I didn't realize that her father lived there too. That is going to make her look so crazy when Reg shows up. :P
Also, i have work today, so I will probably respond after.
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It was hot, the kind of hot that could only be satisfied with blasting the AC and holding one’s hands at ten and two to feel the cold air hit them from the vents. Not paying mind to the fact that ten and two had gone ‘out of style’ and was downright dangerous in some cars, depending on the installation of the air bag. Many drivers on the large highway drove with the windows up to take advantage of their comfortable igloos. Reginald Briggs De’Angelo didn’t mind the heat, which was good considering that he certainly had no AC. His custom-made MV-Augusta F4CC wove between the lanes, disregarding the mini-vans and camrys as he sped past them. Reggie had just gotten the sports bike a few weeks before, and he wasted no time in taking it for a spin, leaving his ‘old’ bike to gather dust until he gave it to someone, or donated it to some auction event for charity.
The sun was beginning to set, and though it might have seemed a bit early for bar-hopping, Reggie was on his way to Cecil’s, a bar he had been to only once before. There was something…inherently wrong about going to the same bar all the time in his mind. Yes, the staff knew how to treat the right people with the right respect, opening the curtains, doors, and velvet rope where required. However, it was only when Reggie went to the same bar with regularity that people began to notice him. In this case, ‘people’ was another word to mean women and the kind of men who swung the wrong way a bit. It wasn’t just the fact that women noticed him. Reggie wouldn’t have had a problem with that. He was the kind of person who would be quite content being the last man on Earth, assuming of course that the last women on Earth were all playboy bunnies. The problem with repetition was that women began to stalk people like Reggie. The last club he had enjoyed, called Lion’s Den, was where he was assaulted with quite a common exchange.
”Reg? Reginald? The red-head asked, practically climbing over the bouncers protecting people like him from the grub—common folk. “No, really. I know him.” She told the bouncer, trying to reassure him.
Having already had a decent amount to drink, Reggie wasted no time in approaching the bouncer and the girl, though he made no attempts to tell the bouncer that she did, indeed, belong on his side of the velvet rope. “Do I know you?” He asked, holding some house special whose name he couldn’t remember in his right hand, while his left was dangling lightly by his side.
“Yes, of course… Remember? We met here two weeks ago… We went back to your hotel room…” It was the same story Reg had heard time and time again. Of course they met at a club. Of course he brought them back to some hotel room. He practically had a standing reservation at any of the biggest hotels in the state. He never brought a girl home, because girls met in clubs weren’t for bringing home, and Reggie had no interest in finding a girl in any other place. Other girls required courting. There were dates, and restrictions on activities, and flowers, and dinners, and questions, and pretending that he actually cared about her boring life when he knew that all she wanted was his money. No, Reginald was not interested in a relationship; he was only interested in having a good time. After all, he had money, he had a great body, and he had absolutely no reason to change his lifestyle.
Shaking his head, Reggie shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Wasn’t her name Meredith? That name annoyed him, and as he looked at her once again, he remembered that it was Meredith. He didn’t even want to say that name, and so had decided to call her Sweetie. That had also been the name of one of his cleaning ladies’ parrots. Listening to Meredith speak two weeks ago reminded him of how much that damn bird squawked, which was how he got the name that sounded slightly less sour on his tongue than Meredith. “Nope, don’t remember you.” He said, and turned away from the woman, walking towards the back of the club and ducking down a hallway. He could almost hear the silence of her shock, and smirked as he finished his drink in one large gulp.
Eventually, going to the same club just led to too many awkward encounters, alcohol being poured on his designer suits, women huffing and puffing and throwing tantrums in their discount heels. Reggie didn’t go out on weekend nights to be assaulted by women… Well, sometimes he did, but that was always on his own terms. This new club, Cecil’s, had been recommended by a friend of his, a guy named Andrew. Since Andrew only came to the area like three times a year, the places that he recommended were hit or miss. This one, though, was definitely a hit.
There was traffic on the freeway, not that Reg particularly cared. Two lanes were wide enough for two cars and him, provided they weren’t complete idiots. While Reginald didn’t have a lot of faith in mankind, he did think that survival instinct was pretty high, and that usually kept him safe. Some Camry that had to be from the 90s honked as he sped past, and Reg looked in the rearview mirror as the small car disappeared from sight, no doubt the man was raising Reg’s favorite finger in front of him. In fact, the man honked because he was finishing a text, and Reginald coming up in his peripheral vision scared him and made him think he was in the shoulder, causing him to swerve unnecessarily. Reginald shook his head slightly and turned back towards the road in front just in time to see the large semi hurtling towards him. “Shit!” Reginald cursed and turned the bike sharply, pushing forward on the left handle to counter-steer his motorcycle and move quickly to the left, where there was no one in his lane. Reg had to pull harder than he expected though, as the back of the semi curved out, and blocked the path ahead. Going far to the left, Reginald hit the semi and flew over the median. He didn’t even hear the crunch of the metal when his bike smashed into a car in the other lane, and he fell unconscious before he hit the ground.
Though Reginald had a history of making poor decisions before getting on a motorcycle of vehicle, this time the culprit had been the driver of the semi. The driver, a man named Billy Thompson, had been driving for 13 hours straight, and hadn’t taken the mandatory breaks that he was supposed to, trying to make a deadline. He had, of course, been in the far left lane of the highway, driving south, when he fell asleep at the wheel. The semi managed to make it over the median before he woke, and by then, all he could do was try to slam the brakes before he had a head-on collision with the other cars coming towards him. The momentum carried the back out and to the side, blocking all of the lands, and smashing against a few cars. There was no shoulder for them to go into, the semi blocked all of the lanes, its front slamming into the median once more, and it’s back stretching into the shoulder. The pile-up on the North-bound side of the highway would be 15 cars and the semi, and the South-bound, due to rubber-neckers and Reginald’s bike, would have 5 as well, though only two lanes of traffic on that side would be blocked completely.
-.-
Five months after the accident - St. Martin’s Extended Care Hospital:
“I don’t care who is asleep, who is in a meeting, and who is at fucking dinner. I expect to speak with the project manager immediately!” Reminor De’Angelo barked into the phone before hanging up. When the accident first occurred, he had come right away. The boy’s mother had taken a few weeks, having needed to finish presenting some new design line for some very important people. Reminor had been angry at first that his son had gotten himself in another mess. He would have tested positive for some alcohol, and likely some sort of drugs as well, but since the driver of the semi had been found to be the cause of the accident, no one pursued the habits of all of the crash’s victims. The company that had allowed the driver to pull such a long trip had to pay damages to a majority of the victims, not that the De’Angelo’s needed the money, or the publicity. No, Reminor didn’t want his son’s name brought up in any of that, and so he opted out of the lawsuit that would have given a decent payout towards his son’s care.
Reginald had always been a troublemaker, and people would perceive it as his fault if Reminor had allowed his name to reach any of the papers. No, as far as Reginald’s friends were concerned, he simply dropped off the map entirely, with rumors flying around of him backpacking through Paris, or modeling for his mother.
Reminor’s phone rang less than a minute later, with the project manager he had demanded on the other line. Another argument ensued, in which Reminor insisted that Reginald would be made a subject of their research study that very evening. The project lead tried to insist that it was impossible, that Reginald wasn’t even a candidate for the drugs given the nature of his accident, and there were days-worth of testing that had to happen before they could ensure that he had the potential to respond to the treatment they had. Reminor, however, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He threatened to cut all funding to their organization, and since the De’Angelo’s had a lot of money to contribute to the group, the man relented finally, and agreed to send two tech that very night to give the boy his first treatment.
The drugs were a cocktail that were just beginning the trial phase. They were meant to help prevent brain deterioration in people with Alzheimer’s, and other neurological diseases. Thus far, they were having more beneficial results with helping to prevent the deterioration of motor function in people whose neurons were not firing properly. They did have a few other patients who had been in comas, trying to test if the brain damage could be reduced, and clearly De’Angelo wanted his son to reap all of these benefits, though he wouldn’t likely benefit from any of it, given his condition. The techs soon arrived, and were able to give Reginald the first treatment, though they would move him to their facilities the next day for follow-up care and treatment, as long as he didn't die from the first concoction of drugs that night. They could not promise any results, of course, but Reminor didn’t care. He wanted the best possible treatment for his son, no matter how much money he had to throw at it.
The sun was beginning to set, and though it might have seemed a bit early for bar-hopping, Reggie was on his way to Cecil’s, a bar he had been to only once before. There was something…inherently wrong about going to the same bar all the time in his mind. Yes, the staff knew how to treat the right people with the right respect, opening the curtains, doors, and velvet rope where required. However, it was only when Reggie went to the same bar with regularity that people began to notice him. In this case, ‘people’ was another word to mean women and the kind of men who swung the wrong way a bit. It wasn’t just the fact that women noticed him. Reggie wouldn’t have had a problem with that. He was the kind of person who would be quite content being the last man on Earth, assuming of course that the last women on Earth were all playboy bunnies. The problem with repetition was that women began to stalk people like Reggie. The last club he had enjoyed, called Lion’s Den, was where he was assaulted with quite a common exchange.
”Reg? Reginald? The red-head asked, practically climbing over the bouncers protecting people like him from the grub—common folk. “No, really. I know him.” She told the bouncer, trying to reassure him.
Having already had a decent amount to drink, Reggie wasted no time in approaching the bouncer and the girl, though he made no attempts to tell the bouncer that she did, indeed, belong on his side of the velvet rope. “Do I know you?” He asked, holding some house special whose name he couldn’t remember in his right hand, while his left was dangling lightly by his side.
“Yes, of course… Remember? We met here two weeks ago… We went back to your hotel room…” It was the same story Reg had heard time and time again. Of course they met at a club. Of course he brought them back to some hotel room. He practically had a standing reservation at any of the biggest hotels in the state. He never brought a girl home, because girls met in clubs weren’t for bringing home, and Reggie had no interest in finding a girl in any other place. Other girls required courting. There were dates, and restrictions on activities, and flowers, and dinners, and questions, and pretending that he actually cared about her boring life when he knew that all she wanted was his money. No, Reginald was not interested in a relationship; he was only interested in having a good time. After all, he had money, he had a great body, and he had absolutely no reason to change his lifestyle.
Shaking his head, Reggie shrugged and took a sip of his drink. Wasn’t her name Meredith? That name annoyed him, and as he looked at her once again, he remembered that it was Meredith. He didn’t even want to say that name, and so had decided to call her Sweetie. That had also been the name of one of his cleaning ladies’ parrots. Listening to Meredith speak two weeks ago reminded him of how much that damn bird squawked, which was how he got the name that sounded slightly less sour on his tongue than Meredith. “Nope, don’t remember you.” He said, and turned away from the woman, walking towards the back of the club and ducking down a hallway. He could almost hear the silence of her shock, and smirked as he finished his drink in one large gulp.
Eventually, going to the same club just led to too many awkward encounters, alcohol being poured on his designer suits, women huffing and puffing and throwing tantrums in their discount heels. Reggie didn’t go out on weekend nights to be assaulted by women… Well, sometimes he did, but that was always on his own terms. This new club, Cecil’s, had been recommended by a friend of his, a guy named Andrew. Since Andrew only came to the area like three times a year, the places that he recommended were hit or miss. This one, though, was definitely a hit.
There was traffic on the freeway, not that Reg particularly cared. Two lanes were wide enough for two cars and him, provided they weren’t complete idiots. While Reginald didn’t have a lot of faith in mankind, he did think that survival instinct was pretty high, and that usually kept him safe. Some Camry that had to be from the 90s honked as he sped past, and Reg looked in the rearview mirror as the small car disappeared from sight, no doubt the man was raising Reg’s favorite finger in front of him. In fact, the man honked because he was finishing a text, and Reginald coming up in his peripheral vision scared him and made him think he was in the shoulder, causing him to swerve unnecessarily. Reginald shook his head slightly and turned back towards the road in front just in time to see the large semi hurtling towards him. “Shit!” Reginald cursed and turned the bike sharply, pushing forward on the left handle to counter-steer his motorcycle and move quickly to the left, where there was no one in his lane. Reg had to pull harder than he expected though, as the back of the semi curved out, and blocked the path ahead. Going far to the left, Reginald hit the semi and flew over the median. He didn’t even hear the crunch of the metal when his bike smashed into a car in the other lane, and he fell unconscious before he hit the ground.
Though Reginald had a history of making poor decisions before getting on a motorcycle of vehicle, this time the culprit had been the driver of the semi. The driver, a man named Billy Thompson, had been driving for 13 hours straight, and hadn’t taken the mandatory breaks that he was supposed to, trying to make a deadline. He had, of course, been in the far left lane of the highway, driving south, when he fell asleep at the wheel. The semi managed to make it over the median before he woke, and by then, all he could do was try to slam the brakes before he had a head-on collision with the other cars coming towards him. The momentum carried the back out and to the side, blocking all of the lands, and smashing against a few cars. There was no shoulder for them to go into, the semi blocked all of the lanes, its front slamming into the median once more, and it’s back stretching into the shoulder. The pile-up on the North-bound side of the highway would be 15 cars and the semi, and the South-bound, due to rubber-neckers and Reginald’s bike, would have 5 as well, though only two lanes of traffic on that side would be blocked completely.
-.-
Five months after the accident - St. Martin’s Extended Care Hospital:
“I don’t care who is asleep, who is in a meeting, and who is at fucking dinner. I expect to speak with the project manager immediately!” Reminor De’Angelo barked into the phone before hanging up. When the accident first occurred, he had come right away. The boy’s mother had taken a few weeks, having needed to finish presenting some new design line for some very important people. Reminor had been angry at first that his son had gotten himself in another mess. He would have tested positive for some alcohol, and likely some sort of drugs as well, but since the driver of the semi had been found to be the cause of the accident, no one pursued the habits of all of the crash’s victims. The company that had allowed the driver to pull such a long trip had to pay damages to a majority of the victims, not that the De’Angelo’s needed the money, or the publicity. No, Reminor didn’t want his son’s name brought up in any of that, and so he opted out of the lawsuit that would have given a decent payout towards his son’s care.
Reginald had always been a troublemaker, and people would perceive it as his fault if Reminor had allowed his name to reach any of the papers. No, as far as Reginald’s friends were concerned, he simply dropped off the map entirely, with rumors flying around of him backpacking through Paris, or modeling for his mother.
Reminor’s phone rang less than a minute later, with the project manager he had demanded on the other line. Another argument ensued, in which Reminor insisted that Reginald would be made a subject of their research study that very evening. The project lead tried to insist that it was impossible, that Reginald wasn’t even a candidate for the drugs given the nature of his accident, and there were days-worth of testing that had to happen before they could ensure that he had the potential to respond to the treatment they had. Reminor, however, wouldn’t take no for an answer. He threatened to cut all funding to their organization, and since the De’Angelo’s had a lot of money to contribute to the group, the man relented finally, and agreed to send two tech that very night to give the boy his first treatment.
The drugs were a cocktail that were just beginning the trial phase. They were meant to help prevent brain deterioration in people with Alzheimer’s, and other neurological diseases. Thus far, they were having more beneficial results with helping to prevent the deterioration of motor function in people whose neurons were not firing properly. They did have a few other patients who had been in comas, trying to test if the brain damage could be reduced, and clearly De’Angelo wanted his son to reap all of these benefits, though he wouldn’t likely benefit from any of it, given his condition. The techs soon arrived, and were able to give Reginald the first treatment, though they would move him to their facilities the next day for follow-up care and treatment, as long as he didn't die from the first concoction of drugs that night. They could not promise any results, of course, but Reminor didn’t care. He wanted the best possible treatment for his son, no matter how much money he had to throw at it.
Name: Reginald Briggs De’Angelo
Age: 26
Height: 6 Feet tall
Weight: 160 lbs
Appearance:
Clothing:
*The vest is gray. But he is wearing washed blue jeans, a black belt, a light blue button down, and a dark blue tie (with the white/light blue polka dots).*
Personality/brief bio: Reginald, called Reg or Reggie by his friends, is a self-centered party boy. His father is a director in LA, and his mother is a fashion designer, and former runway model. He grew up with very little supervision, and was used to his father's people bailing him out of his troubles. He doesn't like the idea of having to commit himself to one woman, and would much rather have fun than work. He has never held a proper job, was kicked out a variety of private schools that he attended, and has very few aspirations. He doesn't care about tomorrow, or yesterday, only what he could be doing tonight.
Age: 26
Height: 6 Feet tall
Weight: 160 lbs
Appearance:
Clothing:
*The vest is gray. But he is wearing washed blue jeans, a black belt, a light blue button down, and a dark blue tie (with the white/light blue polka dots).*
Personality/brief bio: Reginald, called Reg or Reggie by his friends, is a self-centered party boy. His father is a director in LA, and his mother is a fashion designer, and former runway model. He grew up with very little supervision, and was used to his father's people bailing him out of his troubles. He doesn't like the idea of having to commit himself to one woman, and would much rather have fun than work. He has never held a proper job, was kicked out a variety of private schools that he attended, and has very few aspirations. He doesn't care about tomorrow, or yesterday, only what he could be doing tonight.
“Today, if you are available.” Kieran clarified. “Otherwise, I might have to come back tomorrow to make a payment and ask again.” He continued, a small grin spreading across his face. “12:30, sounds good.” Kieran said. “See you then.” He noticed that her face seemed a bit red, but he didn’t think much of it as he left the hospital once more. Checking the clock in his car, he saw that he had about three hours until lunch. He could go home, but it would probably be more productive to find a place to eat. He figured he needed to stay close to the hospital, so that he could bring Anabelle back to work promptly. Fortunately, a small city had cropped up around the hospital, and so there were quite a few places to choose from. He went into a few different restaurants, looking at menus and layout. He wanted to be able to talk to Anabelle without the din of other conversations bothering him. Of course, wandering around at 9:30 wasn’t the most fruitful because many of the restaurants were closed, and he had no idea how busy they would be at their prime. His decision was made when he saw a location of Genghis Grill around the corner from the square.
It was exactly what he was looking for. The waiters came around to fill drinks, but the meal itself was something that the individual was able to build. Anabelle (and Kieran, himself) could get exactly the things they liked, the chefs would stir-fry it up, and then deliver it to the table. It wasn’t particularly expensive, but the food came out quickly, and they could stay for a while and talk, if such was permissible for Anabelle’s schedule. Kieran hadn’t been sure when she accepted the offer if she would be able to spend the afternoon with him, or if she only had a set duration for her lunch break. He knew that the lengths could vary from 15 minutes to around an hour, and he hoped that she had closer to the latter, so that way they wouldn’t be rushed.
Kieran spent the next thirty minutes wandering around one of the nearby shops, and then made his way back to the hospital to pick up Anabelle. She was standing outside the main entrance, which made Kieran’s life a bit easier, since he didn’t need to go back to the desk to ask for her. Instead of parking, he simply pulled around to the front entrance and parked the car to allow her to get in. The vehicle wasn’t new by any means, but the light blue 2005 corolla had been well-maintained. The interior was clean, largely because Kieran rarely used the car, and hadn’t formed bad habits like leaving trash in it, or trekking through the mud before getting in it. He didn’t think about the fact that he had said his injury was a car accident, and the car was clearly undamaged. Kieran wasn’t even sure if Anabelle knew about the excuse he had made for his injury—the beginning of the night having faded from his memory a bit.
“I hope you like Genghis Grill.” Kieran said as the door opened. The radio, as usual, was off. Kieran hadn’t even messed with his uncle’s preset stations after inheriting the vehicle. He didn’t know much about music, and none of the things he had heard particularly captured his interest. “If not, we can go somewhere else…I just love that you can pick out your own food, so you know exactly what is in your meal.” He explained. Having grown up in a place where going out to eat meant that the food was some sort of mystery meat, restaurants like this one were a breath of fresh air.
-.-
Rhys could hear someone else’s words in her mind. She froze, afraid at first, but she recognized the voice. It belonged to the man behind her, the one who had stopped her from exploding before. She turned to face him, his magic ability making sense to her now. He could read minds. It was how he had known that she was unable to control her magic, and likely how he had been so easily able to press her buttons when they spoke outside of the tavern. Somehow, knowing this fact about the man made it easier for her to think about speaking to him again. Before, she had felt utterly exposed, like he knew everything about her, and she was too self-centered to realize why. Now that she had something as well, even though it was small, she felt like she could regain control of her situation, at least a bit.
Taking another deep breath, Rhys began to walk towards the man once more, closing the distance between them. She wasn’t sure if he was still in her head, and she didn’t really want him there anyway, so she spoke to him. “I thought you might prefer your privacy. Yesterday, “ Rhys paused, and then shook her head. “Can we start again?” She asked instead, changing the topic a bit. “I’m Rhys.” She said, holding out her right hand to shake his. “I was thinking of going North, but I don’t really have a place in mind. If you would like someone to travel with, I wouldn’t mind tagging alone wherever you’re going, at least for a while.”
He might have laughed at her, or called her stupid, but if he humored her right now, then she could try to not think of him as a hostile figure. Of course, getting a name to call him by would be very helpful as well in that plight. Rhys lowered her bag beside her when he accepted her company. “I got some stuff in town this morning, if you want to share.” She offered, trying to be friendly. She hadn’t gotten anything that needed to be cooked, because she hadn’t been sure when she was going to be stopping for rest, and she wasn’t very good with fire anyway. While she could manipulate flames once they were present, it was usually by accident, and she didn’t know how to put them out with her magic, or to start a new flame from nothing. Since she had been planning to travel alone, the idea of a fire was also dangerous in terms of bandits seeing the fire in the dark, or the smoke when she started the flames. Though she had a small blade on her person, it wasn’t something she could really use to defend herself, if a group of bandits were to come upon her.
In truth, traveling with this man would likely help keep her safe, now that she was more relaxed, and felt like perhaps she could trust his man—so long as he stayed out of her head.
It was exactly what he was looking for. The waiters came around to fill drinks, but the meal itself was something that the individual was able to build. Anabelle (and Kieran, himself) could get exactly the things they liked, the chefs would stir-fry it up, and then deliver it to the table. It wasn’t particularly expensive, but the food came out quickly, and they could stay for a while and talk, if such was permissible for Anabelle’s schedule. Kieran hadn’t been sure when she accepted the offer if she would be able to spend the afternoon with him, or if she only had a set duration for her lunch break. He knew that the lengths could vary from 15 minutes to around an hour, and he hoped that she had closer to the latter, so that way they wouldn’t be rushed.
Kieran spent the next thirty minutes wandering around one of the nearby shops, and then made his way back to the hospital to pick up Anabelle. She was standing outside the main entrance, which made Kieran’s life a bit easier, since he didn’t need to go back to the desk to ask for her. Instead of parking, he simply pulled around to the front entrance and parked the car to allow her to get in. The vehicle wasn’t new by any means, but the light blue 2005 corolla had been well-maintained. The interior was clean, largely because Kieran rarely used the car, and hadn’t formed bad habits like leaving trash in it, or trekking through the mud before getting in it. He didn’t think about the fact that he had said his injury was a car accident, and the car was clearly undamaged. Kieran wasn’t even sure if Anabelle knew about the excuse he had made for his injury—the beginning of the night having faded from his memory a bit.
“I hope you like Genghis Grill.” Kieran said as the door opened. The radio, as usual, was off. Kieran hadn’t even messed with his uncle’s preset stations after inheriting the vehicle. He didn’t know much about music, and none of the things he had heard particularly captured his interest. “If not, we can go somewhere else…I just love that you can pick out your own food, so you know exactly what is in your meal.” He explained. Having grown up in a place where going out to eat meant that the food was some sort of mystery meat, restaurants like this one were a breath of fresh air.
-.-
Rhys could hear someone else’s words in her mind. She froze, afraid at first, but she recognized the voice. It belonged to the man behind her, the one who had stopped her from exploding before. She turned to face him, his magic ability making sense to her now. He could read minds. It was how he had known that she was unable to control her magic, and likely how he had been so easily able to press her buttons when they spoke outside of the tavern. Somehow, knowing this fact about the man made it easier for her to think about speaking to him again. Before, she had felt utterly exposed, like he knew everything about her, and she was too self-centered to realize why. Now that she had something as well, even though it was small, she felt like she could regain control of her situation, at least a bit.
Taking another deep breath, Rhys began to walk towards the man once more, closing the distance between them. She wasn’t sure if he was still in her head, and she didn’t really want him there anyway, so she spoke to him. “I thought you might prefer your privacy. Yesterday, “ Rhys paused, and then shook her head. “Can we start again?” She asked instead, changing the topic a bit. “I’m Rhys.” She said, holding out her right hand to shake his. “I was thinking of going North, but I don’t really have a place in mind. If you would like someone to travel with, I wouldn’t mind tagging alone wherever you’re going, at least for a while.”
He might have laughed at her, or called her stupid, but if he humored her right now, then she could try to not think of him as a hostile figure. Of course, getting a name to call him by would be very helpful as well in that plight. Rhys lowered her bag beside her when he accepted her company. “I got some stuff in town this morning, if you want to share.” She offered, trying to be friendly. She hadn’t gotten anything that needed to be cooked, because she hadn’t been sure when she was going to be stopping for rest, and she wasn’t very good with fire anyway. While she could manipulate flames once they were present, it was usually by accident, and she didn’t know how to put them out with her magic, or to start a new flame from nothing. Since she had been planning to travel alone, the idea of a fire was also dangerous in terms of bandits seeing the fire in the dark, or the smoke when she started the flames. Though she had a small blade on her person, it wasn’t something she could really use to defend herself, if a group of bandits were to come upon her.
In truth, traveling with this man would likely help keep her safe, now that she was more relaxed, and felt like perhaps she could trust his man—so long as he stayed out of her head.
Bump.
Mine is a bit short, and I apologize for that. If you need me to add more, let me know, and I will think of something else. I just didn't want to take any opportunities away from you by rambling too much.
He still couldn’t get a read on her. Kieran had initially thought that he could talk to her about what happened the day before, somehow get her to open up and be honest with him. He could see that she was a bit anxious now, but he couldn’t get much else out of her, and it was frustrating. If Devon was here, he would have been a huge help. Perhaps Kieran should have gone back to get him and have him confirm things for Kieran. Still, he had already committed to this, and he couldn’t exactly abandon the plan now. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.” Kieran answered. “I thought that…since the hospital cuts off people’s clothing, you might want to have this sweatshirt back.” He held out the folded garment, adding quickly that he had washed it.
Once she had taken the garment, he continued. “I also came to start paying back that bill. And since I am here…I was wondering if you wanted to go out and have lunch with me.” Kieran smiled, trying put off a bit more confidence than he had felt. He had been out to tav-restaurants in this world a few times, but never to try to learn more about a woman. It had always been to just get some food to go, or sit quietly in a corner and watch the rest of the interactions so that he could understand all of the proceedings. His uncle taught him about tipping, and some of the other things that were important, but Kieran have never had to apply that knowledge with someone who was from this world. Then again, perhaps Ana wasn’t. Perhaps she had grown up in his world, and only come here recently. Sure she had a job, and she looked comfortable, but if she lived her all the time, if she hid here, then it would make sense that she would want to blend in. Kieran contemplated saying that he wanted to learn more about what she had done to save her, but he didn’t want to scare her off if she was in hiding. If she refused his offer, though, he might have to change directions and bring up what she had done for him more directly.
-.-
One of the advantages of sneaking around the outskirts of town was that few people wandered around there. For one thing, there were rumors that the lake on the eastern edge of the village was filled with curses. Rhys had been staying on the western side of town, though she knew that the path towards Lake Whyrria would be the most solitary. Further, she could get more water, which, after a bit of traveling, would be ideal. By the time she got there, the sun would be setting soon. She filled up her water, and walked along the lake’s edge, looking for a well-covered spot that could keep her warm and dry during the night. Before she came across the perfect spot, however, she came across another figure. Rhys slowed to a stop, watching the figure’s back for a few moments. She recognized him.
Was it one of the guards? A bounty hunter looking for her? She closed her eyes, forcing her heart rate to slow. Opening them again, Rhys found that the water in the lake had receded a few inches. She exhaled slowly, urging the water to still once more before looking up at the man once more. The second time she spied him, she knew who he was instantly. He was the man who saved her from her own magic—the same magic she clearly still couldn’t control. She was embarrassed, and annoyed. He had said that she needed to relax, and the very next person she encountered almost made her create a tidal wave in a lake. The man had offered before that she could come and find him, and Rhys had the impression that he would think such now. But she hadn’t sought him out, it was merely coincidence.
Before he addressed her, though likely because he was listening to her thoughts and poking fun at her internally, Rhys turned on her heels and began to walk the other way. She didn’t need someone to lecture her about her incompetence anymore. Besides, she didn’t even know the man’s name. If he had meant that she could seek him out in any serious manner, then he would have introduced himself.
Once she had taken the garment, he continued. “I also came to start paying back that bill. And since I am here…I was wondering if you wanted to go out and have lunch with me.” Kieran smiled, trying put off a bit more confidence than he had felt. He had been out to tav-restaurants in this world a few times, but never to try to learn more about a woman. It had always been to just get some food to go, or sit quietly in a corner and watch the rest of the interactions so that he could understand all of the proceedings. His uncle taught him about tipping, and some of the other things that were important, but Kieran have never had to apply that knowledge with someone who was from this world. Then again, perhaps Ana wasn’t. Perhaps she had grown up in his world, and only come here recently. Sure she had a job, and she looked comfortable, but if she lived her all the time, if she hid here, then it would make sense that she would want to blend in. Kieran contemplated saying that he wanted to learn more about what she had done to save her, but he didn’t want to scare her off if she was in hiding. If she refused his offer, though, he might have to change directions and bring up what she had done for him more directly.
-.-
One of the advantages of sneaking around the outskirts of town was that few people wandered around there. For one thing, there were rumors that the lake on the eastern edge of the village was filled with curses. Rhys had been staying on the western side of town, though she knew that the path towards Lake Whyrria would be the most solitary. Further, she could get more water, which, after a bit of traveling, would be ideal. By the time she got there, the sun would be setting soon. She filled up her water, and walked along the lake’s edge, looking for a well-covered spot that could keep her warm and dry during the night. Before she came across the perfect spot, however, she came across another figure. Rhys slowed to a stop, watching the figure’s back for a few moments. She recognized him.
Was it one of the guards? A bounty hunter looking for her? She closed her eyes, forcing her heart rate to slow. Opening them again, Rhys found that the water in the lake had receded a few inches. She exhaled slowly, urging the water to still once more before looking up at the man once more. The second time she spied him, she knew who he was instantly. He was the man who saved her from her own magic—the same magic she clearly still couldn’t control. She was embarrassed, and annoyed. He had said that she needed to relax, and the very next person she encountered almost made her create a tidal wave in a lake. The man had offered before that she could come and find him, and Rhys had the impression that he would think such now. But she hadn’t sought him out, it was merely coincidence.
Before he addressed her, though likely because he was listening to her thoughts and poking fun at her internally, Rhys turned on her heels and began to walk the other way. She didn’t need someone to lecture her about her incompetence anymore. Besides, she didn’t even know the man’s name. If he had meant that she could seek him out in any serious manner, then he would have introduced himself.
I am hoping it is just that everyone is adjusting to summer, changes in schedule, etc. But I think I might have to go inquiring again soon. If they don't pick up again, I will be having a grumpy summer.
Yippee! My games have been dwindling down too. :(
Eventually, Kieran finished giving information to the woman, and Anabelle walked with him to and down the elevators. He remembered the first time he had taken an elevator. He was convinced it was a magic box of teleportation. He insisted on going on it again, and his uncle had laughed, saying that they would ride it again when they left. Though Kieran didn’t remember the rest of the patrons of the elevator, his uncle had turned and addressed them, since they had been so puzzled by the young boy’s ignorance about something as simple as the elevator. “My nephew. He’s Amish.” He stated. It was a trick the man had learned to explain even when he had struggled with understanding the world. He learned the phrase before he had any idea who the Amish were, though he learned more about them so that he could follow-through on the statement, before he became fully adept with learning about this world.
She pointed out the place where he could come in and make his payments. Kieran made a note of the line, not really fond of waiting around, though he could probably make it back to the hospital to make a few payments. He gave a slight not, and then turned back to Anabelle. “Thank you.” He responded, returning her smile. “For everything.” She left, and Kieran stood for a few moments before he walked back outside. The sky had darkened from both the rain and the sun setting. He had been in this world all day—hospitals were rather unpleasant places. He walked to the car, not minding the fact that he was getting quite wet, and got in. The keys were sitting in the center console, where he always kept them, though he had not bothered with a wallet that day.
The drive home, and indeed the rest of the evening, was rather uneventful. Though he had left things in a hurry in his home, he needed to clean here just as much. He threw his clothing, including the new sweatshirt in the wash, and then went to the bathroom to clean up the blood there. He ended up bringing a few of the supplies back home, cleaning there as well, before he finally went to bed. In the morning, another hop brought him back to the world of technology, and he took the sweatshirt out of the wash. He redressed, again in slacks, though he was in a dark blue button-down instead. He grabbed his wallet as well, and put a couple of hundreds in to make a payment to the hospital. Though his uncle had been a magic user as well, he wasn’t one who could sense the spirits and the energy of people. He, instead, had been a mind mage, focused on moving objects with his mind. His uncle had been a good man, but he had, like everyone else, used his abilities for his own gain. The method by which he had acquired the large sum of money in the house was likely less than honorable, but it had been quite a few years, and no one had ever pursued the man for the theft.
As he drove back to the hospital, Kieran thought about his dream the previous night. It was about Anabelle. He needed to confront her. In his dream, she was in his world. He racked his brain to try to remember the rest, but it simply wouldn’t come. In any case, the line wasn’t as horrible in the morning, though the people at the counter were no less grumpy. Perhaps they had been on since the evening. Kieran had, fortunately, gotten quite a bit of rest, and even a shower. He paid a portion of his bill, giving them a little more than six hundred dollars in twenties. He then went over to the front desk and asked where he could find Nurse Anabelle Oasis. When asked what he needed, Kieran replied that he had something that belonged to her, a half-truth he knew, but it was enough to get the person to direct him to the nurses station upstairs, to which she could be paged.
Kieran followed the woman’s instructions to get to the desk, then made the same inquiry. His half-truth was that he wanted to return the sweatshirt, in case anyone else would need an extra garment. Since it was the hospital’s practice to cut off people’s clothing, he figured they probably went through quite a lot of clothing. Perhaps the people who owned hospitals were working in conjunction with the clothing industry, to ensure that people spent enough money on buying new garments. It was a silly thought, but Kieran often had them about the workings of this world.
-.-
Though she couldn’t imagine what exactly she had expected from the man, a simple Good Luck was not it. She glanced at him and then turned away, pausing slightly as he spoke. He suggested relaxing, and she almost scoffed at the idea. If she could relax, then her ‘abilities’ wouldn’t be an issue and she wouldn’t have left home in the first place. He then said that if she needed anything, he would be here for a short while. She gave a slight nod, and then turned back towards the town, unaware that he needed help finding water. She would have helped him, but she got the impression that he would rather not be near her. Eventually she would explode and harm everyone around her. It was only a matter of time before the right trigger came along.
Rhys had been renting a room, and it was paid up through the next day as well. Taking advantage of that space, Rhys went up to her room and washed up. She didn’t really have to leave immediately. Someone else might have noticed her temper, though in a bar full of drunks, she wasn’t terribly concerned about that. Rhys was more concerned that the small town would ostracize her. The tavern owner was an important man in this town, and with him associating her leaving with the deaths of his well-known patrons, she was probably already being sketched for a wanted poster, along with the gentleman who had actually committed the act.
It was amusing, in a way. He had preached that she needed to control her actions, and yet she hadn’t actually murdered or even maimed anyone today. Rhys went to one of the market stalls when they were close to closing, figuring that she could barter more since they didn’t want to transport the food home and then back again the following day. She got rations for quite a few days, and found someone who would accept the foreign coins that Devon had used earlier. She had a couple of coins left, but figured she would need them for traveling. Rhys then risked one more night in the room she had paid for, sneaking around the outskirts of town the next morning rather than going through it. She had more this time than the first time she had left home, and though traveling with no end in sight was exhausting, it was something she would simply have to manage.
She pointed out the place where he could come in and make his payments. Kieran made a note of the line, not really fond of waiting around, though he could probably make it back to the hospital to make a few payments. He gave a slight not, and then turned back to Anabelle. “Thank you.” He responded, returning her smile. “For everything.” She left, and Kieran stood for a few moments before he walked back outside. The sky had darkened from both the rain and the sun setting. He had been in this world all day—hospitals were rather unpleasant places. He walked to the car, not minding the fact that he was getting quite wet, and got in. The keys were sitting in the center console, where he always kept them, though he had not bothered with a wallet that day.
The drive home, and indeed the rest of the evening, was rather uneventful. Though he had left things in a hurry in his home, he needed to clean here just as much. He threw his clothing, including the new sweatshirt in the wash, and then went to the bathroom to clean up the blood there. He ended up bringing a few of the supplies back home, cleaning there as well, before he finally went to bed. In the morning, another hop brought him back to the world of technology, and he took the sweatshirt out of the wash. He redressed, again in slacks, though he was in a dark blue button-down instead. He grabbed his wallet as well, and put a couple of hundreds in to make a payment to the hospital. Though his uncle had been a magic user as well, he wasn’t one who could sense the spirits and the energy of people. He, instead, had been a mind mage, focused on moving objects with his mind. His uncle had been a good man, but he had, like everyone else, used his abilities for his own gain. The method by which he had acquired the large sum of money in the house was likely less than honorable, but it had been quite a few years, and no one had ever pursued the man for the theft.
As he drove back to the hospital, Kieran thought about his dream the previous night. It was about Anabelle. He needed to confront her. In his dream, she was in his world. He racked his brain to try to remember the rest, but it simply wouldn’t come. In any case, the line wasn’t as horrible in the morning, though the people at the counter were no less grumpy. Perhaps they had been on since the evening. Kieran had, fortunately, gotten quite a bit of rest, and even a shower. He paid a portion of his bill, giving them a little more than six hundred dollars in twenties. He then went over to the front desk and asked where he could find Nurse Anabelle Oasis. When asked what he needed, Kieran replied that he had something that belonged to her, a half-truth he knew, but it was enough to get the person to direct him to the nurses station upstairs, to which she could be paged.
Kieran followed the woman’s instructions to get to the desk, then made the same inquiry. His half-truth was that he wanted to return the sweatshirt, in case anyone else would need an extra garment. Since it was the hospital’s practice to cut off people’s clothing, he figured they probably went through quite a lot of clothing. Perhaps the people who owned hospitals were working in conjunction with the clothing industry, to ensure that people spent enough money on buying new garments. It was a silly thought, but Kieran often had them about the workings of this world.
-.-
Though she couldn’t imagine what exactly she had expected from the man, a simple Good Luck was not it. She glanced at him and then turned away, pausing slightly as he spoke. He suggested relaxing, and she almost scoffed at the idea. If she could relax, then her ‘abilities’ wouldn’t be an issue and she wouldn’t have left home in the first place. He then said that if she needed anything, he would be here for a short while. She gave a slight nod, and then turned back towards the town, unaware that he needed help finding water. She would have helped him, but she got the impression that he would rather not be near her. Eventually she would explode and harm everyone around her. It was only a matter of time before the right trigger came along.
Rhys had been renting a room, and it was paid up through the next day as well. Taking advantage of that space, Rhys went up to her room and washed up. She didn’t really have to leave immediately. Someone else might have noticed her temper, though in a bar full of drunks, she wasn’t terribly concerned about that. Rhys was more concerned that the small town would ostracize her. The tavern owner was an important man in this town, and with him associating her leaving with the deaths of his well-known patrons, she was probably already being sketched for a wanted poster, along with the gentleman who had actually committed the act.
It was amusing, in a way. He had preached that she needed to control her actions, and yet she hadn’t actually murdered or even maimed anyone today. Rhys went to one of the market stalls when they were close to closing, figuring that she could barter more since they didn’t want to transport the food home and then back again the following day. She got rations for quite a few days, and found someone who would accept the foreign coins that Devon had used earlier. She had a couple of coins left, but figured she would need them for traveling. Rhys then risked one more night in the room she had paid for, sneaking around the outskirts of town the next morning rather than going through it. She had more this time than the first time she had left home, and though traveling with no end in sight was exhausting, it was something she would simply have to manage.
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