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Cristobal Rodriguez ♦ Coyote (coyoti) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-06-14 07:46:00

for most folks, no news is good news
Who: Chris and Nish.
What: Chris starts implementing what he's been told to do.
Where: Pax Letale mailboxes, then the elevator, then Nish's apartment.
When: June 6.

Casually dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a tee, with sneakers, Chris ambled out of the elevator and toward the mailboxes with his usual slow gait. He'd been preoccupied caring for Daniel and his broken leg; surprisingly, the man had not milked his injury for everything it was worth, and Chris found himself enjoying the newfound domesticity forced upon them. He'd never really imagined gaining something of that value in his life, and it made his stomach roil over the instructions he'd received while yelling at Daniel over the events that had caused the injury in the first place.

For the most part, he'd avoided what he'd been told to do under the pretense of being busy. And he was -- between his own business ventures and making sure Daniel was comfortable, he didn't exactly have the spare time to be running around, interrogating the other Pax Letale apartment tenants. Even now, during a cursory stop by his post box (he was a fan of old fashioned methods, pen and paper over digital text -- something about it lent an air of permanence, realness), he had planned to make it a quick trip and nothing more. Of course, fate seemed to have different ideas in mind.

Nish had been working all day and was looking forward to a long hot bath and an early bedtime. These days it was all she could do to drag herself out of bed in the morning, going through the motions at work and forcing smiles for both Jessica and Jen. The problem was, there was no one specific thing she could point to that was dragging her down, it felt more like just a general despondency about everything that was robbing her of her energy.

She locked her car and headed into the lobby, veering towards the mailboxes on autopilot and hesitating only slightly when she saw Chris also checking his mail. Another forced smile graced her lips as she walked around him to her own mailbox, unlocking it and pulling a small pile of mostly junk mail out of it. Their last meeting had been...less than encouraging to her in regards to their friendship, but at least he didn’t seem to be pissed at her anymore. Still, she wasn’t in the mood to rock that boat, so she stayed silent, flipping through the various flyers in her hand and tossing them one at a time into the nearby trash.

Shuffling envelopes in his hands, Chris tensed as he noted Nish's approach; the instructions he'd received over the phone reiterated themselves in his ears as though he were hearing them for the first time all over again. He flipped one more envelope over, and then turned -- he could not deny, curiosity bit at him as much as anything else. He'd not gone to the spa, but whatever connection it had to Pax and its tenants was something he couldn't stop thinking about, especially since Daniel had attended. Moving toward the garbage can, he tossed in one piece of trash mail following Nish's.

"Hey," he started, unsure how else to begin this awkward encounter.

Nish looked up at the sound of his voice, somewhat startled. She hadn’t actually expected him to speak to her after she’d apologised to him and he’d...somewhat accepted it. “Hi,” she said, her voice registering her surprise as much as her expression did. She stood there awkwardly looking at him for a moment, and then glanced back down at the mail in her hands, giving him an out from talking to her.

He flipped a few more envelopes, searching for something to start talking about. He lifted one piece of mail from the ACLU begging for him to start up a subscription.

"You think they'd save more money not printing all of these letters that just get tossed out," he offered, tossing it into the bin.

Her eyes lifted from her mail, focusing on the open box in front of her as he spoke, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I guess,” she said non-committally, flipping over a flyer for the Pride Parade this weekend and reading the details on the back. “Enough people probably respond to it to make it worth it though,” she added, scanning the colourful rainbow paper and picking out a few events that Jen might like to go to.

Chris saw her choice, but made no comment toward it; instead, he cleared his throat (as if were possible to make this less awkward than it already was) and dove into the true reason why he was speaking to her.

"So," he started. "Did you take the complex up on their spa offer? I was a little surprised, to say the least." He filed through his mail again, still weeding out less than necessary items, tossing them into the bin.

“I did,” she answered carefully, still scanning the flyer for a moment and then folding it up and slipping it in her jeans. She’d text Jen about it later. The next envelope was from the State Bar Association, which she flipped past without opening.

Finally she lifted her eyes to his with a slight frown. “Chris, you made it pretty clear that you don’t want anything to do with me,” she finally said, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. “You fired me as your lawyer; you accused me of putting you and your friend in danger when I was too high to know better...what do you want from me?”

The envelopes in his hands stopped moving, instead held in place midair as Chris leveled a sigh for the ages. Then his hands came apart, the right still holding his envelopes as they descended to his sides.

"Maybe I just want to be friends again?" Facial ticks quivered, his right brow bobbing up and down as he felt uncomfortable explaining himself. He couldn't seem to get his eyes to stay on her face, instead moving to her shoulder, then to her forehead, then to her eyes, and back around again in a strange semi-circle. "You apologize, I forgive you, is that what you want to hear? Or are you done with this too? We live in the same place, and, no offense on my part at least, I don't want to have to play avoid the awkward at every event or mere elevator space sharing on the odd occasion. And I'm stuck with the elevator, remember?"

He slapped the envelopes in his right hand against his left. "We've all done stupid things. I was mad. I think I had a right to be mad, but I'm over it now. We can always go back to the silent treatment, if that's what you prefer." After a beat, he realized he actually felt better after having said all of that. It didn't change the reason behind the deluge, but apparently there was something to that whole 'talking your feelings out' bullshit.

She listened patiently to him speak, avoiding his eyes as much as he did hers. And when he finished she found herself struggling to maintain composure, chewing on her bottom lip before answering.

“And what about my right to be mad?” she asked quietly. She was about to lace into him about all of the toxic shit she’d been working through for the past several weeks, but then she stopped herself, taking a deep breath, thinking about her talks with Jen about reducing her stress and letting things go. “No, I’m done with that. I’m done taking everything so…” she paused, and then caught his eyes. “Okay. I’m...I can forgive if you can.”

Chris eyed her for a moment before nodding. There was clearly still more to be worked out, but there were other matters that concerned him. What exactly he had left to be forgiven about nagged at the back of his mind, at least where Nish was concerned, but there was no time for such things.

"So we're good, then? I guess, as can be?"

Nish watched his expression for a moment, as if looking for any sign that he wasn’t being genuine, and then nodded, a slight smile struggling for expression on her features. “Yeah, we’re good,” she said, though she ducked her eyes back to the mail in her hand. Once all the junk mail had been sifted out she turned to start walking towards the elevators, though slowly, as if waiting for him to join her without actually offering an invitation; he did so, his own lame gait making him as slow as ever. As they passed, she caught a flicker of movement from the front desk as Stephan’s eyes followed them over the top of his magazine.

“So...how have you been?” she asked carefully as they neared the elevators and she pushed the call button. Now that they had patched things up, she was unsure about what would be considered ‘safe’ topics of conversation.

"Well enough, considering," he replied, leaving his arms by his sides as they waited for the elevator to arrive. He thought about how to redirect the conversation to his earlier question; now seemed too early. He tried to think of something less direct. He kept his voice low, the conversation quiet and private and away from Stephan's prying ears. "Well as anyone in the building, probably. A little hard to relax in the same place where everything happened, you know?"

She glanced over at him and then nodded, a little of the near constant despondency starting to show itself in her eyes. “Yeah,” she agreed, though she was thinking of more recent events, of the death in the building. She hadn’t been around when it happened, it hadn’t been anywhere near her apartment, and she didn’t even know who it was who’d died, but the fact that it had happened in Rafe’s apartment, that it was someone he knew and it was hurting him so deeply, caused her to feel sympathetic pain for him.

Her tearful conversation with Jen earlier came sharply to mind and she bit her lip, hesitating, glancing behind them as if checking she wouldn’t be overheard. “I actually...I never really…thanked you, for what you did,” she said, colour starting to rise in her cheeks as she avoided looking directly at him. “Things got in the way, and I was...upset and not myself, and…recent events have sort of reminded me what’s really important.” She paused when the doors opened in front of them and stepped inside, finally turning to look at him once the doors had closed. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Chris quickly hid his stare behind a mask of not-quite-feigned discomfort; briefly, he wondered if Nish was PMSing or something, to explain the sudden and quite odd mood swings. Still, he could play nice, when the occasion called, and to be fair, there was nothing explicitly wrong about her thanking him, though it made him feel awkward to be in such a scenario. All he had done was follow up on Jess' worries, dial a few phone numbers. Things he'd done before and had deeply hoped he would never do again.

"You're welcome," he finally managed, at least keeping his voice level. He wanted to move away from the topic as quickly as possible, sensing that this would be a quick and slippery slope back to her earlier anger. "So, you at least take management up on the spa offer? Of everyone in the building, I'd say you deserve it."

She nodded, forcing a smile to dispel the seriousness that had settled around them. “Yeah, I did,” she said, latching onto the new topic to quickly push aside the old one. She reached forward to push the button for her floor, noting that they’d already passed Chris’. “It was so relaxing; I really needed a spa day after...well,” she hesitated to say it, but it was now month-old news, and Chris probably already heard through the grapevine. “Rafe and I broke up. The spa...well, it helped me cope.” It had seemed to come at exactly the right time for her, so that instead of dealing with crippling depression over the loss, it was just regular post-breakup sadness.

Chris let a trickle of surprise onto his face; he did in fact not know, not necessarily being a gossip-mongerer, but it wasn't a startling revelation. Her and Rafe's relationship had never been bedrock, though he did wonder who was the one to break it off. The fact that Nish was tearfully relating the tale to him implied that it hadn't been her, but who knew. He didn't tail after the information she was offering, instead interested in other tidbits.

"That's.... I'm sorry to hear that," he said, making it sound believable when in truth he was more relieved, because the pairing was a lit fuse at best, from everything he'd seen from the exterior. "That's great that the spa worked out, though. Sounds like good timing." He leaned back against the elevator wall, watching the numbers flick by as they climbed toward the fifth floor. He made no motion to show that he was going elsewhere than where Nish was offering, hoping that it would keep her talking. "A good massage can definitely help put things in perspective." He couldn't really speak to that end, but it seemed like a worthwhile interjection.

Nish nodded at his assessment, and in thanks for his sympathy. “It certainly did help,” she admitted, “I was...kind of a mess when I went, but...I don’t know,” she paused looking for words, and then shrugged. “After my spa day, it was like I was a different person. I guess that nap I had on the massage table did me good,” she said with a slight smile. “The mud bath and seaweed wrap was pretty good too. It was nice to be pampered for a day,” she added, “though my doctor warned me against the steam room and sauna; apparently it causes stress on the heart.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but it had bothered her that she was limited because of it. No more roller coasters or jump scares for her either.

The doors opened and she hesitated, looking over at him. “Did you...want to come in for a drink?” she asked. “I have iced tea in my fridge,” she offered. It hadn’t even occurred to her, but she hadn’t had an actual alcoholic drink, barring while out with Jen for dinner, in about three weeks. The cravings were just gone, to the point where she’d even forgotten to want it.

Here Chris let his brows rise. Not in the 'new outlook on life,' but in the fact that she was offering iced tea. Some people said certain events gave them a new lease, but Chris was stunned that it seemed to really be taking effect.

"You got anything stronger? Maybe a beer?" He questioned, more simply to ferret out the details related to this new revelation than to actually get his request.

She led them out of the elevator and down the hall, his question giving her pause. “Uhhm...you know, I’m not sure? I’ll have a look in the fridge when we get in; there might be a few stashed in the crisper,” she said, pulling out her keys and shuffling her mail to the crook of her arm so she could open the door.

Bear met them inside, almost as if he was waiting for Nish to get home. She greeted him with soft words and a few rubs on the top of his head and then he turned his attention on Chris, purring and rubbing against his leg; Chris pushed the cat away gently, following his hostess through the apartment. Nish dropped the mail on the coffee table and headed to the kitchen, shifting through the different items in her fridge until finally finding what she was looking for. “Ah-ha! I hope you like Corona, that’s what my friend drinks and we had some a few weeks ago when she was over.” She pulled the bottle out of the fridge and popped it open for him, pouring herself a glass of tea.

Chris gave no opinion on the type of beer, instead mentally noting her comment as he collected his drink. He gave it the barest of sips, the alcohol content still perfectly intact as he let it slip down his throat, instead lingering in the kitchen doorway as Nish made herself busy in the kitchen.

"You going cold turkey? Is 'friend' an easier word than sponsor? Not judging," he quickly added, one hand rising to face out palm flat in a peace offering gesture despite fingers still curled around his mail, "just asking, that's all. Sounds like the spa was a domino to a whole bunch of good habits, huh?" He leaned into the doorjamb. "I'd say I missed a good opportunity to turn over a new leaf."

She paused mid-pour at his question, but then shrugged it off. “I dunno,” she said, putting the pitcher back in the fridge and then taking a sip of her tea. “It wasn’t really a conscious decision, you know?” she said, guiding him out of the kitchen and towards the living room where he could sit and rest his leg. “I just realized one day that it had been over a week and I hadn’t had a drink, and I hadn’t even noticed.” She’d like to think that it was just Jen being a good influence on her, but if she really thought about it, it had started before they met.

“I don’t know if I could say it was the spa itself that did it,” she said with a little grin, “more like...the feeling I got from being there. You know how when you move into a new apartment, and everything’s new and freshly painted and cleaned...you’re more likely to keep it clean than if you moved into a place where everything looks old and run-down? I guess it’s kind of like that…” she paused and drew her brows together. “That...doesn’t exactly work, but yeah. After that day in the spa, I just...I woke up the next day, and...you’re right, it was like a new leaf kind of thing. I even started taking painting classes once a week, just because,” she smiled and took another sip of her tea.

Chris ambled into the living room before her, sitting down as casually as he could manage before taking another sip of his beer. Everything she'd said this far was circumstantial in relation to the spa at best, and he wondered how thorough he was supposed to be. Deeper questioning in this vein would just raise brows and draw inquiries in his direction, which wasn't something that he wanted.

"Can't say it's a bad turn of events," he replied. "How's, you know, everything working upstairs? The whole... I guess you could call it a silver tongue, huh?" His brows rose as he tipped the bottle back into his mouth again, hoping she'd get what he was trying to ask without much further prodding.

Only she didn’t. She frowned a little as she tried to puzzle out what he was talking about. “Like...am I still going to therapy?” she asked him. It was the only thing she could think of that was even remotely related to ‘everything working upstairs’, though ‘silver tongue’ seemed like kind of a stretch to describe that. “I see my therapist now once a month, but it’s someone else since my regular therapist moved away...she’s alright, but I think I get a lot more out of talking to my friend Jen than her, to be honest,” she added with a shrug.

She doesn't remember. Now that was a development worth divulging, though Chris carefully kept all his surprise tucked neatly away. He felt he had enough to turn in, at least, when it came to just Nish; she was only one person on his list of people he had to deal with. He nodded again, trying to make her believe that her response had been what he had expected, and took another sip of his beer as he settled into the couch.

"Jen, huh? The one who likes Corona?" He held the bottle up, tipping it slightly in Nish's direction.

A smile crept across her face that she couldn’t hide. “Yeah,” she admitted, trying and failing to hide her reaction. She couldn’t help it, thinking about Jen made her happy, just like Rafe used to. That brief thought of him made her smile falter just a little, and then a worse thought occurred to her. “I don’t want you to think that I just...picked up the first person I saw after Rafe and I broke up,” she said with concern. “We just...we met at a painting class, as friends. I wasn’t looking for anything, especially after such a recent breakup. It just…happened.” And the happy smile returned, though she tried to cover it with another sip of tea.

He offered her a shrug. "What you do in your personal life is your business," he replied, bringing his beer bottle to the halfway mark with another swallow. He barely had any dating experience to really measure her against, and for all he knew, Rafe was fine, having moved on to the next party. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was easier to let himself believe that. "Here's hoping this one will be less explosive than the last, huh?" He lifted his beer bottle in her direction in a mock salute.

Nish smiled again and briefly raised her own glass. “Thank you; I appreciate your lack of judgment,” she said. “I hope it will be, though...I don’t think I’d say it was ‘explosive’,” she said, rolling that word around in her head a bit and trying to come up with a better one. “Intense maybe?” she asked with a shrug. “I just...feel calmer now, so I think it’s translating into our...friendship too,” she said, not yet wanting to use the word ‘relationship’, though it seemed to fit them pretty nicely. “I still miss him though,” she said, the words slipping out on their own.

"Yeah, well," he replied, emptying the his beer entirely and holding the container between his hands. "That'll pass."

And then he turned the conversation to other topics, away from talk of Rafe and relationships and things he didn't want to really think about.