lowtohigh | [for Jayden] cara mio addio

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lowtohigh

Me.

[That requires her to ponder a moment as she drifts along beside him. Pondering also requires her to lean her head against his shoulder again for a moment.]

I can't tell if that's complimentary or just depressing.

From:

immigrantpunk

[He snorts, glancing down at her when she leans against him.]

What's wrong with being nice?

From:

lowtohigh

[Wrinkling her nose is an incredibly old habit. She barely notices she does it anymore.]

It's-- a little reductive, firstly. And, personally? It just-- stands in. For-- [Her hand waves absently.] This idea of following where you're supposed to. Giving up some of your agency. 'Kind' and 'friendly' and 'considerate' I can get behind, but... 'nice' feels like giving something up.

From:

immigrantpunk

Oh.

[He's a little stumped by this. He gets what she's saying, he thinks. But he wants to ask what's wrong with following where you're supposed to, and he senses that won't be taken well. It's an American thing, he knows, the importance of striking out and being your own person, etc etc. He's gotten that plenty in school, but not so much at home, especially not lately.

But it's probably much easier to tell her what she wants to hear.]

Okay, you seem kind and friendly and considerate to me. And smart.

[Might as well add that last one in, because it's true. He sure knows a lot more about sharks and octopi than he did this morning.]

Edited Date: 2015-02-03 05:09 pm (UTC)

From:

lowtohigh

[With any luck, they'll be drunk again soon. In all likelihood, they'll be much better able then to dive into the ravine which comes between a first and second generation in a nation like this one.

For now, rolling with her opinion seems like the best way to get them back toward drunk together later.]

Sweet of you to say. [Her elbow nudges slightly against his ribs as she watches their order being pulled together.] You, though. Could definitely stand to be a lot less nervous.

From:

immigrantpunk

[That is what he wants, more alcohol, although the formalities are fine too. It's all fine, really, she's a girl he likes when he's sober, too. He wasn't 100% sure that would be the case, but it is. He laughs sheepishly, rubbing at his chest where she elbowed him, even though it didn't hurt.]

Sorry. I guess I wanted to impress you.

From:

lowtohigh

To impress me? [There's absolutely a bright laugh for that.] So why didn't you say you wanted to-- be a Grand Prix driver? Or an astronaut?

From:

immigrantpunk

[He laughs too, because it never would have occurred to him to say something so outrageous.]

Because then I'd be lying.

[He's only really selective with his lies, apparently.]

From:

lowtohigh

[Well. That lights her up completely. Sober mouth-kisses are still a bit farther away, but he's getting a firm smack of one against his cheek for that one.

Danger, Will Robinson.]

'Honest' is a hell of a lot better than 'nice.' Or being an astronaut.

From:

immigrantpunk

[Oh. Heh. He should be alerted to the danger, but he's not thinking 100% with his brain.]

Well, then. I'll keep that in mind.

[He tries to slip an arm around her waist, just to test those particular waters.]

From:

lowtohigh

Can't promise it'll work on every girl you meet. [But she's not brushing him off. She's absolutely settling just a hair closer against his side as his arm sneaks into place.] But it's a pretty good rule of thumb. Definitely when you go on your wife hunt.

[Which she can't quite say without being a hair sarcastic, but such is life.]

From:

immigrantpunk

[Awwwww yeeahhhhh he's feeling so manly right now. He totally knows how to woo a woman.]

Well. I'm not hunting for a wife yet.

[Although he does want to find one before his mother makes good on the threat to arrange a marriage for him. But that's a few years away at least. Their order gets called and Jayden steps up to grab the bag for them, then nods toward a booth.]

How's this?

From:

lowtohigh

Perfect. [And perfect that he carry the oh-so-heavy bag. It gives her a moment to wrap her hair back up into a ponytail while sliding into the booth.] Back to sober truths. Something embarrassing.

From:

immigrantpunk

[He sits across from her pulls their orders out of the bag. He slides hers over to her and unwraps his own burger.]

Uhhhh... hmm.

[He bites into his burger and chews, then laughs a little nervously.]

I didn't know the English word for "frying pan" until I was like twelve.

From:

lowtohigh

[She shouldn't make fun of language learners. She knows deeply she shouldn't further impede confidence in second and third and so on languages.

So she manages not to laugh, but she can't quite hide the bright smile on her lips. Biting down on the lower one doesn't mitigate it much.] I mean-- It's not a super important word. How d'you say it in Russian?

From:

immigrantpunk

[Yeah, he notices.]

It's okay, you can laugh. It's skovoroda.

[He navigates the syllables with native ease, then shrugs helplessly.]

It was just one of those things that never really came up when I was a kid, you know? Seems like such an easy thing to know, but I didn't even realize till I was at a friend's house and we needed one for something. I kept going, "Where's the skovoroda?" and my friend kept looking at me like I was crazy until I was finally like, "That's not English, is it?"

[He laughs again, because what is even going on with the bilingual brain, he doesn't know.]

From:

lowtohigh

[It's a kinder laugh than not, at least, still half-masked by ducking her head for a moment.]

Skovoroda. [The repetition has an obvious accent to it, of course; just slightly not the accent her English-speaking voice has.] I guess it happens. Hell did you need a frying pan for, though?

From:

immigrantpunk

[He grins at her attempt.]

Not bad. I don't even remember. I think we were hungry. You can't really mess up scrambled eggs at any age, right?

[He takes another bite of burger.]

Okay, your turn. Embarrassing fact.

From:

lowtohigh

Ugh. [Of course, she had no one to blame but herself for getting into this conversation. It always made her laugh, but it always inevitably got turned back.

And it was so hard to pick when it took so much effort to embarrass her.]

I'm... hm. I'm still a little afraid of the dark. I don't-- sleep well unless I have-- this little lion my dad gave me when I was three in bed with me. It's-- I don't know about embarrassing? But definitely guys have gotten awkward about it.

From:

immigrantpunk

[Guys, huh? Jayden deliberately keeps chewing like that isn't a big deal, but he's suddenly hyperaware of the fact that no girls have seen the state of his bedroom as of yet.]

I dunno, I think that would depend on how cute it is.

From:

lowtohigh

[It would come with time. It would probably also come with not being a teenager in his parents' house. Probably.]

Thank you. [Clearly points are being racked up left and right here.] For the record, it's adorable.

From:

immigrantpunk

[One can only hope. He snorts.]

I'll have to take your word for it.

[His smile is a little mischievous.]

From:

lowtohigh

[There might be some mistaking the slight quirk of her brow as something other than salacious. There's much less capability to mistake the slight lick of her lips, likely.

But then it's all lost in another bite of her burger.] What about you? What're you scared of?

From:

immigrantpunk

[...He is so distracted by her lips he nearly misses her next question.]

Oh, um. I dunno. I try not to stress about too much. [He makes a face.] That's not a good answer, is it?

From:

lowtohigh

Literally the worst answer you could give.

[Which means she's just going to keep staring at him intently, tearing off little bites of her burger to munch on until he comes up with something better.]