#queue. *

            LET NOBODY UNDERESTIMATE HOW MUCH VANESSA RAGED. Vanessa was a woman of value and hard work, knowing and learning through time how to properly handle and manage people of this world, which is why it struck her as appalling  that he was around, that he approached her as if to see that she kept her in check, to hold a threat when needed.

            HER SWEET GIRL. How much she had taken upon her heart the young woman in front of her, shinning, bright and beautiful-- how proud she made her and her Baba. “No worry, my darling, there are plenty of meat substitutes we can look out for, they will make an exception for us, I am sure!” She answers, perhaps a bit over confidently, but she knows that they could make it by. They were part of the Fisk family, after all.

               ❝ Of course I am.  Think I’m here for picnics and tea parties? ❞

               Not those things specifically, but the implication is the same.  If there’s one thing that Jagger can’t stand, it’s enforced sobriety;  not even conformity, everybody conforms in some way, even if it’s in the ways that they don’t, but a boring existence.  There’s no risk in coffee houses, no rush to be found in movie theatres.  He wants excitement  ----  wants barrelling through streets at over one-hundred, wants the feeling of whistling air as he plummets towards the ground, wants the thrill of life constantly nipping at his heels  ----  and he wants it near constantly.

They were...hell they ARE best friends, they hardly had any secrets between them. Kip was the one person that she could confidently place whatever was left of her trust in. So, when it finally came out Tim could just feel her heart fall into her stomach, words and questions just spilling out as she desperately tried to find an answer but it did not work.

The words hung in the air for a long time, waiting until she could allow the venom to die down. Her hand moving to the back of her neck and rubbing absentmindedly, thumb rolling harshly at the knot of tension that was placed firmly at the base of her neck. Looking to her side and spoke hesitantly. 

"Is...he nice to you? Like...are you happy? Like, actually happy?" Tim eyed her friend carefully, her facial features softening "That's all I wanna know, then we don't gotta talk about it again but..." She exhaled through her nose and reached over giving a gentle squeeze to Kip's forearm. Part of it was to reassure her, but also for Tim's own sanity.

"I just want to make sure that you're safe Kip. You're all I got."

                ❝ It’s not like that! ❞

               She knew that this would come out eventually, but she’s terrified of this conversation nonetheless.  There’s a reason she hasn’t said anything  ----  why she’s kept this secret even from Basil.  If it was really as simple as her meeting a man and getting into a relationship with him, there’d be nothing to hide from either of them.

               Jagger is dangerous.  She knows that even without knowing him all that well.  He’s a magnet for trouble, and his occupation is less than reputable.  The less people she can drag into his sphere, the better.  The last thing she wants is to be the catalyst for her friend’s and family’s weaponisation.

                ❝ It’s...  not safe, ❞  she admits.  It’s too late now.  Tim has already twigged, and she’s already made it apparent that it isn’t a relationship she’s hiding.  If she backs off now, it’ll only result in collateral for their friendship.   ❝ I’m...  I’m just in a tight spot right now.  I...  stole from the wrong guy and now I’m in trouble. ❞

               Trouble is one way of putting it.  Impending death is another, but it’s a term she wants to avoid.  For Tim’s sake.  For Basil’s sake.  Hell, for her sake;  she’s terrified of the consequences if she doesn’t pay this man back for what she stole.  Why else would she be involving herself in such shady dealings if not to save her own skin?

               ❝ well now i am fuckin’ intrigued.  yeah, of course i want to see that. ❞

               The sentiment shouldn’t surprise him so much, but it does.  Simon looks at those perfectly arranged cookies on the tray she’s holding as he’s never seen a batch in his life.  When an almost uncomfortable amount of time has passed, he looks back up at her with a half-smile.

               ❝ You shouldn’t have, ❞  he says, and he half means it.  Damn this woman and her kindness;  he underestimates herself a lot, but Simon knows better.  ❝ I mean, really, I’m...  I’m fine.  Sorry if my episode scared ya. ❞

               He’d been prepared to force himself to speak.  He understands how it can be jarring for Deitrich to wake up and find him standing on the balcony alone in the dead of night, or with his face pressed against the window, or sat bolt upright, unmoving, in bed beside him post-nightmare.  It isn’t as he can help his terrible sleeping habits now;  he’s tried about all he can manage, including professional help.  Some things just can’t be fixed  ----  not even by the world’s best cup of hot cocoa.

               Rather than talk, Simon flicks the building debris from his cigarette away, watching as it floats like snow into the city below.  Vide may not be all sunshine and rainbows, but its nightlife is something that Simon enjoys intensely.  It might be a little hard to sleep with the glowing advertisements peeking in through the blinds, but a city that lives and breathes at night fills him with a spark of hope.  He never thought he’d see it;  now he thrives in it.

               When his cigarette has been exhausted, Simon tosses it into the ashtray he’s left out there  ----  a small cylindrical thing with tall walls that keep his litter contained  ----  and exhales the last of its vapour.  Vide’s brisk early morning air feels like a bath for the brain;  it rinses all of those that memorial grout away like a particularly steady jet of water, leaving a clean, cool vacancy behind.  It’s funny how the silence actually makes him feel better at times like these.