can somebody walk me home?

Drying her hands on that white fluffy towel, she takes a moment to check her appearance in a small reflective surface nearby. Celine ensures her hair is neatly tucked away and not falling anywhere and her make-up isn't smudged from the light sweat she can feel permeating her skin. It had been many years since she'd joined her brother in a community healthcare tent, truthfully she couldn't remember a time since before she'd debuted- she tried to be available for as many as possible when she was in her trainee days but she was so busy these past few years she hadn't had time to dedicate to the community projects she'd so loved to share with her oldest sibling. "Make sure you drink it! You need to stay hydrated!" she scolded that brother of hers as he walked past her and she pressed an electrolyte drink into his hands and squeezed his arm gently, earning a warm smile from the doctor who patted her affectionately on the head as he headed deeper into the tent towards those more serious casualties she wasn't qualified to deal with. Celine had had some medical training in her youth, coming from a family of healers her childhood dream was to become a Paediatrician, however her idol lifestyle had gotten in the way of idelaisations (thanks, Barbara). She leans around the curtain she's treating from behind and smiles at the next patient, holding a hand out in greeting "I can take the next minor injury over here!"

“It hurts to breathe,” He wheezes in the infirmary. Ren isn’t the first to be checked on. In the midst of broken bones and dislocated fingers, his bumps and bruises were the least of anyone’s worries. He just wants to rest, maybe take a very soapy bath in a very large tub. He holds his sprained wrist close to his body, careful not to flex the muscle too much - which is when he spots the Cece calling to him. Ren even looks over his shoulder. It feels too good to be true.

“Wait – me??” After all of his attempts at getting Gabs to introduce them, he never thought he’d manage to meet her here of all places. “Wow. Wow, I’m…I’m a huge fan. I never thought I’d get to meet you. Let alone here…I swear, I don’t normally look like this –” His sprained wrist manages to point at himself as he fervently shakes his head. “…Do you even recognize me? Has Gabs ever mentioned me at all?”

Would he have told Han? A silence falls between them - and his lack of an immediate response is truthfully the only answer that Han really needs. Well…it depends; Simon’s gut wishes to answer for him. Had the children wanted to be involved in his life? Yes, of course Han would have known the moment Simon found out, had he discovered this truth years prior. But if they wanted nothing to do with him? He struggles to see the significance in bringing it up when Han would still get just as upset with him. And yet, Simon is still smart enough to know his gut response is the right answer for their current argument.

He clears his throat. “Of course. Of course I would have told you,” His brows knit together. “We don’t have any secrets, yes?” Even that statement seems to hang in the air; there’s much Han doesn’t talk about, and just as much that Simon simply doesn’t bring up. However, he remains adamant as his head shakes. “They’re not here, in our home, no,” Simon is not so foolish as to bring them to their home right then and there. “But they’re in the city. I don’t…I don’t know much more than you do, Han. What do most want from their father? A connection? A sense of belonging? They can come for money, but you and I both know there isn’t much of that laying around,”

Simon thinks very little of his own father - the man who dropped him off for his sister to raise rather than take responsibility himself. And still, all these years later, he often wondered Am I just like him? His disregardment certainly left Simon with a collection of abandonment issues that were never addressed, yet lingered in his unwavering connection to Han - even in the face of arguments and unplanned children and feasts of blood, Simon prefers the life over being left behind once more. How could he ever deliver the same fate to his own children?

“I do have a family - but I missed out on them just as much,” He scowls. “Five minutes ago, you were prepared to adopt two other children - what difference does it make if there’s a genetic element to it? Would turn Jasper and Johanna from our door if you learned there was a blood relation there as well? What about your sister? Would you turn her away because she no longer fit into your cookie cutter idea of what a family should look like?” Eyes challenge Han as Simon finally meets his gaze again. “I won’t leave them behind. Not the way I was. Not the way you were, either.”

the lack of an immediate response spoke volumes, and the truth of Simon’s actions stung more than any words could convey. the room fell into an uneasy, stomach sickening, silence as Simon finished speaking. instead of meeting him with an understanding or softening expression, Han’s features tremor and contort with conflicting emotions.  he feels his face begin to swell, and there is a warm prick at the outer corners of each muddled and furious eye. “I thought we were supposed to be a team.” his heart was aching, torn between the love he had for Simon and the intense feeling of betrayal. 

Stupid play on words, but it’s not like that stranger knew any better.

And so he’s intent on catching a few z’s before — an irritable clanging of door chime interrupts the possible snooze. Still, alarm and approaching footsteps aside, Jebidiah doesn’t make a single damn move to ‘wake up’. Both eyes stay firmly shut and each breath stays a smooth in-out, in-out until..

Finally, he does lean against the counter and begin filling out the leger, full of a collection of half-truths in case someone ever took too close of a look at Jeb’s motel.

“Why are you always in a rush to see me off? Can’t two old pals catch up a bit?” He asks. “No one’s come sniffing around here at all…have they?”

She couldn’t keep the grin off of her face, no matter how much she tried to hide that she found the whole situation pretty damn hilarious. Her eyes sparkled mischievously, guilty pleasure in the chaos showing through. “Okay, you got me. Those peaches just couldn’t resist my magnetic charm, I guess,” she paused, finally breaking out into a laugh. “But seriously, it was an accident, I swear!” Her hands go up defensively in mock fear, “One of my, uh, not-so-graceful thralls got a little too excited and, well…let’s just say your card didn’t really stand a chance.” She finished, failing to suppress another giggle.

In his six hundred-some years, Viv likes to believe he understands both humans and dreamshades enough to get a good read of their facial expressions - what may, and what may not, be reflected against their face. The juice stained on her clothes suggest to him otherwise. Still…Viv is not the type to point the finger ( lest three be pointed back to him ), so he simply raises an eyebrow at her frazzled hair.

“Well,” Her confession leaves Viv with a smile. “Thank you for at least being honest with me. It can be a difficult thing to do,” However, his arms still cross over his chest as he begins to survey the mess displayed on the street in front of them. “I do believe this is quite a bit of a mess for just one person to clean up, don’t you? And I’d feel quite horrible to leave these peaches to rot, until someone else comes along and cleans them up. Have you ever had a pesky gnat or fruit fly hang around your face for too long? I couldn’t subject to all the people walking down this street to that. I can take care of fixing up my cart by myself, but it sure would be helpful if you could lend a hand cleaning this all up.”

“How about this,” Ren stands in front of Kyle and takes both hands into his own. “When we go out to the arcade later,” Because of course they were going to the arcade later - he owed Kyle a rematch of the lifetime at Galaga. “The first ground of games can be on you. Giovanni’s is my treat. The games can be yours,” Perhaps because money has never been much of an issue to him, Ren has never understand Kyle’s insistence on paying for things. But he was smart enough to know when to step back - and allow for Kyle to take the occasional reigns.

His smile brightens as their weekend activities continue to expand. “It sounds like we’ve got a packed schedule already. How are we supposed to squeeze eating into all that?” Of course, there would be Cheeto fingers galore and snack boards and lots of ordering out. “Hmm…maybe we can stop in to see Jessie some night?” A shrug accompanies the suggestion. “I’m sure she’d love to have you stop by to say hello. We could even like…I dunno, treat her to dinner, or something?”

a wide grin tugged at the corners of Kyle’s lips as he listened to Ren’s words, "You’ve got yourself a deal, but I’ll need your help beating Turtles in Time.” –– it was difficult to get a high score on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’ game. he needed his Leonardo to help his Michaelangelo, and then once they reached that top line of the scoreboard, he’d reward Ren handsomely ( 😉 ) he hasn’t even begun to think about Galaga… instead his eyes sparkle with excitement. it had been a long week, filled with too much work and responsibilities –– sometimes Kyle forgets just how irresponsible he used to be without those Toddlings running around. a kiss is placed on two pairs of knuckles before him, debt granted for the patience and love, and fun his boyfriend granted him.

as Ren mentioned their packed schedule, Kyle couldn’t help but laugh. the idea of crumbs on bedsheets, pillow cases, and duvet covers wasn’t something that was foreign to the two. he assures Ren, “We can mutli-task.”  but the impending dirty, wrinkled sheets could very well break their fantasy weekend. “Order in.” she shrugs, flirtatiously, nudging Ren’s shoulder. “I’ll feed you while you play solo missions. You really think I’d starve you?” 

– And of course they’d order in. On his own, a full schedule often leaves Ren frazzled with how to fit everything in - getting him to the point where he plans out his activities by the minute, including a three-minute-allotted bathroom break. But with Kyle…somehow…it all just fits together perfectly.

Between the long hours at Kyle’s job, eating dinner, going to the arcade, and meeting up with Jessie…Ren could feel his stomach glurg at the thought of trying to fit it all in with the remaining hours of the day they still had. But treating her to dinner first, two tasks just combine into one and a weight feels lifted off Ren’s shoulders. “How do you do that?” He asks. “How do you just…make everything feel so much easier?” Relief seeps back into him when he squeezes Kyle’s hand. “Well…I don’t know about future mother-in-law or trying to score any points…but it just seems like the nice thing to do, you know? Gabs and I are always grabbing food for one another. It’s just…I dunno…what you do for someone you care about.”

“Hmm,” Ren’s lips flatten. He slurps at his coffee in response. “And how long will I not have to worry about Skeeter this time?” Of course, by which Ren means just how long until Gabs inevitably gets back together with him? He knows he should just get accustomed to Skeeter being in Gabs’ life - and his own by extension. His stomach urges him to ask Gabs what’s the point in breaking up if everyone knows they’re getting back together again…but Ren pushes that question further down. An argument with her isn’t how he wants to spend his time.

“You don’t have to remind me that he’s an asshole,” Ren decides instead. Agreement, rather than argument. “What was the tipping point this time? Did he scuff your new pair of heels or something?”

and as always, in time, the lady vanitas comes to brush the matter aside entirely, deciding it no longer mattered. the blonde recovers easily enough, a hand beneath her chin as attempts are made to keep her air of disregard. “i have my council for that. no need for you to make a fuss too, dum—” her friend finds her hands buried in the fabric of her clothing, and there’s abrupt silence once more as the words of evident concern spill from across the table. for a breath of a moment, daeneryn’s amber hues soften, unlikely understanding shining through a typically rougher exterior. 

“don’t be an idiot.” it isn’t harshly stated, barely a bite in her tone despite the choice in phrasing. no, she’s remarkably calm, and much easier on the eardrums than one might expect. the trailing gaze of various onlookers appears to fall away gradually, as they seem more certain the prior scene has found its end. “if you of all people doubt me, i don’t really stand a chance.” it’s the most honest she’s been in this whole conversation, thus far. “so of course i can handle it.” the implication being, ‘so don’t doubt me’, even in a matter as gruesome as this.

Rosie frees the fabric from her fists, which has become a wrinkled mess against her palms. She takes her time smoothing it back out again so she can swallow her words and choose the right ones carefully.

“I don’t doubt you,” She reiterates. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. If anyone can make that decision, it’s you…but just because you can make that decision…Sometimes I decide to do something, you know? But the more I think about it, the more I think that I should have decided something else. Like when I thought I shouldn’t get those crystalized butterfly clips, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about them for the whole next week. I absolutely should have gotten those butterfly clips. And…that’s just hair accessories. Thinking about that for someone’s entire life?”

Her stomach gurgles again.

“It’s just…Whatever happens…However you feel…If something bad goes down…You can always call me or find me…alright?”