singin' & swayin'

The smile means, hopefully, that this is a good turn of conversation. One that, if anything, they can work with.

Her own grin answers the other woman's and Majdalā nods, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "I agree with her. Sounds like a smart lady." And, Maj thinks, that's probably where Isabela got it from; that was how she struck you: smart, put together, kind.

Majdalā does always wonder, though, how much of it weighs on someone.

Was that in the way that Isabela's abuela raised her? As another maternal figure. The matriarch of the family? Never far? Always in charge of everything?

Or had something happened to Majdala's parents?

It would be bad manners to pry, unless Maj brought it up herself. So, Isabela shut down that line of thought. There were many things that the other woman could've meant by her statement.

"I could only imagine. My abuela is one of my favorite people in the whole world." In fact, sometimes, Isabela felt like Abuela was truly her best friend. The kind of friend that always wanted the best for you and pushed you towards it.

"She lives with me and the rest of my family at Casita. I'm sure you've probably seen her. Always bustling about during parties."

I could only imagine. My abuela is one of my favorite people in the whole world.

Maj smiles at that answer. She likes that, and says that she's glad Isabela has that. "My Granny is, well, not tah get intah all o' it: she's my grandma an' my momma. So, we're close, an' bein' here sometimes makes me homesick somethin' fierce."

And that was honest to God the truth. There were so many days where she thought about packing it up and packing it in, going back home. That sometimes she didn't really have...anyone really here.

A smile curls around Majdalā's mouth at the comment and she nods, taking his word for it. It had been such a long time since she had been around a horse. Sometimes she simply just...forgot that they were really that easy. That simple.

She's glad, too, that he seems to take her joke at face value, laughing and shaking his head as he goes to get her the saddle. Maj just gets herself acquainted with her horse, talking lowly to the mare as she scratches her on the forelock and nose.

Looking up when he comes back, Majdalā nods along with him as he talks. "My granny asked me tah try it once. That was th' one time it did. Felt flat on my butt an' never went back. 'S too uncomfortable. Never feel like I get a good enough seat."

"She prob'ly thought you should know how t' use more'n one kind," he guessed, "Which is a good idea, but not every kind is gonna work for everyone. 'M sure there's plenty o' people over here who been raised usin' an' English one an' couldn't do a Western one. I've seen some real good riders over here, so obviously they've jus' gotten th' hang o' it in ways that we haven't."

He smiled at hearing she had been riding since a very young age. He had done the same, after all. "Tennessee, eh? Never went there m'self, but I did some business wit' breeders from there. They had some darn good horses for sure."

"Yeah. Her exact words," Majdalā confirms, nodding along with his words, "an' laughed her lil' hind end off when I fell, too." It was a fond memory, though, the kind thatmade her smile. Even if she was a little sad by that memory, of what she remembered of her Granny, it made her happy, too.

But she knows he's right, and she says as much as she siddles up to the horse and gives the mare another scratch before she moves out of the way. Once she was mounted up, it'd be easier to get to know her.

Majdalā sees something - someone - out of the corner of her eye, but they whip around her too fast to follow as he head comes up. She laughs, though, when she sees it's Buster, grins at his little bow.

Tapping her fingers on the counter she was leaning against, she cocks her head to the side to take him all in, grin ticking up higher on one side.

"Yah ran real quick. Appreciate it, honey," she hums, tone lilting with her accent, the words sincere even with the teasing quality they always seemed to have.

At his question, she shrugs her shoulders, steps away from the counter to pop her hip into his leg. "Bit o' both. Inspired by Miss Patsy's I Fall to Pieces."

It was Majdala's favorite of hers.

The smile stayed crooked but Buster couldn't offer one in any other way.

"I stay busy." His head shook. "Every day I think I will have less to do but the moon is up before I get back to my place." Lately his days had been filled with procuing and item for Wolf and well...the garage was busy but he did hit the gambling tables from time to time. "You working up a storm or what?" His brow rose. "You might be the only person I don't see around...and yes darlin' I notice."

"Lucky guess," she chirps back, words whip-quick at the tip of her tongue as she grins, head tilting as she watches him get comfortable. "An' 'cause she's always been one o' mine."

Say what you would about Buster – particularly how he didn't fit a certain mold, which Majdalā happens to like, very much – but his music tastes were impeccable.

When he says he's been busy, Maj nods. She understands. "Gotta find time, honey. We both do, unfortunately," she murmurs, runnjng a hand over her hair with a little nose wrinkle, a shake of her head.

You working up a storm or what?

A huff, and she nods again. "Somethin' like that. Been workin' extra to –" The rest of his sentence catches up to her, and Majdalā studies him for a moment, surprise laced in the look.

She spins hair around a finger, thinking about what she's going to share, and how much.

"'M tryin' tah start a business, maybe. I don't...I don't think I'll ever be able tah get on a stage again. Jus'...too much I remember that hurt too much, but 's kinda lonely jus'...exisitin'. So –"

There was something about paying attention when other spoke but selective hearing was a thing - and he was very guilty of that. Very.

At his expense though he knew he’d remember if Maj ever mentioned anything about not getting on the actual stage again. Right? Right?! Then she said she was lonely.

Pressing his lips together he heard her out and then winded out a head shake. “No wait a minute darlin. You sound like you’ve got a lot going on.”

Buster could understand dealing with a big thing like a business and then a small every day thing but it sounded like she had a lot weighing heavy on those shoulders of hers.

Yet she carried it with a shrug. Incredible.

“Wait slow down and back it up. A business?” Buster leaned forward to really look down in her eyes. “We will start there then get to that lonely part.”

Buster at least has the decency to hear her out. It's not always what she expects, but Maj was never one to label a person, whether they look st act or talk the way someone should. She never had; why should someone else?

At the question, really the comment before that, Majdalā lets out a breath, nods slowly, and presses her lips together. Thinking about what she wants to say, how much, and not blurting it all out.

"My Granny's sick. Has been, for a while." Majdalā hates that she sounds small, then, and tired, but she grins anyway. "I've visited. Been sendin' money for her care every month. Got her up in a facility but –"

She pauses, but doesn't want to shrug. She doesn't want to shrug it all off either.

"– she's th' only family I got. My momma left me on her doorstep when I was a baby an' never looked back. Always jus' been us, so when I left tah sing it was hard. Was jus' a kid when I started, nineteen."

Dark eyes flit to Buster's face, then, and take in his expression. The concern, maybe. Again, she weighs what she has to say, and how she wants to say it.

Then he had a family that was taken from him.

So he felt for her but also didn’t have a memory to attach it to. Only thing he really understood was loss.

“Well darlin…” he said clearing his throat. Truthfully he didn’t know what to do when people started to get upset. Should pats and a cigarette offer was about all he had to offer.

“I think aside from her not doin’ well she’d be happy with whatever ya got yourself into.” Wasn’t that was Grand Mums did. Fawn over their grand babies and brag about them to other old birds. “You don’t want to sour the time ya got left or your business dreams or whatever it is you’ve got going on.”

His eyes shifted back and forth as he let out an awkward grumble.

“Why don’t you make one of those videos to send her so it’s like she’s got ya there or somethin.”

Well darlin' starts off strong. The look on his face makes her grin, snort, and Majdalā finds the tension in her shoulders start to ease a bit, a knotted ball of Something in her chest easing ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was the simple act of telling someone. She didn't know. But it was a secret she'd been holding onto for a real long time.

"Yah sound a lil' like an old bird yourself, grumblin' like that," she teases, a grin lighting up her face for a second.

Then, Maj tilts her head and thinks about it. What he says, what he's actually doing: offering a solution. Buster isn't offering condolences, not really, and he isn't placating her.

That choice to tell someone and have it be Buster, she thinks, had been settled square with that realization alone.

"Think your right though, honey. I should send her somethin', maybe start a weekly one, since I ain't able tah get out there all th' time. 'S jus'...hard. An' last time I tried tah tell someone 'bout it, before I was here, well, that's how I ended up here."

Leaning back he just closed his eyes. There was no reason to be this way with her of all people. Maj would never really judge him - a kick in the ass sure but she would never really leave him for his wrongdoings. Or at least Chief thought so. "I just can't get right. No matter how hard I try!"

They are one in the same.

Majdalā rolls her eyes. "Maybe. Never said they weren't, Hue. I jus' like when yah ain't all swagger. If it ain't an act with me, then it sure seems it with everyone else." And, quite frankly, he worried her.

Had done ever since his accident, really, and even after they'd lost a little touch. But he would always be her friend.

"Yah know why I call yah Hugo? 'Cause yah never once made me feel like I could be anyone but Majdalā. Not once. Not even when people like yer daddy or those frat boys that always hung around th' circut use tah say shit tah me. So no. Yah might not be puttin' on an act, but that's what I choose tah remember 'boutcha."

Hugo wasn't the better version. Chief wasn't that bad one.

Hugo was simply who he was, for better or worse. And it was a shame he could never see that.

She says as much, a sad little smile on her face as she shakes her head, stepping forward to run a hand through his hair, patting him on the side of the face. "Tryin' ain't doin', honey. An' from where 'm standin'? Yah ain't exactly doin' much save actin' sorry fer yerself. Go ahead an' be mad all yah like, but I ain't gonna let one o' my favorite people make excuses fer their behavior, good or bad as it can be."

This wasn’t just about names. Chief was who he was and it always had been. Hugo was just what was written on a piece of paper and his holiday stocking. “I get it.” He said to keep the conversation about that short.

“Plus you know I wasn’t going to let anyone give you a hard time.” His eyes were still closed as his head leaned back against the wall behind him. “They ain’t got no right - plus those boys were like groupies and would do whatever I said.” A small smile cracked at the corner of his lips. “Or they did something because they thought I’d think it was funny.”

One eye popped open as he looked over to Maj - “…saying shit to you never made the cut. You know that.”

Chief would always do anything for her. Which is why this moment cut him deep. This was too raw and he was too scuffed up.

Then she said it. The same shite Elsa, Jake, Ralph, and even Boomer were sayin - he is just feeling sorry for himself.

“Hey.” He bit back eyes opening now. “I’m not always feeling sorry for myself! Shit is hard. I can’t get fucking right and every time I say something all I get is it all turned back on me. I know I’ve made some mistakes but what about everything else.”

Everything else was a mystery - chief never told anyone about the weight on his shoulders.

The short response makes Majdalā's brow furrow, but she doesn't say anything. As irritating as he was, as maddening as he coukd be, Hugo was her friend first.

She cares about him, even if he acted like the back end of a mule sometimes.

"Yeah, well. It still happened," she murmurs, shrugging a shoulder. It'd been a long time ago, but he didn't get to just not think it didn't happen. "An' 's alright, long time ago. I knew yah didn't ever think it was fine. Still don't," she adds, giving him a little smile.

Then, he's adds again. He's being nice about it but what Majdalā said bothers him, clearly.

Aw, thank you, that's so sweet.

Majdalā grins back, inclining her head in the briefest of nods. She can't decide if the tone's a bit off or not - and maybe it is, but she doesn't exactly mind.

"'s somethin' my granny always taught me to do, for new friends, new neighbors, new coworkers," she explains, fingers reaching up to smooth down over her scarf, half headdress and half hair tie.

Even if they weren't close, it was something safe and warm and reminded her of home.

"Yeah, no. I totally understand. Thank you for coming by! I'm doing well. Getting used to everything, but as my abuela says: you can do anything you put your mind to."

Isabela wasn't sure how much she believed her abuela about that, but that was neither here nor there. It was just nice to connect.

"Are you close with your granny?" Isabela asked curiously as she unwrapped the plate of food. "This smells delicious."

The smile means, hopefully, that this is a good turn of conversation. One that, if anything, they can work with.

Her own grin answers the other woman's and Majdalā nods, lacing her fingers together in her lap. "I agree with her. Sounds like a smart lady." And, Maj thinks, that's probably where Isabela got it from; that was how she struck you: smart, put together, kind.

Majdalā does always wonder, though, how much of it weighs on someone.

Majdalā sees something - someone - out of the corner of her eye, but they whip around her too fast to follow as he head comes up. She laughs, though, when she sees it's Buster, grins at his little bow.

Tapping her fingers on the counter she was leaning against, she cocks her head to the side to take him all in, grin ticking up higher on one side.

"Yah ran real quick. Appreciate it, honey," she hums, tone lilting with her accent, the words sincere even with the teasing quality they always seemed to have.

At his question, she shrugs her shoulders, steps away from the counter to pop her hip into his leg. "Bit o' both. Inspired by Miss Patsy's I Fall to Pieces."

It was Majdala's favorite of hers.

The smile stayed crooked but Buster couldn't offer one in any other way.

"I stay busy." His head shook. "Every day I think I will have less to do but the moon is up before I get back to my place." Lately his days had been filled with procuing and item for Wolf and well...the garage was busy but he did hit the gambling tables from time to time. "You working up a storm or what?" His brow rose. "You might be the only person I don't see around...and yes darlin' I notice."

"Lucky guess," she chirps back, words whip-quick at the tip of her tongue as she grins, head tilting as she watches him get comfortable. "An' 'cause she's always been one o' mine."

Say what you would about Buster – particularly how he didn't fit a certain mold, which Majdalā happens to like, very much – but his music tastes were impeccable.

When he says he's been busy, Maj nods. She understands. "Gotta find time, honey. We both do, unfortunately," she murmurs, runnjng a hand over her hair with a little nose wrinkle, a shake of her head.

You working up a storm or what?

A huff, and she nods again. "Somethin' like that. Been workin' extra to –" The rest of his sentence catches up to her, and Majdalā studies him for a moment, surprise laced in the look.

She spins hair around a finger, thinking about what she's going to share, and how much.

"'M tryin' tah start a business, maybe. I don't...I don't think I'll ever be able tah get on a stage again. Jus'...too much I remember that hurt too much, but 's kinda lonely jus'...exisitin'. So –"

There was something about paying attention when other spoke but selective hearing was a thing - and he was very guilty of that. Very.

At his expense though he knew he’d remember if Maj ever mentioned anything about not getting on the actual stage again. Right? Right?! Then she said she was lonely.

Pressing his lips together he heard her out and then winded out a head shake. “No wait a minute darlin. You sound like you’ve got a lot going on.”

Buster could understand dealing with a big thing like a business and then a small every day thing but it sounded like she had a lot weighing heavy on those shoulders of hers.

Yet she carried it with a shrug. Incredible.

“Wait slow down and back it up. A business?” Buster leaned forward to really look down in her eyes. “We will start there then get to that lonely part.”

Buster at least has the decency to hear her out. It's not always what she expects, but Maj was never one to label a person, whether they look st act or talk the way someone should. She never had; why should someone else?

At the question, really the comment before that, Majdalā lets out a breath, nods slowly, and presses her lips together. Thinking about what she wants to say, how much, and not blurting it all out.

"My Granny's sick. Has been, for a while." Majdalā hates that she sounds small, then, and tired, but she grins anyway. "I've visited. Been sendin' money for her care every month. Got her up in a facility but –"

She pauses, but doesn't want to shrug. She doesn't want to shrug it all off either.

"– she's th' only family I got. My momma left me on her doorstep when I was a baby an' never looked back. Always jus' been us, so when I left tah sing it was hard. Was jus' a kid when I started, nineteen."

Dark eyes flit to Buster's face, then, and take in his expression. The concern, maybe. Again, she weighs what she has to say, and how she wants to say it.

Majdalā laughs at the big man's comment, leaning a hip against the fence in thr same moment she props a boot on the lowest rung, leaning in to scratch the mare between her ears.

"Clearly huh? Well, I think she might jus' like these head scratches." His next comment (and scoff) earns a bit of a giggle and Maj turns to look at him, arching a brow.

"Dunno, yah look th' English type, all board stiff like," she continues, tone light, almost teasing. "Lord knows I ain't. Sooner sit on a piece o' wood than ride English." And that was the honest truth. It wasn't awful, really, but that was just her preference, what she'd grown with.

Her assessment of his appearance made him laugh, the idea of him even looking remotely stiff simply too funny. "Ah, you guessed my secret! 'M really a stiff ol' English type." He continued to chuckle as he went to get the saddle and brought it back to get Penelope ready. "No seriously, I couldn't do it either. I been ridin' Western for so long that it was a real shock t' th' system when I did try usin' an English one. Jus' once, never ag'in."

As he got the saddle onto Penelope, he asked, "So where 'zactly did you get your ridin' experience, if you don' mind me askin'? 'Cause I can tell you come from somewhere in my nape o' th' neck. For me, it was Colorado mainly." And pretty much everywhere else in the West.

A smile curls around Majdalā's mouth at the comment and she nods, taking his word for it. It had been such a long time since she had been around a horse. Sometimes she simply just...forgot that they were really that easy. That simple.

She's glad, too, that he seems to take her joke at face value, laughing and shaking his head as he goes to get her the saddle. Maj just gets herself acquainted with her horse, talking lowly to the mare as she scratches her on the forelock and nose.

Looking up when he comes back, Majdalā nods along with him as he talks. "My granny asked me tah try it once. That was th' one time it did. Felt flat on my butt an' never went back. 'S too uncomfortable. Never feel like I get a good enough seat."

Leaning back he just closed his eyes. There was no reason to be this way with her of all people. Maj would never really judge him - a kick in the ass sure but she would never really leave him for his wrongdoings. Or at least Chief thought so. "I just can't get right. No matter how hard I try!"

They are one in the same.

Majdalā rolls her eyes. "Maybe. Never said they weren't, Hue. I jus' like when yah ain't all swagger. If it ain't an act with me, then it sure seems it with everyone else." And, quite frankly, he worried her.

Had done ever since his accident, really, and even after they'd lost a little touch. But he would always be her friend.

"Yah know why I call yah Hugo? 'Cause yah never once made me feel like I could be anyone but Majdalā. Not once. Not even when people like yer daddy or those frat boys that always hung around th' circut use tah say shit tah me. So no. Yah might not be puttin' on an act, but that's what I choose tah remember 'boutcha."

Hugo wasn't the better version. Chief wasn't that bad one.

Hugo was simply who he was, for better or worse. And it was a shame he could never see that.

She says as much, a sad little smile on her face as she shakes her head, stepping forward to run a hand through his hair, patting him on the side of the face. "Tryin' ain't doin', honey. An' from where 'm standin'? Yah ain't exactly doin' much save actin' sorry fer yerself. Go ahead an' be mad all yah like, but I ain't gonna let one o' my favorite people make excuses fer their behavior, good or bad as it can be."

It was a little surprising, considering she and Majdalā weren't necessarily that close, but then again: Isabela wasn't really that close with anyone. She had her friends, of course, but most of them she kept at a distance anyway. Outside of her family, there weren't many people she trusted to show her true self.

But, she tried to cultivate a warm atmosphere around her. A pleasant one. That drew people in, like bees to a flower.

"Why don't you sit down? I don't have any meetings this afternoon, so my schedule is pretty clear. I was about to take my lunch break anyway."

Aw, thank you, that's so sweet.

Majdalā grins back, inclining her head in the briefest of nods. She can't decide if the tone's a bit off or not - and maybe it is, but she doesn't exactly mind.

"'s somethin' my granny always taught me to do, for new friends, new neighbors, new coworkers," she explains, fingers reaching up to smooth down over her scarf, half headdress and half hair tie.

Even if they weren't close, it was something safe and warm and reminded her of home.

Majdalā sees something - someone - out of the corner of her eye, but they whip around her too fast to follow as he head comes up. She laughs, though, when she sees it's Buster, grins at his little bow.

Tapping her fingers on the counter she was leaning against, she cocks her head to the side to take him all in, grin ticking up higher on one side.

"Yah ran real quick. Appreciate it, honey," she hums, tone lilting with her accent, the words sincere even with the teasing quality they always seemed to have.

At his question, she shrugs her shoulders, steps away from the counter to pop her hip into his leg. "Bit o' both. Inspired by Miss Patsy's I Fall to Pieces."

It was Majdala's favorite of hers.

The smile stayed crooked but Buster couldn't offer one in any other way.

"I stay busy." His head shook. "Every day I think I will have less to do but the moon is up before I get back to my place." Lately his days had been filled with procuing and item for Wolf and well...the garage was busy but he did hit the gambling tables from time to time. "You working up a storm or what?" His brow rose. "You might be the only person I don't see around...and yes darlin' I notice."

"Lucky guess," she chirps back, words whip-quick at the tip of her tongue as she grins, head tilting as she watches him get comfortable. "An' 'cause she's always been one o' mine."

Say what you would about Buster – particularly how he didn't fit a certain mold, which Majdalā happens to like, very much – but his music tastes were impeccable.

When he says he's been busy, Maj nods. She understands. "Gotta find time, honey. We both do, unfortunately," she murmurs, runnjng a hand over her hair with a little nose wrinkle, a shake of her head.

You working up a storm or what?

A huff, and she nods again. "Somethin' like that. Been workin' extra to –" The rest of his sentence catches up to her, and Majdalā studies him for a moment, surprise laced in the look.

She spins hair around a finger, thinking about what she's going to share, and how much.

"'M tryin' tah start a business, maybe. I don't...I don't think I'll ever be able tah get on a stage again. Jus'...too much I remember that hurt too much, but 's kinda lonely jus'...exisitin'. So –"

Majdalā gollows the large man at a fairly discreet distance, not too close or too fast. She merely takes in the place, the stables and the horses, and deals with her pangs of homesickness with a smile.

With each mare, she realizes that she'd missed being in places like this, the smell of horses and the companionship of, well, people.

"How 'bout that pretty black an' white, then? Penelope, you said?" As she asks, Majdalā strays toward the horses paddock, holding out a hand for her to smell once she's close enough. The big, velvety nose bumps the palm of her hand, and Maj grins, scratching her between the eyes.

At the question about saddles, he gave a scoff. "'Course we got 'em. I wouldn't be ridin' alla th' time if I couldn't use a Western saddle. Nothin' 'gainst th' European ones. It jus' ain't what 'm used t' either. I'll go grab one an' get Penelope all saddled up an' ready while you two bond some more."

Majdalā laughs at the big man's comment, leaning a hip against the fence in thr same moment she props a boot on the lowest rung, leaning in to scratch the mare between her ears.

"Clearly huh? Well, I think she might jus' like these head scratches." His next comment (and scoff) earns a bit of a giggle and Maj turns to look at him, arching a brow.

"Dunno, yah look th' English type, all board stiff like," she continues, tone light, almost teasing. "Lord knows I ain't. Sooner sit on a piece o' wood than ride English." And that was the honest truth. It wasn't awful, really, but that was just her preference, what she'd grown with.

It'd been a minute since Majdalā had seen Buster. Life, as it were, was busy. She'd had to pick up extra shifts, though she really didn't need to, and the animals had needed some extra care (Dasher getting a cough that required medicine). And then came Hugo with his bullshit and his idiocy.

Needless to say, she needed someone, and she needed a break. And one of the first people she'd thought to talk to, well, most probably wouldn't.

So, here she was - asking for an afternoon off and dressed casual. For once, her hair isn't hidden, a choice she's made after a little deliberation with herself, though it's still up in a bun. She's in jeans, boots, a good top and a nice jacket.

Buster answered the call. Why wouldn't he - when a pretty lady called and said she needed to chat. Coming up behind her at the coffee shop her whisked around her with a big smile and a small bow. "I heard my lady callin' so I come a runnin."

The crooked grin spread across his face. It had been a few weeks since they last grabbed some drinks but Buster had found himself running errands all over for some locals so it was nice to slow down.

"That another Maj original you're hummin darlin or did I hear some Patsy?"

Majdalā sees something - someone - out of the corner of her eye, but they whip around her too fast to follow as he head comes up. She laughs, though, when she sees it's Buster, grins at his little bow.

Tapping her fingers on the counter she was leaning against, she cocks her head to the side to take him all in, grin ticking up higher on one side.

"Yah ran real quick. Appreciate it, honey," she hums, tone lilting with her accent, the words sincere even with the teasing quality they always seemed to have.

At his question, she shrugs her shoulders, steps away from the counter to pop her hip into his leg. "Bit o' both. Inspired by Miss Patsy's I Fall to Pieces."

It was Majdala's favorite of hers.

It'd been a minute since Majdalā had seen Buster. Life, as it were, was busy. She'd had to pick up extra shifts, though she really didn't need to, and the animals had needed some extra care (Dasher getting a cough that required medicine). And then came Hugo with his bullshit and his idiocy.

Needless to say, she needed someone, and she needed a break. And one of the first people she'd thought to talk to, well, most probably wouldn't.

So, here she was - asking for an afternoon off and dressed casual. For once, her hair isn't hidden, a choice she's made after a little deliberation with herself, though it's still up in a bun. She's in jeans, boots, a good top and a nice jacket.

Still, she was enjoying the work. She basically did it anyway and now, she was getting paid for it.

When the receptionist for Town Hall poked her head into the office and said someone was waiting on Isabela, she told them to go ahead and send them in. She checked her calendar discreetly as she waited, hoping she hadn't forgotten an appointment.

Majdalā walked through the door and Isabela smiled, though she was also surprised.

"Majdalā!" she said with a smile. "Hola! It is good to see you."

You know, it'd taken some time to figure the best place to catch Isabela would be at. They'd hit it off fairly well at the fall carnival, and Majdalā had had her fair share of conversation with the woman. During campaign season, they'd fallen off a bit, and in the aftermath of Isa's father's loss for the board position, she'd not heard much from her.

So she wanted to change that.

The grin makes Majdalā's get wider, appreciating when the woman steps away to let her change back into her clothing. Once she's done, Maj takes the things she's going to purchase back out with her into the store.

The woman makes her laugh when she, rather almost embarrassed about it, introduces herself. Gabrielle. Gabby.

"Majdalā. You have quite a beautiful name yourself. It's so lovely to meet you. And thank you, as well, for trusting me with this project. I know it can be hard to take a stranger on their word. I do think you'll be rather impressed with the results though."

"Well," Majdalā says, wrinkling her nose as she shakes her head, "let's jus' pretend we ain't knowin'. I won't tell if you won't." She's teasing, Maj knows, and she likes that this stranger is so kind, yes. But she's also joking like they're old friends.

Maj likes that, too. It's been a long time since she's had a new friend.

It wasn’t until Elsa broke the hazy bubble hiding him away that Chief even realized what day it was. It took another day or so after that for him to get the strength to leave the house and head back to town.

Last night he had the strangest dream. Maj was sitting in a chair on the front porch of the ranch but wouldn’t speak to him. No matter how hard he tried to get her to even look at him she wouldn’t. The dream spun round and round for what felt like hours. Chief feeling unwell as he tried the same thing with the same result over and over again. As his voice pleaded with his old friend in the dream it was as if no words came out.

It was frustration in the dream that had him cursing her out in his mind. As destruction was his path of choice it was a vision of his mother who stopped him. An aching view as he felt guilty for all of his life choices - reality and in this dream moment. The mind does weird things while you’re asleep. It was the faintest touch to his cheek - the spirit of his mother calming him. Judy didn’t even speak a word but she didn’t need to - Chief knew…and gasped awake.

Chief forgot about everything that wasn’t that orange and white pill bottle.

The kiss they shared was easily pushed aside. Chief wasn’t going to turn that into anything. Why would he. They knew each other for years and he was desperate for attention…and affection. This wasn’t that though - Maj was still important and they never forgot birthdays.

A half ass bouquet gripped in his hand Chief let his boots carry him towards the record shop. A day late was still alright yeah? Flowers and a record? That was better than nothing…plus his face was pale and eyes were swollen. Chief knew he looked tired. It would all justify his excuses.

Ready to pick out the best record…or first one he found so he could get out of there he pushed the door open. Only to see her there…Chief froze as their eyes met and he was caught in the doorframe.

It was Majdalā's birthday. Or, well, it had been.

She'd never really let herself get worked up over things like that, always knew to keeo them small, even when she was singing for crowds of thousands. Birthdays were just another day and when you grew up with a little less than almost everyone else around you - even with Granny's decent job - well. You made due.

But you still remembered people's birthday, even if you couldn't do nothing about it. And Hugo had forgotten.

She didn't know what was going on with him, but it was something. And she knewas he was knee deep in it when he'd forgotten that. Even not seeing one another, in all these years, she could still rely on a message.

So when the day came and went without one, well, she wasn't happy. A little sad, sure, and a little mad, but mainly she was just....worried. He'd ghosted her after their kiss out at the ranch, sent a few messages and said a few things, but kept to himself otherwise.

That wasn't like him. Maj just...didn't know what to do about it. Her Granny had always told her to be a ballerina, not a bulldozer, but the bulldozer seemed more effective here, if not a little indelicate.

The records shoppe is where she goes, though, to find herself some peace of mind. Maj chats with the shop owner, fingers reading the spines, and humming one of her favorite songs under her breath. Incidentally, it's about Hugo ( or inspired by him ), though she doesn't think he knows that.

The door chime makes her look up again, and like she'd summoned him, there he stands. He looks awful. Pale face, swollen eyes, bedraggled in a way she hasn't seen in years.

Throughout his life Chief had really gotten away with just about everything. What started as a cute little boy with an innocent smile quickly grew into a handsome man with a charming smile. Pair that with quick wit and the ability to skirt himself out of trouble he never really had to deal with much direct fire...always came out free and in the clear.

This was not going to be one of those times. He had walked himself right into the issue he was trying to avoid...but already fucking up...but he was trying to fix it. That mattered didn't it? That he was trying to fix the fact that he missed her birthday.

Bloodshot eyes blinking slowly he cheeks flushed even more. "Aye." Was all that could leave his mouth in the moment. With the stiffest arm he held the flowers up in front of him - all the charm washed away like a boy ready to be scolded. "They're for you alright." The kindness in his eyes slowly started to peak through.

Like covered in cement his boots slowly carried him across the old wood floor. One after another. Her arm hooked around hers.

Majdalā's brow twitches higher up her forehead, gaze darting over his bobbing throat. Was she happy with him? No. Not at all. But there was more to being a friend than gettin' pissy every time someone did something stupid.

And Hugo often did do stupid things. But he'd never missed a birthday, and he looked like shit. Something was wrong and, for the first time,Majdalā realizes she doesn't even know where to fix it.

His arm is stiff when he holds out the flowers, tells her they're for her. Her mouth twitches ar the little-boy pout, but she sighs and shakes her head. When he comes closer and hooks his arm with her own Maj uses the leverage to pull him in closer and drag him to a chair.

A hand on his chest pushes him down, and her free one finds her hip as she cocks it out to the side, brief worry flashing across her face before she pushes it away.

Every step these days felt heavy as his dragged a restless form through life.

Letting out a sigh a cheeky smile pulled through enough - natural as he watched her sit into her hip. Their energy at least still magnetic.

“I’m not sure I know what to do with myself these days.” He said honestly with a blend of guilt and that magnetic happiness still holding on.

“Life moves too fast for me these days and I’m finding it hard to keep up.”

At least he was honest.

When she pushes him, Hugo falls into the chair heavily, like all his strings have been cut. He smiles at her, boyish and cheeky, it it falls flat. Looks wrong, unlike the boy (and man) she'd come to know and care about.

"Seems like," she agrees, giving no quarter as she stares him down, head still cocked to the side, tongue clicking against the back of her teeth. Majdalā's hand falls away from her hip a moment later and she shakes her head. Again.

"So go slow. Might give yah time not tah deal with all that shit bouncin' around in that pretty blond head o' yers," she drawls, deadpan.

She's still irritated with him, yeah, but there's something else. Majdalā can't quite put her finger on it, but this...it wasn't like the Hugo she knew. It was Chief, plain as, and that caricature puppet had never sat well with her.