Re: [to the capital: dahlia & cris]
Dahlia's expression fell a little, well, further when she saw a car coasting toward her. Fuck. Just her luck she found the one person with any integrity in town.
So she just sighed in defeat as the door swung open, and this guy who she didn't recognize at all but was still vaguely familiar--christ, this was really bugging her--leaned over. Where he was all amiable and upbeat, Dahlia was just open distrust--with the faint threat of hostility, under it all. Which, to be fair, was sort of her default setting? But the caginess wafting off her was intense, like an easily startled animal.
Nonetheless, she still got in. The damp outdoors followed her into the car, with the smell of cheap coffee mostly masking whatever whiskey stench still clung to her clothes. Coffee was her poison of choice--generously spiked, lately, but caffeine nonetheless. She pulled the car door shut, settling in and folding her arms around herself as if they would better save her life than the seatbelt she was presently ignoring. Wedging herself into the corner made by the seat and the door, Dahlia just stared at the guy, eyes the color of a clouded pond.
"Uh--no," she replied warily, her voice low and guttural. Kind of a trick question with her. The answer was always--even now, even when her insides felt oily from all the coffee and queasy from whiskey. "M'not--I, uh--ate." Not a lie, technically, dimly recalling a bowl of scrambled eggs she'd sort of zoned out over and then eaten cold, without tasting. She just couldn't remember when, exactly.
Her gaze darted away. Didn't matter. Wasn't gonna take anything else from this guy. A free ride was already way too fucking much for her own comfort, but it wasn't like she had a choice if she wanted to get to this stupid meeting. She just turtled further into her hoodie, chewing gum, staring blearily ahead. One leg bounced a little, restlessly, trying not to let the warmth of the car and the rolling beat from the speakers lull her to sleep.
This guy certainly didn't look like someone she knew, except for maybe some of the bro-ier dudes who lurked around the bar. But Dahlia knew the Sheriff more by his nosy reputation than anything else. Maybe she'd be able to piece that together with the name from the forums, when all of her resources weren't being burned to stay awake. "Look, do I, uh--do I know you? I mean, would I? I juss--dunno." She tried to rub the fog from her face with both hands, breathing deeply, wearily. Her words had the slow slur of someone with extensive familiarity in blunt force trauma, made worse by the lack of sleep. "I--used t'work a bar but m'usually not great at rememberin' people an' s'juss--fuckin' buggin' me."