[ It's not completely accurate to say that the diner has become part of her morning routine, because that would imply that Wynonna's life has been reliable, unsurprising and by all accounts predictable since she had the weird Bambi dream that somehow propelled her into existing in the creepy version of Mayberry.
Sure, there are touchstones that feel more familiar than most, because while she's working up the nerve to test how far she can go outside of town limits she's scoured every inch of the house she woke up in to find that she's somehow been given a place to stay that reminds her of the old homestead in more ways than one. And sure, she's got to actually venture into the main part of town in order to score a semi-decent cup of coffee, of which there are two places that currently serve it but only one that offers obscenely good breakfast food even if the caffeine options are more meh.
So maybe she finds herself here more often than not, tucking herself into one of the booths running along the side of the place by those large windows so she can keep an eye on her bike while she eats. She's not anticipating that anyone will try to jack it when she's sitting right here, but you never know.
Eventually, she'll just be nursing that cup of coffee between her hands, body twisted in the seat so she can stretch one leg out across the cushion in front of her, one elbow propped on the table and the remnants of today's breakfast (bacon, eggs and soggy pancakes that she'd only half-eaten) pushed away from their position in front of her. Maybe today will be the day she decides to finally get the hell out of Dodge, she thinks to herself, idly glancing up toward the front door as it opens and a guy she's never seen walks in. That part doesn't come as a surprise; she's realized she recognizes absolutely no one from home and has almost gotten used to the expectation of unfamiliar faces greeting her at every turn, but her gaze idly tracks him from above the rim of her mug as he stops at the front for a quick survey of the place before he chooses her direction to head in, ambling down the rows of taken and available seats. ]
[ It offers some sense of observation, a way to survey the constant rotation of patrons slipping in and out of its flimsy door, a charming little ding whenever that bell gets a proper little jolt with every opening. He's found himself here a fair number of times, never quite consistent with the schedule if only to get an idea what when the service actually improves (late hours have proven a desire of anything means jumping across the counter and making it for yourself).
Frank chooses a much earlier hour today, coat heavy on his shoulders, boots stomping lightly across the linoleum as he peers with quick glances at the booths to find an empty space.
His gaze falls upon hers then, briefly, a quick meeting of light eyes peering up from beneath dark brows, and he offers her a subtle nod, simple and polite only because she's looking his way, but he doesn't wait to see what kind of response she might give in turn. Instead, he slips into the booth just past her, sliding onto the cushion connected on the opposite side of her seat, the closest empty spot without having to venture further across the diner.
If he'd meant for this to be an experiment of testing speed, this morning slot offers the best success and it's only a few minutes waiting in which he slides out of his coat, resting back comfortably in a black long-sleeved henley, before a waitress approaches his table, her notepad almost immediately at the ready. ]
Mornin', ma'am. Uh, how's about three eggs over easy and sourdough toast. Side of bacon. [ He rolls up his sleeves, chin nodding up to gesture at the visible pot brewing behind the counter. ] And a constant stream of that coffee whenever you get a chance, thank you.
[ She's hardly expecting him to join her β in fact, she's secretly hoping he's the kind of guy who doesn't take shared eye contact as an invitation of some kind, because she is really not in the mood to deal with some asshole who's looking for any excuse to chat her up out of nowhere. (The last time she was approached by a total dickweed, though, it had been in a bar and she'd been more than drunk enough to tolerate him; there's no such possibility of that happening here with little else besides shitty coffee on the menu.)
But he passes on by and slides into the booth adjacent to her own, an accompanying sound of fabric swooshing across the vinyl, and Wynonna returns her attention to her coffee, wondering if it's even worth asking for a refill β or maybe she can get the waitress to just freshen up her cup a little, given that the contents of her mug are starting to go lukewarm.
She's mid-sip when the voice behind her almost prompts a total spit-take; she does dribble some coffee out of her mouth, instantly swiping her free hand beneath her lower lip to catch the drops before fumbling for a couple napkins in the dispenser at the table and hurriedly glancing down to check that she hasn't completely leaked it all over her top. There's only one other place she's heard that voice and, as if just to make damn sure she's not hearing things, she closes her eyes for the last few pieces of it, a small furrow deepening between her brows.
A wordless curse drops from her mouth and of freaking course that's the moment when the same waitress comes by with a nod towards her table and an offer to top her off from a freshly-made pot of coffee. ] What? Oh, yeah, sure, fine. Knock yourself out.
[ It's not until she's left alone that Wynonna slowly, carefully, tries to peer back over her shoulder without alerting him to her movements, but between her big-ass gun in its holster and the fact that leather is a very noisy material, she can't be as stealthy here as she wants to in getting a good look at her mystery blind date for the first time. ]
[ It's a few moments wait before the waitress makes the go-around to bring the fresh pot to his table, filling it to the brim on his insistence. It's warm, which is the first signal that it's an improvement from his alternate visits here in the later hours, when it sits unattended for extended minutes before he can manage to get a single sip; it still isn't flourishing in taste, but Frank can make do on the bitterness it provides.
Fairly soon after he's left to his own, licking at his lips the drag the leftover splash of heated liquid into his mouth, that he picks up on that obnoxious high-pitched rub from just behind him, indicating movement. He doesn't turn, doesn't signal any level of attention on his end, save for the casual lift of his knife from its placement on the napkin, tilting it slowly upright for a titled angle that reflects the visual behind him.
It's only a small peek, just a miniature mirror of the woman's turned head, how she seems to be curious for his direction now more than her own. She'd been looking at him before, but he'd passed it as just a standard glaze, naturally at someone who'd just stepped in while alerting the ringing of a bell. But now, there's seemingly more to it.
He doesn't shift where he sits, save for a sight that's slightly heavier, sinking his shoulders a little further into the seat. ] Looking for some ketchup, lady?
[ He's not sitting at an angle where she can readily deduce his features, and it's almost impossible for Wynonna to get a good look at him to confirm any kind of definitive impression β she's got the voice, and that's all, aside from some other random and assorted personal trivia she'd acquired the night they'd all been pulled into literal blind dating for the first time. Even now, she's trying to wrack her memory for some of those little details in an attempt to reconcile it with the person sitting with shoulders slightly slumped in the seat directly adjoining her own.
In fact, she's peering so closely that she doesn't realize she's the one being spoken to at first, until the silence stretches between his question and no answer and Wynonna glances around to see if there's someone standing behind her β because there sure as hell isn't anyone in front of him.
Oh. Oh, he means her.
Well, she's just going to go and pretend like she hasn't been caught staring and slide out from her seat with a supplementing thump of her heavy boots against the floor, bracing one hand against the table to leverage herself up into standing before walking over to stand on the other side of his booth. She's still holding her coffee cup in one hand, half-gesturing with the index finger that lifts up from the rounded ceramic to motion towards his person. ]
You. I know you. [ Shit, how is she going to make this convincing? ] Uh... "here's looking at you, kid"?
[ He straightens up in his seat, angling back against the vinyl to peer to her as she slides out of her failed stealth and into his proper eyesight. In a quick observation, there's something particular suspicious about her, aside from that gun at her hip which signals she most likely isn't a local, since the more defensive people around here seem to so far have been ones that aren't exactly here on purpose.
But she provides an explanation fast simply by speaking up, subtle familiarity caught in her voice and quickly confirmed with that quote, prompting an almost instant huff of quiet amusement before giving her another look, a more careful one now that he's connected her identity. ]
Judy. [ He pairs it with a nod as if that were actually her name, as if it all clicks together now that the mystery trivia woman has been paired with a face, none of it having been sketched in his mind prior, but finding a believable match in her casual posture and awkward introduction.
He brings his mug to his lips, a slow slip there as his eyes remain on her, a brief lick following across the seam of his mouth. ] Of all the diners in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine.
[ Almost reflexively, Wynonna moves to correct him on the name β but then she remembers that his actual taste in movies hadn't been the only topic that had come up that night, when they'd both been disadvantaged with the loss of one sense and somehow found a route of conversation to pass the time right up until the ringing of the bell that had forced them to part ways. No, with the mask of relative anonymity on her side she'd shed some of her tendencies to skirt the truth, to evade sincerity in favor of witty quips and biting repartee. (Okay, there'd been plenty of those, too; she's still her, after all.)
Her hip cocks out to one side, free hand bracing against the other as fingers tap out a brief, idle rhythm above her holster, and instead of offering him her real name right away she decides to get a solid look at him instead, distinct features she can finally discern from a frontal angle. ]
Cute. [ She's referring to his continuation of their banter, technically, that casual exchange of quotes prompting a brief upturn at one side of her mouth before she shifts her gaze to some distant point, unable to shake the sense that she's being measured the longer she stands here β so she'll just have to sit down instead. ]
May I? [ Without waiting for him to reply she slips into the booth on the other side of the table, wriggling her hips until she can situate herself directly across from him. ] Town's pretty small, in case you hadn't noticed. I guess we were bound to run into each other sooner or later.
[ He hadn't actually expected to encounter her again, as small as the town happens to be, if only because he hadn't considered he'd still be here for as long as he has, each day somehow extending into the other with no steps forward on either how to actually leave or even figuring out whether Amy had ended up here with him too. Seemingly, he was on his own, one amongst multiple others with no clear explanation as to how they landed in this town or why it's apparently complicated to simply go past its borders.
The bizzare forced dating setup he'd been thrown into had just been one mystery of many, another which could be considered solved now in terms of the identity of one of the women who'd ended up in that predicament with him. Whether that proves actually useful towards solving any of his higher prioritized problems was still a floating question. ]
Yeah, be my guest. [ He mutters once she's already seated herself on her own invitation, nothing actually showcasing a welcome in his town, instead lingering more in disinterest, a return to the state he'd been when she'd first sat across a table from him.
At least this time he had the advantage of his eyes, keeping a steady observation of her, movements, ticks, hints of whatever he might have missed in their first encounter. ] Well, to be honest, was kind of hoping I wouldn't overstay my welcome so β [ He shrugs his shoulders, a slight wave given a passing waitress to refill his already emptied cup. ] No offense, but I wasn't really banking on, you know, this happening again.
[ Truth be told, she'd just been trying to work up the nerve to kickstart her bike up and find the fastest route to riding the hell out of here; what she hadn't counted on was being mysteriously lured into the center of town against her will and being shot up with the love bug, the latter of which had seriously knocked her out longer than she'd expected. Somehow, a poorly-timed confession of affection has yet to be the worst thing she's ever done while drinking, but the morning after had been on par with some of her worst hangovers in the history of her adult life and then some. Unsurprisingly, that's pushed back her timetable somewhat.
At least she'd gotten her sight back at the end of it all, though the same can't necessarily be said for some of her dignity.
The waitress pops back around to refill his cup and Wynonna registers that she's still holding onto hers, sliding it out towards the edge of the table in silent request for a similar refresh before bringing it back in front of herself and adding nothing; she'll only be waiting for the dark liquid to cool down sufficiently in order to take those first few sips. Not that that ever completely stops her from burning her top lip on occasion. ]
None taken. I keep meaning to leave, you know, and then β [ She shrugs her shoulders, nails idly moving against the edge of her mug in a brief, staccato tinkling. ] Shit happened. Keeps happening. It's weird.
[ She lifts her eyes to his face then, leaning into the back of the vinyl seat and assuming more of a slumped posture. ] I can't really shake the feeling that this place wants us to stick around.
[ It's strange to put a face to the woman now, after familiarizing himself, albeit unintentionally, to her voice, one that had seemingly bypassed a few of the standard placement of guards by striking up a prolonged conversation. But there's little chance of that happening again, not when she's now positioned as something far more real than before, distinguishable with the long dark curls falling over her shoulders, sharp cheekbones bringing a focus to the light of her eyes.
He takes another long sip, the heat of the liquid prickling at his tongue but doing little to stop him from taking in a satisfying gulp.
Licking at his lips, he lets his gaze float out to the rest of the diner, bouncing between the patrons as if taking in a vague observation of all of his surroundings, still managing to keep her at the corner of his eye. ]
Well, I thought they dragged us here just for a quick date before letting us be on our way. Course they want us sticking around. They want us for something. All that weird shit is probably just to keep us distracted from figuring out what that is.
[ The whole situation feels surreal β but then again, that's been the nature of this whole damn place since she arrived, literally emerging out of a dream and somehow ending up in a town full of more weird vibes than she's ever sensed from Purgatory. What makes it even freakier is how normal everyone seems to find it, not keeping their heads down or staying willfully ignorant. They've accepted that this place is weird and they're going to deal with it, which is more than she can say for anyone back home who wasn't on Team Earp or... well, Nedley.
She doesn't move to sip from her coffee right away, instead cradling the mug between both hands solely for the comfort of it, the ceramic warm against her lifelines.
It's a small comfort, but she'll take what she can get right now.
Her gaze drops down to those dark contents when his drifts elsewhere, partly to disguise the subtle quirking in her mouth when he leads with that sarcasm. ] But you're not planning on staying long enough to find that out.
[ It isn't as if he suspects her specifically, pretty convinced she really is just stuck in this strange circumstance as much as he is, but it doesn't make him any less eager to remain fairly detached from those he's come to meet, already regretting how he'd slipped just slightly with her at that first meeting.
He won't repeat the mistake again. ]
Look, whatever's going on around here β [ He gives a broad shrug, head shaking as his lips curve tight together. ] I don't have time for it. There's something I gotta take care of. Something more important. Time sensitive, I guess.
You're not even the least bit curious? [ Even as the question leaves her, she recognizes the fact that it's probably a pointless one to be posing β at least to him. Every part of his body spells disinterest, and she doesn't know him well enough to take offense at it or believe any of it is directed specifically towards her, but she also can't help thinking that his efforts to ditch this place are going to prove ultimately pointless.
But she also hasn't worked up the determination on her end to try, so she can't fault him for his motivations. Eventually, she takes a sip of coffee, lightly grimacing; maybe some sugar will help improve things there, and she stretches out a hand to grab it. ]
Yeah, well, you and me both, buddy. [ And if she had to take a guess, she'd venture that only one of them is probably a legit end-of-the-world scenario; thinking about what the rest of her friends are facing back home without her right now turns her expression somewhat reflective, distant. Bulshar's already taken too much from her and her family for her to up and vanish now, of all times. ] How crucial is your deadline?
It's got nothing to do with me. [ At least it shouldn't, aside from the very fact that he'd been dragged her by whatever it is that has dragged them all. He imagines it's got nothing to really do with her either, or any of the rest of them, which doesn't exactly grant him any special privileges with regards to this situation.
When he takes another drink of his own coffee, it lacks all the sugar and creamer and he basks in that deep bitterness rolling down his throat. ]
Crucial. [ He can guess that not everyone came here voluntary, all in the midst of whatever personal issues they have going about wherever they come from. He hasn't bothered to ask about it; everyone's got their shit. She hasn't necessarily asked for details, but he shrugs, looking at the liquid in his cup when he adds, ] There's a girl. Little girl. She needs my help. Some ... some people are after her, and I've β I've got to keep her safe.
But β you heard what it said in the dream, right? With the deer?
[ She feels ridiculous even saying it out loud β and all of a sudden, sitting here with him, she's struck by the overwhelming concern that he's going to start looking at her like a crazy person, the way it happened for most of her goddamn childhood, and the onset of what that dredges up is so strong that she takes another sip of her coffee just to hide anything in her expression.
By the time she lowers the mug back down to the table, she's recovered herself again. ] Whatever we're here for, they need us for something. Not that I even have the slightest idea what that something is.
[ But they also can't fight what they don't know about, and when he mentions what his own personal mission is back home she absently gnaws at the inside of her cheek, exhaling softly. ] Shit. Okay, yeah, yours β yours sounds pretty close to DEFCON 5. Wait, is that the bad one? I can never remember.
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action; diner buffoonery
Sure, there are touchstones that feel more familiar than most, because while she's working up the nerve to test how far she can go outside of town limits she's scoured every inch of the house she woke up in to find that she's somehow been given a place to stay that reminds her of the old homestead in more ways than one. And sure, she's got to actually venture into the main part of town in order to score a semi-decent cup of coffee, of which there are two places that currently serve it but only one that offers obscenely good breakfast food even if the caffeine options are more meh.
So maybe she finds herself here more often than not, tucking herself into one of the booths running along the side of the place by those large windows so she can keep an eye on her bike while she eats. She's not anticipating that anyone will try to jack it when she's sitting right here, but you never know.
Eventually, she'll just be nursing that cup of coffee between her hands, body twisted in the seat so she can stretch one leg out across the cushion in front of her, one elbow propped on the table and the remnants of today's breakfast (bacon, eggs and soggy pancakes that she'd only half-eaten) pushed away from their position in front of her. Maybe today will be the day she decides to finally get the hell out of Dodge, she thinks to herself, idly glancing up toward the front door as it opens and a guy she's never seen walks in. That part doesn't come as a surprise; she's realized she recognizes absolutely no one from home and has almost gotten used to the expectation of unfamiliar faces greeting her at every turn, but her gaze idly tracks him from above the rim of her mug as he stops at the front for a quick survey of the place before he chooses her direction to head in, ambling down the rows of taken and available seats. ]
no subject
Frank chooses a much earlier hour today, coat heavy on his shoulders, boots stomping lightly across the linoleum as he peers with quick glances at the booths to find an empty space.
His gaze falls upon hers then, briefly, a quick meeting of light eyes peering up from beneath dark brows, and he offers her a subtle nod, simple and polite only because she's looking his way, but he doesn't wait to see what kind of response she might give in turn. Instead, he slips into the booth just past her, sliding onto the cushion connected on the opposite side of her seat, the closest empty spot without having to venture further across the diner.
If he'd meant for this to be an experiment of testing speed, this morning slot offers the best success and it's only a few minutes waiting in which he slides out of his coat, resting back comfortably in a black long-sleeved henley, before a waitress approaches his table, her notepad almost immediately at the ready. ]
Mornin', ma'am. Uh, how's about three eggs over easy and sourdough toast. Side of bacon. [ He rolls up his sleeves, chin nodding up to gesture at the visible pot brewing behind the counter. ] And a constant stream of that coffee whenever you get a chance, thank you.
no subject
But he passes on by and slides into the booth adjacent to her own, an accompanying sound of fabric swooshing across the vinyl, and Wynonna returns her attention to her coffee, wondering if it's even worth asking for a refill β or maybe she can get the waitress to just freshen up her cup a little, given that the contents of her mug are starting to go lukewarm.
She's mid-sip when the voice behind her almost prompts a total spit-take; she does dribble some coffee out of her mouth, instantly swiping her free hand beneath her lower lip to catch the drops before fumbling for a couple napkins in the dispenser at the table and hurriedly glancing down to check that she hasn't completely leaked it all over her top. There's only one other place she's heard that voice and, as if just to make damn sure she's not hearing things, she closes her eyes for the last few pieces of it, a small furrow deepening between her brows.
A wordless curse drops from her mouth and of freaking course that's the moment when the same waitress comes by with a nod towards her table and an offer to top her off from a freshly-made pot of coffee. ] What? Oh, yeah, sure, fine. Knock yourself out.
[ It's not until she's left alone that Wynonna slowly, carefully, tries to peer back over her shoulder without alerting him to her movements, but between her big-ass gun in its holster and the fact that leather is a very noisy material, she can't be as stealthy here as she wants to in getting a good look at her mystery blind date for the first time. ]
no subject
Fairly soon after he's left to his own, licking at his lips the drag the leftover splash of heated liquid into his mouth, that he picks up on that obnoxious high-pitched rub from just behind him, indicating movement. He doesn't turn, doesn't signal any level of attention on his end, save for the casual lift of his knife from its placement on the napkin, tilting it slowly upright for a titled angle that reflects the visual behind him.
It's only a small peek, just a miniature mirror of the woman's turned head, how she seems to be curious for his direction now more than her own. She'd been looking at him before, but he'd passed it as just a standard glaze, naturally at someone who'd just stepped in while alerting the ringing of a bell. But now, there's seemingly more to it.
He doesn't shift where he sits, save for a sight that's slightly heavier, sinking his shoulders a little further into the seat. ] Looking for some ketchup, lady?
no subject
In fact, she's peering so closely that she doesn't realize she's the one being spoken to at first, until the silence stretches between his question and no answer and Wynonna glances around to see if there's someone standing behind her β because there sure as hell isn't anyone in front of him.
Oh. Oh, he means her.
Well, she's just going to go and pretend like she hasn't been caught staring and slide out from her seat with a supplementing thump of her heavy boots against the floor, bracing one hand against the table to leverage herself up into standing before walking over to stand on the other side of his booth. She's still holding her coffee cup in one hand, half-gesturing with the index finger that lifts up from the rounded ceramic to motion towards his person. ]
You. I know you. [ Shit, how is she going to make this convincing? ] Uh... "here's looking at you, kid"?
no subject
But she provides an explanation fast simply by speaking up, subtle familiarity caught in her voice and quickly confirmed with that quote, prompting an almost instant huff of quiet amusement before giving her another look, a more careful one now that he's connected her identity. ]
Judy. [ He pairs it with a nod as if that were actually her name, as if it all clicks together now that the mystery trivia woman has been paired with a face, none of it having been sketched in his mind prior, but finding a believable match in her casual posture and awkward introduction.
He brings his mug to his lips, a slow slip there as his eyes remain on her, a brief lick following across the seam of his mouth. ] Of all the diners in all the towns in all the world, you walk into mine.
no subject
Her hip cocks out to one side, free hand bracing against the other as fingers tap out a brief, idle rhythm above her holster, and instead of offering him her real name right away she decides to get a solid look at him instead, distinct features she can finally discern from a frontal angle. ]
Cute. [ She's referring to his continuation of their banter, technically, that casual exchange of quotes prompting a brief upturn at one side of her mouth before she shifts her gaze to some distant point, unable to shake the sense that she's being measured the longer she stands here β so she'll just have to sit down instead. ]
May I? [ Without waiting for him to reply she slips into the booth on the other side of the table, wriggling her hips until she can situate herself directly across from him. ] Town's pretty small, in case you hadn't noticed. I guess we were bound to run into each other sooner or later.
no subject
The bizzare forced dating setup he'd been thrown into had just been one mystery of many, another which could be considered solved now in terms of the identity of one of the women who'd ended up in that predicament with him. Whether that proves actually useful towards solving any of his higher prioritized problems was still a floating question. ]
Yeah, be my guest. [ He mutters once she's already seated herself on her own invitation, nothing actually showcasing a welcome in his town, instead lingering more in disinterest, a return to the state he'd been when she'd first sat across a table from him.
At least this time he had the advantage of his eyes, keeping a steady observation of her, movements, ticks, hints of whatever he might have missed in their first encounter. ] Well, to be honest, was kind of hoping I wouldn't overstay my welcome so β [ He shrugs his shoulders, a slight wave given a passing waitress to refill his already emptied cup. ] No offense, but I wasn't really banking on, you know, this happening again.
no subject
At least she'd gotten her sight back at the end of it all, though the same can't necessarily be said for some of her dignity.
The waitress pops back around to refill his cup and Wynonna registers that she's still holding onto hers, sliding it out towards the edge of the table in silent request for a similar refresh before bringing it back in front of herself and adding nothing; she'll only be waiting for the dark liquid to cool down sufficiently in order to take those first few sips. Not that that ever completely stops her from burning her top lip on occasion. ]
None taken. I keep meaning to leave, you know, and then β [ She shrugs her shoulders, nails idly moving against the edge of her mug in a brief, staccato tinkling. ] Shit happened. Keeps happening. It's weird.
[ She lifts her eyes to his face then, leaning into the back of the vinyl seat and assuming more of a slumped posture. ] I can't really shake the feeling that this place wants us to stick around.
no subject
He takes another long sip, the heat of the liquid prickling at his tongue but doing little to stop him from taking in a satisfying gulp.
Licking at his lips, he lets his gaze float out to the rest of the diner, bouncing between the patrons as if taking in a vague observation of all of his surroundings, still managing to keep her at the corner of his eye. ]
Well, I thought they dragged us here just for a quick date before letting us be on our way. Course they want us sticking around. They want us for something. All that weird shit is probably just to keep us distracted from figuring out what that is.
no subject
She doesn't move to sip from her coffee right away, instead cradling the mug between both hands solely for the comfort of it, the ceramic warm against her lifelines.
It's a small comfort, but she'll take what she can get right now.
Her gaze drops down to those dark contents when his drifts elsewhere, partly to disguise the subtle quirking in her mouth when he leads with that sarcasm. ] But you're not planning on staying long enough to find that out.
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He won't repeat the mistake again. ]
Look, whatever's going on around here β [ He gives a broad shrug, head shaking as his lips curve tight together. ] I don't have time for it. There's something I gotta take care of. Something more important. Time sensitive, I guess.
no subject
But she also hasn't worked up the determination on her end to try, so she can't fault him for his motivations. Eventually, she takes a sip of coffee, lightly grimacing; maybe some sugar will help improve things there, and she stretches out a hand to grab it. ]
Yeah, well, you and me both, buddy. [ And if she had to take a guess, she'd venture that only one of them is probably a legit end-of-the-world scenario; thinking about what the rest of her friends are facing back home without her right now turns her expression somewhat reflective, distant. Bulshar's already taken too much from her and her family for her to up and vanish now, of all times. ] How crucial is your deadline?
no subject
When he takes another drink of his own coffee, it lacks all the sugar and creamer and he basks in that deep bitterness rolling down his throat. ]
Crucial. [ He can guess that not everyone came here voluntary, all in the midst of whatever personal issues they have going about wherever they come from. He hasn't bothered to ask about it; everyone's got their shit. She hasn't necessarily asked for details, but he shrugs, looking at the liquid in his cup when he adds, ] There's a girl. Little girl. She needs my help. Some ... some people are after her, and I've β I've got to keep her safe.
no subject
[ She feels ridiculous even saying it out loud β and all of a sudden, sitting here with him, she's struck by the overwhelming concern that he's going to start looking at her like a crazy person, the way it happened for most of her goddamn childhood, and the onset of what that dredges up is so strong that she takes another sip of her coffee just to hide anything in her expression.
By the time she lowers the mug back down to the table, she's recovered herself again. ] Whatever we're here for, they need us for something. Not that I even have the slightest idea what that something is.
[ But they also can't fight what they don't know about, and when he mentions what his own personal mission is back home she absently gnaws at the inside of her cheek, exhaling softly. ] Shit. Okay, yeah, yours β yours sounds pretty close to DEFCON 5. Wait, is that the bad one? I can never remember.