[for Jayden] cara mio addio

[lowtohigh]

She wakes up most mornings fully convinced of the fact that she's done with silly, stupid mistakes. She ends a statistically significant number of days having managed to maintain that in the most important arenas.

But it's not every day.

And it's certainly not every night. There are still nights when the idea of sitting at home and doing work drives her up a wall--when the idea of going to see her brother for a 'classy' evening of wasting money on something 'useful' like the arts feels just as terrible as sitting home alone. There are nights when she asks the driver to wait around the corner and pretend he doesn't know where she's going so she can actually breathe deep something other than the rigidity of the life she's been building since Elisha returned and got her back on track.

There can't be anything so wrong with it, surely. It rarely, if ever, bleeds back over into her days. She always drags herself out of bed in the morning, whether she'd fallen into it at 10pm or 4am the night before. She always sits through classes and shows up for work with the same fierce, determined smile. She barely ever thinks of what might have happened the night before once she's got herself set for forward motion again.

Admittedly, sometimes she gets texts at work from numbers she definitely hadn't gotten at the university or the lab or any of her brother's little get-togethers. Jayden's number certainly didn't come from any vetted point of contact. It surprises her, really, how easy it is to extend something of her daytime self to a nighttime number. It's not a line she's really ever blurred before.

But he's coming to the aquarium. She's invited him. Almost like sleepwalking, she's explained to her supervisor that she wants a floor shift out in the actual building rather than holed away doing research. Idly scanning the crowd at the building's tall cement entrance, she wonders vaguely if she's even recognizable like this--flat shoes, hair tied tightly back, barely a stitch of makeup on and her wits obviously about her.

It's entirely possible he'll just walk straight past her. There are large signs for the penguins near the door, after all.

Comments

thanks, VICTORY IS MINE FINALLY \o/

[immigrantpunk]

[Jayden nods, although his eyes wander around their surroundings as she talks. He is listening, though. Giant sharks are interesting.]

What happened to them? Why did they go extinct?

[It would be pretty sick if they were still around.]

/TOP GUN HIGHFIVES

[lowtohigh]

[She knows when she's being ignored. This doesn't strictly feel like it. His wandering eyes do, however, mean she's going to catch his sleeve again to drag him properly toward the floor-to-ceiling tank with the largest sharks--largely surrounded by elementary school children.]

You know, there's a few theories, but most experts can't agree on which makes most sense. Generally? We blame either the ice age, the extinction of large enough whales for them to eat, or maybe--maybe--new competition from orca whales. [Wait for it.] Killer whales. Like 'Free Willy.'

WOOOOOO

[immigrantpunk]

[Whoops, he goes in the direction of her sleeve tug and bumps into her lightly.]

Sorry.

[Now he's distracted by the shark tank.]

Are you saying orca whales might have killed off the giant prehistoric sharks? That's pretty bamf.

[Free Willy, he never knew.]

[lowtohigh]

['Bamf,' and yet not 'Free Willy.' What a world.

The shake of her head is slight. Bumping is far from the worst offense in the world. At least this bump isn't accompanied by any actual shoving or grabbing. Children--and men in clubs--get a little tiresome with that.]

Maybe. And, honestly, it would probably have been more the depletion of the food supply. But... still pretty badass, I guess. [And another tug. She's in a mood to be directive today, clearly.] C'mon.

[immigrantpunk]

[Starvation sounds less badass than being eaten alive by orca whales, in his opinion. But that might be because growing up his parents reminded him that life in the USSR often included the real possibility of such things. Very effective in getting a kid to eat his vegetables.

He is perfectly fine with being tugged around by a direct older girl. No complaints from him.]

Where we going now?

[lowtohigh]

To see my babies.

[Which takes a moment to actually reach her own ears, apparently, because after a second she does wrinkle her nose at herself.]

Metaphorically. I work mostly with the cephalopods, so-- they're a lot closer to my heart.

[And not kept with the sharks, clearly.]

[immigrantpunk]

[He laughs a little at her choice of words.]

You really do care a lot about this stuff, huh?

[It's admirable, doing what you love... and being able to.]

[lowtohigh]

[Finding marine biology had been a lucky thing. Not having to worry about money by the accident of birth was, in a technical sense, also a very lucky thing. It's all certainly come together to make her incredibly happy and relaxed despite staring down the barrel of lots of graduate degrees and ultimately low-paying prospects.

She's certainly happy and relaxed now, fingers tapping a gentle tattoo against Jayden's wrist as she guides them between veritable piles of swarming children.] I do. I mean-- It's not glamorous, but-- it's important. And it's... how my brain works. Like-- I mean, what are you studying?

[As, you know, a fellow college student and grown-up person.]

[immigrantpunk]

[His mind is far too focused on the feeling of her fingers on his wrist than her words. Which is why he seems a bit startled when she suddenly throws a question his way. What is he studying? Right now, college applications.]

Uh, engineering.

[At least that's what he wants to go into, assuming colleges take him and don't charge him too much money.]

[lowtohigh]

[At least he's aspiring toward something she doesn't know a huge amount about. There won't be a lot of hard hitting questions about anything--with the possible exceptions of faint ones about bioengineering.]

Really? Awesome. And, you know-- I bet you're a huge nerd about-- [The hand not holding onto his waves vaguely at the universe.] --risk analysis and-- tolerance and all that. Right?

[immigrantpunk]

[Thank heaven for small favors. He knows he should probably come clean with her, as there is no way he can play dumb about her thinking he's in college now. But he fears that would go over like a lead balloon and so he just nods.]

Yep. That's totally me.

[Or maybe it will be one day. Just give it a couple of years.]

[lowtohigh]

[Ah, the escalation to actual lying. Such a slippery slope he's chosen to plant his feet firmly on.

But it's also a slope that's got Eileen beaming, fingers squeezing at his wrist.]

See? Same thing. Besides, no offense? But sharks and octopodes are about a thousand times cooler than the mechanics of resource management.

blech again the holidays stole me away, back now~

[immigrantpunk]

[Jayden is good at these things, the unintentional decisions that will likely lead to unforeseen consequences of perhaps colossal proportions. He's not exactly thinking that through right now.

Her smile is infectious, besides.]

I bet they are.

[And he's going to press his luck and try to slip his fingers through hers. Just, you know, as an experiment.]

No worries! And happy 2015! \o/

[lowtohigh]

They are. You'll see.

[Since it's clearly for science--and, much more, since they've passed into the slightly darkened room full of octopods and squids--Eileen's fingers twine loosely in with Jayden's. She'll realize she's still technically at work soon, probably, but for now she's just got her hand squeezing tight around his.]

Like-- look. I know designing things is neat, but-- look at these guys.

[There are many fewer kids crowding the giant Pacific octopus' tank than there had been around the sharks, making the large creature busily engaged in tossing about a Rubix cube much easier to see.]

thanks, you too!

[immigrantpunk]

[This dimmer room is certainly nicer, but maybe that's due to her positive response to the physical contact. Hot older girl, hot smart older girl, yeah okay he digs all this. This doesn't feel awkward, but rather natural. Jayden leans closer to the glass – and to her. He still smells faintly like the cigarette he smoked before entering the building.]

Whoooa. Why's he got a Rubix cube?

[lowtohigh]

[It's an incredibly positive reinforcement. Her nose wrinkles unconsciously at the familiar scent of a recent cigarette, but the synapses ultimately fired are pleasantly confused into warm memories of her brother coming to kiss her goodnight smelling exactly the same way.

There's no need to unpackage that now. Her mind is much better used at the moment for talking about one of the only things she loves more than the sharks they were just watching.]

Because he's got a big ol' brain on him. [Technical science term, clearly.] Most incredibly intelligent animals that are kept in captivity get ridiculously bored, you know? We do a lot of cycling though different toys and puzzles for them to keep them from going completely neurotic in such small tanks. Live prey helps, but things like the cube that take time to understand are great for keeping them happy.

[immigrantpunk]

Huh.

[He had no idea octopi were that smart. Congrats, Eileen, Jayden's already learning so much under your tutelage.]

Can he solve it?

[Aren't Rubix cubes supposed to be notoriously difficult to figure out? Are you tell him that an octopus might be smarter than a human, what is this witchcraft.]

[lowtohigh]

He'll figure out how it moves. Like-- [Her fingers give a slight shake to unlike from his so she can mime the process of twisting a Rubix cube around between her own hands.] --get a handle for shifting it. Then, knowing this guy, he'll probably just start hiding it from us before he gets bored of it.

[There's amazingly distracting properties to talking about this sort of thing. It stops her from thinking as her fingers return to lace properly with his again.]

And we'll have to find something else to keep his brain twitching. They're a lot of work to keep up with.

[immigrantpunk]

[He lets her hand go, a little disappointed, but watches her intently all the same.]

I really didn't know they were that smart.

[lowtohigh]

They're seriously brainy. Like-- mammalian brain proportions brainy. And, you know, there's lots of evidence to suggest that the nervous system in their arms actually operates independently off their central brain.

[Which is more than he probably wanted to know about octopus brains--and yet, barely the tip of the iceberg of knowledge Eileen is clearly ready to impart.

Except for the whole being-at-work thing, which has finally sunk back into her own mammalian brain.] I'm rambling. 'm sorry. [Hopefully there's a better apology in the smack of her lips briefly firm against his cheek.] Will you be okay on your own for like-- half an hour while I wrap things up here?

[immigrantpunk]

[Yes... yes, that apology definitely carries weight. It's a good thing it's dark in here, because he flushes. He ducks his head a little, a self-conscious smile crossing his lips.]

I think I can entertain myself, yeah. Should I meet you somewhere?

[lowtohigh]

[Thank goodness teenage boys and college boys often still have the same nervous reaction to pretty girls. His age remains absolutely safely in the obscurity of his lie despite the air of sheepishness sticking to him from a kiss on the cheek.]

Right out front. Same place. I'll be as quick as I can, promise.

[immigrantpunk]

[He's just not as smooth with girls as he likes to think he is, unfortunately.]

Okay, cool. See you then.

[lowtohigh]

[He's pretty terrible with girls. He's definitely pretty terrible with smart, pretty girls. Thankfully, for some reason, it's more endearing than off-putting in Eileen's mind.

She leaves him with another tiny squeeze of his wrist--and she does seem to rush, if her slight breathlessness when she comes to find him again is to be trusted. Then again, the breathlessness might be for the apparently superheroic transformation--it's slightly possible that she ran into a phone booth in her uniform and then popped back out like this: hair down and tousled, shirt back to low cut and clinging, heels making her a more respectable height and makeup actually thrown on with a light touch.

He won't object to her greeting him by grabbing his hand again, right?]

[immigrantpunk]

[No objections here! He turns and certainly seems to notice the transformation, his gaze wandering to the low cut of her shirt before meeting her eyes again, his smile a little sheepish.]

Hey. You look great.