2022-05-07 - Ordinary

It's a Friday night and the Boardwalk is... marginally more happening than it is during the rest of the week? Is this balanced out by the lousy weather? (Why do they call it May? Because it may be sunny and warm, or it may SNOW.) But hey the ferris wheel is spinning and its mostly-lit-lights scatter rainbow colors on the wet wood. Not that Nicasia would do anyone the actual disfavor of loosing the big shaggy beast that is Lady on any poor unsuspecting riders. No, she once again found a spot down the way, at the fringe of where people actually go, where the shops are mostly closed up so nobody's going to bitch too much about leash laws. Lady isn't even going anywhere. No. She's sitting patiently, looking with tremendous, mournful longing at the paper boat of cheese-covered french fries Nic got from somewhere over there. Not actively begging, no. Not liable to get cheese, either, but the dog's life is tremendously hard.

Nicasia herself sits on the edge of the top of a picnic table, feet on the bench, watching the spinny lights without probably actively seeing them. At this time of night, in the drizzle, they have their own peculiar allure, a whimsical charm that only works if you don't get any closer or look any harder.

Well she's probably likely to get a little cheese.

The chances of Nicasia noticing though. Those are less likely.

A little cheese, just a little slides off one of the fries while Nicasia is looking out that way. The cheese slides down to Myles' hand who holds it behind his back just for a little bit so Lady can get a few licks in. Myles for once in his life has his hoodie off. Muscular arms displayed for a brief moment in time, those large arms now spread out over the table he leans against. Sitting on the bench of the picnic table, near Nicasia's feet.

He's wearing shorts today so for another once is unarmed. Flip flops instead of boots. Really enjoying the kind of ish ok ish sorta weather. It's cool and he should likely put his hoodie on soon. But for now...

"What was that place called that we would get those fries I was crazy about?" Myles looks over to Nicasia, "Back home?" Home being not here, this place where they're both from. But the place they fled to. Vegas.

Another reason why they can't have nice things.

Nicasia is totally oblivious to the cheese that just sort of spontaneously oozes off the fries and down to Myles's hand and off to Lady's mouth and it's probably a good thing because she'd probably be horrified for any number of reasons. None of them are important right now.

She is still dressed up against the weather; jeans, boots, jacket; the t-shirt underneath might be lighter weight but it gets almost no exposure, like she's hiding. Or hiding something. But she's also not armed so it scarcely matters. What does is the question, which she has to think about for only a second. "The barbecue place? Smoke and Fire?" As if she'd forget.

The memory is enough to win him a sidelong look though.

"Mm." Myles lets out in a light grunt. Reaching over to take a cheese laden fry for himself. "That other place was good too. Fries 'n pies. Couldn't get em too much though. They were a lot." Chewing on his fry and swallowing he looks over at her. "We got in a fight there. Smoke and Fire." He remembers with a quiet little laugh, his eyes crinkling. They've gotten into fights a lot of places but this one in particular seems to be amusing to him.

"I can't even remember what the fuck it was about." Pulling over his hoodie, he rummages around before looking up to her. "Wanna get high?"

There's plenty to go around, even if Nic is not actively sharing with the dog. Poor Lady. She plucks one out as well to nibble on and then laughs. "We making a list? Because I'm pretty sure the list of places we didn't fight is shorter. Which sounds funny when she says it. Until she says it, which saps some of the amusement right back out of it. A longish moment is spent rummaging around in her memory for whatever the fuck it was about and she comes up with, "It was the waiter, wasn't it? He couldn't get a damned thing right all night."

Then, "Why not. Don't have to be anywhere or do anything, though I swear, if it opens up some strange portal to another hellscape you're sleeping in the truck tonight." It's not really a threat. At least not one with any teeth.

Myles frowns lightly when she says that. It's just a moment before he lets out a puff of a breath. Though quietly dismisses, "We haven't fought, plenty of places." He protests weakly, just to get a little counter balance out there in the universe. He knits his brows at her proposal. "Eh. Nah. I don't--" He shakes his head. "I think I was already pissed. That just made it worse. You said something. It was about something stupid, but I got pissed as fuck about it." The vape pen is pulled out of the hoodie, once its set up its handed over to Nicasia first as he takes another fry.

"You said somethin' and I misheard you. And I was pissed about what I thought you said all night. Remember? Like you called me fat or some shit."

The pen is taken and Nicasia takes a hit, closing her eyes. "You were always pissed about something," she points out. For a moment it's like it always is, drawing the square for a new fight about an old one, but she lets her breath out and hands the vape back, letting it all go with a little laugh. "I still don't know what I said, or what you thought I said. I call you a lot of shit, but fat? C'mon."

Apparently she remembers though. Remembers some part of it, because she can't help a sharp little smile. "I do remember telling you you might be going deaf, though."

You were always pissed about something

Myles falls silent, looking away for a moment. Jaw flexing. She hands back the pen with that laugh and its enough to disarm the growing irritation. For the moment.

The pen is taken back and that little smile has his own growing somewhat. "I remember that too. And I yelled what because I didn't hear you." It causes him to laugh, lips shaking as he tries to draw from the pen.

"Which is when that poor waiter dumped that entire basket of fries on me, and you got out of that chair so fast I thought you were going to knock the table over," yes, now Nicasia remembers. And now she can be amused by it, in hindsight. No, she's not looking for a fight. At the moment. She does pick out another fry though and bites it in half with a neat snap of her teeth. The cheesy half. The lesser bit... well okay Lady can have that piece.

Maybe because she's remembering. "Those loaded fries, though..." There's a little noise that is like a moan, like a whimper. Then, "You know, Vegas is relatively close to Salt Lake City."

Myles relaxes a little. His shoulders easing. "I wasn't always pissed." Though it's lower, closer to being under his breath. Though he lets out a quiet laugh when she starts to remember. "He had to be drunk or some shit. I swear. Can't act like that at a job. It looked like he did it on purpose. He didn't trip or nothin'. Just--" He swings his arms up in a loosey goosey motion as if suddenly compared to toss basket of fries.

At the talk of the taste of the fries he grunts. "We're fucked as far as food goes. Here. Vegas spoiled us--" But then she says those words. Myles slowly turns. Slowly. On the bench to look up at her. A little smoke comes out of his nostrils, his eyes go over her, up to her eyes. He just stares at her for a few moments. "Uh huh." He starts, staring at her, almost warily. "It sure, is Nico..." Watching her. Expectant.

Maybe it's because it's under his breath that Nic looks down and over at him, that sidelong look made sharp by angle as much as anything. But then he laughs and she does too, a little. "Probably was. I didn't seem him do it, I just remember being covered in hot french fries and sauce and I was not impressed."

But yes. She says those words and they must've been deliberate, a specific choice of a thought rather than yet another errant slip of her tongue. Her hand extends, fingers lightly curled, a beckoning gesture that demands the pen back because no way is this conversation going to happen entirely sober. "I've been thinking about her a lot. More than... more than I usually do. I almost think I'd feel better knowing she was. You know. Ordinary." Which isn't at all what she means, and just saying it makes her whole expression twist in dismay, but the entire concept is painful. Raw.

Myles is sitting on the bench one second, up on the table next to her the next. The fries are pushed back to make way for his mass. One arm is around her waist almost instantly, pulling her against him. They usually don't go zero to holding each other in public quite so fast or easily. But Myles doesn't really seem to give a shit in this moment.

"Are you serious?" He growls, as if keeping a hundred emotions at bay while he certifies the authenticity of this particular declaration.

It is almost but not quite a repeat of the scene from the BBQ place. Fortunately the fries just go backward on the table and Nicasia recoils only a little bit further, for one fleeting fragment of a second drawn up taut and defensive before she's pulled up against him. It takes a lot longer for her to let that go, to draw in a breath and release it, and then to nod once or twice. "Yeah."

Not all of the tension goes out though. What's left is fine, taut, still guarded. "It'd take us a long-ass day to get out there; another long-ass day to get back. Call it a day to find her. Just to see, you know?" She's serious. She did the math.

Myles bites on his lower lip. "My condo is still technically mine til the 15th." He points out. Quietly. His eyes slowly flit up to her. "We could take like.. Sleeping bags and shit. Or a blow up mattress-- Fuck yeah. We could take a blow up mattress." He's getting excited and a little bit ahead of himself. "Do a few days." He rumbles down to her as she's tugged to him. Even if she's taut, one hand is rubbing over her arm slowly. Soothing. Rewarding.

"We could eat good food."

"Do you have a blow up mattress?" He is getting excited, but one of them has to. Nicasia can't quite let her wariness go, though the rubbing helps. Some small measure of the tension runs out as she shifts, leaning slightly into him. Then, "I don't know, Myles. What are we gonna do if she glows? How long is it gonna take to find someone we can trust? Are we going to?" She's apparently done this math too and whatever answer she's come to has her a trifle concerned.

"We can buy one. How much can they be?" Beat. "Or Ava will have one, probably. I'm sure she has tons of shit like that." He waves his hand dismissively. "All we can do is one step at a time, right?" He murmurs, low. "We find out. And we figure out the next step. That's all. No panic or anything. We focus and work the problem like any other case. We get our information and then we hammer it out."

This one isn't even an argument. Not even the makings of a fight. If she hadn't made up her mind already she wouldn't have said anything.

Probably.

There's just that heavy, heavy sigh and with it a quiet, "Fuck." At least one of them can be logical about stuff at a time. When it suits them. Nic just shakes her head. "If you have the condo until the 15th, then we have to go sometime this week. There's not really anything on the books that won't wait another week."

"Okay." Myles rumbles lowly, his lips curling into a broad smile. He tries to suppress it but it doesn't work. His brow knits a little as he looks sidelong at her. Something occurring to him. "Do you---"

He purses his lips. "Do you wanna know her name?"

It takes Nicasia longer than it likely should to answer this, and when she does, it's just a nod. A little one. Very cautious, like the knowledge itself might simply add to the hurt of it.

And maybe it is. Maybe that is the final straw, the one that breaks the whole thing because she pulls away abruptly and slides down from the tabletop. "You know what? Fuck it. Let's go. Now. We can be there Sunday. Unless you got business pressing I should I know about."

There's a nod. A little nod. And then she's jumping up and psyching herself into going. Going now. Myles slides up off the table, and takes a fry. Eating it he glances down to Lady. "We're goin' home, Lady." He rumbles with a small smile. "You can see Gunner again." The German Shepherd a few doors down who she was just in love with.

His eyes flick back up to Nicasia and his hand goes out to settle on her waist, pulling her back in against him. "Isabelle. I hear people callin' her Izzy."

Naturally Lady remembers. There's a delighted swish of her tail that has nothing to do with the french fries, though probably it has everything to do with the tone in Myles' voice. She'll figure it out soon enough, rest assured.

As for Nicasia she's a lot easier to pull close this time, the tension gone, replaced by that slightly wavery something that suggests she could be easily knocked over, though she's not high enough nor unbalanced enough for that to be a real danger.

"Isabelle," she murmurs. Then, "Izzy."

And then, so quietly that the demand is almost not even a whisper, "Let me see."

Myles looks down at her. Dubious at first. For a moment at least. He's going back to his hoodie, his phone is soon in his hand, but he keeps his back to her. Blocking what he's doing. Hidden files. And this one the most hidden of all. He has to log on to at least two websites to get to what he wants so he can take a screenshot of the picture then close up all the other windows. JUST IN CASE. It takes a couple minutes.

He's turning back to her, stepping over and offering the phone. "Last year." He mumbles, holding it up for her to see the beautiful little girl, the camera is zoomed in on her. Stopped at a sidewalk with other little children, presumably waiting for the crossing guard to cross the street. She has a little pink hoodie on with a black little backpack, her thumbs tucked under the straps as she seemingly waits patiently.

It's okay, she'll wait. She leans slightly against the edge of the table, wrapping an arm around herself, pulling the jacket along as if she needs the warmth; her shoulders shrug up tight. Like fidgeting, though she's otherwise very still. Sort of patient, in so much as she can be, watching the lights of the ferris wheel yonder as it starts to turn again.

Then the phone is presented and she takes it, bowing her head so that she can look at it. And look she does, for ten or fifteen or twenty seconds in deafening silence, expression hidden under a mop of dark, frizzy curls. At about the twenty second mark the quiet is broken by a little hitch of breath, a deep-sucked inhale as she fights back a sob. The phone is pushed back into his hand and he'd better catch it because she doesn't make sure, only turns and goes.

Nicasia doesn't cry, but boy can she run.