Magical Adventures

“So my dad apparently got really into cartography right before he died, and I was staring at one of his maps the other day and thought ‘well how hard could it possibly be to finish it?’ Hard, as it turns out, there’s an incredible amount of math involved…”

As if that’s a reasonable explanation for why she’s been in here four times this week to purchase a completely nonsensical array of items. It was just that the house was too quiet lately, and she could only tear her hands to shreds so often, and the Labrador in the front window was a really incredible salesman.

“Anyway….” She pauses, awkwardly pushing a weirdly squishy eraser across the counter at him. Might as well add that to the purchases, she’d figure out what it was good for later.

“That so...” More or less a polite response, customer service voice and all, though there was that urge to ask just how old she really was. Cartography. Who the hell did map shit anymore these days? 

Wasn’t important when the sale was just as good. 

One hand kept the scanning, the other kept the bagging, age brought making sure that the supplies didn’t go cracking in the bag to a near mastery at this point. Another thanks to ol’ Cosmo, though Jimmy knew that the dog wouldn’t know anything about it. 

Really, he was just here because it was the currently preferred sun spot. 

What was charting except for a state of liminal space between shifts that you could drown in? 

It wasn’t really work and it wasn’t really not work, and it had to be done, there was no option about it, generally she found the idea that if you weren’t finished you were staying unpaid to get it finished aggravating, now, well. One could abuse it to avoid other things, couldn’t they? 

A hum leaves her as she turns back around, looks at him for a moment and goes back through her mind to the start of her shift. “Yeah…” she answers, almost hesitantly. “Neuro said his chances look good.” Which was sad kind of, Mel had noticed that a lot of the time the outcome of accidents were inherently unfair. She supposes…that’s why they were called accidents right? One side of that equation never saw the other coming.

“Bet he’s gonna have a second opinion about that when he spots the cops standing watch on his bed.” A short noise of acknowledgement as he kept scrolling through. Shortness of breath, heart attack, psych hold, man vs the local scratcher dispenser... 

Looking like tonight’s holdovers were going to be interesting at least. 

“Can’t say I’ve been for anything willing except my honeymoon. But if you ever fly anywhere, take that little bit of advice to heart. And bring headphones, it’s... loud.” Understatement of the century right there. It had been about a decade and Jack could still remember needing to take twelve in the restroom just because he had gotten a bit too aware of just how many people were passing through to their gates from where they were waiting. 

Another minute of scrolling, and it seemed like that was all for now. Probably all that was left were the ones that hadn’t been updated yet. So Jack nodded to himself, grabbing a clipboard left on his station. “Anything on your end I gotta know about?--unless its another surprise automotive versus store front.” A pause. 

So he followed quietly, eyes scanning their surroundings the entire time. Taking in everything and everyone, glowering at anyone that dared look at him even a little bit funny. At least she bought him to a room, not a little bed surrounded by curtains. At least Mom had that.

She deserved a quiet room to herself, even if other people didn’t think so. Maybe she’d heal better in there. Faster.

All the breath left his lungs when he finally laid eyes on her. The talking around him faded away, slowly being replaced by a ringing in his ears. A tightness in his chest. A stinging in his eyes. This was an image that was going to be seared into his brain for a long, long time.

He nodded absently, slowly moving closer to the bed. Stopping next to her, he took her limp hand in one of his, carefully brushed a bit of hair out of her face, and tried to keep breathing, shaky as each breath was.

There was a reason why she fucking hated letting kids into the back when they weren’t the patient. Didn’t matter if they were the most self-sufficient, smartest child ever. No child deserved to witness something like this. 

“We’ve done everything we can down here to at least make sure she’s not gonna get any worse, and we’re gonna keep making sure she’s not gonna get worse until they can take her upstairs to get her treatment we can’t offer down here. She’s gonna get moved up to her own room as soon as one opens up.” Santos went about fetching the visitor chair that had been on the opposite side of the ged to go about moving it around. 

At least if the boy wanted, there was someplace to sit so he didn’t have to stand the whole time. 

She let the silence punctuate, save for the constant beeps and distant noises of the varying usual environment she had been getting used to. A thought came to mind, and fuck she was going to hate herself for bringing it up but if it could help in the long run... 

“Hey... I’m gonna ask you something. It might be uncomfortable, but it could help us in making sure she gets better a lot faster.” A bit gentler, careful, Trinity could make her own assumptions from the lesions on her arms or wait for the bloodwork but maybe the kid knew. 

open post - welcome to SI:7

“When I had heard that a difficult arrest had been made in the shopping district, you weren’t exactly what I had first imagined.” A brow raised up as he glanced between the report and his prisoner, tapping away on the desk in thought. Supposedly a tough fight, or perhaps the regimen with the city guard had some work to be done... 

Either way, this presented an interesting opportunity. 

“I’d like to explore your options, but I need a bit of clarification on one part of this...” The file was laid flat on the table with a tap to it, idle bemusement crept into the spymaster’s eyes. 

Shuddering, she nodded and tried to do as she was told. Took slow, deep breaths. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. The memory of it, though, and the fear and confusion and pain that always came with her body transforming—that was kept her trembling. What she was trying desperately to stop crying over.

The smell of chicken nuggets reached her, had her sniffing the air. Her stomach growled loudly—when was the last time she’d eaten? Let alone something that wasn’t fished out of the garbage?

A bit unsteadily, she pushed to her feet, keeping the blanket around her like a shield, not just to protect her modesty. Eyes flit between the bag of clothes and the food. Both sounded heavenly, right now, honestly.

He watched her for a quiet moment. Measuring, instinct wanting to make sure she could at least stand on her own two legs before doing anything else. At the very least to curb the voice in his head that demanded to make sure the child was at least taken care of. 

Funny how some habits just refused to die like the rest of him did... 

“Unit’s a bit of a tape job but ah—wait a sec.” Manny was already grabbing the toolbox from under the sink and trudging off to the bathroom. Within a minute came the sound of banging on metal, some light grumbling, struggling, and something that could be best described as metal rubbing against itself. 

Eventually, the sounds were replaced by water and he stepped back out with a motion. “White bottle’s a soft smell, think it’s coconut? I dunno, kinda showed up in a gift basket. Use it and the blue one so y’ don’t go smellin’ like a 40-year-old man, alright?” A bit of a joke, really. 

He didn’t need the kid to freak out again. He didn’t exactly like the idea of playing find the fox in the bathroom. 

“Well you told me not to drink in town so I figured I’d drink with supervision…”

Wasn’t like she was actually drunk anyway. Tipsy enough to be a little bold, sure, but she was at least two shots short of a hangover for now, which was her general sweet spot.

“You’re just in the only good spot on the couch, is all.” Which was true enough, the couch was probably old enough to have its own AARP card, at least that’s how it felt, even if the reason was an outright lie. She was just god damn lonely, and it always felt sharper after a drink or two. And he was nicer to her than he should have been, on top of being god damn handsome and a little weird.

She liked the weird part the most, all things considered, because it wasn’t like she could pull off normal.

“Was kinda hopin’ you wouldn’t drink at all...” There was bound to be a bit of a grumble to that, except that’d probably end in him being nose deep in her hair. Her curly brown hair. Her curly brown hair that smelled softly of the outside and that cheap floral thing sitting in her bathroom— 

Stop it. 

“It’s also one of three channels h—” Softer, closer, Manny actually had to go and shift just to try and get a bit comfortable. Too difficult, too close, too many more smells he was getting way too familiar with. Still cheap, still uniquely Liv. Was that copper coming from just under her fingernails? 

“Hey... hey now...” One hand to grab carefully around her wrist to bring it back around, inhaling slowly. “You’re making it hard...--to focus.” No, no he definitely didn’t immediately regret his choice of words just then. 

He was still a man. He had to be mindful. 

“Oh, shit —“ She barely manages to conceal her surprise, giggling her way through the hiccup that follows. Jesus, she hadn’t been carried by anyone since she was five, probably. How the hell was he so coordinated about it?

“Do you give the local drunks rides like this a lot?” She snorts a laugh, stifling it against his shoulder as she locks her arms around him. The least she could do was avoid choking the hell out of him in the process. She’d be embarrassed enough by herself once the morning rolled around. Hell of an impression to make when she’d only just moved here.

Anytime else, she’d have called John because misery fucking loved company, but — well, she’d more or less left that option behind.

“You don’t even just wanna get drunk and look at shit?” Her head tilts off his shoulder for a moment before she settles it back in, lazy grin drifting across her face. “Weird rocks. Stars. You got swings somewhere? Stars are way better on swings…” she pauses, loosening her grip on him to gesture vaguely upwards.

“Only the ones that gotta put up with me bein’ their next-door neighbor.” He probably could’ve easily made a joke about not wanting to wish that curse upon anyone, but the self-deprecation could probably be left for later.   

Maybe. 

“Can’t get drunk.” Said like it’s the most normal thing ever and not weird because he knows he’s definitely been seen at the bar at least once. Not his fault that he found the burn just a little enjoyable. Helped keep his head focused on a task and not trying to claw its way out of his neck to try and hunt for dinner. 

Manny sighed just a bit, careful to try and avoid any sudden bumps in the sidewalk. “It is. Owner’s uh... got some weird ideas ‘bout the rainbow and the sanctity of life even though I’ve explained to ‘em many times how folk ‘round here ‘ll think its gross and offensive.” Which was... surprisingly mostly true. He was just leaving out the parts where he had no idea what the hell the owner was and the fact that he’s actually seen them eat crayons.