curiously, his features twist before settling into a snicker. fallon blinks, but when it finally registers to her what happened, the corner of her mouth quirks in a restrained, barely-there smile. she takes another short drag of the cigarette before passing it back to victor, opening another red pepper packet. after a bite of pizza, fallon turns to look at him from over her shoulder. “well, i really only owe you four and a half now.” exchanging cigarettes with victor feels a little like playing pretend, like they’re in a different world where currency doesn’t exist so they have to settle by using lucky strikes. for five minutes, nothing else exists. most of the time, she doesn’t consider what she owes to victor at all. another smile splits her lips as her hand waves the smoke away lazily. “worse than yours?” it’s not a particularly good joke. a month and a half ago, she wanted nothing to do with him so it feels strange still, to sit and speak with victor in a way that distinctly feels like friendship, even if she wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend. he’s just victor. he’s who he’s always been to her. but that isn’t quite true either.

when she looks at him over her shoulder, victor turns his head an inch to look at her. through the dispersing smoke, he catches the faintest of smiles playing out on fallon’s face. it’s odd noticing more than he means to, more than he has in the last handful of years. her tells are small, and once he learns one, another appears in its place. it’s odd, now being privy to certain conversations and on the receiving end of expressions he’s only seen in passing when easy’s around. her question comes in the middle of a long drag. he does his best to show little sign of being affected, but the second his brows knit together, he’s sure that’s a tell. it would be easier to make a joke of it, to turn the whole thing back on her and the four and a half cigarettes she owes him, but the words settle heavier than that. he could lie, and while he’s grown used to making things up on the spot, it seems he’s becoming worse at being dishonest.  “mine’s pretty bad.” he offers an indifferent shrug, still looking at her; still holding the cigarette captive. “i’m no al capone. i’ve got that going for me.” he takes a shorter puff this time before stretching his hand out again. the corner of his mouth involuntarily quirks into a tight smile. “sorry. make it four and quarter.”

the cigarette’s exchanged for the pepper packets and in lieu of a verbal acknowledgement, fallon merely nods her head. as most of her disagreements go with juno, it’s hardly their biggest. dropping out of her college program triggered a nearly month long spat that was only resolved by a few threats about moving out (by fallon) and an hours-long discussion that ended in tears (juno’s). going any amount of time without talking to juno is difficult in more ways than one so there’s a part of her that wants to ask if juno has said anything. but beyond the fact that she doesn’t care to include victor in anything he isn’t part of, she’s certain he’d be loyal to juno anyway. fallon rolls her eyes, tearing a packet open with her teeth before sprinkling its entire contents onto the slice. “i think you meant to say generous actually.” although, victor’s statement isn’t entirely inaccurate. fallon doesn’t believe in spending money on the things that will eventually kill her, but she’s just as likely to stretch a dollar so thin it rips. she flicks ash off the cigarette before raising it for another puff. “but i guess you can put it on my tab, sheriff.”

whatever the semantics of their fight are, victor doesn’t care to know. it hardly seems like his business outside of the minor disappointment that brews each day juno doesn’t refute her plan to leave town. there’s no reason for him to take it personally, and he’s never been sentimental enough to argue with the natural order of things, but her absence would throw off his schedule more than he’d like to admit.  he takes note of her eye roll, his face contorting briefly and his chest rising as he silently laughs. “a thank you would’ve been fine.” while it’s the truth, he still doesn’t pass up on the cigarette when it comes his way again. he didn’t need half of hers, not really– he has a nearly full pack sitting somewhere in the console of his car. he considers mentioning it, but the admission is too much like an offer and he’s already made a trip back into the house.  settling further into the chair, the wood creaks beneath his weight. “i will,” he says, glancing toward her plate. “four pepper packets. half a cigarette. no thank you.” his mouth twitches as he exhales, smoking billowing around them. “solid rap sheet.”

her head turns at the grating sound of the chair being dragged. she hadn’t expected him to stay but she does take note of the space that victor leaves between them. “nothing gets past you,” fallon remarks drily, petulant despite the favor he’s done for her. the thing is, juno should know better than to send her pizza without red pepper. fallon considers that perhaps this had been on purpose, that admitting hunger is somehow admitting defeat. it’s one thing to know the wu women and another to understand how their fights play out. she looks back at victor, pressing her lips together. he’s unlikely to care either way. “at least three.” when victor returns from the kitchen, fallon’s in the middle of lighting the cigarette now poised between her lips. her lighter’s nearly out of fluid so it takes a few tries before the flint finally catches. after she takes a drag, she offers the lit cigarette to victor. “none to share today,” she says, smoke escaping around her words. being in a fight with juno means it’s more difficult to steal from her too.

he’s already out of the chair before fallon asks. if fallon is anything like juno in the slightest, then there was always a high probability of him going back for the red pepper packets anyway. victor doesn’t offer anything other than a single nod in response, promptly disappearing back into the house.  inside, he keeps his head down as he crosses into the kitchen. he moves quickly and quietly in an attempt to avoid juno’s observational eye. he leans slightly across the counter, swiping a handful of packets and curling them into the palm of his hand. it only takes a few long strides out of the kitchen until he's headed back outside to fallon.   greeted by a waft of smoke, he holds his hand out to pass over the pepper packets. “four left.” victor’s eyes lower to the offered cigarette. he squints, tentatively moving to settle back into the chair. he gently pinches the cigarette with two fingers. “cheap. you owe me about five by now.” he lifts it to his lips, adjusting it between his pointer and middle fingers as he takes a drag. he holds the smoke in his mouth for a few seconds, then exhales out toward the yard and passes the cigarette back to fallon.

the wu household has been in deadlock for the last three days; fallon’s more stubborn but juno’s more righteous which means that conceding is off the table. since juno’s in the kitchen, fallon’s planted herself outside, sitting on the top step on the porch with her knees tucked close to her chest. she’s pretty sure juno ordered the pizza specifically to entice her, probably timed it just so she could hear it arrive after a long violin session. still, her pride keeps her from walking into the house to get a slice. without needing to turn around, fallon knows that it isn’t juno approaching just by the sound of the footfalls. fallon’s gaze settles on the pizza and a long moment passes before she takes it just to set the plate down next to her. primly, she picks a pepper off the top to snack on. she shifts, stretching her legs out in front of her languidly and crossing them at her ankles. they’re not exactly subtle about it but she points out the obvious anyway. “juno and i aren’t speaking at the moment.” fallon leans back on her hands, glancing down at her pizza slice. “did she give you extra red pepper packets at least?”

the initial guard he puts up, regardless of time spent around someone, is a difficult habit to break. part of him thought, with the weeks filled with smoke breaks, he’d be better at loosening his posture around fallon. even so, victor stares blankly as she takes the plate from him. he drops his arms on either side, looking behind him toward the door. he debates going back inside, or returning to the lawn. the thought is interrupted when fallon talks, and he settles on dragging an unoccupied chair slightly further away from her before taking a seat.  victor nods at the obvious. “i noticed. bringing you a slice is more than being her lawn boy.” he pats at his pockets as if a red pepper packet will appear at any moment. though, he does consider that this is another habit forming– time spent around fallon means pulling out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. “no.” he lets his hand rest loosely on the side of the chair as he prepares to come to a stand once again. “i’ll go back in.”

she turns her head just slightly again towards him, raising a brow. it takes her a second to collect herself. “so i’m off my game.” fallon shrugs, looking down to kick at a pebble with the toe of her boot. “but of course you’d say that.” there’s a long pause before fallon speaks again, stalled by her downing the rest of her drink and tossing the cup to the side. “you have an unhealthy obsession with suffering.” using her thumb, she swipes at her bottom lip. she wrinkles her nose when he asks, disdained. “boring.” fallon keeps a tight circle so the possible answers are limited. they’re well-matched in this way, locking each other out, asking questions that don’t reveal much about their true intentions. still, he humored her so she does the same. “no one, actually.” her gaze flits back to the parking lot. “i like live music.” technically speaking, there was some nagging by juno but far less than usual.

he watches the pebble skating across the dirt, his peripheral vision catching fallon’s slight falter in the way she kicks at the ground. victor’s brows knit together when she tosses her cup. “says the litterer.” he has no desire to bite back with defensiveness, nor does her observation bother him. typically, an observation on his internal state would lead him back inside without a glance back. tonight, though, he considers the idea that if a deck of cards can tell him he clings to suffering, it’s not so abnormal a human being would do the same.  “nice,” he nods once. it’s an answer that comes as no surprise to him– working in a record store lends the employees to at least enjoy a show every now and then. as the silence stretches, he periodically glances past her where the plastic cup lies empty and on its side. he clears his throat, his eyes scanning the watch on his wrist for them before tilting his head toward the entrance. “wouldn’t want you to miss it, then.”

victor’s better than she is at this; his features are indecipherable. for fallon, the space between her eyebrows always gives her away, an involuntary telltale line of annoyance that always takes her a second to smooth over. or sometimes it’s the way she presses her lips together, just a touch too tight to be relaxed. when his gaze cuts away from hers, she takes comfort in the hope that those details don’t register to him. to put them on even ground, at the very least. “i read,” she corrects him, matter of fact, without any defensiveness. “i just don’t have the reading habits of an old man.” fallon lets a few beats pass before she speaks again, “thanks.” she casts her eyes back down to her cup, watches the ice cubes bob in and out of the diet coke. this is what she can’t reconcile with victor: how he’s the type of guy who steals and lies but still faithfully completes the crossword.

“that was weak,” victor notes at her comment about his reading habits. he lifts his cup, pauses, then lowers it again without a sip. “you usually do better than that.” he returns to paying more mind to the parking lot as one by one, group by group, people begin disappearing back inside fight club now that they’ve finished their cigarette or decided it was time for another drink. it’s easy for them to fall into this exact position; notable, welcomed silence. neither of their personalities demand much conversation, if any words are spoken at all, though the night seems to be a new occasion. most of the people he spends his time around are prone to filling the silence. victor, on the other hand, has historically never seen the point. except now, standing next to someone who can be as wordless as him, curiosity gets the best of him. “who dragged you out?”

it had been a challenge, sure, but fallon doesn’t quite expect victor to rise to it. she shifts her weight to her other foot, turning towards victor, studying his expression. despite how long they’ve worked with each other, fallon knows very little about victor, unsurprising given their respective personalities. so it’s hard to read him, hard to know if he’s being sincere, if that’s even an emotion victor is capable of having. theoretically, she could ask him anything. she could ask him about easy, his side of it at least. or she could ask where he learned to pick a lock with a paperclip, if he knows how to pick a lock with anything else. realistically, he won’t give an answer worth anything no matter what her question is. he’s a private person, this she knows. there’s something that’s been bothering her all day though. “fifty-two down on today’s crossword. four letter word for hunky-dory.” he’ll give her that, at least, or so she hopes.

unreadable is not a common trait victor attaches to many people. everyone he comes in contact with always has a tell, even those with self-proclaimed poker faces. fallon’s stares, on the other hand, are difficult to decode. he gives her a blank expression in return, expecting some kind of answer to come to him if he gives it long enough. picking up on habits is one thing, but knowing the cards she plans on playing are another. he’s seen the newspaper laid out on the wu kitchen counter many times, but an answer to the crossword is the last thing he expects her to ask of him. he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or suspicious of the fact easy wasn’t mentioned. “19th century. don’t read much?” what he doesn’t say is that had it not been for being placed in the home that had a bookshelf of thesauruses, fifty-two down would’ve given him a harder time. victor shifts again, breaking any semblance of eye contact. “jake.”