2020-04-22 - New Home

The road to finding a semi-permanent home has been a long one for the unlikely pair of Bastian and Angel. A journey seeded with endless difficulty and obstacles, fighting (and making up), and just stress in general. Somewhere down the line, they found their way back to Bast's home town. For the couple days Angel saw him, it was clear he was equal parts apprehensive and anxious. She knows everything about him, including what happened to his family so many years ago. He doesn't have much of a poker face in general, though, so when he's not happy - she always knows long before he opens his mouth. As a result of the tension, when he left several days ago after finding a job as a deckhand on a fishing boat, they did not leave on very good terms. It wasn't until several hours ago that Angel received a text from him. 'Just got back,' it read in addition to a smiley face and fish emoji, in that same sort of way he always texts when he's trying to avoid talking about anything they may have said to each other that they regret all these days later. For Bastian, it was pretty easy for him to pick up a job: he knew a lot about boats and fishing having grown up here and a couple old friends of the family were able to help him out. Of course, he has no idea what she's been up to or if she managed to find a job herself yet. The jingle of keys at the door announces his presence before he enters (something he has always deliberately made a show of ever since they were teenagers, just so she always knew he was coming). It's been kind of a thing between the pair. Besides, the last thing he wants to do is startle her and accidentally get torched! (Kidding.)

After so many years, he knows how Angel tends to internalize her feelings. Almost without fail, she clams up after each of their fights and gives him the silent treatment. But almost every single time, everything is forgiven as soon as he texts her something endearing, or does something funny. The upside of all this is Angel almost never wants to go back and revisit their fights, clearly preferring to forget the entire thing. Is it the best way for conflict resolution? Maybe not, but they're both young and it works for them.

So when Bastian returns to their new home a few days later, Angel stops to watch him enter. Behind her - well, it's still not much of a home. Their backpacks and duffle bags are still there, but hers are mostly emptied out. There isn't much furniture to speak of: there /are/ a couple of single mattresses in the single bedroom, but no bedframes. There is also an old wooden square dining table, and two matching chairs that are now the centerpiece of the place.

Angel herself is dressed in a gray tank top and old jeans, but she is holding a fancy red top in her hands that looks pretty new - certainly not something Bastian has seen her wear before. "Hey." She greets once he comes through the door, as if the fight a few days ago never took place. "How'd it go? Did they take you out on their boat for the last couple of days?"

Their mutual failure to handle conflict healthily is also the binding agent to their relationship. Functional dysfunction. Bastian looks pretty ragged - and definitely brought home the smell of the wharf. There are probably going to have to be some ground rules set on showering at work -before- coming home. Tucked under his arm is a brown paper-wrapped bundle - judging from the smell, it's no secret what it is.

His youthful features are a bit smothered by lack of sleep, but when he spots Angel across the still unfamiliar living area, he smiles easily - another sign that whatever they were fighting about before is long forgotten. Well, for the moment. "I got something for you." She hasn't talked to him in days and though it's weighed down by exhaustion, Bastian's soft-spoken easy lilt still rings familiar.

A grin leads the way as he approaches the island separating the kitchen and living area, setting the bundle of fish down as he begins to rifle through his pockets dramatically slow.

Angel wrinkles her nose at the fishy smell; it doesn't take a genius to tell it's coming from that bundle that got dropped on the kitchen island. "Thanks." She says blandly, wandering closer to peer at the smelly bundle, even tugging at the corner of the wrapping a little. "I guess we're having fish tonight. We have almost nothing in the kitchen though, other than my old pot. We need to go get some kitchen supplies." No, she's not going to leave it there -- she actually picks it up and drops it in the kitchen sink for now.

With that taken care of, Angel wanders back to stand in front of Bastian, arms crossed over her chest while the red garment hangs off them. She tilts her head at him expectantly, and then her gaze drops to his pocket search.

Yep, that's how Bastian rolls. He's great at fighting, not so great at apologizing. Of course, he makes sure not to come back empty handed. "Well? Close your eyes." He quips as he keeps fumbling with his pockets. When he finds it, there's an 'ah ha' moment in his eyes as they light up but he keeps his hand stuffed in his jacket pocket. His eyes follow Angel as she unceremoniously drops the bundle of fish in the sink and returns. He takes note of the red top she's holding and his head tilts, a curious look crinkling the bridge of his nose but he doesn't say anything. "C'mon, turn around and close 'em."

There is a moment that Angel's expression is half skeptical, and half accusatory, her gaze lifting to his face again as if searching for a clue as to what to expect. "Alright, but this had better not be one of your stupid games, where you unzip your pants and call it a surprise." She warns, but her tone is not entirely serious. So then she does turn around, and closes her eyes to wait patiently. "Okay, eyes closed and waiting."

"A big surprise." Bastian amends, shooting Angel that familiar boyish smile of his that she is most familiar with. Even after all these years, he's still such a -boy-. "But no, really. Trust me." He murmers as he gets closer, until she can feel the proximity of his frame behind her. A moment later, she can hear rustling and then the feel of his fingers are her neck, followed by the cool touch of a light, thin metal. "There."

A small locket hangs around her neck attached to a burnished gold necklace. It's not fancy by any stretch, but on opening it up, there's an old picture within it of the two of them at the fair along the boardwalk on the west coast. It was the first place they went to when they ran away together. The small picture is torn from a longer chain of pictures they took in a photo booth. This one shows her laughing about something and Bastian, as usual, just sitting there looking smug like he just told the greatest joke ever told.

"I thought it would be kinda cool to start fresh and... like, have something familiar close by. Ya know?" Bastian continues after a moment of silence, allowing Angel to absorb the gift he just gave her. "That kind of gold looks dope as fuck with your skin tone, too. So that helps."

There is no mistaking it; as soon as the cool feel of metal on the skin of her neck, Angel instantly knows what it is. Opening her eyes, she looks down to discover the locket, which is then lifted in the palm of one hand and popped open. She peers at the picture for a few silent seconds, and although it's impossible to tell what her initial reaction is, when Angel turns around she has a wry smile on her lips.

"You got me. That was...." She bobs her head, while clutching the locket. For a moment there, she looks like she may get emotional, but it's wiped away by another smile. "...unexpected. Thanks, Bast." Letting go of the locket, Angel rises on tip toes, and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "But I hope you didn't spend too much on this. We're pretty strapped for cash still."

Bastian shrugs his shoulders indifferently, he's never really been one to watch the pennies. He's actually pretty fucking horrible with money. His eyes briefly flicker down to her neck, taking a moment to really get a good look at how the burnished gold heart locked looks around her neck. Finally, he nods in satisfaction to himself and offers up a winsome smile. A look that faulters a touch when he takes note of the red top in her arms. "I could say the same for you. That doesn't look cheap." He remarks, though he doesn't have nearly as much concern in his voice. Most likely, he's just trying to deflect away from himself. His eyebrow does notch up slightly though as he gauges the girl's response.

The gold definitely stands out against her dusky skin, and certainly looks fancy schmancy, enough that Angel reaches up to touch the locket again. But when the red garment is pointed out, Angel looks at it as well, but makes no effort to show it to Bastian. "It's for work." She explains instead, as she looks back at him with a slight furrow of her brows. "I..." She hesitates for a second. "I got a job at the cabaret. The guy who owns the place gave me three hundred bucks to get some new clothes, and this is one of them." There is another pause as Angel nods in the direction of the dining set. "Actually, I spent a hundred bucks on the two mattresses, and thirty on the table and chairs, plus some basic supplies."

As if he were reading Angel's mind, Bastian shuffles back on his heel and gestures to the nape of her neck where the locket sits as if it had been designed for that very place on that specific girl. "I always thought that kind of gold looked dope on you." He clears his throat quickly and has PLENTY to focus his attention, with his head snapping up when she mentions the cabaret. "Seriously?" Here it goes. He's gonna start preaching or telling her she's too good for that kind of shit, right? It's certainly in his eyes. He's always tried to save her from everything and anything even remotely resembling unsafe. He might be predictable, but there is a certain measure of comfort in that predictability.

Bastian starts to harumph and straighten, all the telltale body language that Angel is already very familiar with. But, for whatever reason, he seems to deflate and those green eyes of his sweep over the stuff she gestures toward, as if taking note of all the new things for the first time. Well, because it is the first time he noticed them! His demeanor changes, relaxes, and he lets out a deep breath, pursing his lips. "You hungry? I brought back a bunch of perch. Freshly caught!"

Oh, she knows. In fact, her hesitation is a clear hint that she's expecting a certain reaction from Bastian, and she squares her shoulders as if preparing to weather the upcoming fight. And when it doesn't come? Angel looks skeptical and studies Bastian's face for a few silent moments, almost wary that the fight is merely delayed, not averted. But she's also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and lets out a breath of relief when Bastian moves on to a totally different topic.

"Yeah, I can smell how fresh they are." She nods, finally turning to head into the lone bedroom to put down the red garment, before returning with a few bills she counts in her hands. "I still have about twenty five bucks leftover. Think that's enough for a frying pan and some cooking oil?"

The off-hand comment draws a easy laugh from Bastian, who glances over his shoulder at Angel and flashes his pearly white smile. "It tastes better than it smells. We're good, actually." He adds that last part as he shimmies his backpack off his shoulders and sets it down on the counter, proceeding to rummage through it and producing a filet knife, a cooking sheet, some spices, and a roll of tinfoil. "I snagged this stuff from the pantry. We haven't got paid yet and because of the season window, we were just catching bait mostly. Not a lot of money to go around."

Bastian's apprehension over not bringing home any money is telling (his lack of reaction earlier might make a bit more sense now) and he waits a moment before he looks up from his backpack to gauge Angel's reaction. "He owes me four hundred dollars so he fronted me a hundred and the rest I'll pick up this weekend."

The thing about fishing is that it can be really, really unreliable. One moment you can walk away with thousands of dollars for just a few days worth of (very hard) work. The next, you can be waiting to get paid just a couple hundred bucks.

Angel shows extra interest when all the goodies are poured on to the counter, and is right by Bastian's side while she takes stock of what loot has been gathered. The spices are picked up for a closer examination, and then the knife is weighted in her hand. "You got salt and pepper in there?" She crowds Bastian a bit to peer into his backpack. In fact, she reaches over to try to stick a hand inside. "We still need a pan. I can't make a proper filet with nothing but my old pot." Looking back then at Bastian, Angel suddenly catches on to his earlier apprehension. See, this friendship is bi-directional, and Angel reaches up to pat Bastian on the arm. "Hey, it'll be okay. With a hundred bucks we can buy a lot of supplies. Once I start at the cabaret I figure I can make a couple hundred bucks a day.... I hope."

It's nothing fancy, but it looks like Bastian 'acquired' a number of basic things from the boat at no additional cost. He looks down at what he has, deep enough in thought to where she can actually feel him thinking. It's an odd sort of sensation, but not one she would be unaccustomed to. He's projecting his emotions on Angel without realizing it - something he sometimes does when he's stressed out. The touch on his arm snaps him out of it though and he takes a breath, nodding his head without looking up, clearly slightly embarassed that he got lost in his head.

The thing about Bastian is that he doesn't need to draw on his 'spark', as he calls it, to transmit his feelings or to sometimes help her smooth over her own so she doesn't lose control. He's got a shitty poker face. So.

"Well, let me get them cleaned, then I'll hit the shower," Bastian starts, hefting the filet knife in his hand as he begins to unravel the brown paper bundled perch on the counter top next to the sink.

The hand Angel used to rummage into his backpack touches the cool, metallic feeling of spray cannisters. Of course she knows he's an artist. A proverbial king of street art in some areas of the pacific west. He's always carrying around his kit so she'd know right away what the cylinder shaped metallic objects are her hand is coming into contact with.

The final comment Angel makes about money draws Bastian's attention away from the fish. His expression has softened - certainly she can expect him to go off on the whole dancing thing at /some/ point, but it seems as though, right now, having not seen each other in days (probably the longest they've gone in awhile, all things considered), his intention is to keep shit simple and happy.