2019-12-09 - No News Is Good News

Graham had shit to do last night, but it didn't end with him coming home full of bullet holes, so there wasn't a whole lot of explanation needed. It was just work. Okay, yes, if Elise asks then Graham is going to tell her, because that's the deal, but the implication is pretty clear: this is one of those things where she's better off just not knowing the details. So they get through their morning routines - it's Elise's day off (convenient), so there was a lot of noise about not getting out of bed, then a lot of noise about how Graham is not going to yoga GDI.

Finally, when the daylight coming through the windows on this rainy day is too much to ignore, Graham slumps downstairs, scratching his hair and reading his phone. 'Cause people are texting him like 'yo read the paper.' "Hey, did you read the Gazette this morning?"

He probably should've checked first before he asked. Such is life.

For once in the short life of their relationship, Elise didn't press when he came home. Maybe she's learned her lesson - more likely, though, it was because she had a whole list of More Important Drama and didn't need to include Graham's "job" to it. Besides, he didn't come home hurt, and that was pretty much all that she could ask for. It was better that she didn't know, and so she didn't ask, but that didn't mean Graham was entirely off the hook! She totally made him work a little harder for whatever it is they got up to that keeps them in bed way later than they should've been, because that'll totally teach him a lesson.

Anyway, she was down in the kitchen figuring out the breakfast-lunch (blunch?) situation; Mew-Mew needed to be fed and she was apparently the only adult in this house, so that's where he'll find her. He gets a brow-raise at his question though. "You got out of bed to ask me if I've read the paper? Who are you and what did you do with Graham Stewart?" she goes to touch the backs of her fingers to his forehead, then rolls her eyes and brushes past him, straight through to the front door. It was raining like cats and dogs out there, but this newspaper boy was way better than the last one who would throw her papers right into the bushes; it was just a quick grab to get it off the front porch. It was hardly even wet!

"I should probably cancel this," she thinks aloud as she pulls the rubberband off the paper, unfolding it. "The Gazette's like ninety-percent trash news anyway, about the only thing it's good for is ki..." she trails off when she reads the headline, immediately dropping onto the nearest chair. "Shit."

"You killed Graham Stewart last night." Before she can get too far, he catches the hand that's checking his forehead, kisses the backs of her fingers, and smiles sunnily upon Elise. "Then defiled his corpse in the morning." It's funny 'cause he doesn't know the paper's all on about her dead parents again, so there's a quick twirl for her caught hand, and he sends her off to get the paper off the damp porch while he slouches into the kitchen, looking for something to eat.

Thus, he's not aware of the paper's effect on Elise for a few extra seconds, when he comes out of the kitchen like, "Is there no coffee wait what's wrong?" No pause between the two thoughts, he just comes on over and parks his hips on the arm of Elise's chair, folding the paper till he can read the headline. A long, low whistle follows while he scans the first paragraph. Shit? "No shit."

"Mmm. Better me than something else. At least you come back when I kill you," Elise says in retort of murdering Graham and defiling his corpse. There's a narrow look that comes with the words, because she's totally referencing what happened to him last night before she happened to him last night; but the hard glance comes with a lingering kiss to his lips before she's off to fetch the paper and get her daily dose of bad news.

Needless to say, there's nothing remotely flirty about her now, and it's doubtful she'll want to kill him again anytime soon. By the time he gets his happy ass over here, she's already misty eyed, hands shaking as she holds out the paper for him. "I can't believe it," she says in a quiet, small voice, "All this over some stupid casino? Over some fish?"

Taking the paper entirely, Graham skims the rest of the article, his eyes tracking quickly across the words before they find Elise's. "It's money, baby," he's sorry to say, holding her eyes for a second until he busies himself with folding up the paper and tossing it over there. It hits the edge of the coffee table, then slides off onto the floor, at least kind enough to land with the headline facing down.

She seems pretty well situated in that chair, but he still floats the offer: "You wanna sit with me for a minute?" He means in his lap, being hugged and fussed with. And he also means like way longer than a minute.

"They didn't have any money," Elise replies - it's not sharp, but there's a bitter mournfulness in the words. She slumps forward while he fusses with the paper, wringing her hands in her lap as she looks anywhere but the news. At least she wasn't crying; there'd been enough tears spilled over this, she didn't have anymore in her. "There was just no point, G. This whole thing, there's just no fucking point, he had them killed for NOTHING!" The words boil out of her as she clenches her fists, knuckles turning white with the effort.

But it was a passing moment. Her fingers relax when he makes that offer, and she was well situated in her chair, but she gets up anyway. He gets about five seconds to make himself comfortable before she crawls on top of him, settling in as heavily as a fourteen pound half-Thai lady can get. "I hate this," she admits to him once she's gotten situated, "I hate everything about this and it's not even over. There's going to be a trial, what if I have to go up there and just keep reliving this over and over and over? Fuck," she leans her cheek to his shoulder. "It'd be easier if he was dead," it was a dark thought. Darker still was the fact that once that was out there in the open, she sits back up, raising brown eyes to blue. ".. Do you think Felix could do that? Just.. just make him go away?"

It's a good thing that Graham only needed four seconds to flop into the chair, leaving him one whole second to spare to make sure the t-shirt he's wearing isn't super stank before he folds his arms around Elise, tucking her in comfortably. He hasn't got anything useful to say about them getting killed for nothing, so he keeps his mouth shut about that, busies himself petting her hair, tucking strands behind her ear, that kinda stuff.

But then Elise goes DARK and he leans his head back into the chair, eyes wide where they answer hers. "Baby," he begins, already shaking his head at this idea. "That is not a door you wanna go knocking on. Even if we could afford to put a hit on Foster, you really don't wanna be giving Felix that kind of leverage on you. Yanno?" He looks worriedly at her, really hoping she's just blue skying this bad idea, and not already married to it.

In Elise's defense, what was the point of being employed by a mob boss if you didn't occasionally use that relationship for your own benefit? But the wide-eyed answer and worried looks from Graham catches her off-guard; there's a tight knit to her brow as a result, along with a noticeable tension in her shoulders. "They were his people, too. They worked for him all my fucking life," mostly unbeknownst to her, but the point still stands. "They never missed a payment. They never opened their mouths. They didn't even tell me, Graham! And he's just going to sit in that stupid casino and do nothing? It's not fair."

And it always seems to circle back to that, doesn't it? The tension in her shoulders are making them shake, which is why she eventually droops back into him and lays her head back on his shoulder. "This isn't ever going to end for me," she utters quietly. "I'm just going to have to keep reliving the worst day of my life, over and over and over. I want to move on. I want this to end, I want to have a life again. I don't want to keep going through this, and I don't want to be strapped to this fucking motel and to fucking Felix Monaghan."

This is when it sucks real bad that Graham doesn't have all the meta-knowledge to just make things all better for Elise. 🙁 All he can do is nod sadly at her and the unfairness issue, not even able to properly defend his boss - 'cause what's he gonna say? Some people are expendable? So he says nothing, just kisses her between her knitted brows and exhales through his nose against her forehead, a relieved sigh that she's not like BUT NO LET'S REALLY PUT A HIT ON FOSTER.

"So let's sell the motel. He may not like it, but I dunno." His mind's working through the logistics still. Let's see if he comes up with a plan...

It's a good one, too! "We'll give Felix the first offer on the motel. Whatever he wants to pay for it? All good, we'll take it, no questions asked. At least that gets you one step farther away, and it's one less thing you gotta worry about."

Elise knows Graham well enough to know he's just pulling this out of his ass. She knows him well enough to know that he's absolutely bullshitting her. And yet, she just nods her head there at his shoulder, squirming to situate herself a little better so that her arm can drape over his chest, her fingers idly digging into his shoulder. "Okay," it was never going to work. "Okay. Maybe he'll just take it, he can give it to somebody else. I don't want money, I just don't want it anymore." It would be one less thing. Then all she'd have to worry about is the Percocet and the fact that Graham's probably going to catch two to the temple someday, and those aren't like heavy burdens or anything! She'll be great.

There's a little sniffle as she nuzzles her nose into his neck. She's not crying, there's no wet on his shirt, but she was a mixed bag of emotions in the moment. "We're going to get through this," it's not a question, it's spoken like she's trying to reassure him. But when she says it again, it's with a crinkle of her freckled nose. "We're going to get through this, right?"

It's funny how that Percocet stash keeps growing, innit? Like, Elise can go check today, and lo and behold! There's more Percocet there. Graham's as fucking floored as she is each and every time the subject comes up. Probably it's because of those powers that neither of them seem to understand yet, yep.

"Maybe he'll just take it," he agrees readily, just spewing lies at this point. "And, if not, we can board the fucker up and call it a day. I mean, what's the one thing this town's missing? An abandoned motel." Where the former owners were executed. It's totally thematic!

The hand that reaches up to cover Elise's isn't there to remove hers from his shoulder, just to squeeze it firmly while he tightens his arm around her waist. When he releases her hand, it's only so he can tip her chin up and look properly at her, wearing his most serious expression while his eyes hold hers. "Baby, I know this is hard, and I know you hurt right now, but you and me? Are gonna get through everything. I promise, we got this."

"Yeah," it's an uncertain agreement at first, before Elise musters up a little faith in the lies that are coming out of Graham's mouth. "Yeah, I mean, why wouldn't he just take it? Free motel, he's got a hundred other lackeys who could run it full time, it's just free money for him." Okay, they were both deluding themselves. But at least she's not talking about killing Foster anymore? So, you know, this is a step in the right direction. "It makes sense, it makes way more sense than me having it, and.. we'll just do that. Have a meeting with him, hand him over the deed, and be done with it. Simple." It wasn't going to be simple.

But the conversation takes a different turn, and soon she's lifting her chin to bring watery brown eyes back up to his own. She absolutely wasn't crying, as per the meta for the past few poses, but he's totally to blame for a few tears that slip out now and down her cheeks. What a bastard, Graham is, saying this sweet stuff. "I love you, G," she sniffles again, leaning forward to touch her nose to his, and then tips her head to brush a kiss to his lips.

"Easy peasy." Graham nods firmly, simple. "And if it's not simple? Well." He boops the tip of her freckled nose and concludes, "That's why the Good Lord invented kerosene." He's actually not a firebug, but he'd go full arsonist for Elise. Add it to the list of charges.

Aw, but then she's legitimately crying, and he quickly swipes at the tears with a brush of his knuckles, shaking his head like it's up to him to tell the tears no. "That's why I know we're gonna get through this." Because she loves him, G. And "'Cause I love you, too, Elly." In between kisses, he insists, "And we're gonna make it. We're gonna get married and have babies and grow old together and the whole thing." Such a fucking liar, he is. "And we're gonna tell our kids how they're all a quarter Thai and three-quarters Aryan and let them figure out how to cope with that while we laugh and laugh."

It was super romantic, the lengths Graham was willing to go for Elise, and nobody could tell Elise otherwise! She even seems to melt a little when he offers to burn down the entire motel for her; if it weren't for the crying, she'd totally have heart-eyes in the moment.

But the crying was happening in the moment - at least the few tears that get swiped away by Graham's knuckles, anyway. The rest stay clinging to her lashes, as though his head shake were a real threat to their existence and they were refusing to fall and be cast away by his knuckles, too. Or maybe it was the lies that keep the tears from falling now, because they were lies but they were nice lies, the kinds of lies that make Elise feel warm and fuzzy and leave her laughing softly there against his lips between kisses. "Three-quarters Aryan? We're not raising little neo-Nazis," she tsks him, "Bubber's too cute to be three quarters white supremacist," there's a small smile there, just a hint of it at the corners of her mouth, before she's quiet, though she fills the minute or so of silence with far too many kisses to count, until she needs to breathe again.

"Thank you," she pecks his bottom lip, his chin, breathing out the words in a long sigh. "I don't know if I could cope through all this bullshit if I didn't have you to lean on, G." Of course, she probably wouldn't HAVE half this bullshit if it wasn't for G, but that's besides the point.

Graham doesn't know how you get AIDS (witness yesterday's log), but he is clear on a few things. "First off, I said Aryan, not neo-Nazis. Don't be racist, El. Second off," kissing time! It's not like 'let's take this upstairs' kissing, just happy to kiss and be kissed in return kissing.

Afterward, he breathes in across a smile at her, loosing his fingers from her hair to rest them across the back of her neck. "Yeah, you could. I've known you," he tries to reckon it, fails, "forever, baby. You'd've figured it out. I ain't hooking it up with some damsel in distress." One more quick smooch, he has heart-eyes in all the moments with Elise.

Elise totally has a comeback about how she isn't racist, but he's good at distraction - by the time all that kissing is over, she forgets all about him wanting to make 3/4th Aryan babies with her, because she's too busy thinking about practicing making babies with him. DAMN HIM! "You aren't," she corrects him, because grammar is important!, and kisses him on the nose. "You aren't hooking it up with some damsel in distress. But you're right," which makes her sit up a little straighter, and then slouch over him again because it was nicer to be close, draping her arms around his neck. "I would've figured it out. But that doesn't make me any less thankful that I have you," there's another kiss on the lips, "And that you have me," then his chin, his jaw. "And we have each other." And she was going to kiss down his neck now. Maybe before wasn't 'let's take this upstairs' kissing, but now it's totally 'let's do it on the couch' kissing.

Graham could wait till she's not looking to roll his eyes at the grammar lesson, but he does the opposite of that instead. It's a good-natured eye-roll, though, the kind that grudgingly appreciates the need for someone to speak actual English (funny that it's the one that also speaks actual Thai). The nice things she's saying and doing make him stop being an eye-roller pretty quick, 'cause she has him, and he has her, and they have each other in the chair, being realistic, the sofa's too far.

Graham hasn't even had breakfast yet, he can't be expected to go all the way over there on an empty stomach. Then he can't be expected to move for a while, so will she please, pretty please, he loves her SO MUCH make him some food? It's kinda selfish to expect it of her after the morning paper, but think about it this way: he helps keep her mind occupied so she doesn't have time to dwell. #bestboyfriendever