SIMPLICITY.

                “I have a terrible feeling in my gut you find amusement in my discomfort.” If it wasn’t evident enough, the two differed majorly. Lydia appeared to be more outgoing.. free as a person compared to Vanessa’s hostile behavior. Throughout her life, the prosecutor wasn’t used to being around someone who is extremely outspoken, unafraid to stand in their truth. While admirable, it’ll take time for her to get used to. “You have spunk,” Vanessa commented, still struggling to remove the aftertaste of the tequila shot. “I mean, as someone who’s as boring as a turtle trying to crawl back to the ocean, it’s.. you know, a lot. I do like you, though. It’s nice for a change; broadens my horizon. In other words, I know for a fact it couldn’t have been an enjoyable experience.” And gosh, Vanessa wouldn’t want to be in her position. Incidents happen, though, and are valuable, learning lessons. There’s no shame in that. “You think that I’m controlled?” Somewhat dazed, the brunette pressed for a further explanation, pushing her shot glass towards the bartender. “Controlled. That’s a word.. a phrase, I haven’t heard yet. As a side note, I’m giving up wine for the remainder of the night.” Behavior remained poised, politely knocking against the counter top for another drink, nodding approvingly. The taste, the burning sensation of the shot stung; Vanessa’s features scrunching up to form God knows what, but should stimulate laughter from others. “Would you — fuck,” Vanessa spat, frowning. “Would you ever leave this island, or is this where you picture living for the rest of your life?”

                   “In a sense. Navigate the game like a courtroom to ensure a win. I consider that success. If anything, it makes things much easier to operate,” Vanessa admitted, analyzing the pool table. While Matthew might not understand the route she opted to take, she’ll reassure him in a comprehensible way. The legal world changed the lenses of how she viewed the world, exploring not just Port Elisabeth, but everywhere she went in a cautious manner. It granted Vanessa a sense of security, something she personally felt she was never able to fully grasp for herself. “You’re —- that’s sweet, yet a complete lie. We’ll determine the outcoming after we play one entire round,” she quipped, shyly lowering her head. Eyes squinted at the quickness of his shot, delaying an immediate response before inquiring, “Is this an attempt to prove a point that you’re somewhat good?” She already emphasized how much she was terrible at pool, rubbing the edge of her elbows. Instead of making a move herself, dabbling between the two games, Vanessa preferred whisking the cups with liquor in preparation of beer pong, relentlessly believing she’ll accomplish ( at least ) one win. “Determine what happens if someone loses. I have a few options in mind, nothing too drastic. This’ll be a lot easier on me since you know, I might be unbeatable,” she teased, admiring the smell of her wine filled cups. “But —- outside of this, I really don’t know you. You know I’m a prosecutor. What do you do?” It was a great introductory starter, tossing a ping pong ball into his cup. 

                    Vanessa didn’t oppose to getting to know Frankie more, and she assumed Frankie felt the same way. Nonetheless, she did hold a valid point of letting her hair loose; instead of being the stoic person that she is, venturing into paths that didn’t make her feel restrained. “Old clothes,” the brunette questioned, letting her statement sit at the tip of her tongue for several seconds, indulging it. “Is there something wrong with what I choose to wear on a day to day basis?” Granted, Vanessa’s entire attire made her appear to work in either an office or library, but it wasn’t done deliberately. “I mean, it’s not like I wear a suit or knitted skirts on the weekend —- I can switch to leggings and a blouse; flats or semi heels a preferable preference, sneakers when doing fitness only.” She became so accustomed to her usual schedule, Frankie’s idea seemed quite odd. “If it helps, I switch to slippers when I’m confined in my office. It’s not like anyone can see my feet unless I stand up. Anyhow you look at it, I’m trying.. to figure out what you and I would do that would make my hair loose.” Besides, if Frankie is the one to mention it, surely it implied the two would do something together. “You need time to control your thoughts.. to console your mind. Time off isn’t a punishment; consider it rewarding. Drinking and smoking aren’t bad as long as there’s limitations. You work hard, reward yourself to a break. What more harm can be done? I say you do it, Frankie. As you stated before, let your hair loose, sweetheart.” The term playfully thrown back, Vanessa slightly nudged the other. “Weeks off are a stretch. I have taken a solid week off as vacation time. My job requires plenty of time and research, so the quietest moments I can get to myself, I cherish.”

              It’s rather rare for Vanessa to step foot out of Port Elisabeth, clutching her bag tight against her chest as she warily strolled back to her route home. Myrtle was more so the suburban area of Elisabeth Island; somewhat expensive, becoming a reflection of the beginnings of the island. Outside of her neighborhood, there isn’t much Vanessa has explored due to the lack of time she had unless her cases were in a different area from her own. The soles of her feet ached her as she continued to walk towards her vehicle, struggling not to limp until the sound of a voice called out to her, finding herself face to face with a complete stranger. It became him versus his books, so it appeared, not exactly minding a hand despite it taking away her time. “No problem,” Vanessa disclosed, cautiously fetching each book all while examining the titles. “You’re quite the reader, huh? It’s a lot for someone to carry. Reading’s a good thing. Having a cart might be good, too; it would have helped prevent this. I know I would have brought one even if I had a car. Good reads, though. Your collection, I mean; they’re good.” Instead of gesturing forth to lend them back to him, contributing to another tussle for him, she held onto the ones she retrieved. The problem wasn’t not offering a ride, it was more so being unfamiliar with him. “Usually I’m told to never talk to strangers,” she began, sighing. “How can I know I can trust you? I haven’t even gotten a name —- if only I could get name. Are these books for pleasure?”

                      Nostrils flared at the sound of Nessa, frowning due to disapproval. “I can’t recall a time where I call you Nate, so I strongly recommend sticking with my government name which is Vanessa. That’s a terrible nickname, anyway.” Or at least she thought, toning down the vexation exhibited in her voice. “You were doing good until you said Nessa,” the prosecutor slipped through her teeth, reckoning another glass of wine should ease her tenseness. Aside from Nathan being pestiferous, she could understand why residents of Elisland Island found his company worth while. There appeared to be a particular charm about him that’s gratifying —- enchanting, but all the while pestiferous, once again. Features plastered with tiredness at his question, feeling the whirlwind of introductions draining all over. “I’ll budge. Elisabeth Island is quiet, not filled with many residents, and far away from where I used to live. I mean, I was a teenager when I moved here, so I hardly had any input. Nonetheless, I had a few relatives here, as well; all of them on my mother’s side,” Vanessa detailed carefully, not wanting to miss any fragments. “It was for a good reason. Protection. My family were prolific figures in Chicago for their political and humanitarian work. We still encountered enemies, though.” Pausing for a brief moment, the tip of her nails lightly tapped against her glass. “My dad passed before my high school graduation, so moving seemed fitting. Involuntarily, I suppose.” Furthermore, murdered; the indication clear as day. Dismissively dropping her gaze, she scurridly fetched her television remote as distraction. “Musician,” Vanessa teased. “Like the Beatles; drum, drum. If you could sing and play And I Love Her, maybe we can work out a friendship.” She tethered between joking and seriousness, although truly loving the song. “No Michael Jackson or Prince? Method Man and Mac Miller? I’d dump here for California or New York if you want to continue your career,” she opted to recommend. “What about the divorce proceedings? We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t feel comfortable, but you have asked for my help in the past, to be fair; I deserve somewhat of an update.”

              Time is key. Separating your work life from personal — maneuvering to find that balance before it’s too late is something worth clutching onto. Samantha is, without a doubt, a rather entertaining person to hang out with. Vanessa’s circle consisted of interacting with both her and Summer, two people Vanessa found tolerable more than others, and that’s no form of disrespect. As Samantha stated, tolerable is placed on the highest of standards in Vanessa’s mind. “I like you,” Vanessa acknowledged, nodding encouragingly. “You have spunk and determination. Either I haven’t interacted with others in Port Elisabeth enough or I’m just too private, but I like that from anyone. I don’t think we’re alike in terms of personality, yet oddly enough, we mesh.” the prosecutor clarified, hoping no offense was taken. Outside of humanitarian and legal work, Vanessa lacked experience. From trips to activities, she was never one to volunteer to scuba dive or jump off cliffs, let alone skydive. Coffee and tea were completely fine, but an activity like that made her feel the adrenaline even though nowhere close to free falling. “I haven’t and I don’t think I have the courage, to be honest. Uh, that’s — it’s scary.” The main aspect which doesn’t withhold her from admitting, swallowing thickly. Dismissing Bobbie from their mini get togethers never seemed fair, unless the two had the intention on doing things a child usually wouldn’t be around for, such as drinking or relaxing in lounges. Vanessa welcomed her with open arms, yearning for her to feel as included as possible. “Er, if you don’t mind me asking, did you have direct involvement with what happened?” It may not be the most appropriate question, but the admittance from Samantha did prompt her to ask the question. “You’re not obligated to answer, but I ask out of sincerity. You’ll be proud of me for once, as a matter of fact. I’m making friends, so I have found the time to enjoy things outside of work. Aha!”

                    “Or maybe she learned that from you? Children pick up how adults talk quick. Besides, kids hardly lie. You’re her father — maybe she really does find you adorable. If I wore an ugly skirt, I guarantee someone’s child would point that out as much as my hair looking messy.”

                  The concept appeared almost like a foreign language, dumbfoundedly staring at Lydia in a gawking fashion. “Oh. Well, I expected that as an answer. I — you know, sometimes I learned.. asking isn’t always the most polite thing to do. Did it, um — did it at least hurt?” A stupid question to ask, unsure of how much truth she’ll get out of Lydia. The exposure Lydia extended to the world isn’t something Vanessa’s familiar with, especially regarding a topic involving such intimacy. Although shocked, Vanessa did appreciate her pride and honesty. “Come on,” the brunette murmured, knowing damn well the “sip and spill” comment was towards her belief that wine is the only alcoholic beverage worth consuming. “Do you think I’m boring? I can drink tequila. I don’t need no damn wine.” Arms crossed with a light huff at her following comment, hissing. “You have an accent, too. Are you from here?”

                      “I’m not understanding. My hair is down. You see, I did a slight curl this time around, the straight hair can get boring.” Of course, Vanessa joked, fully comprehending what Frankie meant. “I kid. Uh, in what ways would you want me to let my hair down? I’m open to suggestions, I won’t critique,” the prosecutor laid out on the table, never one to dismiss criticism unless it came to her work ethic. “God forbid I wear silk to work. I try to stay away from material such as that to avoid comments. And trust me, I sweat like a pig!” Once again, perhaps Vanessa became a tad too truthful, shaking her head dismissively. “Ew. Pretend I didn’t say that. Listen, don’t drink yourself to the point where you lose a liver. If work happens to become too much of a hassle, why don’t you take a week off before fall begins? It’d be a nice summer vacation; you can gather your thoughts.. handle any little errand needed to get done.” Vanessa could snort at Frankie’s comment, undeniably agreeing about her visible wet stains. “I work then I have a nice glass of wine before knocking out. I’m a boring person. Hell, didn’t you tell me I need to let loose?”

                      “Those are the prime hours for sleeping. Do you enjoy your job, though? I can’t imagine traveling during that time of the day — so dark and cold. We all have to sacrifice to keep a roof over our heads, that’s for sure; tired or not.” Vanessa pondered upon the schedule Marlow chooses to make for herself prior to heading off for work. The time she uses to eat, the time used to run errands. It’s the emphasis on time, or the importance of time becoming a starstruck thought. Many people tend to grapple with managing existing on a platform where everything can stop without a warning. “Here’s to hoping my stomach doesn’t regret the consumption of burgers and fries, don’t forget the barbecue sauce on the side,” she ridiculed, almost positive she’ll devour anything at this moment, feeling the pits of her stomach rumble in a chaotic fashion. “I’m holding onto your promise. In the meanwhile, how are you feeling?”

                      “Sweetheart, the color of it should have been enough to warn you that it might not taste as good as it looks.” Vanessa barely messed with dairy to begin with, noticing it doesn’t sit well in the pit of her stomach, always seeming to find its way out. Nose scrunched up in distaste as she prevented a gag from escaping, tensely shifting herself back to have additional room away from the lavender flavored ice cream. “I’ll regret eating this later, but at least I stuck with my delicious dulce de leche which I’m absolutely willing to share.” An action Vanessa didn’t necessarily have to do, however the comparison of it to dried, pressed flowers led her to grasp the taste being pungent. “I also have mints and gum in my bag if needed; your poor tongue,” the prosecutor muttered, extending her hand for Evianna to have a spoonful of her snack. “I don’t even like mint chocolate chip and matcha flavored ice cream not just because of the color, but the smell itself.”

                   “How do you do it?” The constant swimming.. the temperature of the water, but the possibility of also getting sick. To be quite honest, Vanessa hasn’t met a diver outside of Summer in Elisabeth Island, so she’s a bit starstruck. The questions flowed easier than asking her best friend out of pure shyness. “I heard it gets real cold down there. Do you swim in oceans, lakes, or any body of water? I know I sound like a ticking machine that’s unable to stop, but I want to know. Feel free to ask me anything, I’m an open book,” the brunette encouraged, cocking her head to the side as features displayed obvious curiosity. “Am I allowed to watch you dive, or are there restrictions when it comes to your job?”  @bcllaricci​

                  “Ah,” Vanessa murmured underneath her breath, pinching the bridge of her nostrils. “Summer — the time for sweaty atmospheres and little children running everywhere.” It’s not that she despised the latter, but it became an awful lot to deal with. “I’m such a fall girl, you know? I can wear soft moccasins and not worry about stains on my shirt from perspiration.” Cue the pause, blinking rapidly. “Is that too much honesty? That’s probably too much honesty. Erm, anyway.. how are you since we last met?”  @frankielecn​

                   Vanessa could be more softhearted towards him. In spite of a few rough patches with Nathan, it’s evident that he hasn’t done anything to Vanessa directly, neither has she. It’s the connection that fizzled —- their energies simply did not match initially. “I’ll give you my time. Who said I had something different in mind?” The prosecutor didn’t quite oppose this arrangement; the circumstances were out of her comfort zone, but she did have the intention on scooping deeply to get to know him beneath the surface levels. For him to badger her on a constant basis must have a reason behind it. “I have drinks. I have food. I have.. well, technically speaking, you. It’s fine, I guess. There’s no music or television playing in the background.. inspect me. I’m an open book, regardless.” She resented tattoos. In fact, she supported the idea of it being similar to putting a bumper sticker on a Ferrari; tasteless and unnecessary. Childishly biting the inside of her right cheek to conceal her scowl, Vanessa headed the opposite direction to aid him his beverage, furthering the support of their conversation. “I’ll stick with not stating the obvious. I’m American, something most people have not picked up on. I moved here for educational purposes.. sort of, and I like being in Canada; I love the environment better than Chicago, which is where I’m originally from. I feel a lot safer here, too.” Perhaps this admittance laxed her more than the norm, inching forth his beverage. “I’d also like my glass back so that I can settle down. Tell me about yourself,” the brunette insisted, finding herself snug back on her couch afterwards.