you know? And it was great. But it also taught me it isn't about dates. Or titles. Fuck all that, if you don't want it. But it is being honest about feelings. That's the real risk, the real plunge to take." He settles down on the other couch, the side closest to her own so it feels right, conversational, without that presence situated right next to her on her own couch. "An adventure. Knowing her? Guessing it didn't stop at just one. So whose idea was the jello wrestling?"

Nicole watches him as she moves about the kitchen area, gathering glasses and scotch, though she also tries to subtly but nosily look around his place. "Yeah, espresso is for moments like when you need to be awake and aren't feeling it, or to sip slowly while reading in a cafe or chatting. Beer is for, well, whenever. Scotch, or other heartier drinks are for when you truly need to relax. Something like a boulder to knock off whatever other weight you carry on your shoulders. It's probably also good for reading by fireplaces while wearing a smoking jacket and slippers or something." She shrugs. "I'm no expert, just sounded like the right kind of liquid for me to enjoy this evening." Pause. "Are you the villain then that is going to deliver the monologue?" Eyebrows raise, yes, she's giving him a judging look, even if in jest. "Sparrow... for example," she continues about people wanting to know the destination. "Keeps asking me questions then when I get flustered tells me not to overthink things. I don't think about them much at all until she asks." She chuckles at that. "We haven't any definitions or destinations or titles, labels... no rules, no expectations. It's just... it just exists, this whatever time enjoyment." She takes her glass from his hand and swirls it a bit, giving it a sniff. Her nose wrinkles just slightly, but she does take a small sip as she watches him sit down.

"I've been, I dunno. Close I guess. Didn't end well." She shrugs, then looks up at him when he mentions being honest about feelings. "That requires acknowledging that you have them, if you have them, and being brave enough to speak of them to someone else." Her head bobs from side to side a little. "In particular, that person you may or may not have feelings for. That's..." She wrinkles her nose. "I dunno. There might come a time in a thing when it is necessary. So what happened to your couple times?" She tilts her head curiously. "Does that mean I shouldn't sternly ask you what your intentions with my Sparrow are? Or teasing her about eloping to Seattle and needing a wedding dress not a chairity gala dress? Though, at the rate she's going, she'll probably just wear that shirt you gave her that likely can stand up on its own by now...." She still isn't convinced it's been washed in the week or so she's been wearing it.

"Well, we talked about other adventures. So far, it was just the one. Amateur night at the strip club. We've hung out and stuff, but she hasn't gotten me into trouble yet. Jello wrestling?" Nicole smiles, as if with pride. "Mine, I think... if I recall correctly. I think I was joking, but then it was like, well, why not? It would be fun, something I've never done before, and new experiences are grand... and it turns out, we'll be helping a deserving charity."

Everything in that trailer seems to have it's place, both aesthetically pleasing and functional. For the most part, except for those small things like the little hanging sign that reads, 'Support your local Medical Examiner. Die strangely.' Her thoughts on which drinks suit which moods has his head tipping, a look of approval for that pointed, deliberate process she goes through before his head dips into a nod of agreement. "All right. You went straight to the scotch. You want to talk about what weight is on your shoulders weighing you down?" It was that door she opened, and Yule nudges it further without a hint of remorse, a trait she might well know quite well given how she describes Sparrow. "Me? A monologue? Well. Let's not get too out of control with our night. I like to save sharing my diabolical plans until after the introductory drink." Yule holds his glass, not yet lifting it up, his fingers.

"Yeah? I think 'might come a time' is a bullshit excuse for delays." There is no barb in that, just stating his own feelings on it. "It's either there, or it isn't. And I've seen, in my line of work?" His chin tucks down, watching her closely to make certain that yes, Sparrow has told her his work, or she at least has caught sight of those signs in his trailer that shows what he does. "Too many people who come in to identify loved ones and wish they'd had a chance to say things they never had. Guess it just comes down to which one you find more scary. Telling those feelings, or never getting a chance to." But that conversation is guided well away from the more serious nature, at least for a heartbeat, before a warm burst of chuckling comes from the man. "Yeah? You can ask me whatever you want. Though I cannot even picture her in a wedding dress. Not even a bright red one." But the mention of that shirt? His head tips, that little tidbit of just how frequently it's been worn filed away, a pleased little thing that draws a smile to his features for a second.

"Close. Yeah. Engaged once. Almost a second time. The second time? It was work. Hers and mine both. She went to London, I didn't want to leave NYC. Kicked myself in the ass for that for a while afterwards, before I figured shit out. Can't stay in the past forever." As to the first? Not a word is uttered on that, whatever weight is there being heavier than he wants to mention. "Yours? If there is one thing I've learned about her? You have to mean everything you say, cause she'll call you out on it. And the next thing you know? You have her in a headlock knee deep in jello. But yeah.. she told me about the charity. I'm not sure if I'll be able to go - work and all - but I'll be donating."

When Nicole's gaze alights on that little sign, she stops. Her idle attempts at subtlety likely a shambles as she gives it a blink and an arched brow before turning away, looking more towards the man himself. Lifting her scotch, she looks at the amber color in the glass and at his offer to talk about things, smiles over at him and says, "thank you for the offer. It's just been a weird week," Her ponytail bobs up and down a bit as she nods. "Not all bad, at all. I had a great day the other day, full of wine and cookies, laughter, and duck pics. But some other days... eh... anyway. We are not here about me." She narrows her eyes to look at him and asks, "what, did you minor in psychology?" She rests her glass on her knee, commenting, "alright alright. Monologue next time then."

"Do you?" Her brows lift again as she looks at him, her head still tiled down a touch. "I think might come a time means... it's good to be able to understand your own feelings before you try to communicate them to someone else. I don't think wanting to be sure of yourself is a bullshit answer at all." Looking down towards that glass at her knee, held by curled fingers, she adds, "and sometimes, things are communicated in other ways that don't require discussion. Certain things, yes. There should be some understanding if there is any sort of closeness. Like, in the beginning, I asked if what we had experienced was something he felt was a one off thing or, more and told him that I would like to share his company more often. That is all that's been needed to this point. That was one thing I was sure of how I felt, and wanted to know how he did in that regard. More than that? There's just not come a time for the need of it." She shrugs, but flashes her patented charming smile at him. "You are welcome to think it is bullshit all you want though. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion after all. Even if it is wrong." Bigger smile. "It just boils down to meaning what you are saying. And if you don't know the meaning behind your own thoughts, you should come ot understand them before perhaps saying something you might not truly mean. I understand what you see in your work, and I do sympathize with those people. But emotions are tricky. Feelings... are tricky. Sometimes you can believe a momentary high is honest to goodness long lasting happiness, and if you put your full self into believing that, ignoring the signs that maybe it isn't, you're only harming yourself. I've told those things to people, honest with what I thought were my feelings, then regreted it long down the line. Different situations, what you see at work and what I have experienced, same outcome. Regret." Such heavy talk for a virtual stranger.

"Fair warning, her sister is already picking one out, I am pretty sure," she adds about Sparrow and a wedding dress."

She nods then. "Can't stay in the past forever, no. Sometimes, it lingers outside your door, no matter how much you kick it away like some unwanted weed. But if you keep moving forward, sooner or later it will lose your scent. Or so one can hope." She smiles. "So, I grilled her. Gonna be honest. I think it's really weird a man like you." She gestures to him and around his place. "Is you know... all wound up with a girl young enough to be his daughter. And, it worries me for her. She assures me this is all so very real, and that I shouldn't worry. But.... I mean, she's barely able to drink and very Sparrow... I just hope you aren't using her as some plaything to make her so obsessed with you she can't live without you then when you've had your fun and tired of having a pretty young thing on your arm to show off you just ditch her by the wayside and leave her feeling lose and not even knowing who she is anymore....There. I said it. That was my monologue."

"Because, if you do? You might have to deal with me then." A threat? Maybe? A promise? A very well acted chiding tease? Who knows.

"I did tell her I was going to ask you what your intentions were. She may have thought I was joking. I also did say I would at least try to get to know you."

"For the record," A finger extends out from where he holds his glass, pointing towards her, "Sparrow? Would be Octopussy. First," Yes, he has a whole list of things why this has become The Thing that he's certain of in the few moments they've bantered about that thread of humor, "the name. She'd take it and run with it in ways that would be horrifying and amazing. Second? An international circus. I can already see her running one of those. Lastly? Just picture her in a ringmasters coat and hat, with that red hair." There is a faint smile that curls to his features, humor in his eyes, but he sharpens back upon the conversation of feelings and expression.

"You assumed I meant it has to be verbalized. Expressing those feelings can be exactly what you just said, yeah? A touch. A look. Just sharing in a closeness you wouldn't give anyone else. That can say so much more than just words, and if that's how you are connecting with him? Then it doesn't sound like you'd have any regrets. That's good. And I have a feeling," More like a certainty, knowing what he knows of Sparrow, "that you have a great friend who will pick at your threads to help you sort your feelings out. And to do the same with her." It's approval for that thought, the push back, the difference of perspective that has Yule leaning in, and up his glass lifts, taking a sip from it. "And by the way?" It's a coy smile that touches his lips, "we are here to talk about you, too. One's choice of friends is a reflection on whom you are, what you value. So far? I approve of what I see."

A soft snort of laughter comes as she talks of her sister picking out a wedding dress, his head just shaking a bit. "Dovey, right? She'd asked me if I wanted to come to Thanksgiving dinner. Couldn't, having it with my own family. And," Not a punch pulled, one shoulder lifting up into a hapless shrug, "You are right. Fuck if it isn't weird, yeah? I was this close," A hand lifts, thumb and finger coming to show just a thread of air left between them, "to not giving her my number that night at the Pourhouse. Some young college student with a fetish for older men or something. But there was just something there. Impossible to describe. Not that it was hard realizing there was so much more to her after just a bit of talking, but after I made it clear I don't just casually sleep with people, and she kept coming around?" That draws a touch of a broader smile from him as he sinks back into the couch, momentarily hidden from sight.

"So noted," He says about that promise, or whatever it is, those brown eyes studying her for a long moment. "And I'm not going to ramble about my intentions. You have no reason to believe them, yeah? But if that's what you are worried about? You just need to ask her what I've arranged for us to do," Which are all things together, like those long drives to the middle of nowhere, "and not the ones I agree to do - happily so - because she wants to. If I'm after some pretty thing on my arm? I'm really shitty at showing it off. Also," And here, his chin tucks down to flash her a well humored, teasing expression, "Let's not say you have to be young to be pretty, yeah? Older is beautiful too. And if you think otherwise, why, I might just be downright hurt." Given, you know, he's nearly forty. "Someone I was just talking to," Her, specifically, his gaze unwavering as he repeats those thoughts back to her, "was telling me to just enjoy the moments you have. That feelings? They are tricky. And I plan to take every opportunity to enjoy Sparrow for whom she is, all of it, whenever she'll offer the time. I care about her. A lot."

Nicole holds up one finger. "First, I don't know much about James Bond really, just that you are Trailer Park James Bond, living in the slums all fancy-like. However, she would probably approve of the name just because4 it has the word 'pussy' in it. " Another finger lifts. "Second... she'd just look hot as fuck in a ringmaster's coat with some sparkly hot pants and top hat... Not that I need to feed your fantasies of her." She tosses a playful wink at him.

Moving on towards the more serious talk of emotions and feelings and whatnot, she just listens at first. "Currently," she admits, "I have absolutely no regrets where Joey is concerned. Surprise, a bit, but no regrets. And yes, Sparrow is a good friend, and I hope I am a good friend to her as well." Her lips twist with a 'hmm' as he confesses, in a manner of speaking, that she is being interviewed in a way too. "Well good. I approve of me too." There is that impish grin again.

Nodding she says, "Zellie? Dovey? Either or, I think. I actually just met her at game night." When he talks about his own reservations, she is unable to hold back her laughter. "Ha! I literally told her I was afraid you were some pervy old dude with a Little Lolita fetish using her like your personal dress up doll plaything...." No shame. She has no shame in admitting this. Sippling from that Scotch as he talks more about NOT what his intentions are, her dark eyes settle on him alone over the rim of her glass. Licking her lips as she settles the glass down again, she says, "she usually just goes off all dreamy and saying how wonderful and romantic you are. She doesn't tell me many details, though she admitted the black tie charity thing was her idea, not yours." Shaking her head she says, "well no, of course one does not have to be young to be pretty. Joey's older than me after all." She grins. It's a joke. He's like a year older, and she considers herself still young. But his gaze captures hers again and he all but echoes what she said earlier. Expression growing more serious, she nods again. "All right then," she says. "Just don't change her, or I'll kick your ass. She's my Sparrow and needs to fly free."

"Really? I figured it was the octo part," He muses in a not at all serious tone, letting that side of things fall away with a humored smile, before his attention drifts back to the more pointed question at hand. "I still remember, when we went out for that first long drive? She turned to me and told me she doesn't do exclusive. Doesn't do casual, either." That thought draws a brief bit of amusement to his features, head just shaking a bit, "And we agreed that we'd enjoy what we had, wherever it led us. Until she either found different things that caught her time and interest, or I suffered amnesia and decided to elope with someone in Vegas."

But it's those last words that have him leaning in, peering at her, considering carefully. "Yeah? Has being with Joey changed you? For the better? Fuck. I /hope/ I'm changed, if even in small ways. And I hope that whatever transformations we go through? She's the better for it. I mean, I /already/ have changed. A month ago? Had you come over? I would have told you there was no way in hell I'd be falling for a college age girl. And yet, here we are. I'd be bored if things weren't... challenging. Eye opening. And not challenging in a bad way, yeah? But in a good way. Maybe that's just a me thing, though. And as far as her flying free? Yeah. I know. I've no plans to capture her. Promise."

Up his glass comes, before those brown eyes fixate on her, one dark brow arching upwards in a note of mock surprise. "You? A younger woman dating an older man? How scandalous. Really. He should know better."

"That was probably a very important thing for her to say. About exclusivity. I cannot... I do not know how she has time..." Nicole laughs and shakes her head. It's something she has teased Sparrow about before, so it is a humorous thing for her. "I am glad that you both understand one another and... oh, Vegas? I bet you'd be better than that. Somewhere completely unexpected and... well I guess Vegas -would- be unexpected for James Bond, but, if you were to elope it would be somewhere amazing, I imagine."

When he comes closer to her own space with that pointed question, she smirks a bit. "Of course. Every person you meet in life that you connect with on more than a surface level... and even some at the surface, change you in some manner. But, you also very well know that THAT kind of change is not what I mean. Even my sitting here with you today will affect us, yes? Neither of us will leave this conversation being really not who we are anymore. Some times, people try to mold others into something they are not. Perhaps they think it is a good thing, but people just need to be themselves, is all. Sparrow needs to still be Sparrow. The badass drummer chemist with bright red engine hair that loves to be noticed and is not in the least afraid of saying what she wants or doing what she wants. She may decide to not be one of those things someday, but, it needs to be her choice." He mentions no plans to capture her and she nods. "Good."

His comment then makes her chuckle with a lift to a corner of her lips. "Right? A whole.. two years. So scandalous. And hypocritical of me to question you about your May December. Tsk. Shame on me."

"I didn't say I'd have Elvis oversee the ceremony," It's a moment of being downright aghast for the very thought of him doing something so unseemly. "I wonder if you can elope and make it amazing? Swept off to Italy. Or France. Or California." The last is said with a faint touch of a ghostly smile that creases his face, his fingers slowly twisting that glass around in that grip.

"It's why I prefer to be direct. Up front and honest, so one knows exactly the question I'm asking." Surely, a habit that comes in well with the person they are talking about. "And as good friends? We have to ask the hard questions sometimes. Not to mold someone," Not just the red headed, bad ass drummer, but in friendship in general, "because sometimes, we don't want to face hard truths. Friends who'll just tell you it is all going to be ok? Yeah. That is never going to be me." Those brown eyes study her reaction to that, a low 'mmm' coming from him. "Truth is? She's an amazing person just as she is. And that's why I'm seeing her. I recognize what is special in her, just like you do."

His scotch is lifted, a small drink taken from it, eyes dropping to a half lidded state to just enough, before a gentle look of humor. "I'll forgive you for it. Promise. Two whole years though? Well. I'm sure you can overcome that gap and find something you both have in common to talk about."

"Maybe Frank Sinatra. Do they have Frank Sinatra impersonators that will do it? Old blue eyes... that might not be so awful." Nicole ponders, chuckling lightly. Though his smile is met, she doesn't seem to indicate why his comment about California might have made him do so.

"Then, we are in agreement, Bond. Hard truths are hard to face sometimes, but generally, 'IT' is not all going to be okay. Not in life. Not here. Not the general IT. When bad things happen, we can try to be okay after, and most of the time, with most of us, it will be in time. But being told a condescending it's going to be okay instead of, look, I know this shit is going to be real hard to get through, but I'm gonna be here for you however you need me to be in the meantime to help you... yeah, it's a shit friend who says the first. I prefer the latter. So if you are going to be my friend as well? I will thank you for the truths over the lies every time." She nods. And, we are also in agreement that she is amazing. So..... I will release some of my worries about the two of you and just let you two enjoy your time together without giving you the evil eye or saying you have a Lolita fetish."

"Still gonna call you Bond though. Just so we're clear. What, were your parents looking to reenact the 12 days of Christmas song with children?"

After his drink, and his humor, she smiles rather devilishly and lifts her own glass, this one first in a toast-like gesture before she says, "or... you know, not talk too." She winks then sips her scotch.

A small chuckle of laughter escapes him with the comment of Sinatra, that smile easy and lazy as it appears with some other thought that isn't spoken, instead focusing his thoughts squarely on her. "I like you. I'd apologize about giving you the third degree on your relationship. But I'm not going to. Not like she says it, but I can tell she values your opinion. And it's important to me that her friends? Are going to give advice to help her. And not just about me, yeah? About everything. That they'll support her. And tell her those hard truths. Question her to make sure that old guy she likes to see isn't secretly dressing her up in doll clothing and parading her around town." A tip of his glass comes from him to her at that, and despite the tease? There is genuine approval for the tact Nicole has describe in questioning the red head about him.

"Yeah? That mean I can expect you to come by and give me secret missions to go on?" But it's her question about that has that smile fade a touch, the words sincere. "Mom really loved Christmas. Natalia - meaning Christmas Day - she slipped that one by dad, then I think he just gave up. Yule, of course. Snow. Noel Ellis ... and Noelle Ellie ... yeah. Twins. Right? Yeah, that's why Ellis and Noelle. And another brother, Winter."

But that moment of somberness fades, given back over to levity as he gives a playful look towards Nicole. "Not... talk? Before marriage? He's clearly led you into all sorts of sins and temptations."

"You're alright yourself," Nicole upnods her chin towards him with a look. "Don't apologize. After all, I was grilling you too. If I can't take what I dish out, what kind of person am I? Lame. That's the kind of person I would be if that were the case." Chuckling, she nods and puts on a look of pure innocence. "I totally questioned her. Just... please tell me she washes that damned shirt she wears every day!" Pause." Wait, I don't think she had it on on game night. Maybe she was at least washing it then."

She seems to take a moment to think over her options here. "I mean.... I might? But, here's the question. Should I let you two be...." Balancing the scotch on her knee carefully, she lifts both hands wiggling her fingers together as if that means something. "Just you two. Or.... do I get to poach you as a friend too. Cuz, that may determine the nature of secret missions." At the explanation of names, she smiles, "that's pretty sweet."

His playful look is returned with one far more wicked. "I know, right? He is the most evil of temptations. Be careful when you ask for pancakes... that's all I am going to say."

"I'm fairly sure she does," It's a beat of a pause as Yule considers it, "She did ask for a bottle of my beard oil so she could make sure it didn't lose it's smell of me. I'm guessing that means washing it, right? Not just covering things up..." A hand lifts, scratching his beard at that, and with the interrogations over? He leans back, settling into his couch. "I get the feeling that Sparrow? Is all about her friends being friends too. So, you ever want to talk? Feel free to come on by."

"Yeah. Still my favorite time of the year, these holidays. Love every moment of it." He murmurs, despite the whole slew of jokes he surely heard growing up and beyond. At the mention of pancakes, one dark brow arches upwards with humor. "Yeah? I'll keep that in mind. Beware the pancakes."

Gesturing vaguely towards where her own trailer is located as she takes up her glass with the other hand again, Nicole says, "well, you know where I live now... speaking of, who updated your trailer? I was proud of mine until I stepped in here..." She lets the matter of the shirt drop. Perhaps it's still just too frightening to think about, just in case.

"I don't think I really have a favorite time of year. Though lately, it's been, whatever time of year I am currently living in. I've done some fun things. It balances out the weird in this place." Her face twists a moment, her mind focusing, briefly, on the weird. But then, pancakes. "Yes! They are trouble. Albeit, the absolute best kind. I... should be going for now. Thank you for the scotch, and enduring my interrogation...."

"Oh..." Nicole digs in her pocket and brings out a business card. It does, however, also have her personal cell phone on it. "feel free to call or text if you want. Or to come in for a haircut when you need." She glances up at his slightly long hair.

"Actually? An old tenant moved out, apparently, right as I was getting situated. A book store owner or some sort? Not sure. So the trailer was repossessed, and I'm renting it from Nat. It was just," Yule pauses, and rather than a smile? It's a small touch of a frown that curls to his features, "perfect. Uncannily so. Just what I would have done, right about."

His hand reaches out, curling about that card, and he pauses to fish out his phone, putting that bit into his contacts. A noise is made after a moment from her own phone, just to make sure the favor is returned. "You implying that I'm getting a little shaggy, Nicole? You'd better not mention needing to get a haircut to go wedding dress shopping." Not a touch of seriousness in that voice, a look cast her way, "Yeah. Been looking for a place. I'll come by and see if I like what you do with it."

That card is kept, slid into his pocket with his phone, and then he finishes off the last of his scotch. Those brown eyes remain on her, weighty, before he murmurs, "And, I know I haven't said it. But for whatever it's worth? She's special. I like to think she'll be around in my life for a while. Might be a small bit of me still concerned about the age difference. I remember what I was like in college, and after. But that? I'm not going to dwell on, either. Enjoy the time while I have it."

Rising up, Nicole holds her glass out to him to take. "She is, yes. Special. Perhaps in the early stages of things, it's healthy to keep that small bit of whatever concern there might be. But at some point, we either have to let go of the concern and throw caution to the wind, or figure out that it is always going to remain a concern, which wouldn't be good." Perhaps she's not just speaking about him and Sparrow. "When I think back to what I was like then," at Sparrow's age, "and now," says the woman a few years shy of a decade older than her friend, "I'm.. yeah. Different. Lived a lot of life in between. And back then? Man, was I fickle.... Anyway... I need to go home and shower and get rid of the smell of hair dye from my nostrils." Pleasant thought. "Good night, Bond. I'll send you a message that will self destruct soon enough." She winks and makes her way towards the door, opening it herself and exiting, closing it before her steps carry her not too far down to her own beloved trailer. When she enters it, she says, "man, this place seems tiny after being in there. But I love you, Vagabond. I love you."

"Yeah," Comes his agreement to those words of wisdom, and there is a glance her way that offers that same insight, all worth reflecting on in her mutual situation too. He sees her to the door, all of those couple of steps it takes. "You promise to send the best presents," Yule teases, a playful wink flashed her way. "Glad you dropped by. I'll promise to pretend I don't know you are going home to message her immediately, and I'll wait to talk to her about it until tomorrow." Mischief dances in those features, and then once the door is closed, he's back off to doing whatever it is he does in his own free time.