Oh geez! Well, it’s good that it was within the warranty!
My computer still works fine, overall, I just have to only have one thing running at a time, usually. But since I can still use it just fine when I’m writing or working (processes that only require one thing to be open, and what I usually use my computer for) I’m fine with it as is.
Just means I have to work around it’s limitations sometimes, haha.
Suddenly V is a mama bear/papa wolf figure in my mind. Yes probably not the best when it comes to baby sitting but if you mess with any of their kids you’re a dead man
Indeed. Other 2am thoughts were on angsty (re)declarations of love, dramatic kisses, and soft “I love you’s”
Hey the drawings are going to be sometime tomorrow or the next day. My TS tics spiked yesterday leaving me exhausted and I’m still trying to recover.
Sorry for the delay I usually have these kinda things up the same day.
Take your time! Don’t need to rush. 
Yay. Waiting for more Lucy and some Eileen 
Hello! Just a heads up that I’m not gonna have internet for some time so I won’t be able to respond to anything. (Though I’ll still have my computer with me so I’ll be working while I’m away! And hopefully have all the little requested extra scenes finished by the time I return, haha.)
But, yeah, if you ask me something within the next approximately 5 days and I don’t respond I want you all to know why! 
With that said-
@squarelyblue V would be the parent you never, ever want to upset the kid of. So you’re pretty spot on with that idea.
To be entirely fair, that’s also pretty accurate with how it could go with the Ex. So, again, you’re pretty spot on.
@Phoenix_Wolf Don’t worry about it! Like @Umbreonpanda said, take your time! And I hope you feel better soon!
@Vanessa_Pang I’ll probably have to put them up when I get back (sorry about that, thought I could complete them before I left, haha 
). I’ll put up all the ones I complete when I get back, though, so there should be a bit of a flood haha.
While you work on it, there better be some Lucy scenes that you’re writing.
SUDDENLY THE IMAGE OF AN ANGRY PROTECTIVE RAF
(Lord please)
(End me)
On the other side: I feel the MC physically aging if they have a kid with V since 90% of their calls would be YOU DID WHAT NOW
1/2 drawings I planned to have:
Raf and Lucy. Lucy’s smaller than canon, but I can’t get this image of her out of my head so I just drew her like this.
The next drawing will be up tomorrow and a long with this drawing touched up more.
Tangential break but current FC for Ricky is now Patrick Dempsey to me due to the surname :))
I haven’t really drawn the last few years, due to stress, depression and anxiety, but I was feeling quite sick today and pretty much just stayed in bed, so I made some quick drawings of my MC, Gabriel Summerfield.
Here he is at the time of the game, being all broody:
And way back in the early days, with his husband. (Sorry, Raf just wouldn’t look right, no matter what I did, and his hair got too long, urgh. Also, my scanner HATES coloured pencils…):
And yes, I know I draw men to look like women, you don’t have to tell me… 
I’m in the same boat. I can women, profile and bodies, but the males always come out iffy. My Raf, up there, body is too big 
You kidding me? They’re amazing!
While that’s not quite how I imagined Raf in my head, I love your Raf - all the little details are perfect!
I just have a drawing style that make men look femine, and I like to draw them skinny with long hair, so people keep calling them “her”, which get tiresome. 
Thanks! And, yeah, that’s not how I imagine him either. I just couln’t get it right, and at some point I had to say "F**k it! and just finish it anyway.
Also, could someone be a dear and explain how I quote people here?
Highlight the text you want to quote and a little pop-up should appear that says "Quote. Just hit that and it should bring up a new post for you with the quoted text.
Or you can do it the long, hard way and type it out. Just remove the spaces from the brackets.
[ quote =“usernamehere, post:111, topic11111” ]
text goes here [ /quote ]
Here’s a question for @RenaB when they (pronouns?) come back to internet land:
As I understand it Lucy and Raf both knew you in college.
Do they know each other as well?
Are they always both villains, or is it just the one the MC married?
If they are both villains, do they know each others’ identity?
Well, I’m back! I had a fairly fun trip minus one minor hiccup at the start in which there was a rather large accident up the road from us and we all ended up stuck in a dead-stop for around 2 hours. (It was okay though, everybody just got out of their cars and chatted while some people walked their dogs. I stretched, and got to say hello to some nice pups which is always a bonus! 
)
I also had time to write- which means it’s progress report time! 
I mostly worked on Daisy’s sidequest while I was away (and also the shorts which you can find at the bottom of this post here!) So that’s almost entirely done now (just about 2 1/2 more scene bites to go on that, which is good!)
I also went back and had some more ideas to flesh out some bits and pieces of the optional memories, so I added in some more skeletal code there which I’m finishing up this week since they were feeling a little… messy to me. But maybe I’m a perfectionist when it comes to writing so, eh. (Totally not avoiding Yolanda’s interview until I’m forced to work on it as the last one because it’s already almost too big to upload to dashingdon and I still have several questions to go so I know I’m gonna have to split it up or trim it down ahahaha what are you talking about that’s ridiculous…? )
But, yeah! Overall, very productive vacation. Which is good! Because I know I have more time now than I’m going to in… well, really just a week. So I want to push forward as much as possible and write as much as I can before my free time evaporates into the stratosphere. (Most likely not going to finish the update before this happens but I want to shovel through as much as I can so that I can at least finish it up quickly even after my writing time is diminished.)
But, yeah! That’s my progress report for now!
When Raf gets angry he goes quiet.
Very quiet.
And when he’s Harbinger?
It can actually be very intimidating.
But all that being said- he’s difficult to anger, since he’s normally pretty peaceful. (Though I will say this: The fastest and surest way to invoke Raf’s rage is threatening and/or otherwise harming someone he cares about.)
I can just imagine the MC being in the middle of a very important investigation and suddenly their phone rings and they pick up and all they hear on the other side is explosions and other chaos.
V is probably responsible.
Ahhh, I love them! They both looks so cute! I love Lucy’s expression- very Lucy! 
This is a good tangential break.
Especially since he was in Enchanted where he played someone who is, (and I quote from Wikipedia:) “A cynical, New York City divorce attorney who does not believe in true love or happily-ever-after.”
Cynical? Doesn’t believe in true love? Or happily-ever-after?
Sounds like Ricky.
I know this was posted a while ago since I was gone but I’m sorry you felt sick! I hope you feel better/if you don’t feel better then I hope you feel better soon!
Oooh, I love your MC! (Also those hands and those feet- I always admire well drawn full hands and feet because hot diggity damn they’re hard to draw!)
Also, weird side note: I really love the way you draw hair. It looks very flowy and just very… natural? I don’t know, I’m bad with words when it comes to stuff like this.
Oh, I love this as well! (Also- How cute! Smiles before everything went downhill… Gotta love those! 
)
Raf looks great, I’m with @Lorikeet in that these both look absolutely fantastic so if this is how you’re scanner hates colored pencils then… well, I don’t even know what to say ‘then’, because they’re just both so amazing!
If you can do profiles then I applaud you tremendously- I find profiles impossible so… wow!
Well I’m back to internet land so I’m happy to answer any questions you have! (Also, to answer your side question: “She/her” for pronouns! 
)
That is correct!
Uhh… Kinda…?
This is a tricky question since it does involve some fairly major spoilers.
But if you’re asking if they were also friends in college then the answer is ‘yes’.
Both are always villains. (I’m not sure if I should put this in a spoiler or not? It’s kinda a spoiler but at the same time… I’m… conflicted. 
)
Well, again this is a tricky question due to spoilers.
Short answer: No.
Probably too long and complicated answer: Since Valkyrie and Harbinger always exist no matter who the MC was married to- and they’re always both two of Nickelport’s top villains (#2 and #3, to be exact. With Harbinger behind Valkyrie because… well, if I’m being frank- Harbinger kills and/or injures less people. Almost all of his exploits are bloodless while Valkyrie’s are… less so.)
So, as a result Valkyrie always knows Harbinger, and Harbinger always knows Valkyrie.
… But that doesn’t mean Lucy would think of Harbinger as Rafael Darzi, nor does it mean Raf would think of Valkyrie as Lucille Pinchette.
Now, then! I promised to write some shorts while I was gone- and I did!
I sadly didn’t get to all of them, (3/5 people isn’t too bad) because for some of them I was struggling with how to avoid spoiling any major plot points. So I sadly didn’t get anything done for Lucy or Raf (but I saved them for last either way since they already have some shorts up here).
I also ended up writing two for Eileen. Mainly because I A) Wasn’t all that happy with the first one but it did give me an idea for the second one and B) the first one is more an example of her friendship but the second is more geared towards romancing her, which I wanted to write as well.
Also as a sidenote for V- V’s does contain some spoilers for a future case but I tried to keep those to a minimum. Also I wrote V’s as Vincent since that’s who was specifically asked for when the short was requested.
And my final sidenote for Jacob’s short- His is written later as a scene that would occur much later in the game. I want to try and experiment with a housing system that will actually effect certain mini-events in the MC’s life. (Nothing too major- mostly flavor text whenever the MC is at home… though I’m also playing around the idea that, since some… happenings will effect areas of Nickelport more drastically then others, having the MC be either present for those or hear about them on the news might depend on where they live at the time it happens. It’s a small touch but one I’m considering implementing either way.) Anyway, one thing I do want to implement in the house is that if the MC becomes close enough with their chosen RO, that they could actually live together, and that ROs house will become the MCs house. Jacob’s short is mostly based on me playing around with that idea some, as it would be an example of the “flavor text” style I said I was debating above…
So if you have any thoughts on whether or not you like that kinda idea, and this kinda thing, or otherwise, then be sure to let me know!
But, yeah! Enough talk- here you go!
(actually, you’re going to have to enjoy them in the next post, because I wrote too much… again.)
There’s light. So much light. You had cracked open an eye to see what soft noise it was that cradled you out of sleep, but you’re slowly regretting it, burying your head into a soft pillow- away from the light. Squishing it up around your ears- blocking out that soft humming.
Humming?
Your head snaps up again- only to fill with a blinding migraine, and you roll onto your back, rubbing weary eyes and breathing in deeply, slowly, palms grinding against you eyelids, against that pounding pain in your head. In and out, then breathe in deeply once more- it smells sweet. Like flowers, like lavender and…
Lillies.
There’s a vase of lilies, bright white and blue blooms piled high on an unfamiliar nightstand next to you. Unfamiliar? You shoot up, and that bursting pain comes back with a fury that you can’t care about right now. Your hand goes to your chest, against your racing heart as it clenches at the fabric of your shirt.
Shirt?
You’re still wearing your clothes from last night. Looking around you see that the bed is small, made only for once person in a room that looks neatly, albeit sparsely, decorated, and completely unused. The light comes from the gap between two white curtains, fluttering like ribbons underneath an AC vent. You slip onto the edge of the bed, cradling your head with your hand as you squint against the dim light. The door is closed- butterfly stickers fluttering up it’s side and past the handle. Folded neatly on the nightstand, next to the lilies, are all your items. Watch, wallet, phone. Everything is inside them… but you’re still missing something, what are you missing?
Shoes.
You find them placed neatly next to each other on the side of the bed- you’re still wearing your socks but it appears that whoever dragged you home was kind enough to remove your shoes before tucking you away. You stand, the migraine still pounding against the front of your head- making it hard to see, making it hard to think. Think. Think. Think where you are. You’re certainly not in your own house, and your certainly not the one humming, muffled by the closed door. But then, if this is the hummers house, well…
Whose?
You blink harshly, trying to dull out the pain you’re coming to realize is a severe case of hangover. Pushing the constant pulsing pain to the back of your mind, you slip on your shoes and quietly push the door open. Only to be hit by another wave of light-based pain.
Bright.
It’s so bright. As if the hallway wasn’t painted an obnoxiously cheery shade of creamy-yellow, there were skylights as well, making it even more reflectively light. But there’s hope yet- hope in the form of savory, delicious smells wafting from down the hall that pull you away from the shelter of the room and into the light. The halls are thin and narrow- townhouse style, with a few watercolor paintings and various photographs of landscapes ranging from dawn to dusk arcing across the walls. You follow the smell down a set of wooden stairs, one hand gripping the railing for support until the top-level fades away and the kitchen comes into view. A bright bob of ginger hair bouncing from fridge to stove, where eggs sizzle atop a pan. The humming is much louder now, sweet and soft and grating against your already irritated brain. But also- recognizable.
“Eileen?”
She spins around, eyes bright and happy when she spots you’re up, the humming ceases and is instead replaced by a wide grin. “Ah, you’re awake!” She deftly lifts the pan from the fire, clicking it off and placing it on a separate spot to cool down. “Come, come! You must be dehydrated- let me grab you some water!” She glances over as you warily make your way into the kitchen, “Well, sit down! Make yourself comfortable- are you hungry?” She places a cold bottle of water, fresh from the freezer, down on a black-marble counter as you slowly slide into the seat, stomach grumbling at the smell of food.
“Yes…” You have to tear your eyes away from the food and back to the water when Eileen taps the bottle lightly, she smile sympathetically, the freckles by her cheeks crinkling when she does so.
“Drink. You’re dehydrated.” She reminds you gently, turning to grab two plates from the cupboard above the stove. “I know I shouldn’t smother you,” Her smile goes a little bashful, “But… You really shouldn’t drink that much, it’s not healthy.” She laughs, “And certainly not safe. If I hadn’t been there I don’t know how you would’ve ever gotten home…”
Home… “Are we… at your house?” It certainly reeks of Eileen’s touch- everything painted very light and happy, with at least one flower tucked away into a ceramic vase on every flat surface you’ve seen.
Eileen nods, “I tried my best, really did, to get you back to your home. But you wouldn’t tell me the address so,” She shrugs, scooping a pile of eggs cooked with avocados and melting cheese within them onto one plate and placing it in front of you, “I figured this was second-best, at least.”
“You… took me home.”
“Yes.”
“To your home.”
“Yes?” Her eyebrows crinkle upward, concern flashing over her face, “I’m sorry- I didn’t know what else to do…”
“It’s fine,” You say, inhaling the warm smell of eggs, “But… well…”
Oh geez, you were that out of it? You can only imagine how you must’ve acted… even just the thought makes you groan in embarrassment, “I just hope I didn’t make a complete fool of myself.” Now, isn’t that an understatement.
Still, Eileen laughs, “Not at all! You were asleep for most of the time…” She pauses, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “Though you did drool some-”
“Oh god.”
“And you threw up a little…”
“… Have mercy.”
“But it’s fine!” She’s quick to assure you, “Please don’t worry about it at all. It all cleaned out very easily!”
You can feel practically feel the self-esteem slowly crawling away into the dark corners of your mind in mortification, “Eileen, I…” You haven’t yet touched the eggs, a fact at which your stomach growls angrily.
“Later.” Eileen shakes her head, “I didn’t make these to sit and get cold, after all!”
You’re only too happy to comply, digging into the eggs with a kind of fury you didn’t expect to have given your exhausted, hungover state. Still, they taste delicious, warm and savory, with gooey cheese seeped between. Before you know it, the plate has been scraped clean, and, almost immediately, another helping is shoveled onto your plate.
“Looks like you were hungry,” Eileen laughs, “Well, no matter, I can always make more if you finish what’s here.” She sets her own plate down, “Do you want some coffee? I always take cream and two sugars with mine- what about you?”
“I…” You trail off, watching as Eileen pauses, coffee pot in hand, smiling sweetly at you. Unconcerned. Unperturbed by the fact that she had to haul your drunk self all the way to her own home, that she made you your own room and even breakfast and you’ve done… Well, all you’ve done is bring trouble. “Why are you doing this?”
“Why?” She repeats, lips moving slowly as she feels around the word. Then her face scrunches into confusion, a lopsided purse to her mouth as her eyebrows crinkle together and she glances somewhere up in the distance. Then, with a shrug, “Well, why not?”
“But I-“
“Have been nothing but kind to me.” Her bright eyes flicker to the floor, pale face tinting a rosy red that covers up the light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. “You have… become one of the few who I can call a dear friend of mine, and for that I… cannot thank you enough.” Her head rises, a bright beam, as bright as the sunshine outside, plastered on her face, “So I suppose I wanted to repay your kindness with a little of my own… Even if it is such a small gesture.” She shrugs, gesturing to the eggs.
“It’s more than that, Eileen.” You don’t know many who would do anything more than turn a blind eye to some poor sap stumbling across the street, especially in Nickelport. “I… Thank you, really.”
“Of course!” She chirps, swinging lightly from her toe to heel, “Now, then, how do you take your coffee?"
You suppose, bitterly, that it’s no surprise when you wake up sick as a dog after your little… swim, last night. Still, you chose to blame all the official paperwork and questions that you were forced to suffer through, dripping wet and freezing to the bone- the small, barely-reach-your-hips woolen blanket they’d provided did little to combat the cold, and it soon got soaked, too.
Doesn’t make you any less bitter. Especially after the big breakthrough you’d gotten- you should be out there. On the field. Tracking down this information to its source. Getting somewhere with this case. But no, Finley was sure to put those ideas to a grinding halt when you stepped into the office, skin pallid and fever running high.
“Go home,” They said. “Take a day off to recover- it won’t kill you.” Then they’d eyed you up and down, a frown twisting at their lips when they took in your feverish, sickly complexion, “But working just might.”
Of course you know it was done to help you but… well… you’re still sour about it.
Part of you just hates feeling so weak, you can barely do anything but lie in bed and cough, cough, cough! Although, to be fair, you do occasionally sneeze, too. Variety is the spice of life, after all.
Speaking of variety- there’s a slight knock on your door, something you haven’t heard…
Something you don’t hear.
Dragging yourself out of bed, chest heaving with ragged, scratchy breathes, is hard enough. Calling out a raspy ‘one minute’ in neigh impossible. And actually shuffling your weary body, exhausted from doing nothing but lie in bed and cough, is a feat of inhuman skill. Or at least feels like it. Finally, you make it towards the door, leaning heavily against the knob as you drag it open, head hanging to the floor- moving one limb is hard enough- until you’ve finally got it all the way open.
“Oh… dear,” Eileen’s fingers press together in front of her mouth, eyebrows twisted up in concern, a small basket is hooked around her arm. “You poor, poor thing. I had heard you were sick- may I come in?” She sounds so worried, her face gone pale enough to make the light freckles dotting her cheeks even more pronounced, bright, expressive eyes shine with worry. Even standing there, radiating a minor distress on your behalf, she still seems bright and full of life.
You can’t help but smile the tiniest bit. “Of course.”
Immediately, Eileen places her hands on your shoulders, slowly guiding you towards the bed once more. “You should lie down, please, you mustn’t strain yourself.” She frets with a light touch and soft tones. You can’t help but notice, through your sickly stupor, that she’s become familiar enough with your raggedy home to move with a kind of assured confidence throughout. More than that, she’s never seemed to mind what state it’s in- even in its most messy state today, she simply makes sure you’re comfortable, then picks up stray trash- cough drop wrappers and discarded sneezed-in-tissues, and quietly disposes of them.
She places the basket down and moves to the bathroom to wash her hands, “I brought chicken soup… Though it might’ve gotten a bit cold on the way here- would it be alright if I heat it up?” Her head pops out from around the corner, you open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a raspy hack instead. You nod.
“Fantastic!” She chirps, and immediately sets to work unpacking the picnic basket she’d toted. A thermos- honeyed tea, she explains, to help with your throat-, a ceran-wrapped glass bowl of chicken soup- which goes into the microwave-, a bag of cough drops to join the mounds you’ve already prepared beside yourself, and a bright bundle of flowers. You give her a questioning look when she pulls out the flowers. Eileen’s rosy cheeks go even rosier, she shyly tucks a lock of bright orange hair behind her seashell ear and places the flowers beside you. “I’ve always thought that people get better faster when they’re happy… And so I wanted to give you something nice to look at- something to make you happy.” She sighs, “I had thought about bringing something more but I wasn’t sure what else…”
You shake your head, laying a quiet hand on top of her’s, over the flowers, “They’re… beautiful.” You just manage to choke it out, though wince almost automatically afterwards. Still, it makes Eileen break out into a bright, pleased grin, it’s worth it.
Then the microwave beeps, and breaks the moment because it seems nothing nice will last while this illness sticks around. Eileen’s hand slips from yours as she happily hums her way over to the microwave, she winces when her hands touch the edges, and sets it aside for a moment, murmuring a soft, “Let that cool a bit,” Before she snags the thermos and plops down next to you once more. “Here, try this.”
She gently hands you the thermos of tea, your hands shake a bit when they take the sides- warm, a comforting warmth. Still, you almost spill it, but manage to take a quick sip of the sweet mint drink, immediately, your throat feels better. At least to the point where you can talk.
“How is it?” Eileen wonders.
“As sweet as you are.” You grin widely- Eileen’s bashful laugh is hidden behind the back of her hand, she shakes her head.
“The first thing you say when you get your voice back…” She trails off, but still there’s no reprimanding in her voice, just a quiet joy. She reaches forward and cups your face, one hand sliding up to your forehead- and that beautiful, content smile falls away into a frown. “Hmm… you’ve definitely got a fever.”
“Could kiss me and make it feel better.”
Eileen laughs, a chiming, entertained giggle, “Now, you wouldn’t want me to get myself sick, would you?” She retracts her hands.
“No…”
“Besides, that only works with physical, injuries,” She taps your forehead, “Silly.” Then stands to retrieve the now-cooled bowl and spoon.
“But what if it is a physical injury?” You lean forward, resting your head in your hands, elbows on your knees.
“Oh?” The bed creaks as she takes her seat once more. “It is?"
You place a sincere hand to your heart, “Yes, for you see, my heart aches now that I can’t kiss you. It’s-“ You break off- jerking your head to the side into your elbow in a new slew of coughs. Too much talking. “… Hurt.” you wince, rubbing at your throat.
Eileen sets the chicken soup aside for a moment, wearing a sympathetic smile as she places one hand against your cheek and gently coaxes your head towards her, then she slides it up, over your mouth, and kisses the back of her hand. “There,” She whispers softly, “A compromise.
You pull her hand away, squeezing it with your own, “I suppose that works.”
“Good!” Eileen chirps, pulling the soup into her lap once more, “Now come on, I didn’t make this just for it to go uneaten. Besides,” Her eyes glint knowingly, “The sooner you get better, the sooner I can give you an actual kiss.”
“Then I guess I’d better eat that chicken soup."
For once, everything is nice. There’s no explosions, no gun in your face, no superhuman with powers threatening to kill you, no conspiracy theory gang boss to expose. It’s… nice. Normal. And you’d almost forgotten what normal felt like.
Or it would be.
“Fancy seeing you here, Sweetheart.” If it weren’t for Vincent Bayer tipping an imaginary hat your way, that cocky, self-assured grin plastered over his face. You swear, he totes that grin around like a first place trophy sometimes. “It’s been far too long- why, I’d almost come to think you were avoiding me.”
Vincent places a hand to his chest, lip jutting out in a wounded pout. You brush by him, shoulder knocking against his side as he turns to follow you. “I am.”
Vincent’s laughter comes out as a harsh bark that gets quieter as you speed-walk as far from him as you can possibly get.
Which… isn’t very far. You jump when a hand slams, not all that harshly- admittedly-, against your back, and suddenly you’re no longer walking of your own volition, but pushed through the park by Vincent. “Come now, darling, I know you don’t really mean that.” His hand slides around your shoulder, squeezing you close, “After all- who could possibly stay away after having come face to face with the charming young man that is Vincent Bayer.”
You shove his hand away and step back, Vincent stops, but the grin remains plastered as he leisurely folds his hands behind his back. “Easy. I can.” You brush the shoulder he’d touched, “And ‘darling’? What’s with the new nickname?”
“D’aww,” Vincent ambles towards you, cupping your face with one hand and squishing your cheeks, “Look at that- how cute! You’ve grown attached, haven’t you? Don’t worry, you’re still my lovely little Sweetheart, just figured I might spice it up a bit.” For the second time today, you remove his hand.
“Stop.”
Vincent laughs and retreats once more. “And that, Sweetheart, is exactly why.” There they go, folded behind his back once more.
He’s not going to leave you alone, is he?
Which usually means he wants something.
“Alright,” You sigh, crossing your arms, “What is it you want this time, Vincent?”
He rocks back on his heel, turning slowly before taking long strides up the sidewalk, then back down, “Well…” He drawls, shrugging nonchalantly, “I truly did just want to take a walk with you, darli- oh,” He pauses, leg extended in mid-stride, and flashes you a roguish grin, “I’m sorry- Sweetheart.” He tilts his head in a wink before pacing once more.
“Mmmhmm, sure.” You frown.
Vincent’s shoulders bob in a silent laugh, “It’s true. But, since you’ve twisted my arm so, I suppose I could be forced to make a request.”
“And are we ever going to get to hear what that is?” You huff, “Or was this all just so you could dance on the sidewalk?”
“Oh, my dear, dear Sweetheart, this isn’t anything near my wonderful dancing.” Vincent throws his arms out, shaking his head as he comes to a stop, “Trust me on that.”
“As for my request…” He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, “It’s a simple task, and I’m sure even you could complete it with ease.” He takes a quick step back, off of the sidewalk and onto the grass, “I simply need you to leave.”
“Leave?” Leave Nickelport? No way. You can’t do that. You have too much unfinished business here. “I’m staying in this city, Vincent, whether you like it or not.”
For the briefest of moments, something other than cocky self-confidence flashes across his face, instead, Vincent almost looks confused. But that brief glimmer of human emotion is wiped away by an amused, reeling laugh, “Oh, no, no, no, Sweetheart! I don’t meant leave Nickelport, I mean leave the park.”
“Leave… the park?”
“Yes.” He rolls up his sleeve, and grimaces briefly, “Actually, left the park would be a better way to put it.”
Left the park? While you’re distracted, Vincent reaches forward and snags your wrist, tugging you forward, you stumble after him a few steps, “Hey! Wait!” Before finally wrenching your arm away.
“Oh, Sweetheart, we really don’t have the time-“
“I’m not going anywhere.” You plant your feet, staring him down decisively, “Especially not with you, and definitely not until you tell me why we-“
Nickelport may just be a city, but it still has a sick sense of irony. The ground behind you ruptures with a loud boom, you hit the ground- or you should’ve- you definitely still hit the floor but instead of hard concrete there’s something much softer protecting the back of your head, your hands instinctively rise to cover your face, and through the gaps of your fingers you spot dirt and rubble raining down around you.
“You alright, Sweetheart?” You spot Vincent pushing himself up onto his elbows on the ground beside you, a slight trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face as he removes his palm from the back of your head. That cocky grin ever present, “Wouldn’t want to have to rush you off to the hospital now.”
You push yourself up into a sitting position- it looks like half the park has been decimated, what few people haven’t scattered have either fainted or are limping away with blood on their clothes. “Vincent, what did you-“
“I did nothing,” He shakes his head, brushing off his pants casually as he stands, “And frankly I’m hurt that you would assume I’d be responsible.”
“Then who-“
It appears you’re having trouble finishing sentences today- or it’s just that life has decided to stop you from doing so. A figure rises from the smoke, limbs missing as-
No… that’s not blood.
Lava.
Igneous.
Something is tugging on your arm, you look up and spot Vincent dragging you further away from the blast site. “You see, Sweetheart, that is why I was asking you to leave.” He helps you to your feet, “Are you hurt?”
Through the surprise, you can barely register the fact that there’s honest-to-goodness concern in his voice. When you do, it only adds to the haze of confusion, “Well, no. I’m not.”
“Fantastic!” Vincent chirps, “It looks like that tip-off has been worth something to me after all.”
“Wait- you knew about this?”
“Well, I learned just recently, yes.” Vincent shrugs, “I figured I’d pop by and- you know the rest. Still, I would’ve been able to start by now, but I couldn’t very well let you get your pretty little leg blown off in the crossfire, now could I?” He grins. “You could say- I’m something of a knight in shining armor, aren’t I?”
“No.” You turn between Vincent and Igneous, calculating, thinking. You’ve needed to get close to him and while this isn’t really the point at which you thought… he certainly wouldn’t be expecting.
Vincent lays a tight hand on your arm, “Now, I’ve seen that look of yours, Sweetheart, and as much as I’m one for daring-“
“You mean insanity.”
“- I believe you’re taking it a bit too far.” Vincent beams once more, “And that’s coming from me.”
“I can’t go-“
Vincent presses a finger to your lips once more, “Ah, but you can!” A mischievous sparkle glints in his eye, “And more than that, you will. Unscathed, so long as I’m here to help.”
“Vincent-“
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” He steps back, bowing at the hip, “Your knight is here to serve."
You stir, and find yourself not awaking to the peaceful sound of birds, or the soft shift of the bed, or even just the common blaring of a too-harsh alarm clock. No, instead you stir and wake up to a little repeated chant of- “Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit,”
You rub a hand over your eyes, opening them slowly as the bed bounces up- someone quickly stepping off of it. Pushing yourself up by your elbows, you turn and see Jacob scrambling around the room to grab haphazardly discarded clothes, face twisted into a kind of rushed panic. Mumbling, over and over under his breath, that same chant. You sit up more then, “Well, good morning.”
His head snaps up, wide-eyed and suddenly bashful when he sees that he woke you up, “Shit.”
“I’m getting the picture.”
He shakes his head, pulling a shirt over his head, saying something too quick and muffled by fabric to be anywhere near comprehensible. You cock your head ever so slightly, “Couldn’t quite catch that.”
His head pops out the other side, mousy brown hair sufficiently messed up by the early-morning rush- not that it’s ever neat to begin with- and scratches the side of his neck, face red with embarrassment. “I apologized for waking you up…” He laughs, “I, uh… sorry.”
You glance at the clock, it’s already late in the morning, so you shrug, “I should’ve been up by now, anyway. It’s no…” He’s already back to scouring the floor for… something. “Problem… What’s with the rush?”
“Ah!” Jacob grabs a notebook from the floor, holding it up with beaming triumph on his face. Then he glances at the clock and pales with fear once more. You breathe in deeply, he’s lost in his own world, again.
You lean forward on your elbows, chin cradled by your hands, “‘And here I thought we were past the scrambling to quietly leave each other in the morning’ phase.” You sigh wistfully, “But I suppose c’est la vie.”
“What?” Jacob moves with the jittery speed of a startled rabbit, his head snapping once more towards you and eyes blinking rapidly before guilt quickly twists his expression, “Oh, oh shoot-”
“Don’t you mean ‘shit’?”
“I’m doing it again aren’t I?” Jacob slowly lowers the book, and he’s almost still for a moment… almost. His feet still shuffle back and forth, fingers drumming against the cover, “I’m… sorry… again…” His head hangs.
Your shoulders bounce in a chuckle, “It’s fine. Just tell me what’s dragging you away so soon?”
“It’s just,” He looks at the time once more, eyes briefly glued to the clock in a kind of mesmerized panic, “I’m late- really late, and I have a test tomorrow so I can’t miss a class-”
“Ah, right,” You lean back, “The woes of being a college student.” You smirk, “Been a while since I had any of those, can’t say I miss them. Well, go get ‘em, kiddo.”
For the first time, he smiles, “You do realize that we’re practically the same age, right?” He shakes his head.
“Yeah, but you’re still in school-”
“Back in school- and graduate school at that. To get my law degree.” He corrects, taking a moment to kneel on the bed, “I had a job already, you know.” He shakes his head, “I was a fully functional working adult- a cop, even!”
“And now you’re a late college student,” You nod to the clock, “I would get going if I were you.”
He pinches your nose, shaking your head, “You’re the one distracting me, old man.”
You brush his hand away, “Hey, now, that’s low.”
“Well if you insist on calling me a kid then I’m not going to just sit by and let that happen, right?” As his hand falls back to his side, you can’t help but stare at the familiar small scar- a tiny, rough pink circle both sides of his arm- old and faded and practically gone. You’ve never really asked about it, and it seems silly now but for some reason it catches your eye as he stands back up, pulling the backpack from the corner to shove the notebook inside. Truth is, you’ve never really asked about it because you’ve always assumed about what happened, knowing Jacob’s past.
But for some reason… “Hey, Jacob?”
“Hmm?” He’s zipping up the pack, not looking at you.
“I was just curious- how did you get that scar on your arm?” For some reason you have terrible timing and now is when curiosity scratches against your mind.
“What scar?” Jacob stands, shuffling the straps over his shoulders, you point to his hand and he glances down, face lighting up in a bright grin. “Oh! That! Funny story actually- there was this big hero vs. villain battle going on- I think it might’ve even been Atlas and Likewise and-” Jacob’s eyes wander from the clock to you, he frowns. “And I really don’t have time to tell all of this do I?”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay!” He chirps, “Well, basically, a couple of crooks thought that the battle’d be the perfect cover to host a big bank robbery, and it was just me and two others sent down to deal with them because everyone else was busy with the evac and things got rocky fast,” He stares at the scar with an odd kind of admiration, “One of the robbers tried to shoot my buddy, and I managed to push them out of the way but my arm wasn’t so lucky.” He laughs.
As if it were funny.
“It was pretty cool, though. We didn’t manage to catch them but-” Once more, the clock draws his attention, “But I’ll have to tell you the rest of it later. Sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He hurries towards the door, passing you a quick, hurried peck on the cheek before you finally, reluctantly drag yourself from the bed, leaning against the bedroom doorframe as Jacob quickly retreats towards the hall. “Jacob-” You stop him once more, frozen with his hand on the door, head turned back towards you but still angled towards the apartment hall.
You chew the inside of your lip, words resting on your tongue but somehow nerves freezing your vocabulary. “I…” You shouldn’t have called out again. “… Hope you have a nice day.” You do your best to recover, but it feels and sounds awkward, the sentiment flopping out like a fish in dry air. “Stay safe, okay?”
Yet Jacob smiles nonetheless. “Of course! You too!” And with that, he’s gone. Well… not gone-gone, you can still hear his thumping footsteps as he sprints down the hall, a muffled, light yelp and a quick, familiar apology as you can only assume he almost crashed into someone opening their door… not for the first time.
You laugh to yourself. But for some reason, your chest hurts.
Welp. Its official. Vincent has stolen my heart. Where do I pick up my Team V jacket?
