The Jester
Characters: Leandro and Becka Setting: Activity room, then her room, afternoon
Becka spent most of the afternoon between the clinic and the laundry room, switching her laundry to the dryer when it was ready, and then when it was done in the dryer, she’d let Cal know she was taking a longer break to get her clothes folded and put away. She folded them neatly as she pulled them out of the dryer, layering them in the laundry basket she’d brought them down in. When all that was done, she carried the basket out of the laundry room and to the elevator, taking it straight up to the second floor where it opened to the activity room. She left the elevator, the doors dinging closed moments later, not really paying any attention to what might be going on in the room as she was focused on just going to her own.
To say that Leandro needed to blow off steam after his encounter with the terrifying Wu was an understatement. He found himself feeling unsafe on the first floor, where there were no particular vantage point, and took the elevator up to the second floor instead. At least there were windows there. For some time, he simply leaned against a window and watched the activity below him, every so often his eyes flicking toward the kitchen doors below.
Even in his most vigilant moods that state couldn't last for long, and Leandro was up and moving soon enough. His steps took him to the activity room, full of things he wasn't really sure what to do with, but that didn't stop him from digging through them anyway. For as long as he remained undisturbed, the young man's nimble fingers went over boxes of supplies, looked in desks, and opened the lids of video game boxes. Scavenging made him feel safer, feel prepared. There was nothing much in the room he needed at the moment except for a pair of long craft scissors, and those were mostly just because it was a comfort to have one more sharp object on his person. Glancing left and right, he swiftly nabbed them up and stuffed them into the back of his belt, under his shirt.
Having done so made him feel as though he should leave the scene of the "crime" as it were. It was only a pair of scissors, but taking things around the facility made him feel like he was in a constant state of shoplifting – after the high came the low, the anxiety. It had probably been enough time now that he could go back to his room and sequester himself for a while, perhaps find a use for his new toy, so he made for as fast a jaunt as his body allowed, head down.
And then smacked into something fairly solid. His long legs tangled in something – or someone? - else and he found himself on the ground. The breath tumbled out of his chest with a hard wheeze, eyes bulging.
The last thing Becka expected as she left the elevator was for someone to run into her. She let out a surprised screech as she stumbled, laundry basket knocked from her hands, sending her freshly cleaned and folded clothes all over the floor. Her hand flung out, finding something to hold onto to keep from falling as well. Not even here a week, and she’d already been tripped over or run into twice. This was just the way her day was going, right? She glanced over at the guy as she knelt down to start picking up her clothes, recognizing him as the one that had been at the bar with Kyle and Adam last night.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern in her tone. After all, he’d actually fallen down, so while she’d been inconvenienced, her worry was solely on him.
Leandro was vaguely aware of being showered in something soft and fragrant, something like an article of clothing falling onto his back. He was, for the time being, face down on the floor and propped up on his elbows. Landing like that had hurt, the pressure on his ribcage making him cough hoarsely a number of times. Spots flew before his eyes for a split-second, the screech coming through to his ears as if they were plugged by wool. So he'd hit someone, and from the sound of it a girl. He'd have thought he'd grown to be more careful by now, but anxiety did a number on his patience for anything.
His limbs felt like mud when he moved them. He was determined, however, to continue to keep his weakness to himself, forcing himself up and stumbling to his feet. There was a hint of daze in his eyes when he stood, but he retrieved the article of clothing that had fallen on him and held it out automatically, not looking at what exactly it was.
"Uh, here you go," he murmured. "Sorry, my bad. I'm fine, it's cool." Then he glanced down at the clothing on the floor, wondering if he should help. Probably not. Touching a girl's clothes seemed kind of over the line. But still, to show at least some concern, he added, "You okay too?"
When the guy started coughing, Becka’s brows furrowed as she became more concerned, an automatic response. Her expression didn’t relax when he said he was fine, not sure she believed him. She took the shirt he’d picked up and held out to her, refolding it and putting it in the basket. “I’m fine,” she assured him, smiling slightly. “You just knocked my clothes over.” And made her balance go a bit off, but she’d righted herself without any real issues, so no harm done. “Are you sure you’re all right? That cough didn’t sound so great,” she said pointedly and yet still with gentle concern.
Leandro felt a little dumb just standing there watching her re-fold the clothes, but he was also glad for the moment to catch his breath. Maybe the doc was right and he should do something about his lung, but by then he was so used to the stiff scar tissue that it felt like a permanent fixture on his body. Hidden far inside of him, out of sight and hopefully out of anyone else's mind.
"Glad you're okay," he asserted when she agreed, nodding once. "Hope I didn't ruin anything either. That's what sucks about being a giraffe." Here, he tapped his heel against his ankle for show. At 6'2" and about a mile of leg, it wasn't hard to trip him up. He somewhat anticipated that she'd ask if he was alright, and was used to a little pursuit too, so he grinned in perfect form not a second later. "Oh yeah. You know how it goes--" One hand lifted and pinched his first finger and thumb together, then brought that to his lips in an evocative gesture. He bluffed in his trademark outrageous tone. "Used to spend too much time with my tía Juanita. Don't do drugs, they're really bad for you."
Becka glanced around with a wrinkled nose at her clothes and sheets strewn about. While she wasn’t really thrilled that they’d been knocked over, it really wasn’t the end of the world, and she highly doubted anything was ruined from a few moments on the floor. “I don’t think you did, so don’t worry about it,” she assured him, glancing up that mile of leg and body to his face. It was an interesting face, to be sure, but even though Becka came from Minnesota, that didn’t mean she’d never seen people with tattoos and piercings and wild hair, especially with a best friend like Lucy. “At least you never have to worry about reaching the top shelf,” she quipped with a little grin. It was cheesy, yes, but it made her feel a bit better, a bit more like her normal self.
At the gesture, Becka pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Yes, they are,” she agreed, trying for a serious expression and tone. Drugs were bad, she believed that firmly, but she couldn’t help but find a little humor in the way he’d brought it up. “Luckily, or not depending on your point of view, marijuana isn’t an issue here,” she added, giving him a pointed look. If he was coughing that bad already, she really didn’t want to think how much worse it would be while smoking weed. “But if it becomes an issue, don’t hesitate to let Cal or I know,” she told him, dropping the humor for a moment. And then she realized that he probably had no clue who she was. “I’m Becka, by the way. Resident nurse.” Unlicensed, technically, but she was trying not to dwell on that.
Leandro laughed with returning spirits at Becka's little quip, nodding several times. "You bet I can. And I open a mean pickle jar too. That's why the matriarchs plan to keep me alive when they take over the world." He could do cheesy too, and with gusto. In fact, it was likely one of his favorite flavors.
Then he shrugged vaguely, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm all dried out whether I like it or not, so it's nothing but a memory now. I'm a little surprised there are cigarettes, but I'm not complaining. When I saw them with the bar I was wondering when the ferris wheel and the chili fry maker was going to show up." At that, Leandro lifted one angular brow high, his smile going a little crooked. "But no seriously, it's cool. I'm surviving." He'd already spoken to Cal the other day, but until hearing the girl's name he didn't think anything of ghosting over the fact. The name, however, caught his attention. He leaned down towards her with a sparkle of interest in his dark eyes.
"Ah, you're Nurse Becka?! Well, you're just cute as a button, aren't you? I might have to take up extreme sports or something so we can hang out more often." He cocked his head and threw her an animated wink. "Or just make it up to you for playing slip 'n slide with your laundry. Want me to help? I'll carry the basket for you."
In spite of her mood, Becka found herself giggling at the cheeky comment he said in return. “Well, there ya go then, your master plan has been revealed,” she said with a smile that definitely felt far more normal than any she’d given so far today. She tilted her head as he shrugged and spoke, considering his words. She couldn’t say she was entirely surprised about the cigarettes, but the bar had been a surprise, and she was still convinced that it was a very bad idea. “Hmm, you should request them and see. Could see them maybe giving a chili fry maker for the kitchen, but maybe for the ferris wheel they’d give the build-a-model Lego type.” The thought amused her, and she felt half-tempted to request it just to see what they would do.
“Okay,” Becka said, accepting his insistence that he was all right. She made a mental note to mention it to Cal though, just in case. Her brows furrowed and she looked a little unsure as his expression changed when she told him her name. When he spoke, though, she flushed. “Thanks?” she said a little awkwardly, though she felt some of her stress and tension loosen a little at the interaction. “But no! Don’t hurt yourself just to hang out with little ol’ me!” She finished getting the last of her clothes back folded into the basket. “Oh, ummm, sure,” she finally said, though she wasn’t really gonna make him carry the basket, even if he had been the one to upend it. “My room’s not far from here, though. What was your name?” she asked, though she had a pretty good guess.
As soon as permission had come out of Becka's mouth, Leandro was on the move. Oh boy, here it came. "Fair maiden," he announced in a lowered voice. At that depth there was a hint of something raspy in it, but nothing he seemed to pay any mind to. "I am Sir Leandro of the fabled City of Angels, and I will right the wrongs that have been committed to your unmentionables." Making an exaggerated bold face and sucking in a breath, he hiked the basket up and, with a bit of struggle he pretended not to notice either, set it on his shoulder. One arm wrapped around the bottom and up to the other side, and his opposite fingers wound into the weave on the front to hold it still.
"Pray thee lead the way." He was trying very, very hard to keep his face still, but it wasn't completely working. Every so often the corner of his mouth would twitch as if he couldn't wait to bust up laughing. Either that, or the basket was actually kind of heavy on his skinny frame. Perhaps a combination of both, but he wasn't about to just set it down. "So you really think they'd give us a chili fry maker? That seems so... well, nuts. Cause really, what would a chili fry maker do and who'd need one? It'd be kind of awesome to have any kind of rideable ferris wheel though. Well, maybe not a ferris wheel and not one out of legos because it'd bust like if somebody got on it after eating dinner and yeah." He was fully rambling, but he seemed to be having a good time with it. "I know, they should give us a rideable train set. It could go all the way around the courtyard and up and down the stairs."
Becka let out a surprised little laugh when Leandro scooped up the basket and set it on his shoulder, her troubles falling more completely to the back of her mind, nearly forgotten in the face of his antics. She really wasn’t surprised that he was Leandro; she’d thought he was. She giggled more when he continued, shifting to stand back up and lead the way out of the activity room. She was going to answer his question, but he just plowed on, and she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing more. “Well,” she said, dragging the word out when he finally seemed to stop rambling to breathe. “A rideable train set could be pretty fun. There needs to be more fun around here,” she said decisively as she led the way to her room. It didn’t take long to get there, and she fished her key out of her pocket, unlocking the door and going in, moving out of the way so Leandro could bring her clothes in.
Normally Leandro would have said something very inappropriate about "fun", but glancing once more at the petite blonde woman beside him, he couldn't make himself do it. He had a weakness, it seemed. Instead, he just smirked enigmatically. "Yeah. Yeah, we do need a lot more fun around here. Oodles of it." For the rest of the time that Becka took to open her door, he just stood with the side of his head leaning against the basket, waiting and trying not to think about it sort of cutting into his shoulder. Yes, he decided as he thought about it, he definitely had a weakness and in the face of it, he was kind of a sucker, wasn't he?
When the door was held open for him, he meandered inside at his even pace and hoisted the basket down beside the bed. Mission accomplished, he stood back up and put both of his hands to his lower back, squinting his eyes a little. In that position, he was directly in front the painted wall, which he took a moment to look over. "Much improved," he decided. "I hate that pea green color we have going on. It's kind of depressing, isn't it? This is cool. Like you should make a beach or something."
Becka just smiled in response to his agreement. It surprised her a little that there seemed to be so many people open to lighthearted fun here, but she wasn’t going to complain about it. She would go insane if she was constantly surrounded by extremely intense, dramatic people. When he studied her painted walls, Becka tried not to wince as she remembered painting them. God, she was doing just a little better a minute ago, she didn’t want to go back to thinking and stressing about him, and so she focused on Leandro’s words. “It was kind of depressing, that’s why I was so thrilled they gave us paints. You should paint yours, too. I’m definitely gonna encourage everyone to get rid of the pea green walls,” she said with a little smile. “But yeah, I really like this color. It made me think of looking at the sky through the really thin, almost transparent clouds,” she explained.
"Sunshine through the ethers," Leandro added to Becka's description of the color, drawing his hands back out and fluttering his fingers as if to indicate shimmer. He was hoping to get another one of those impossibly charming giggles out of her. Girls were so fun to play with. "I should paint mine, huh? Yeah, I probably should. You know what'd be a total riot? Have you ever seen one of those murals that totally looks like there's a real place on the other side of a wall but it's actually just painted on? Those are so great. I would put like, candyland or something. So everyone who came to visit would be like no way, it's the portal to a happy land!" Yet another sparkle of fingers near his face, but then they dropped to his sides in a rather limp way, his nose wrinkled. "But I'm not good enough to paint like that. I'd end up with like stick figures and stuff. Oh well. Maybe I'll just go with a solid color too. Like purple. Purple is cool. It's supposed to be the color of enlightenment."
The fluttering fingers teased a wider smile from Becka, and she found herself charmed by Leandro. “Oh!” she said, dragging the word out and ending on a giggle when he paused. The thought of a portal to a happy land was just kind of absolutely the perfect thought for her just then. “That would be pretty impressive.” She wondered if Kyle would be able to paint something like that. Her smile fell a bit when his nose wrinkled. “Purple is cool, I like purple, but don’t give up on the mural idea! You should ask Kyle if he’d be able to do something like that,” she suggested. “He’s kind of the resident artist, I guess. I mean, I don’t know if anyone else is as passionate about it as he is, and I talked to him about doing some kind of mural for my room,” she explained.
Success! Oh, Becka was such a darling, it could have made anyone want to scoop her up and cuddle her. How they'd found such women in prison, Leandro would never know. He was half of the mind that she and Wren were actually his own hallucinations and maybe at some later point he would dream that they were puppets and he was actually on some bizarre reality tv show. It wouldn't surprise him much if he was the next Truman Show after all. Surreal.
But if that's how it was going to be, he could smile for her and nod along to her suggestion. "Yeah, maybe. Who knows. I bet that'd be really time-consuming. Maybe a small window into Candyland instead of a giant portal. Why, what are you going to have him do in here?"
Glancing at him, Becka tilted her head, frowning slightly when it almost seemed like he was brushing the idea off. “It probably would be time consuming,” she addressed that point first. “But it’s a good thing to find things to keep us busy, right? And I mean, you’d have to see what kind of deal Kyle would want for it, but I know he’s really thrilled to have art supplies and be doing stuff with that again.” She didn’t want to outright say that Kyle would expect something in return, even though he’d said as much to her yesterday morning, but she could imply it. “And I haven’t decided what I’ll have him do in here yet. I keep changing my mind, so I might just ask him to do some canvases for me.” If only she could just settle on an idea for what she wanted.
Oh, now that was an interesting tidbit. Leandro crossed his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at Becka, clearly amused as the smirk on his face proved. "What kind of deal Kyle wants? I didn't know there was much of value in here. As far as I can tell, if you really want something you just write a letter to Santa and it comes down the Christmas Elevator later. What's he trading, exactly? Can't be smokes, 'cause those are open at the bar to everyone. Favors? Protection?" There was a hint of sharpness in his voice there, an iciness that crept up on him every time he thought of doing business. "I guess that's one way to make sure everyone makes themselves useful. I'll have to remember that."
When Leandro looked down at her like that, Becka found herself hesitating, biting her lip. Had she said something she shouldn’t have? She hoped not; she hadn’t wanted to make things complicated for Kyle, but he had said that he didn’t want to paint everyone’s room for nothing. “Oh, ummm, I don’t really know. I mean, I think it’s just a finding ways to chip in around here in general type of thing? But you’d have to talk to Kyle about anything more specific.” The way he was talking made her uncomfortable, and she shifted awkwardly. “It’s not a bad thing, I don’t think. I mean, the welcome message even made it seem like we were supposed to all find ways to contribute anyway,” she said, tone creeping toward defensive on Kyle’s behalf.
Leandro's look softened when he noticed how uncomfortable he'd made Becka. He sniffed a little, maybe with distaste, but he did relent after all by way of uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Sorry. It just struck me funny. I don't know if they did this in women's prison but in men's prison, when somebody wants to trade it's usually bad news. Bad things happen to guys who can't pay their bills." He knew better than most, maybe, since he wasn't physically strong enough to pay in blood the way some gangs wanted, and he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to do that anyway. One of the last interesting episodes he remembered from California State was when he hid a man for several hours who was trying to avoid paying his bill with a pound of his own flesh. His sympathy went to Becka who, like Wren, was tossed in with all the rough boys. Clearing his throat, he added more gently after a moment, "Say, I don't mean to scare you, but you're careful around here, aren't you? Wouldn't want you running up the bad side of somebody nasty."
Becka didn’t stop frowning even when his look softened, and it only deepened when he spoke up again. He looked so unhappy, though, that when she heard his words, inferred the meaning behind them, she reached out and rested her hand on his arm. “Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way at all,” she assured him. “And I.... I wasn’t at my last place very long, only ten weeks, and it was in Minnesota, and you know what they say, right? Minnesota nice and all that. It really wasn’t that bad, but... Well, you hear things about other prisons on tv and stuff, and if you... If that happened to you, I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his arm lightly, hoping to reassure with the contact. “For what it’s worth, though, I don’t think Kyle’s thinking like that at all. I think it’s more not wanting to feel taken advantage of. Painting a room? Well, it’s time consuming and would be a lot of work, so...” she trailed off, realizing that she’d been over-explaining again.
When Leandro asked that, Becka’s brows furrowed, reminded of the way Dominic had asked if any of the guys had looked at her all creepy like. There really were a lot of decent people in here, she thought, especially if you didn’t take into account their crimes. “Umm, yeah. I guess I am, but I mean, I haven’t met anyone that seemed nasty.” Sure, Dominic had scared her at first, but it hadn’t taken long to realize that he was a good guy at the core, and Wu had been a tad unsettling, but she tried not to think about the older man too much, especially with the laundry list of crimes he’d admitted to being in for in Dominic’s journal post.
Before he could catch himself, Leandro twitched a little under Becka's touch. It wasn't that he didn't like it – actually, it was so warm and inviting it was hard not to be moved – but he wasn't used to anyone doing anything like that for him. He was used to taking his lumps alone. His smile was somewhat pale, cautiously withdrawing his arm from her. "It's cool, it wasn't a personal thing," he deflected, shaking his head. "Just stuff I saw other guys go through. I spent all my time playing dominoes with my homies." Not the truth, but an image he hoped perhaps Becka would have an easier time swallowing. "It's good that you had an easy time, though. Let's hope it stays that way for you. You have everything to look forward to when you get out of here."
He'd said it before to Wren, too, but this time maybe it was as much for own comfort as it was for hers. He didn't much want to imagine her falling apart in the way he saw some go once they hit the streets. What he imagined for himself, if ever he found himself on them again. Some part of him believed he wouldn't; this was probably the end of the line. Not that he'd have anything to do out there if it wasn't. Leandro just shook his head somewhat, halfway hidden beneath his long fringe. "Don't make any assumptions. Good lesson for life in general. Even on the worst day of your life you keep your wits about you, okay?"
As Leandro twitched and withdrew from the touch, Becka drew her own hand back, curling it into a fist and crossing her arms in front of her to keep from reaching out again. She kept forgetting that most people in prison didn’t like being touched, a concept that was very difficult for her to really understand. It was in her nature to try to comfort, and she was an affectionate person, but she needed to try to remember. “Okay,” she said softly at what he said, not sure she entirely believed him, but not about to push the point.
Becka nodded mutely, though she tried to figure out how she was supposed to balance who she was with how she was supposed to deal with other convicts. “I... Okay, yeah.” She trusted her judgment, her instincts, and so far her instincts hadn’t told her that she really needed to be too terribly worried about anyone she’d met.
As Becka stood there so silently, Leandro began to feel like he'd just kicked a kitten or something. He shifted his weight around on his boots, too, staring down at their narrow toes. He wished that he could have warned her somehow about what he knew, that there were definitely some people in here that were bad news, but then he reminded himself of his own decision: telling them would probably just incite the anger of those he meant for them to avoid. Make them act out in even more powerful fury than they'd been hiding before. After a moment Leandro sighed with a shallow puff and looked up again, flicking his hair out of his face quickly.
"Look, I didn't mean it. I'm sorry. Don't be afraid on my account. You're nice, and you're probably doing great already without me shaking my finger at you. I'm just... like that. I see you can handle yourself and you're going to be fine." He smiled for her, willing every last ounce of sunshine he had to show through between his teeth as a show of his faith for her. The less she knew, the safer she'd be, he said to himself again. Maybe she would never attract the attention of those like Wu.
This had turned just plain awkward, and Becka had had more than enough awkward in the past day to last herself a long time. Even though he brushed things off and tried to reassure her and smiled at her, Becka found herself saying, “I’ve been told more than once that I should be afraid.” She winced faintly at the admission, though, not wanting to think about why Adam had told her that, not wanting to think about Adam at all in that moment. She’d thought about Adam too much today, she needed just a little break from thinking about him. She hugged her arms a little tighter around herself even as she tried to smile. “But things are gonna be good here,” she said hopefully, though she wasn’t proud to admit that there was a note of question in the statement.
More often now than he really liked, Leandro ended up feeling bad whenever one of these girls gave him that particular type of look. He didn't have a ton of experience with women, and so far they just sort of felt like shorter, cuter pals, plus the whole physical interest issue, but this was starting to become unbearable. He stuck his toe into the floor a little harder, his chin pointed down a little. "Yeah, well... tell you what. Maybe those people who are actually nice will keep a lookout for people who are not nice, okay? And then it will be good, because if anybody tries to mess with you we'll just kind of kick their asses."
What should he do then? He had no idea. The way she was hugging herself, it almost looked as if she was cold. Or was that a hint? He squared his jaw and gave it a shot. "So, do you like... I dunno, do you want a hug or something? Just between us pals?" He made sure to say the last bit just in case he ended up coming off as creepy too, then he pulled his hands out of his pockets in invitation.
Becka bit her lip, tilting her head slightly as she listened to what he was saying. She couldn’t deny that it felt really good to think that there would be others here that would look out for her, that would have her back. It filled that hole that was missing in her life now, the one she’d never felt before because her brothers had always been there watching over her. “I like the sound of that,” she admitted softly. She knew logically that admitting weaknesses wasn’t a good thing in prison, but she wasn’t tough or brave or anything like that, and she knew that she had to survive this somehow. It helped that she really liked the people who’d implied they’d help look out for her so far.
The offer took her by surprise because of the way he’d withdrawn from her just moments before, and Becka found her cheeks flushing, just a little embarrassed that she did want a hug, very much. “I... Yeah, but you don’t have to. I mean, I know a lot of people here have really big personal space bubbles and stuff, and...” She bit her lip as she cut herself off, feeling silly and so very young in that moment.
Oh, now it seemed Leandro had managed to scare her off, what with his confusion over her sympathy, maybe? But somehow, Becka's persona made him understand the others a little more. The ones that suggested the fun and games and acted like nothing was wrong. Maybe it was a coping mechanism for the more delicate, the ones who couldn't stand to fight and so they laughed instead. They played games when they could have been scavenging for weapons like he did, knowing that if it ever sank so low... No, they didn't deserve that. They had a choice, it seemed, and Leandro's interaction with Wu only highlighted in his mind. They could go back to how things were. Living under the thumbs of those who were stronger than they were. Or maybe... who knew. Maybe if they did take care of the less fortunate in that department, it would come back to them in a good way. They could keep a bit of the crap out of their cage and make it so that all of those instruments of war were unnecessary for now, at least while they didn't need to brandish them at real-world bullies.
As for the current time, maybe a little of his old 'tude would help fix this problem? Leandro made for an exaggerated "pff!" noise, and then held his arms out a little further. "Come on, who do I look like? Chance? Let's do this, girl. Invade my bubble." His fingertips waggled, his mouth gaped comically, and he tilted his head to the side to wink.
Becka tried not to shift awkwardly as he seemed to be considering something, but when he spoke again, she let out a little laugh, relaxing her stance as she closed the distance and gave him a hug. “Chance? The guy who hates meatloaf?” she asked as she did so, surprised that the very small fact from the questionnaire came to her in that moment. Her conversation with him had been extremely short, and she still had no idea how someone could hate meatloaf. Leandro was thin, but Becka didn’t really notice as she was focused on the hug itself. Contact with someone who wasn’t freaking out or pulling away, pushing her away.
After a minute, she did pull back though, looking up at him with a smile. “Thanks,” she said softly, obviously having needed that hug more than she wanted to admit.
He knew he wasn't quite a stuffed animal or anything, but Leandro did the best he could wrapping his long arms around Becka and embracing her for a brief moment. Her head was just under his chin so that if he tucked his shoulders in he could shield her a little more fully. This was... yeah, this was pretty nice. He could get used to this. When she was done he let her go, trying to smile back at her reassuringly.
"You're welcome. And yeah, that guy. Don't try and bust his bubble. He'll explode." He laughed openly, but deep down he thought Chance was kind of funny. Maybe had more adjusting to do than most, but still. "I can't believe he hates meatloaf. What is he, soulless?" Leandro made a face at that, squinting one eye.
Becka laughed at his comment about Chance, shaking her head a little as she took a couple steps further back to push up and perch on her desk. If he was gonna stick around and chat, which she wouldn’t mind at all because it was a very good distraction, then she was going to get comfortable. “I know, right? My mom makes amazing meatloaf, though, so maybe that’s the problem. Maybe his was just a terrible cook,” she ventured with an almost mischievous smile. “Though I remember him saying it was a texture of ground beef thing, so who knows. Maybe he doesn’t like hamburgers or... tacos either.” She tsked, shaking her head as though that would be a travesty.
That seemed to be the cue to make himself comfortable, Becka sitting on her desk and not pushing him out the door, so he followed and grabbed her desk chair, turning it around so he could sit backwards in it and fold his arms over the backrest. He looked up at her on her vantage point, contemplating for a moment her comment about her mother. This was one topic amongst many others that was so difficult for him that he could not even bear to crack on hearing it. His smile continued as an extension from before, letting the feeling behind it ghost over.
"That's nice," he answered, even if it was a little out of context. "But seriously? Texture of ground beef? It's such a neutral texture, I don't get it. If he doesn't like tacos, I don't think he and I can be friends anymore. Tacos are like a gateway food. You have not lived until you've tried a tamale. When I had spare change I used to get them out of this lunch truck down in Boyle Heights." Leandro made a soft sound in his throat as he closed his eyes, putting a hand to his throat. "Freakin' amazing. Straight from the old country. Most people wouldn't be brave enough to eat food out of a truck with no English on it but after a while you get bored enough to try anything."
It was nice that he seemed to settle in for conversation too. Normally Becka thrived on social interaction, and it was something she’d missed in the past two and a half months. She laughed as he spoke, nodding in agreement. “Oooh, I’ve never had a tamale,” she admitted. He seemed so enthusiastic about them that she found she wanted to try one. She wiggled a bit as she sat up straighter, bringing an air of confidence. “I’d try one. Doesn’t get more authentic than a truck with no English, right?” she pointed out with a little laugh. “I’d try just about any food once, though. I’m not really picky. So do you know how to make them? Or maybe Carmel might. Cause now I want to try one. I’m all for living, after all,” she told him with a wide smile.
With her reaction, it felt as though an air of normalcy had returned. Leandro grinned up at her, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh yeah. I'm not the world's best cook or anything but I know what it's supposed to come out like. Maybe with a little research Carmel and I can make a Mexican dinner one night. We might have to forgo some of the more exotic ingredients, but most of the rest is pretty simple. Pork, dough, some good chiles. It's gonna be hot, though." He stuck his finger out at her in warning. "I don't want to see any tears. Not at my cooking. You'll just have to keep a glass of milk handy. Either that, or you'll have to make it up to me. Maybe with meatloaf."
Becka smiled wider when he said he could do it, already looking forward to the variety they’d be able to get with meals. “Exotic ingredients?” she asked before wrinkling her nose and laughing at the warning. “I can do hot. Probably. I won’t cry,” she said confidently. “But hmm, meatloaf. Now, I’m not as good a cook as my mom cause, well, I was always just too busy to hang out in the kitchen with her, but I could probably replicate that one. So how ‘bout you make me tamales, and I’ll make you meatloaf,” she bartered, trying to keep from smiling too widely.
"Hmmmmm..." Leandro made as if to think about that one for a moment, eyeing Becka up and down with mock suspicion. He even reached up to tap his finger over his lips. "I don't know... Alright. I believe you. You could totally take the heat. You got a deal, sweetie. I'm sure Carmel will be thrilled with us making more work for her."
He laughed again, thinking in the back of his mind Carmel probably wouldn't mind. She just seemed happy enough to know that everyone was getting along and behaving themselves. And not burning things down, she would have probably added to Leandro personally. He stuck out his hand towards Becka to shake on their deal, while also considering the exotic ingredients. "Yeah, like... well, tamales are dressed in a corn husk, so they'd have to find some of those for us that are ready for cooking, and I don't know if it would be any good with cheap dough flour. It really needs masa harina. It's like corn flour with some lime. Maybe Carmel can figure it out. What kind of meatloaf are you going to make me? I've never had real homemade meatloaf."
Becka made it a point to keep up the confident airs while Leandro eyed her. Laughing, she pushed a fist into the air in victory. “Go me!” she joked, still laughing a bit. “Eh, I think Carmel is just still really thrilled to be cooking for people again, and if we help her with it all and not make her do all the work, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Like, she said how you’re helping make the pizzas tonight. She seemed really excited about it.” Or at least to be really looking forward to it.
Leaning forward, Becka shook his hand, then tilted her head as she considered the exotic ingredients he listed off. “Well, I’m sure they’d provide whatever we might need for them if we asked,” she said musingly. They really had provided a wide variety of foods already, so she couldn’t see them denying that. “Umm, the good kind?” she answered with a little laugh. “I don’t know, you put all the ingredients in a bowl, mix ‘em all together with your hands, form it in a loaf and bake it. But it’s not awesome without the special sauce you add on the top for the last little bit of baking. Luckily that one’s really easy to make.” And now she really wanted meatloaf.
He had to hand it to her, Becka did keep her chin up under fire nicely. There were some out there who got so nervous under his gaze it was almost silly... maybe it was because of Becka's history as a nurse. She must have seen some frightening things in her time, actually. That made Leandro curious.
"Yeah, go you," he joined in, huffing a laugh under his breath. He spared a little applause for her, too, then went back to rest atop the chair back. "Probably. She really seems into taking care of everyone. She did ask me to help with the pizza because I told her it's my favorite. I don't know, like I said, it's not something I normally do... but I can give it a shot. You could come on down too. I'm making sure there are extra special pizzas for extra special people." He grinned at that, one of his big toothy ones. "I guess I'll ask about the other stuff. But hm... What's the special sauce? I thought it was like gravy or something."
Becka giggled at the little applause, feeling lighter and happier than she had all day. She hadn’t forgotten all the things she’d been dwelling on, but she was happy to not focus on it for a little bit. She was going to agree about Carmel, but Leandro just kept on talking and so she waited until he took a breath. “I...” She glanced around the room, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest at the invitation. “I’ve got a few things I need to do in here, and then I wanted to double check with Cal that we’d done everything we needed to do today in the clinic.” Excuses, excuses. But as pleasant as this conversation had been so far, she still wasn’t sure she was feeling up to socializing in a group. “But maybe another time. This won’t be the only time we have pizza,” she added definitively.
She laughed lightly at the question. “It’s a secret!” she said, though it really wasn’t. And she really couldn’t keep up the pretense that it was for more than a few seconds. “It’s super simple, just ketchup and brown sugar, but it’s so good.”
Something about the way she declined the invitation had Leandro opening his mouth to ask questions, but in the end he decided to close it again and let her have her privacy. Everyone had their quirks in here, for sure, and he was hardly aware of hers yet, other than a penchant for hugs. "Hmm... well, yeah okay. Maybe sometime you'll tell me about that, then? Must kind of suck a bit knowing that there's only two of you as the last line of defense if anybody busts themselves up. It might not be as awesome, but I could save some pizza for you. You could try it for lunch tomorrow and write me a note to tell me what you thought?" There, that would shed a ray of hope on that idea perhaps, and allow her the option to get it at her leisure. He rose both eyebrows curiously, begging agreement.
But after that he chuckled again, smacking his hand lightly against the chair back. "Ketchup? Are you serious? That's really what it is?? Oh, that is so super funny."
“Tell you about what?” Becka asked, feeling like she’d missed something in the conversation. Sometimes that happened, and sometimes she just didn’t really get what was actually being talked about. “Umm, yeah, it’s a little worrisome that it’s just Cal and I, but I am hoping that whoever’s running this place would step in if there was a serious emergency. I mean, we did have a very small incident earlier, but we handled it just fine. I think Cal and I are gonna work pretty well together,” she said, aware that she was rambling just a little bit.
“Oh! No, I’ll come down to grab a slice or two, but I’m not... I don’t think I’m really feeling up to the group thing tonight. I’ll probably just bring it back up here and watch a movie or something. Quiet night in kind of thing,” she said with a small smile. She found herself laughing along with him at his reaction to learning what the special sauce actually was. “Yep, that’s what it is. And the special, secret ingredient for in the meatloaf? Barbeque sauce. It makes it just a little sweeter. So delicious!”
Leandro's eyes widened a touch, now unable to contain his curiosity. He really had a bit of a morbid streak, and at any rate whenever he heard about "incidents" he wanted to know who had caused it and if they were anyone to watch out for. "What happened??" he blurted right away, but realized after the fact that it was probably not the best way to convince a nurse to part with information. "I mean, yikes. That's too bad. Was it anything to worry about? But oh, I meant you should tell me about your work, since you sound kind of busy. Good, though, that you sound confident too."
As for the rest, he nodded faintly but still kept his eyes on Becka. "The group thing? Yeah, I don't blame you. Even a nurse needs some nursing sometime, eh?" He was still sort of drawing at it without asking right out. If it were anyone else he might have done just that. Rudely, even. It took more effort to be polite than it did to just let his mouth run where it pleased, but for such sweet company he still pressed on.
Finally, he murmured, "Hmuh. Barbecue sauce? Interesting. This is going to be an experience."
Becka wrinkled her nose at the question, shaking her head even as he continued to talk. “Cal and I might not be legally licensed cause we’re in here, but we both still feel very strongly about the whole confidentiality thing, so I can’t give you any details, sorry,” she told him with a firm honesty. There were many things she could be persuaded to talk about, but this just wasn’t one of them. “But it’s nothing you’d have to worry about.” And she really didn’t want to think on that particular incident anyway. “Oh! We’ve been inventorying the place, figuring out what all we have and familiarizing ourselves with the setup and all,” she explained with a smile, far more comfortable with talking about that than the incident.
Smiling softly at that, she nodded. “Yeah, something like that. It’s been a busy, kinda stressful day, so relaxing with pizza and a movie? Yeah, that sounds like a good way to end it,” she explained. She chuckled again when he seemed almost skeptical about the barbeque sauce. “Don’t knock it! It’s really good, I swear. I’ll talk to Carmel about it, see if she’d want to help me make a few of them for everyone.”
Busted. Leandro pressed his lips into a curious line and stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to affect a sheepish look. "Can't blame a guy for trying," he said. "I guess I have to leave you to it." The joke was his way of dropping it, moving forward in the topic. He'd have to try to sniff around elsewhere. "But yeah, so the setup is good? Is it really like a full clinic down there? I can't believe they're pulling this stuff out of thin air. See, I have this theory that we're seriously in the Twilight Zone or something."
He smiled more easily and was about to say something about Carmel again when the thought struck him. Leandro closed his mouth and glanced down at his wrist, checking the time on a plain onyx watch with a thick leather band. "Oh! Crap! I'm sitting here talking about pizza and forgetting I actually have to go make it at four. I should go meet Carmel for that before she does it all herself."
Becka merely smiled when he looked somewhat sheepish. Not enough for her to truly believe it, but enough that she didn’t think he would push. She didn’t comment further on it, focusing on the next question. “Yep, it’s a pretty good setup. Exam rooms and plenty of supplies and everything,” she answered. She chuckled softly and shook her head at the last bit, though. “The Twilight Zone? Nah, we don’t have some creepy narrator... I don’t think. Maybe we do.” She made her eyes go wide at the joke, wiggling her fingers a bit.
She almost pouted when he looked at his watch and said he had to go, because she’d really been enjoying the conversation. “Aww, yeah, you did say you’d help her. Best to keep your promises,” she agreed, trying for a serious tone, though her grin softened it. “Have fun with all that.” She hoped he would, genuinely. She really did think that everyone here needed to just have a bit more fun.
He knew that if he sat and engaged in any more he'd probably never get up and end up horribly late, so Leandro reluctantly lifted himself from the chair and tucked it back into the desk. He'd grinned and nodded at her joke, asserting that, "There might have been, but the characters never hear him." Becka had a cute sense of humor, which was greatly refreshing from the usual suspicious and grouchy fare their surroundings had to offer. Hopefully, nothing would ever happen to wreck that while she was doing time.
For his goodbyes, Leandro grabbed an invisible gentleman's hat off his head and tipped it elegantly. "Ma'am, it's been my pleasure to help, but a man does have to keep his promises. I'd best be getting on now." The western accent, while probably not any good, came out of nowhere just for fun. He broke it for the last bit, "I'm in room 2, if you ever want to hang out again. It's been a blast, sweetie."
Becka giggled at the unexpected accent, nodding as he told her his room number. “It has been fun,” she agreed. She could definitely see herself hanging out with him more. She liked his quirky behavior, the joking, and all. She still smiled as he left, though once he was gone and the door had closed, she blew out a breath. Responsibility won, as usual, and she slid off the desk to put her clean clothes away.