𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 / 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯

rumors.

      “ i’m sorry, i can’t take this wording seriously. ”

rumors.

      “ how is this a rumor? how are any of these rumors? she’s sent me pictures of her desk like, eighty times. i took the hint. her office got an earful. it was all very nice and lovely. she has me trained like one of pavlov’s dogs at this point. it’s really fucked up, actually. ” @revelaare

rumors.

      “ solid? like ?? solid gold? the midas touch? tight? rock hard? i do clenches at the table at work. you know, wire a jaw shut, clench the ass. drain the blood, clench the ass. flush with formaldehyde? clench the ass. i suppose it’s pretty solid. ”

rumors.

      “ if by not so good you mean non-existent then ... yes. and i can blame jakob as much as i want, but at the end of the day the only one to blame is me. ”

rumors.

      “ simp? no. do nice things for? yes. let control me in more personal settings? more often than you think. but simping suggests i think i’m entitled to her attention, or have false hope about that, and she gives it to me, for some reason. so simp i am not. lucky, though ... that’s a whole other monster. ” @revelaare

      he’d learned, a long time ago, that ignoring a glaring problem did not make it go away. in the same vein, ira was so much less likely to do something if it was repeatedly told to him. talk to lincoln, talk to lincoln, talk to lincoln. he’d heard it so much since halloween that it could practically serve as a poor man’s mantra ---one that summoned some hideous, snarling demon that ira was not ready or willing to combat quite yet. on the best of days he only lost some words, only found himself partially tongue-tied when he read something aloud, only mildly forgot a concept instead of the entire idea and had to toe around the right phrasing to put it into reality. (in a lot of ways it felt like he was learning english again, where he’d forget the word he wanted and try to attack it from another angle, substitute the lost concept with something similar to, but not quite the same ---a throwback to thirty-five years or more prior). on the worst of days his migraines were debilitating where ira was something of a shut-in with all of the effort to stave away the ache enough to even get to the bathroom and be sick somewhere proper. all in all, he wouldn’t recommend concussions to anyone who might be considering it.

      and in truth he still wasn’t ready to talk to lincoln, not really, considering how much anger still roiled beneath his skin. at least he could manage that anger without it driving a sharp spike into his brain every time it flared up. so he drummed his fingers against the small table in java addicts, his coffee mostly untouched save for the one or two sips he’d taken initially, and waited. if he’d thought that reaching out to set this up was the hard part, he was sorely mistaken. arms crossed over his chest, somewhat slumped in the seat, hair mussed from tugging off his beanie on the way in, he waited. maybe he wouldn’t show ---and maybe all of this could be avoided. but the bile threatening the back of his throat suggested otherwise, and as much of an idealist as ira evans could be, he new it wouldn’t be so easy as that.

“Nearly?” She asked before she could stop herself, though she didn’t fully expect an answer. If nothing else, it did make her wonder about her own father - a man she had never known. (God, didn’t that sound like the most stereotypical start to a stripper’s life?) She wondered if she might have hated him too, if she’d been given the chance. 

“Well - that’s sweet. But I think you’re too modest,” she accused, mildly, though her face split into a smile. “I just like to call it as I see it. Don’t worry - I’m not trying to replace that one hell of a woman. My boyfriend wouldn’t like that, anyway.” Smirking, she sipped her coffee again and then nodded, shrugging. “No, I’ve never left. I grew up here. Missed opportunity, maybe, but I don’t have any regrets about it. I’ve had a pretty decent life. Which probably makes you wonder what I have to complain about, but - I don’t know, the frequency of murder attempts can be tough.”

-

      “ mmn, nearly. i’d like to say that i’ve grown completely and utterly heartless to the man, but a part of me will always love him because of blood. even if he was the worst human i can imagine. ” even if he was only now realizing the years of mental and emotional abuse he’d endured at his father’s hands, in retrospect and when peering back at the instances. but that was neither here nor there, and this was not the company to expan upon or think of it. ira only chuckled softly to himself, in a sardonic sort of way. “i have my moments of being egotistical. usually when it comes to work or wearing an expensive suit. otherwise i’ll stick to modesty. it’s a good policy, you know?” 

      he rolled his shoulders in a slow shrug, something small as not to shirk off the entire conversation. “ i wasn’t worried that you were. complimenting people should become more normal, without assumptions that it’s a pick-up line. it’s nice to hear when things are appreciated, you know? society is just so ... ” and ira’s words trailed off, gestured with a wave of his hand to signify what he couldn’t quite describe. “ the crime in chicago is the very reason i hoofed it in the first place. i mean, opportunity knocked but ... i’m not happy to be back. i can’t wait to leave but i’ve got some things to settle out before i do. and so it goes ---stuck here, watching one bad thing happen after the next. ” lips pressed into a thin line, mindlessly he shifted, drawing an invisible line across his forehead to match the very freshly healing gash that was there: pink and soft, new skin that would maybe blend in well-enough not to be seen one day.

Of course her eyes widened just a little bit as she blinked. She was flippant, but she wasn’t heartless, and she shook her head a little bit. “Shit. I’m sorry. That….” She couldn’t find the adequate word for the whole thing, so she just shook her head again and sighed. “That’s tough.” She busied herself with another sip before she smiled, just a bit. “Well - they’re a lucky someone, whoever they are.” Her smile became more genuine then. “You’re easy on the eyes.” Biting her lip, she tipped her head to the side, satisfied. “Where did you go? After you moved out.”

-

      “ don’t apologize. i nearly hated him. ” ira was easily dismissive of the sentiment, knowing that it wasn’t needed at all. he had never gotten along with jakob evans. being sorry about it now wouldn’t serve him at all. with a swallow of his coffee ira allowed himself to bask in the momentary warmth before wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue and nodding along. “ no, i’m the lucky one. she’s one hell of a woman. way better than i deserve. ” and he meant it - he’d wondered, frequently, how he’d been so lucky as to stumble into such a relationship ... but something about looking gift horses in the mouth. “ am i? haven’t been accused of that one, yet. thanks. ” and a beat passed, eyes narrowing for the reminder of his youth. “ my mother divorced my father, moved to maine. she met another man shortly after and married him. lived there for a while, then moved to vermont. that’s where i was before coming back. ---what about you? always stuck here or lucky enough to escape for a spell? ”

“Well. At risk of pointing out the obvious….” She nodded at him as if to say you’re still here.  Cup between her palms, she looked at him for a few moments, studying his face in a way that would surely get Jacques immediately on the defense. But after another moment, she glanced away again, only to snap back when he spoke again. “Why did you come back, then? Owe someone some money?” It was something of a joke, but her curiosity was real as she tilted her head, dark eyes trained on him. “Find a girlfriend?” It was none of her business, but she had made a habit of digging into things that she knew very well weren’t her business at all.

-

      “ hence why it’s a black hole. ”  and he was keen to leave it on that, nothing more to say about the reason he’d been sucked back into the void that was chicago. fuck, how he hated it here. and the scar that marred his forehead, fresh and pink and still healing from the hard collision versus the old wooden table, told a story about how he’d suffered for being here. but his company’s question opened up a fresh wound and ira was just as beholden as the next person to answer the budding inquiry. “ my father died. ” his voice sounded perhaps a bit more thoughtful than he had intended on it, made it seem as if he was broken up about the passing of such a man. in reality he’d been locked into chicago because of the home, the renovations, and the need to flip it before he moved back. and the jest in the woman’s tone made him smirk, even if in slight. “ and ... then yes, i started seeing someone. ”