pleasuretoburn (pleasuretoburn) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-09-16 21:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | noah restic, ronnie milam |
Look Who I See
Who: Ronnie, Noah
What: Interaction in the wild
Where: Las Vegas, Artisan Foods
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: References to violence, threats
Ronnie had a hand basket hanging from a forearm.
Searchlight, as great as it was, lacked variety in food products and thankfully it was close to a place which had a better selection. Even if the drive was nearly forty minutes out of his way, plus whatever the inner city congestion looked like. He always left happy, though.
Like always, Ronnie checked in with Mikey. It was a habit now, firing off a quick text to make sure the cougar was set at ease and knew he was safe. An adventure to Vegas meant it would take longer for Mikey to get there if something did happen - and Derek was still out of commission - but he didn’t want to start off a trip with negative vibes.
Without incident he’d made it to his destination.
The inside of the artisanal food store was quiet. A few people hung out, browsing. Nearby a clerk was freshening up a few displays of produce. And Ronnie was standing on his toes looking at a few items on a shelf a bit higher than he could reach. He squinted, entirely caught up in the task of debating with himself whether or not he wanted those items badly enough to go scaling shelves for them.
He wanted to make something nice for Mikey, though, and the contents in those jars would help accent the dish he had in mind.
As usual, his attire consisted of dark denim skinny legged jeans, a fitted tee shirt, and comfortable shoes made of leather. Those dark curls were wrangled back into a slightly messy knot that didn’t quite keep the strands out of his eyes.
Noah didn’t usually care about food. It was fuel. It was better if it tasted nice, but it wasn’t a necessity. However, for better or worse, Ro had opened his eyes to certain things. He stalked through the market, a basket in one hand and his phone in the other. There was a list from the etheric vampire in the form of a text message.
He let his gaze sweep the shelves, his guard momentarily lowered. The pyrokinetic certainly didn’t spot or register Ronnie’s presence in the same aisle as him.
Debating. Going back and forth with himself, Ronnie decided to look at something else. His calves were straining and ached from the current position on his toes and they felt relief as he lowered onto his feet. He didn’t want to get thrown out of a nice place for scaling the shelves. Part of him wished Derek or Mikey was there to help with the stuff he couldn’t reach but he’d been making due as a short man for decades.
Pivoting on the balls of his feet Ronnie turned to look and then he stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened. Oh fuck he thought to himself and then his brain proceeded to go over every possible scenario that was plausible in a scatter of processed seconds.
He also didn’t realize he’d dropped the basket he’d been holding when his arms shot out in a defensive way. It was clear that there was ample space between them so as not to feel threatened and he hated himself for the sudden reaction but it was done.
Noah’s head turned at the sound of the clattering basket. Some of the items rolled out across the aisle, one jar bumping the toe of his shoe. He knelt down slowly, picking it up and examining the label, before straightening and giving Ronald Milam a slow smile. The pyrokinetic approached the other man and held out the jar. “Cornichons. Nice.”
“Uh, yeah,” Ronnie muttered. He took the dark sheepishly, his cheeks burning red as he knelt down to scoop the rest of the scatter back into the basket. This was a public place, how bad could something get? Maybe he could still run for it.
With the items collected and stored in the bin, he stood up and backed up a couple of steps. “Thanks. You, uh — making something?” He didn’t know why he was bothering to talk to this person, this same man who had threatened him and stirred up a bunch of wild chases in his life. Ronnie found it best, also, not to just whip out his phone and start calling the cops. He didn’t want to engage this guy.
“No,” he drawled, bored. “I don’t cook.” Noah took one step forward for every one that Ronnie took back. “You’re very polite,” he remarked. “Small town boy.” The pyrokinetic shot a hand out, reaching behind the other man’s head to grab a bottle of fancy stone-ground mustard and tossed it carelessly into his basket.
“Job’s done. I don’t have any reason to hurt you.” Noah shrugged. “Unless you give me one.” He flashed a clearly hopeful smile.
This was one of the most uncomfortable conversations he had ever had in his life. Ronnie just nodded at the remark about not cooking. Some people just didn’t like to do it, he could understand that. “Uh, yeah, I guess I am.” Polite was definitely in his traits and qualities. He flinched at the way Noah reached out, finding himself sliding toward the other man as that arm snaked to the shelf behind in an effort to avoid any touch.
“Oh, oh, cool, well no, I won’t.” He shook his head, slipping further down the aisle to get out of the strangers personal space.
“Wait.” Noah stepped in front of Ronnie, blocking his way out of the aisle. He held up his cell phone with the text message from Ro. “What’s a coulis? I guess I could look it up, but since you’re here, you might as well be useful.” He looked at the other man expectantly.
He did stop, abruptly, even before the stranger slid in front of him. Casually, Ronnie took a step backward doing his best not to cower. “Uh, that’s a paste. It’s used for sauce, can be fruit or vegetable based. What dish are you...not...cooking?” That was the only way to choose the right coulis.
Ronnie heard a soft, clattering noise, as if something were being jostled lightly together and he didn’t realize at first it was him. The contents in his basket were hopping gently around from his shaking arm. Once he realized it, though, he made himself stop being so nervous. He even managed to straighten up a bit. Try to look taller, or something.
Noah double checked his phone. “Panna cotta. Someone wants to make it for me.” He shrugged, amused at Ronnie’s nervousness. The more he made those awkward little movements, the more the pyrokinetic wanted to see how long he could keep it up before he just bolted.
“Who are you cooking for? Someone important?” Noah raised an eyebrow and tilted his chin toward the clattering basket.
Ronnie nodded. “You’ll want a fruit based one, then.” Obviously. It was a pretty easy thing to do, making it from scratch but when you weren’t as adept with kitchen stuff a jar would work fine too. “Someone?” This guy didn’t have a significant other, he couldn’t. The dude was nuts.
And then the question was posed at him and Ronnie nodded, feeling a bit more confident, “Yeah. My partner.” The cougar who could probably kick this guys ass into tomorrow.
Noah’s interest piqued and his previously lazy smile grew sharper. “Oh? And who is the lovely person?” He peeked into Ronnie’s basket curiously. “Planning a romantic night at old 450 Lincoln, Ronnie?” He stepped forward to see if the other man would back up again, his eyes sweeping what he could see of the store, in case his companion was lurking unawares nearby.
Searchlight might have been off limits, but mind games weren’t.
“Nobody,” he retorted, brow furrowing a bit. He didn’t know why this man was being so invasive but the less information given meant everyone was safer for it. “Yep, you wanna come by? Got plenty of room for you in the dirt out back.” Maybe that was bold, or maybe it was stupid, but he didn’t care.
“You gonna bury me, Ronnie?” Noah nodded and smiled at a stocker in a uniform polo who strolled past them. He turned the corner out of the aisle and disappeared in a back room through a pair of swinging double doors. “That’s actually kind of touching. Because I wasn’t even going to leave enough of you to bury.”
He pulled back, remembering the deal he had struck up with Rhiannon. Even if this wasn’t happening in the small town’s border, he had a feeling the hunter wouldn’t appreciate hassling one of its citizens. Even one as easy to scare as Ronnie. Noah started laughing. “Just kidding, man. We’re cool.”
He was scared. Even if his face was straight it was evident in his eyes. “If you come near my place again, you’d better believe you won’t leave there alive.” He had no idea what he would even do, maybe try to look menacing with his gun. Also, he kept his voice down so as not to be overheard.
Ronnie felt tense. His muscles were tight, heart racing a mile a minute. As cool as they seemed, he wasn’t buying it.
The pyrokinetic let the laughter drop away. He had no intention of returning to the cramped, sad little trailer. He also didn’t appreciate the threat. His eyes turned cold, his voice lowered in tone. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.” Noah looked at the phone again. “I’ll think about that tonight over dinner.” He winked.
“You should.” Whether this man returned or not was fine, he would deal with it either way and he’d live with the paranoia that came. But he would be prepared regardless. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be friends. He wanted to forgive and forget but the way this dude was being didn’t constitute wanting to make amends.
“And you’d better get going if you don’t want to keep your friend waiting,” Ronnie remarked. He didn’t look at the basket or the list on Noah’s phone, keeping his gaze on Noah.
“Mm. Same goes for your partner. I bet they’re starving.” Noah reached out and pressed his finger briefly against the tip of Ronnie’s nose. “See you around, Ronald.” He turned and stalked out of the aisle, heading toward the register.
“Maybe they are,” he replied. A shrug. And he sighed as soon as the stranger was gone. This time he did whip out his phone and he fired off two text messages - one to Mikey and one to Derek - saw that guy and he’s an asshole. I’m heading back to Searchlight.