[Maija] It was her first day back to work, and it was long and tiring, while her boss and his woman hovered over her to make sure she was alright, and not overtaxing herself. She waved many of the questions off, knowing she couldn’t explain how she healed so quickly, just that it was not as bad as it looks, and she’s fine now, really. Still, she took more smoke breaks than usual, and rested when they told her two, and wore bandages that she didn’t need because they thought she would need them for another few days.
It’s all another part of the mask she hides behind. This part she knows how to play all too well. Her past taught her how.
But now, mingling with the scent of BBQ that still lingers on the air despite the restaurant being closed for the night, there’s the scent of fried chicken. From scratch, not fast food, either. The light is on in the kitchen, and her shadow can be seen moving back and forth beind the curtains.
[John Thornton] At some point in the night, as a full, unblinking moon starred down from a cold and cloudless night sky, a familiar black form would darken the street beyond her doorway. The Crown Victoria would stop, park… And then a man would exit.
A man wearing a long black trench coat, with disheveled brown hair, hazel eyes that never sat still, and sockets so dark as to have been blacked by an unnamed fist. His collar would be unbuttoned, his tie would hang askew…
And a simple, wan not-a-smile would rest carelessly upon an otherwise unfeeling or untelling facade.
A leather gloved hand knocks on her door, the man in question waiting without… Patiently.
[Maija] She’d caught a glimpse of the car as she washed dishes. She’d watched from behind the curtain as the car parked, as the man inside stepped out, and made his way to her door. The entrance is of the type where he’d need a hey, or be buzzed in – and by the time he reaches it, the tell tale buzz has already occurred – she clearly saw him coming.
When she’s sure he’s opened the door and stepped in side, she finishes drying her hands on a towel, and moves down the hall to the door, and has flipped open the four locks there one by once. By the time he knocks, she is ready to pull the door open – after checking through the peephole to confirm it’s him.
She pulls the door open, and leans against it. She’s relatively fresh from the shower, her hair still damp, and her thin frame clad in a tank top, and men’s boxers. And she smells like shampoo, soap – and friend chicken.
Her lips quirk into an expression that might some day grow up to be a smile – if ever allowed to remain in place long enough. “Hey.”
[John Thornton] “Hey…”
He just stands, watching with those never stopping hazel eyes, as though not certain what to say next. After a moment, two perhaps, he continues…
“I thought I would check up on you; see that you’re doing okay. May I come in?”
He’s still smiling that not-a-smile… Just watching to see what she’d do next. Perhaps the eyes hover for a moment over where she was injured that last time they’d met…
That night…
Perhaps they return to meet her gaze, the hazel eyes for once not seeming so overly clinical…
[Maija] He watches her, his eyes checking where the injury was, where it’s not any longer, and perhaps lingers, hovering a bit. He thought he’d check up on her, and that smirk slides over her lips again, briefly resting before she steps back and pushes the door open farther.
“Yeah, alright.”
It’s the same thing she always says – yet tonight? it seems different. It… more inviting. She’s not just agreeing because it’s expected, but because she’s glad he’s there. As he steps in, and moves past her, she closes the door behind him, and flips the bottom lock, before moving past him again. Her fingers lift, and brush lightly over his side belly as she passes him again as she moves to lead him to the living room.
“Ya want somethin’ to drink?”
[John Thornton] John smiles that wan smile all the while; it almost seems to turn upwards at the ends when she brushes his side near his belly. It was funny, but you could almost see him leave some of the day’s troubles behind him… Almost as though he were relaxed.
“Yes please… Coffee, if it isn’t too much trouble. Ice water if it is.”
He takes a seat on the couch after removing the trench and draping it over the arm.
As was almost always the case, the wicked .45 caliber pistol rested in the leather shoulder holster and the polished metal of the badge rested silently at his hip. In the light, his shirt is revealed as a pleasant plum hue, his tie striped gray, matching his dress pants.
[Maija] He relaxes under her touch, just enough to leave some of his day behind him. He moves to the couch, and she moves past to the kitchen, her feet making little to no sound on the floor. Her one admission that she’s so often chilled is the fact she wears socks, and there’s a blanket on the couch where she sits to read at night. The Latin primer is still there, though closed and bookmarked, and the open book is her study guide for the GED.
“I’ll start a’pot.” It’s said with a little smirk – as it means he’ll have to stick around long enough for it to brew, and then to enjoy it, at least. “You hungry? I ain’t put th’chicken away yet – still warm.”
She’s a Gnawer. She always seems to make too much food – no matter how she tries to cook for just herself. Makes lunches for the next few days easy, at least.
[John Thornton] At first, he starts to decline the food, as though it were too much trouble for her to go through on his account. Then, realizing she was just starting a pot of coffee, he seems to change his mind.
“Yes, thanks…”
That said, he stands and starts toward the kitchen. True, cooking wasn’t really his forte… But watching the recently injured labor while he sat on his laurels was another matter entirely.
“Need any help?”
[Maija] The kitchen isn’t large, though it’s just enough for two to move around easily, without too much trouble. He enters while she stretches to get the filters from the top shelf – finding it just out of her reach as her side twinges on her, the pull of new scars pulling a hiss from her lips. She doesn’t like to ask for help – to admit that some times she needs it, even for something so simple.
But she does. She lifts a hand to push her hair back behind her ear, and then points to the filters as she looks over her shoulder. “Grab those? Ain’t quite able t’stretch right, yet.”
She grabs the pot of water, and pours it into the back of the coffee maker, as he does so. “While yer at it – grab a plate down too. Next one over.”
[John Thornton] “Sure…”
A curious brow raises over John’s hazel eyed gaze as he sees her hiss at the stretching. Then, reaching for the filters, and then the plate, he withdraws both and sets them upon the counter.
That done, he begins to busy himself with the coffee. The wan not-a-smile plays about his lips as he speaks, considering the coffee maker and its operation instead of looking at her.
“Should I grab a second plate as well? Surely you won’t make me dine alone…”
[Maija] She rubs her side, gently. “New scars – they pull funny when ya stretch sometimes, until they settle a bit. Week or so an that ain’t gonna happen no more.” She lifts a hand, and slides it over his shoulder, where his own scar is, where he’d been shot in a story she ain’t heard yet.
She nods. “Ya tryin t’fatten me up?” It’s said with a trace of amusement, before she continues. “Yeah, I kin eat a bit more.”
She takes the first plate, and pulls the lid off the fried chicken, and starts to fill his plate with a couple pieces, followed by some potatoes and broccoli from another pot. He’s tasted her cooking before, and knows her to be pretty damn good at home-style meals, and this smells like it’s certainly no different.
[John Thornton] John smiles that wan not-a-smile, again the edges almost seem to slip upward before settling again as she asks about being fattened up.
As he reaches for a second plate, the coffee maker beginning its steady bubbling hiss behind him, he answers.
“Good. And yes, if you must know… I don’t think a sandwich would do you a bit of harm.”
Placing the plate beside its twin upon the counter, he stands still beside her for a few moments before speaking.
“I’m glad you’re healing well… After the fight, I was concerned.”
[Maija] “Would it surprise ya t’know I probably eat more’n’you do on a daily basis?” Blessed – or cursed – with a high metabolism, it’s almost impossible to gain weight once she hits a certain point. She is a few pounds heavier than she was when she arrived in town, when he first saw her swallowed in fleece – in all the right places. Not that five pounds makes much difference in her skinny frame. “Your attempts t’get more cushion on me might not work, s’all I’m sayin.”
She dishes up the second place with matching helpings of the dinner, while he watches her. He’s still, watching her as she loads up the plates, and she watches what she’s doing rather than him. After a moment, she admits softly. “If ya ain’t have come when ya did – I don’t think I’da made it.” There’s a beat, and she glances up at him, briefly. “So. Ya know. Thanks, for that.”
She looks like she might continue, to say something else, but she bites it back after a moment, and hands him his plate instead.
[John Thornton] “You never need thank me for that… But I’m glad I was able to help.”
John seems to have something more to say on the subject as well, his brows furrowing momentarily. For a moment, just one small moment, his eyes take on a distant look… Like he was back there… In the fight…
“Bad dog…” Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Click!
The moment passes quickly, before John takes the filled up plates and places them where they could sit and eat and talk all at the same time.
“I’ve seen more and more situations like that, of late… I’ve begun to worry that some of our kind may not be prepared, if push comes to shove.”
[Maija] She nods, slightly, and as he takes the plates, she checks the progress of the coffee, and seeing that it’s about half done, she takes down two cups – one she slides under the drip, while she fills the second, and a clever slight of hand work allows her to fill the first as well, and place the pot back where it belongs so that it can finish it’s drip in peace. She turns to the table, and sets his coffee near his plate, then grabs the milk from the fridge for her own. A splash, and she places the milk back, and finally takes her seat.
“Drew – th’ one I was standin over, that fell first.. she ain’t gotta fuckin’ clue. She had th’nerve t’call me useless once, ya know that? Called me a flappin vulture. Bet she ain’t consider anythin’ I done that’ night worth it.” It’s frustrating, that much is clear. And she doesn’t care for Drew at all – that is quite evident as well, despite the fact she nearly died trying to protect her.
Duty runs deep in Maija, depsite how long she tried to run from it.
“Ain’t sure how t’make it better though. Ain’t many as stubborn as me.”
[John Thornton] John shakes his head, setting the plates down on the table. Then, after a few moments, the curious brow raises again.
“Why would she do that?”
Then, as Maija approaches with the coffee, John smiles that not a smile again and takes his cup gratefully in hand. It was chill outside…
“I could talk with her, if you need me to. I think she’s Get kin…. Like me.
Still, even assuming I do so, it may not help. Some people are unwilling to be helped, whether it’s in their best interests or not.”
[Maija] She shakes her head. “She was pissed that I ain’t come rush to her rescue when Decker was cartin her off t’play football. I tried t’make nice t’her at a later date, and she’ got all uppity and tol’ me t’fuck off in no uncertain terms.” She gestures absently, and then takes a bite of her chicken, and doesn’t say anything else until she finishes chewing, swallows, and then continues.
“Nah, I kin fight m’own battles – an despite what I feel bout’er, I’d still do th’same thing again an protect her from a real threat. She’s a trust fund baby. She ain’t got a clue what real hurt is.”
[John Thornton] John nods, and then takes a drink of coffee. It was strange to watch him ingest the steaming black liquid; most people would flinch, gaff, try to chill it down with milk or cream. But perhaps the coffee John usually drank was simply that bad…
And force of habit compelled him to do so even with better blends.
“Football does seem an odd reason to have a feud… In fairness, I think she tried to run me over after she escaped Decker’s clutches…”
John smiles that wan not-a-smile as he continues, after another sip of too hot coffee.
“Still, like I said, some people just can’t be helped. They’re too proud, or arrogant, or stubborn. Sometimes, they’re all three.”
After a few moments, John speaks again.
“Does what you went through, after… Qualify as real hurt?”
[Maija] She looks up, as he asks, and studies him for a moment – a brow arching slightly, something like mirth somewhere in the depths of dark eyes. “Th’ wound, or bein’ with you…”
Way to address the elephant in the room, Maija.
[John Thornton] John just smiles that smile, and shakes his head…
“I meant the wound… But was I really that bad?”
It sounded like a joke, but given that John’s expression doesn’t change on the delivery, that there’s nothing obvious to differentiate it from anything else he says, it could be mistaken as something else.
[Maija] She actually laughs, softly. The sound is almost startling, though he’s heard it before, in the dark hours of that night, when she let every defense fall away, when she let him finally see her, naked in ways far more than simply being unclothed.
“Th’wound hurt. But ain’t th’physical pain I was talkin bout, really. She ain’t know what it’s like t’really intensely need to run, t’save herself. She ain’t had t’fight for anythin’ more than a raise in allowance until now. She’ll always look down on me for not havin shit – but in th’ways that matter, I’ll always be stronger f’what I done been through.”
And then she smiles briefly, as she looks up at him. “An’ ya weren’t bad atall. A lil timid cuz ya was afraid ya’d hurt me, an’ maybe cuz ya think I ain’t old nuff t’know what I want… but ya certainly ain’t bad.”
A beat, and another slight tease, as she lifts her cup for a careful sip of the hot liquid. “Course, since I ain’t hurtin like that anymore, if ya wanna try an’ improve on ya performance…”
[John Thornton] John takes another drink of coffee, and a low chuff escapes his lips, an exhale on the verge of laughter… Which seems a far cry closer than he’s been to actual mirth in ages. Since before…
her.
He smiles that wan smile and answers, in a pleasant tone…
“That sounds like an offer…”
Another swig of coffee.
“I just can’t help thinking you could do better than me… I know all too well my own shortcomings.
My last major, long term relationship ex gave me a list of them when we split up…”
[Maija] She snorts. “Ya see any folks beatin down my doors?”
She watches him, a long moment, more directly that she usually does, than she did before. Sometimes, it’s very easy to forget that she’s 18, it’s easy to see her for the maturity that her trials and agony has built in her through the years. She rests her hand on the table, between them, open for his if he wants to take it – but he’ll have to make that move, and meet her half way.
“Ya talkin t’someone who’s flawed in more ways than ya kin imagine, an everytime I get close t’someone, they leave, or die – which has taught me that ya gotta take what ya want while ya still can. I ain’t much – I ain’t pretty, I ain’t strong, I’m too skinny, too quiet, too opinionated, too stubborn, too poor, too pathetic, too….a lotta things. But I liked bein with you. An’ I like havin a knight in shinin armour, who shoots th’bad guys t’protect me, tha’ sweeps me off my feet insteada makin me climb stairs, an’ teaches me t’shoot a gun so’s I’m almost a good a shot as ya are yaself. I ain’t askin ya t’do anything ya ain’t wanna do – but if ya wanna stay with me again t’night, I’d like that too. An’ if ya wanna stay again another night, that’s jus’ fine, too. An’ if ya wanna jus’ come by an’ check on me an’ be friends… well. That’s ok, too.”
A beat, and that sparkle appears in her eyes again, even as she looks down to hide it.
“Frustratin, maybe, but I got hands. I kin manage.”
[John Thornton] At this point, John stands and walks to Maija’s side of the table. His voice is quiet, in the way that one speaks more quietly to be better heard… To impart importance to his words.
Hazel eyes look at her, that wan not-a-smile playing about his lips.
“You’re also very self critical. And mistaken, for that matter… You are pretty. You are strong. And you’re built just right for you…
The only thing I can see that you lack is confidence.”
After a few moments, he speaks again…
“So… Given all that… I’d be a fool to leave now.”
[Maija] He doesn’t take her hand, but instead moves to her side of the table, closing the distance between her. He tells her she’s critical of herself, and follows it with calling her pretty. She arches a brow, slightly, and looks up at him as he continues, then finishes.
There’s a twitch at the corner of her lips, the smirk giving birth to a smile, however briefly it might have been. She stands, small compared to him, thin yet strong, and broken in more ways than anyone can count. She lifts her hands, and lays them against his chest, before she brings her dark eyes up to his once more. There’s an openness there that is never seen anywhere else, that she hasn’t shown anyone since Will disappeared.
She slides her hands up to claps behind his neck, then, and she nods slightly. “Ya seem t’be many things, Detective… but ya ain’t a fool. Now pull that lil sweepin me off my feet move again, an lemme prove t’ya that I ain’t hurt no more…”
Dinner can – and will – and does – wait.