Angel (darkenedangel) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2013-08-27 23:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | angel, angel and wren, day twenty-two, wren |
Breakfast or Life?
Characters: Angel and Wren
Setting: Early evening, A block kitchen
Angel had eventually left the pool, but hadn’t bothered to do more than throw his pants on over his wet self and underwear, drawn by his growling stomach more than anything else. So he was puttering around the kitchen, stoked to find ingredients for pancakes even though it was evening. Nothing wrong with breakfast for dinner. It was odd, the gang member, drastically terrifying tattoo on his bare back, humming to himself and making pancakes, but it was a nice reminder of home. His mother, despite her husband’s line of business had been a pretty traditional mother.
Wren was hungry. She had done a little glancing through the camera feeds, finding Charlie and Adam, then she'd read for a while. Afterwards, she figured she needed to eat, so she went to the kitchen, which smelled nice. Seeing the man there, she smiled. "Hello." she greeted. Her eyes fell to the tattoo on his back, though she didn't have an appropriate reaction to it. "That's quite intricate work."
Angel glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Hola,” he greeted her, looking away for only a moment then going back to his pancakes. Her reaction to his tattoo made him laugh to himself, shaking his head. It wasn’t how people were supposed to react, even if it was accurate. “Gracias. Took hours.” He flipped another pancake then looked at her again. “Hungry?”
"I'm sure it did. Mine did as well, though they were done at different points in my life, so even if they happen to be extensive, I couldn't say how long they took in reality." she said. "And yes, I am. Are you offering me some pancakes?" she asked.
He took a better look at her, eyes falling on the scars and tattoos. “Impressive.” He nodded towards the pan and pointed at what he was making with the spatula. “You want some? Because I have to warn you, I make an amazing pancake. It could change your life.”
Smiling, she nodded. "I would love some, thank you very much." she said. "They do smell wonderful," she admitted. "What is your name? And I'm assuming you are new here. I haven't seen you around."
Angel nodded. “I am new. And I’m Angel.” He turned back to the food, flipping the last two pancakes before going for a plate. “And you are?”
"Wren." she answered. "Pleased to meet you, Angel. I like your name." she said. "Though from your tattoos, you don't appear very angelic. Have you opted to be opposing of your namesake?" she asked, honestly curious. She didn't sound like she was making judgments.
He smiled to himself, dropping pancakes on the plate and handing it to her. “I was named Angel because I almost died.” He tapped the scar on his chest before pouring out more pancakes. “Not because I was a good boy.”
Wren eyed the scar, taking the plate. "Thank you." she said again. "What happened?" she asked. "Was it a heart condition?" she was interested, most certainly. But then she did like getting to know people. He reminded her slightly of past company, so that had her even more interested.
“Bingo,” Angel said with a nod. “Didn’t work. Still doesn’t work so great, but I manage. But, I was a miracle, hence Angel.” He smiled to himself. “Were you named after the bird?”
Frowning slightly, she considered. "What's the issue with it?" she asked. "And I'm not sure. I would consider it likely. My mother...I've been told she was a 'hippie chick'." she shared.
“It just doesn’t work so well. I can’t overstress it. And I take medicine for it.” He listened to her explain. It was interesting not know where her name came from. “It’s Reyezuelo in Spanish,” he told her. Then finished up his pancakes, setting them on another plate and turning off the stove.
"Which is? Your medication, or 'wren'?" she asked curiously. She paused in her eating to go get them both some orange juice. "Do you have an alert system? Do people know what to do if something happens?" she asked. She kept sweets around for Adam, though at current, she knew that was irrelevant.
“Wren,” Angel said. “Something happens to what?” He hadn’t been expecting that question, stopping with his fork mid bite. What on earth was she talking about.
"Rey...e...zue...lo." she repeated slowly, watching him to be sure she got the pronunciation right. She smiled, either way, liking to hear it in another language. "Thank you for telling me." she added. Bringing them juice, she sat back down. "If something happens with your heart. Is there a medical protocol? Do people understand that there could be a danger, and know what to do if there's an issue?"
He nodded at her pronunciation, not perfect, but not bad. When she clarified what she was asking about he laughed a little and shook his head. “No. I just die.” He didn’t seem upset about it. He’d lived with the risk his whole life.
She didn't like the sound of that, something that was clear in her expression. "It can't be like cutting a string...do you not have a heart attack? What are you taking and what does it do? There must be some procedure to follow..."
He shook his head. “There’s not. Maybe something if someone catches me, if not, the Lord is calling me and it’s my time.”
Shaking her head, Wren decided that wasn't good enough. "We'll need to make people aware. It's a small place, the likelihood of someone being around if things do not go well is high. Having them immediately contact someone to help is good. What exactly would happen? A heart attack?" she asked.
He shrugged. “It just stops working. I guess if someone called a doctor, I might get out of it alive again, but I don’t worry about it. There’s no point. I’d rather just live.”
"I don't understand how not doing something to continue to live qualifies as 'living'." Wren said, honestly confused. "But, okay. That sounds like a heart attack, which can be caught, and can be handled. I'm going to put in a request for supplies. Possibly a...I've seen them on television. The things they say 'clear' for?" she said. "One of those. If that would help. I need to speak to a doctor." she decided.
“They told me not to be too strenuous with my heart. Not to do things that could put it at risk. I don’t see a point in not doing things.” Angel was surprised that she was still running with ideas. “You don’t have to you know? I’m fine.”
"Just because someone doesn't have to do something doesn't mean they shouldn't." Wren told him with a firm nod. "What exactly is your condition called?" she asked, glancing around to see if there was a napkin to write on or something. Or she would just have to remember.
“Why are you so worried about this?” Angel asked instead of answering her question. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. It was a strange thing to hear.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Wren countered.
“Because outside of life changing pancakes, you don’t know me.” Angel didn’t get that good in people. Not when loyalties existed.
"I don't have to." Wren said. "You're someone with a condition and may need help. I see absolutely no reason whatsoever why I wouldn't do my very best to provide it."
Angel made a face as he watched her, fist still holding his fork against one cheek. “And you’re just, naturally good like that?” Had he even met someone like her? Probably not ever. Even the nuns at the church he’d grown up in were a little crooked in who they let through the doors.
"Yes." Wren told him, holding eye contact as she said it. Because she was. She wasn't putting on airs, she wasn't saying things just to say them. She had conviction. She had principals. And if he had some sort of medical condition, then she was going to do her best to help with things.
Angel frowned. He believed her. He hadn't expected to, but she was too serious when she said it not to. "Well then the world's as twisted as I thought if someone like you wound up here."
"The cult I grew up with ran a large scale marijuana operation. When everyone killed themselves, and our leader was gone, I was the only one left to prosecute. I was unaware it was illegal. I hadn't left the commune since I had arrived." she explained.
Angel almost laughed. "Twisted but a kind of twisted I get." He'd been arrested on drug charges himself. "They'll always find someone to blame," he said frowning. "Sorry about that."
"It isn't your fault, but thank you for the sentiment." she told him. "So, are you going to let me help, then?" she asked. "See if there's anything I can do to help you, just in case?"
He propped his cheek against his fist and shrugged. “I suppose sure. I’ll let you know what the name of the medicine is. Or whatever you think will help. I still tell you, I’m not worried about dying.”
"I accept that." she said, nodding. She just didn't accept the part where he died. He could feel about it however he wanted. She gave him a smile, and finished off her pancakes. "Message me with the information. And thank you very much for breakfast." she told him, tone warm, grateful.
Angel nodded. “You like it? Because I can definitely make you food again.” She was interesting in her sweetness, different than what he’d seen.
Smiling, she nodded. "That would be appreciated." she said. Plus, if he was doing that, then they could talk again. He was clearly someone who was used to a much darker caliber of people than she was. Perhaps it would do him some good to have a different influence there.
Angel nodded. “You let me know chica and I’ll make you dinner. Might even try my hand at some of mi mama’s recipes.”
That made Wren's smile even wider, and she nodded. "I look forward to it." she told Angel sincerely. Then she turned to head out, pleased with her encounter. And she had a mission, so she would see to that.
Angel watched her go, managing to keep from shaking his head until she was out of the room. Curious little bird that one.