#post-briarcliff

You sat at a table, the bottle left beside you, a pile of paperwork on the other side. You were rather relaxed, fully absorbed in the work you brought home. Lana actually disapproved of how at ease you were. That is, until she saw you pause in your work once one of the men passed you to go to the bathroom. You resumed once you knew where he was. 

Lana felt reassured and she slowly made her way to you. "Mind if I sit?" she started tentatively. 

Lana knew from observing you that you were not unaware of her approach and she enjoyed the slow pace your eyes took to examine her in return. She found it hot, and the similarities between your dispositions toward men made her feel oddly safe. She adored the sweet smile that stretched your face as you made eye contact. You made no move to hide what you were doing, reassuring the paranoid woman more. In fact, you stopped what you were doing, hands folding in front of you. "Please do," you requested, though it unintentionally came out in a seductive tone. 

A bright smile replaced Lana's butterfly stomach. She stepped forward and took the seat. Anxiety threatened to derail her plan. "Do you... come here often?" If it hadn't been for the hesitance in her tone, you'd have thought that was a line. 

You nodded. "Yes, Happy hour is from 1-3 and I'm here every Thursday for Ladies Night. Some people think it's offensive and a creep trap, but I know the 'tender." 

It was something of a worry that you knew so much about the bar, but who was Lana to judge? She was there during Happy Hour, on a Thursday, just like you. And your drink looked untouched while the triggered reporter downed hers, ordering another. She faced you again. "So, what do you do?" she asked, vaguely interested. 

You told her, but didn't let the missed opportunity pass entirely. "You're not from around here," you noticed with ease. 

She smiled and shook her head. 

"What brings you to town?" 

Lana was mildly suspicious, but this was small-talk. "I have a signing down at the Barnes." 

You tilted your head at her. "Oh, you wrote 'Maniac'? My mother's obsessed." You frowned. "She said the writer was horribly abused, tortured." 

Lana squeezed her eyes shut. "Can we please talk about something else?" 

You nodded vigorously. "Of course. I could tell you about town? We have this travelling circus coming back around. I love them. Have you ever been to one to one?" 

The brunette found she didn't need deep breaths to calm herself. She could focus very well on your voice. You spoke semi-quickly like you hardly thought it before it flew out of your mouth. That was a comfort. You couldn't lie like that. And your speech got very breathy when describing the entertainment. "No," she answered. 

"Oh, words cannot begin to- well, then I suppose it won't ruin it." You spoke in passionate detail on your favorite part of a circus. 

Lana could listen to you speak for hours, but her allowed time to cope was up, she discovered as one of her babysitters came to stand awkwardly in the doorway of the bar. She smiled politely then turned all of her attention back to you. "Sounds fantastic. Can... I have your home number?" 

You didn't mind being cut off, already worried you were speaking too much. "Could I get yours? Since you're so busy." You were writing as you spoke and Lana gave no response to the likewise request. 

But she happily took your inked-on napkin. "No." And she was gone. 

A week passed and she never called. You worried that you wrote your number wrong. Or maybe she would call you when she needed bail, or sex. But next Thursday, you were in your usual place, working on similar paperwork to the week before. You were very absorbed in it when someone tapped your shoulder. You looked over very briefly enough to see Lana, but not so briefly as you were trapped in her gaze once they met. You set your pen down. "Lana, right?" 

The brunette nodded in an abashed way. "Hey. Sorry I didn't call. Busy week." That was a lie. Lana worried if she made another close connection, they would betray her. In one way or another, Lana doubted the human race. You could not help but worry over why she didn't call, but you didn't harp or show up at any book signings and you weren't waiting anxiously at the door of the first connection you had with Lana. These were all red flags and Lana could not be more elated you showed none. She had to feel you out; it was the only way she'd feel safe. "Is there any way you would accept an apology dinner?" 

You smiled and looked around at your papers before retrieving a black booklet. You opened it to the ribbon. It had your entire week planned out. You were a business woman. 

Lana didn't even try resisting leaning in to peek. Monday, you had a lunch with an HR employee with their name and the word 'cordial' underlined. Tuesday, you apparently didn't eat a meal until you got home while was ridiculous because Wednesday, you had two lunch hours with one editor Lana recognized and another name labeled 'Supervisor' then a name, then you had an afternoon booked with appointments. That was probably why you had to go to a corporate dinner where you wrote, "Project Empry". That night, you had another, you had another business dinner with no note. Friday night and the weekend evenings were your own. "Saturday?" she offered. She felt relieved. You were too busy to obsess over anything and she didn't recognize anything so you had no other connection to her. You must be exhausted even dating Lana. Which she was pleased about because what else was she going to do with her time besides get a job and focus on you and her, wherever that may lead. 

You never lost your smile, though it wasn't very bright. You seemed to be equally feeling out Lana. Mostly, you just hoped she showed. "There's this Italian place two blocks over," you explained, gesturing. "Meet me at seven?" you asked, trying to have some say. 

Lana broke out of her habitual nervousness to smile in return. She nodded, happy you weren't trying to figure out her address. She kissed your cheek then left. 

*

The date was not bad. You got to know one another, learning about your school children years, becoming adults, choosing jobs, and then the traumas which shaped you both. You felt relieved when she explained why she was ... cautious. You hadn't read the book she wrote, preferring to hear it from her, and it was heart-breaking. To be so close to having a basic hope fulfilled and to lose it over and over again. That wasn't even counting the actual traumas, assaults. It was a wonder Lana could trust at all, but she tried, for her sanity. It was nice, from Lana's perspective, to finally be able to reveal the whole ugly truth. It would take time, but Lana would one day tell you about every inmate she encountered back there, once she remembered each fragment independently. 

But in the here and now, Lana was making her small accomplishments. She called you. The morning after your official date, Lana sat in her hotel room, wishing she was already talking to you. She used the landline on her nightstand to dial the number in her hand. She bet you weren't even still in, busy woman that you were it was highly unlikely- 

"Hello?" your voice replaced the ringing. 

Lana froze. She didn't know what to say. She lost all game in one breath. "Did- did you know that the word hello was invented just for beginning telephone calls?"

On the other end of the phone call, you smiled to yourself. "I did." You were fully dressed and it was time for you to leave for work, but you were happy to sit on your bed for a few minutes longer. "How did you sleep?" 

No one would guess that beneath that tough shell, Lana Winters was just a big dork. "Good. I slept good." She didn't tell you, but the previous night had been the first in a long time which hadn't ended with flashbacks waking her in a cold sweat. Last night, she had fallen asleep thinking of you instead of dreading Bloody Face. It really made a difference. "When do you think we could do that again?" 

Lana heard you shuffling around on the other end and she could just picture you on the other side, digging around for your planner and she smiled. 

Dinner was not decided on that morning. And not much was decided in the next week. The two of you were supposed to meet up at the bar on Friday and it would go from there. The week got insanely busy for you and Lana's attachment to you drove her from the phone every time she was tempted to call you, every ten minutes. You hardly noticed, thankfully so swamped, but tried to make up for it by having no work at the bar. 

The tender noticed. The bartender noticed a lot, part of the job, and he wasn't afraid to mention it. "Hiya, doll. You got a new gig?" he asked, taking a special interest in cleaning your part of the bar. 

You looked up at him. "No. Just pushed to finish early." 

That made the man grin. He threw his rag over his shoulder. "Trying to catch some lucky boy's eye?" 

"No," you answered honestly, off hand. "A girl," you were afraid to admit. 

The man laughed like you were flirting with him. "So you're not sure what you want." He leaned on the bar. "Bet I could show it to ya. Give you a real nice night." 

Out of nowhere, Lana appeared right next to you, staring down your old friend who shoulda known better. "No need." You had no way of knowing exactly how much she heard, but her next actions let you guess. Lana's precise fingers cupped your face and drew you close. Lana kissed you chastely to prevent from giving a show, but long enough to make her point. "Sorry I'm late." You just grinned at her, elated at the progress too much to care about her possessiveness. "Ready to go?" You just nodded dumbly, smiling wide like a doof. You paid attention only to Lana even as she wound your fingers together. You both relaxed once away from the bar, but Lana still wanted to hold your hand. She didn't feel trapped; she felt secure, loved, free.