Comfort for the Mourning - Pass

[Gina McClaren]

*She'd found herself in an artsy neighbourhood, waking up under a mural of Bob Marley. She had little to no idea how or when she'd wandered into little Jamaica, or what had happened prior to passing out under Bob. What she had know, first off, was that her clothing was very very ripped. And muddy. And that her mouth tasted like all the whiskey in the world had gone bad in there. A quick look over had alerted her to some telling facts. One, her feet were quite cut and she had no shoes. Two, perhaps a blessing - she'd lost her flask. And three, she had ten dollars tucked between her breasts. And so an hour later, she finds herself in a dingy Jamaican diner, a bottle of tylenol in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other, looking at a menu full of things she can neither identify nor afford.*

[Boy]

The sounds must have been horrid in her state. The people chattering in a language that seemed to consist mostly of shouts and explatives, the register ringing loudly ever few minutes. The phone rang as well, though no one paid it enough attention to answer it. There were even chimes on the door that would jangle anytime anyone walked in. On this particular sounding of the door chimes there was something else. The shadow of someone fell over Gina's booth and there came the sudden smacking sound as the soles of a ratty pair of sneakers hit the ground next to her. He didn't look angry, and he didn't sound angry. The look on his face meant he wasn't exactly happy to see her either. "Mind if i sit?" asked Brother of the Lost. He waited politely for her answer.

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina looked up, non-plussed, dark eyes rolling over Boy's features for a solid five seconds before bits and pieces of their interaction last night filter into her aching brain. She notes the displeasure on his face and goes slightly ashen under caramel skin as she remembers snippets of why he might not be pleased to see her this morning. She bobs her head and sings quietly.* Aye Boy darlin. Ah mean nae. Nae, have a seat. *Two more Tylenol are dumped into her grimy palm. This was going to be alot of talking, and perhaps some well desrved slapping around. One did what they could to prepare. She snerks bitterly to herself and rubs a little mud off her outer wrist with a napkin. There had only been so much she could do in the diner washroom to make herself not look like a hobo before she ran out of paper towel.*

[Boy]

For a long time there is no talking. for a long time he just sits across from her, silently watching, inspecting little bits of the story of her night written in the abuse of her clothes and the grime and bruises on her skin. For a long time he waits, maybe for the pills to kick in a little or for some other cue known only to him, before he speaks. "Rough night." Talk about anti-climactic.

[Gina McClaren]

*She takes a deep breath and loosens up her rounded shoulders, nodding and taking a gulp of her coffee. She looks at her mug as she speaks.* Aye sweet theng. Tha et was. *Dark eyes flick to his a moment.* Am Ah stell en yer territory?

[Boy]

He shakes his head no, and his eyes cast downward for a flash, just a flash, of shame. "Brought you some shoes. Not sure if they'll fit. At least its something until you get home, right?"

[Gina McClaren]

*Groggy and hungover she may be, but something wasn't right with Boy. She murmers in that soft intimate singsong.* Ah'm saerry peaches. Thank ye?

[Boy]

"No problem." He shifts in his seat slightly, not quite sure what to do with himself. "So what are you gonna do now?"

[Gina McClaren]

Ah dinae kain peaches. Ah've thought as far ahead as drenk me coffee, an try nae tae ensult tha lovely felly settin across frem me. *She hums and offers a warm wan smile. Sing song poignantly melancholy and a little rueful. She sets the coffee down and leans back with a sigh, tangled hair tumbling over a shoulder.*

[Boy]

"Right." He says, as if the most obvious thing had just been revealed to him. "Right, to early." A beat. He doesn't fidget or squirm, but his eyes do wander over nearly everything. "So...about last night."

[Gina McClaren]

Aye darlin. Ah'm saerry. *The caramel kin chimes, looking to the table with a slight scowl. Bangles tinkle as she rubs a temple.* Ah was a recht bint. An ah remember sayen soome thengs tae ye, wha were right fookin cuntish. *She tilts her head, a flash of the slightly paler flesh of her throat as she sings to the teenager in front of her.* Ah'm saerry. Ye were tryin tae help, lookin after a lass, an ah disrespected both ye, an yer turf. *She watches him, eyebrows knitting in helpless apology as she sighs.* Wha can ah dae fer ye Boy darlin, tae make oop fer et?

[Boy]

He looks...confused. He does agree to several point, indicated by his nodding to what she said, but in the end he still looks a bit turned around. "Uh. No. I mean, nothing. It was my fault. You were grieving and...people grieve in different ways. I shouldn't have disturbed you. And even after I did, I shouldn't have just sent you away. You could have gotten hurt out there and...well, I've been following you all night because of that. I'm sorry."

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina blinks, looking a little like she's been slapped. She swallows hard on nothing before bringing her coffee to her lips. When she sets it back on the saucer she pushes the steaming drink toward Boy. Voice gentle.* Then reckon ye need a bit o thes tae.

[Boy]

"Not as much as you do." He says with a slight twitch of what may one day develop into a smile. "I've got a little bit of cash. Enough to call you a cab home when you're ready."

[Gina McClaren]

*She draws the coffee back, reaching to touch his hand before remembering almost too belatedly that he doesn't like touched. She flattens her palms on the sticky table instead.* Thank ye loves. Stell deciden effen ah'ave one o those here, ah reckon. But ah'd settle fer three dollars bus fare?

[Boy]

"Okay." He says, and digs into his pocket pulling out a wad of crumpled bills. He begins sorting through them. "And for your coffee? Cuz...well, I figure its what I really should have done last night, instead of chasing you off."

[Gina McClaren]

Ah was bein a betch. reckon we're aboot even? Where are these shoes darlin?

[Boy]

He leans out of the booth, looking at the worn out sneakers he'd tossed beside her when he entered. "They're my old pair. Like I said, don't know if they fit." Somehow he finds a five dollar bill in the bunch. He leaves that on the table next to her coffee and puts the rest of the wad back in his pocket.

[Gina McClaren]

*Gina manages to wrangle the shoes on, looking from under the table to boy with growing mirth. Fighting hard not to laugh until her shoulders are shaking silently, cheeks tingling. A hand comes up to her mouth, eyes twinkling as she watches his expression, rising to her feet and stepping into view. His shoes so large on tiny brown feet that they look like she belongs in the circus. She bursts out laughing.*

[Boy]

He can't help it. No one could. With that image and that reaction even Boy's face lit up bright with a smile, and an appreciative chuckle rocked his chest and shoulders. "You look ridiculous. I don't know what I was thinking."

[Gina McClaren]

*Seeing Boy smiling is enough. The Uktena does smile.* Worth et fer tha sunny look o yer face, sweet lad. *She giggles and winces simultaneously, headache still severe. A glance down at the shoes as she chimes.* Ye've huge clodhoppers darlin. Ye'll 'ave aul tha lasses sniffin about, come time tae choose a mate fer yerself. *A cheeky wink as she smoothes whats left of her dress and checks herself over, still shaking her head in amusement. When she's about ready to go she looks up and smiles softly.* Thank ye, Brother o tha lost. Fer coomin an' finden me.

[Boy]

"Oh, I've already...uh...thanks." The Uktena could blush too. "No problem, Gina. Its sort of what I do, y'know?" He stands now, backing away slightly, but obviously slowly. "And if you need anything else...Well, now I just sound like a cliche. Take it easy, Gina."

[Gina McClaren]

Aye darlin. Be carefy. ... Really. *She nods, a shadow of sorrow falling across her features before she flaps out in her clown shoes.*