#interaction.all

Sometimes, they'd find themselves waling around dimly lit alleyways on the backstreets of Providence Peak. Other times, they'd take up on her stoop or a park nearby. That night, she'd invited Foster into the warmth of her apartment, one that might not be hers for much longer if she stuck with her commitment of trying out actually living with her wife while subletting her own apartment. It was weird, how quickly they lived together when they first dated and how hesitant she was now. A lot had changed, though. There weren't a lot of suburbs in Baton Rouge, so naturally they'd lived in the city, a place where Emmy had always been happy. Now that Verda had a solid grasp on the suburbs and a dog, she couldn't help but wonder how she fit into it all. "Feel free to help yourself to come leftovers," She suggested, dropping the bags she'd brought home from the restaurant on the table, pulling out the containers of still-hot food before turning to Foster. "You want a drink? I've got water, beer, shitty beer, and wine. If I were you, I'd go with the shitty beer, but that's just me." The chef was always inclined to a good Bud Light over any locally crafted bottle that ended up in her fridge. She dropped some plates and forks onto the counter beside the table and glanced at the view from the windows of her apartment that towered high above the dark streets of the city. "Gonna be hard to give up that view."

It was funny, how much of Atlas' life seemed to be tied to the neighborhood, despite the man living in an entirely different one; his oldest daughter, his youngest daughter, his close friend... if she didn't know any better, she'd wonder if the man spent his free time just strolling the streets of Claret Park, picking up people to build a found family with. The thought alone was enough to make her laugh softly to herself as she made her way to Dylan's front door, not too far from her own home just a mile or two away. A box took up her right hand as her left hand reached up to knock on the door, a gift bag decorated with rainbows and newborn baby items gently swung from the place where it rested on her left arm with the action. Then, she stepped back until the door opened, cracking a gentle smile of greeting at the sight of the other woman. "Hi," Sage offered in a whispered greeting. "I hope now was a good time to drop off some things, I won't stay, just thought I'd get these two you before the two little ones end up in college."

"Poppy sends her love," Sammy greeted, approaching the familiar porch that he build over a decade ago, still holding up... barely. The work wasn't his finest, but it wasn't like it was going to immediately blow over after a light windstorm and it always felt like he was coming home to it whenever he found himself there. He sat the bag of takeout containers in front of Ingrid, courtesy of Farm to Fork's to-go service... and his credit card, before settling nearby. "How was the bakery today? Steal any good pastries to bring home?"

Usually Maisie made an effort to go to a liquor store in another neighborhood or a vineyard in Summit Lake to get the alcohol she needed, not wanting to task any of her students with running into their professor while doing a beer run on a Saturday night, as no student should have to worry about during their reckless university days. As long as they were being safe, she believed they should do what they want and have fun. But, she was running on a time crunch to get everything perfect for the few friends she was having over that night and needed a bottle of gin for cocktails that she'd forgotten to pick up earlier that week and now didn't have time to run to another neighborhood to do so. Instead, she braved a walk to the local liquor store, hoping that she wouldn't bump into any of her students as she searched down the aisles of the store, so focused on reading over all of the brands, trying to figure out which was the best one for the recipe she had pulled up on her phone, when her shoulder bumped with someone else's, causing her to step back quickly and glance at the person with an apologetic look and an immediately sign for Sorry!

It felt weird, approaching the house during a time when she knew that her brother would be gone. But in all fairness, she wasn't there for him and Atlas being around might only complicate the situation more or, at the very least, but a type of pressure on both of the woman that would only make things more tense. Also, Molly really wasn't sure where else she could look to find the blonde in the wild, so the home in which she once shared was her only chance. When the knock on the door led to reveal a blonde on the other side, her breathing stopped, the only motion displaying she was even still alive was her hand with held up a small bouquet of flowers she'd grabbed at the shop in town on her way over. "These are, uh, for you. For showing back up here again. I hoped they might soften the blow of seeing me."

She knew he received the same offer as her. Jonah’s parents mentioned that before she agreed to come, as something for her to consider before she agreed to the invitation to attend one of Jonah’s last soccer games of the summer. Stupidly, she didn’t think it mattered and hadn’t even expected him to show up - yet there he was, approaching her at her spot on the top of the bleachers overlooking the field; a position she often preferred when it came to visits with the son she gave up over a decade ago. At first, when her visits were lacking more than they happened, the boy was young enough to want to interact with her, a toddler’s curiosity pulling him to bring her his toys, ask about her hair or clothes or sad eyes on occasion. As time went on, he grew older, no longer showing that same interest in the woman that was sometimes around but more often not. She preferred it that way, feeling like observing was the right amount of getting to watch him grow into a successful young man without interfering in his life. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” Cora muttered as the man approached, squinting through the sun as she glanced up at him. “I don’t... usually do this, but they said he seemed excited so.”

It wasn’t usually Emmy’s M.O. to get completely plastered at a Mexican restaurant and end up ranting to the unlucky soul that ended up sitting next to her. But there she was; completely plastered, at a Mexican restaurant, ranting to the poor soul next to her. Her words slurred and she had lost count of just when her bottomless Monday margaritas had turned into purchasing tequila shots straight from the bottle, but after the fifth margarita it hadn’t mattered much anyway, the words had already started spilling from her mouth. The shots only caused those words to become less decipherable with each one and as she slapped her hand on the bar with a shake of her head as she finished a sentence, she didn’t even feel close to washing the memory of seeing Val earlier that day out of her mind. “And she... she has the audac...” Emmy thought for a moment, glazed glance looking around, as though the posters in a language that she was supposed to understand would give her any hint of the English word she was looking to finish was. Finally, it came to her and she excitedly snapped her fingers as her gaze returned to the person beside her. “Audacity! The audacity to freaking buy a location feet from my restaurant. Like, eskize mwen? Koman li oze!” Emmy shook her head as she ignored the stares from the waitresses when the language she had picked up from Amelie when growing up came spilling out in drunk frustration instead of the one most expected, instead signaling for another shot from the bartender. “Do you want one?” She asked the person next to her, not waiting for their answer before she added to the request. “And, uh, one for my friend too.”

With Emmett leaving the house soon after they arrived back from Florida with the insistence that she call him if she needed anything at all, Sage found herself in a routine that left her wishing she could be watching paint dry instead. Feed. Rock. Dirty diaper. Feed. Rock. Maybe Sing. More dirty diapers. It was a drastic difference from what her life had become in the last four years, a far cry from nights at The Jagged Yard and days sleeping in until it was time to work again. It was routine, though, and the muscle memory of being a mom returned the instant the hospital laid Magnolia in her arms. But it was still, no offence to the absolutely adorable baby that was resting in the stroller as they made their way down the street toward her favorite coffee shop, an absolutely boring routine. One that seemed even more so without someone by her side to laugh and cry and managed the routine with her. Sage longed to get out of the house by day number three and finally she succumbed to a small walk to Expresso Yourself, hoping the people watching and a croissant might give her some entertainment to last through the week. 

Magnolia slept soundly in the bassinet attached to her stroller, cooing every so often but still fast asleep as they made their way past the door with the welcoming bell and to the register to order her daily black coffee and a chocolate croissant, gliding the stroller to the table in a corner by a window as soon as she ordered to get settled. Within a few minutes, her order was placed on the table in front of her and she smiled appreciatively, about to take a sip of her iced coffee before her gaze caught the sight of someone moving around her table. “Sorry,” Sage quickly apologized and moved the stroller a little closer to her table, without even glancing at the person, “Strollers are convenient until they’re not. Always feels like they’re in the way.”