Those Are Feelings Who: Ro/Noah What: A Heads Up Where: Henderson, Outside Le Breeze When: Shortly After 'Redux' Ratings/Warnings: Mentions of Violence and the Usual
He leaned against the side of his car, one leg crossed over the other, hands buried in the pockets of an oversized hoodie. There was a bruise blooming like a dark flower on the side of his face, and there was something diminished about his stance. Noah was parked outside Brasserie Le Breeze, and he was waiting for Ro. His eyes darting about almost nervously, erratically. Every nerve was on edge. There was no way for anyone to know what had happened to him, but the pyrokinetic -- could he even be referred to as that anymore? -- could just imagine his enemies crawling out of the woodwork with glee.
Dark eyes checked his Breitling watch. The dinner rush was just about over. From what he knew of Ro’s schedule, she should have been finishing up. She wasn’t going to be pleased to see him, he was prepared for that.
For all her flashy clothes, Ro walking out of Le Breeze was almost anonymous in dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt. A smear across one of her forearms wasn’t a tattoo but some tempered chocolate left over from the day's work. Making a batch of pasta and drawing a bath was just about all she was thinking about when something pricked at the edge of her attention. Ro turned her head and -
Noah.
After what he said to her before, him turning up was unexpected. She thought about ignoring him and walking on to her car but that seemed pointless.
"You look like shit," she told him, stopping when there was still a healthy distance between them. "What are you doing here?"
“Thank you,” he remarked, standing up straighter and without the aid of his sports car behind him. “I need to tell you something.” Noah paused, then corrected himself. “No, I want to tell you something.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver case and Zippo, removing a black cigarette and lighting it. He didn’t usually smoke but it wasn’t usual times.
“Does the name Evelyn mean anything to you?”
Ro tilted her head at the correction from need to want. Unexpected again. She shoved her hands into her jean pockets and racked her memory.
"No." The corners of her mouth turned down and she shrugged. "Should it?"
So it must be an etheric thing to change names like clothes. “Brown hair, pretty, about this high.” He held his hand just below his own shoulders. “I think she’s like you. She paid me a lot of money to find out everything about you, she said she was an old friend looking to reconnect.” Noah watched her expression carefully.
Ro's eyebrows knit together and she bit her lower lip for a second. "Kind of old fashioned and stuck up? More so than me?" Then - "Shit." She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
"I'm amazed she paid. What did you tell her? Or what are you going to tell her?"
“You’re stuck up?” Noah couldn’t help himself. He might not have been feeling entirely himself, but there were still vestiges intact. “I hadn’t noticed.” He took a step toward her on the sidewalk. She smelled like spun sugar and chocolate. “I told her the name you’re going by now and where you work. Which, to be fair, you haven’t exactly hid.”
And then, because he could, because it felt good to say, “She found you in Vegas because of Roman. That charity thing you went to with him.”
"Everybody always had to ask where I work," Ro muttered, more to herself than to him. "Fucking humans."
She shook her head. It was done now. Either she could quit her job or deal. A took a second to remember the charity event with Roman. That had been months ago but of course that was the event that got her noticed. "Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks for the head's up, I guess. You didn't have to."
No. He didn’t have to. This was Noah. "What do I owe you?"
“You don’t owe me anything,” Noah answered. “I chose to tell you, so that’s on me.” He checked an old-style flip phone for any incoming messages. Nothing. He sighed deeply. “Who is this woman? I asked her if she wanted to hurt you, and she said no.”
Ro tilted her head, studying him. "Aww, look at you. You care. Amazing. I thought you wanted me to fuck off forever." She shook her head, smiling at him.
"Don't worry. You don't have to care. It's my mother. She wants something. She usually does. Must be between husbands. So if you're looking for a distraction from whatever happened to your face or she tries making a deal to get her money back, make sure that's your kink."
Noah suddenly started laughing. It might have been the lack of sleep, the fact that he was without power and hadn’t felt so...vulnerable since he was a child, but it seemed funny. Ro’s mother. “Yeah, that’s not my thing,” he smirked, looking more like his old self. At the mention of his face, his hand automatically went up to his jaw.
“It might surprise you to learn that there are certain individuals who would like to see me dead,” he replied dryly. “This was just the latest of many attempts.”
It was easy to mimic Noah's deadpan tone. Ro did it almost unthinking, playing along. "I, for one, am shocked by this totally unexpected development." The corners of her mouth turned up a little. "It doesn't seem to be taking. You got that going for you."
“Not yet,” Noah agreed, his hand dropping to his side. Why was it easy to fall into a certain rhythm with her? This was exactly what he had been hoping to kill, back at that rooftop bar and the things he had said to Ro. Maybe it was seeing someone who, while not exactly a fan of his, someone he knew wouldn’t try to kill him if she knew that he was now largely defenseless.
“So, mother dearest. Not close, are we?” The pyrokinetic regarded her curiously. “I can relate to that.”
Ro shrugged. "My kind isn't much for family ties. It's fine." Humans hung up on that kind of thing but she didn't need it. "If she's here, she wants something. Usually does. Insurance fraud doesn't take up all her time anymore I guess." She waved a hand dismissively.
"If you're not going to fuck off where you came from and you're going to ask me about my mother, I'm going to need one of those cigarettes." He hadn’t left. She noticed that. Last time he went out of his way to be cruel and now his warning was delivered he hadn’t left.
He extinguished his own spent cigarette and pulled the case and lighter back out. He handed her one of the gold-filtered cigarettes, waiting for her to put it between her lips to ignite the Zippo, cupping one hand over the flame to keep it lit as he passed it over the tip. Noah closed the cap with a flick and returned it to his pocket from where it came. “Do you want me to fuck off?” he asked.
Ro had a drag on the cigarette before she answered. "What I want isn't the point. You could have straight up sold me out, you didn’t. You didn't have to warn me, you did. Now you've delivered the message and you're still here. You were pretty clear what you thought of me last time but here you are."
"You tell me." She paused for the cigarette again, looking up to exhale. "But if you're going to shit on me again, do me a favor and just save us both the time."
“I’m not going to do that,” he said, watching the smoke curl up into the air in delicate tendrils. Noah’s gaze was drawn to an alley near the brasserie. Heat was coming out of a vent, piping out the smell of food and something hoppy, probably the beer from the microbrewery.
“Can we go over there? I feel way too exposed right now,” Noah told her, nodding toward the mouth of the alley.
Ro didn't do anything as obvious as crane her head and look around but her eyes glanced left and right before she nodded once. The cigarette dangled casually from one hand while Ro looped her free arm around Noah. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck before tugging him around the building. If anyone was watching, let them think they'd walked away for the kind of privacy two young people might be looking for.
Once they were out of sight, Ro released her hold on him and backed away. "How much is someone trying to kill you, exactly?"
The contact made him pause, then he took it in stride as they rounded the corner. He leaned against one wall and breathed in deeply. Noah gave her a vague version of the truth. “Someone holding a grudge against me drugged my drink. We fought. I won.” The pyrokinetic shrugged, faux-casual. “Par for the course.”
Honestly, he’d like a distraction from it. “You didn’t have to back away.”
Ro didn't respond to the last, just puffed her cigarette. She wasn't walking away but she wasn’t getting close either. "If you won, why do you think you're being followed?"
“I might have temporarily lost access to the fire,” Noah said, unsure of why he was telling her this. “If people find out, I’m a target. I’m dead.”
Ro nearly dropped her cigarette, swearing while she recovered. "Shit." She didn't say anything about reaping what he sowed. That didn't feel helpful. "Why tell me? Is that why you're being nice to me? Tomorrow I may die?"
Noah went to rub his jaw thoughtfully, winced when he touched bruise. “I don’t know,” he replied, and that was the truth. “Ever since I drank whatever he slipped me, I’ve felt different. Not myself.” He paused, then added almost tentatively, “I feel...bad. That I might have hurt you. And other people. It’s uncomfortable.”
"Those are feelings. You're having feelings." Ro gaped at him. "What did they give you?"
“I don’t know. I wish I did.” Noah pushed off from the wall, went to pull out another cigarette, then thought better of it. “I haven’t felt like this since I was younger. When my parents handed me over.” He noted the expression on Ro’s face, the surprise. “I thought I would give anything to feel something, but not that.”
And when he spoke again, there was emotion in his voice. “I don’t know who I am without it.”
"I don't know." Ro tossed her butt on the ground. "You'll have to figure it out. If it does come back, remember how this feels. Because if or when it does come back, you have to choose who you want to be all over again. Remember how it felt."
He shrugged. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. I’ve been like this for a long time, and it’s served me well...up until now.” Noah gave his watch another cursory check and sighed. He needed to figure out his next move.
“Anyway, good luck with…” Noah paused. “Your mom. So weird,” he muttered.
Ro shrugged and then nodded. "Sure. Thanks. Good luck not getting killed. Try to avoid that maybe?"
“Yeah, thanks for the advice.” Noah needed to wash the taste of Russian cigarettes out of his mouth, preferably with some Russian vodka. That was best done in the privacy of his apartment. He didn’t need to be powerless and drunk. “Bye, I guess?”
Ro nodded goodbye but as Noah took a step away she reached out and caught his wrist. "One sec." She dropped what was left of her cigarette and moved back in close, reaching up to run her hands through Noah's hair, dishevelling it. Then she tugged at his shirt hem and collar to muss up his clothes. "Just in case you are being followed it looks like we actually did what we came back here to do."
As her fingers ran through his hair and she tugged on his shirt, he just stared at her. He wasn’t thinking anything in particular, but there was still an odd sensation within him, like he was seeing Ro for the first time. It was disquieting and comforting at the same time, because Noah realized there was nothing there. Everything had been transactional, and whatever he had felt, or imagined he could feel when they were together, he didn’t need anymore.
When she was finished, he turned and wordlessly walked away.