the light catches the eye but shadows have (moretosay) wrote in summerview, @ 2018-12-14 16:55:00 |
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Entry tags: | briar maeve naga, zjames byrne |
Oh darling, careful whose eyes you catch
12/14
James ✦ Maeve
Hot chocolate in the cold PG-13 Complete |
It was 45 degrees, cloudy, there was a decent breeze coming off the water, and Maeve could not be more pleased to be outside on the wharfs. It was her day off and yet someone had called in sick, and instead of letting someone else come in she had worked the lunch shift and left the Pub with a tired mutter once the evening workers started filtering in. Besides, 2 to five wasn’t too bad, considering. It was worth the bit of chill to talk with the people who were running the artisinal, magical hot chocolate stand just before the dock started proper. They had a spiked horchata that appeared to come in mugs the size of pints which were ridiculous, unnecessary, and surely excessive. She definitely wanted five. Hence the reason she was standing in line after she got off work, ungloved hands rubbing together as she cracked her knuckles before rubbing them on her jeans instead for more friction, peering up at the sky and trying to remember the forecast before saying fuck it her curls couldn’t get any more out of hand even if the wind picked up. This cloudy weather often reminded James of home. Civil unrest, terrorism, sectarian strife, and tension at the border between police forces as a neverending issue. Not only that, but the prevalent religion was chock full of dark tales, a rather strong history of superstition - the climate was colder than England, and it rained even more so, a constant drizzle that was as gloomy as the mood. The winters were chilly, wet, and windy. So he'd take waiting in line for fancy hot chocolate as a good thing. Especially at the wharf, it was hard to go wrong - the ocean breeze whispered like a lover, salty kisses on his cheek and salt on the eyelashes to boot. Just a hint of power - it Mother Nature was offended, the gentle breeze would become angrier, tossing ships like toys. It was something he contemplated as he stood in line, assessing the options. And oh, look who he was behind - what a rare treat. “Getting the one with Irish cream?” he asked conversationally, since that was damn well what James was going for. And potentially five of them. Usually, Maeve prided herself on being aware of her surroundings. It was good as an employer, as a bartender, as a thief, hell as a woman. You just didn’t piss as many people off and still manage to live as long as she had while letting people sneak up on you. But, everyone had their off days. It was probably the cold, or the fact that her brain was still rebelling because she was supposed to be veggin’ out in her PJs, thank you very much. But still! She didn’t jump, especially after she placed that voice. Instead she did a slow, leisurely pivot to face him with a pleased smile on her face. It turned to a grin as she processed his comment, “I might just,” It was followed by an eyebrow wiggle at him and a wink, not quite hidden by a curl draped across half of her face. How could she be blamed for turning such a comment in her favor? He made it so easy. This was actually, probably, the first time she had seen him since she had helped a dismayed looking Julius carry him out of the backroom she herself slept in sometimes. He definitely looked a lot better now, although somehow, just as in his element in both. “And how’re you doin’ this fine afternoon, handsome? Keepin’ out of trouble?” A laugh then, as she stuck her foot out to poke at his playfully. “Unfortunately,” he snorted, since a good bout of trouble might do James some good. There were different brands of trouble though, you see, and the more and more restless he got the more he just couldn’t decide on what would be appealing. He wasn’t certain about the brand of trouble possessed by this lovely lass here, however - he was surprised that she was taking a break from rearranging Jules' furniture or whatever she did to his quaint little castle that required a protective charm (one James had finished, mind you, and it turned out well). The 'history' there likely wasn't his business so he tried to stick to his own p's and q's and functional alcoholism. "It's quite a switch from when I used to get into trouble all the time," he shared, with a grin that was all cut from gold and confident. "This town has turned me into a school marm. I might even knit a jumper soon." Unfortunately. Oh, that was something she could sympathize with. Her employees were used to the bosslady disappearing for spells and coming back with a bounce in her step after a round of sowing chaos or a dabble of thievery here and there. Never close to home though. That was common sense, after all. It was funny, James and Julius apparently hailed from the same region, but one of them had worked hard to shuck his accent, the one she had claimed as Meave six years ago. It wasn’t quite the same though, her own more Southwest than his. Maybe she shoulda’ travelled the country more instead of spending a month in Cork. Apparently, smiles that screamed temptation and the best sort of trouble were a regional trait, however. No wonder they got along so well. “Yet, I seem to recall vividly one of my boys draggin’ you out from under a table.” She raised a challenging eyebrow, though she couldn’t help but grin all the same, “You got me an earful you know,” With a glance over her shoulder she slid backwards a step, rubbing her hands together in front of her face and blowing on them before waving them mockingly, “Don’t accidentally poison your customers Maeve., pfft, Label your bottles properly Maeve.” Haha, no, she was definitely not letting that go for as long as he stuck around, that was the point of being so jovial and friendly, she got away with more smartass comments like that. Even if the lecture was a tad true. Obviously she couldn’t turn her back on the fun stuff, lesson learned. Recalled what now? James was drawing a blank, no matter how much he racked his brain - could be sugar-spun lies, but more likely that he'd just gotten blackout drunk and a portion of his memory fell by the wayside. It was something he attempted to cut back on - he didn't want to go the way of his sorry excuse for a father, after all. "Can't say I recall that, love, but it's been a rough year," he noted. A rough year, a rough five years, a rough ten years - perhaps even a rough life? Dodging bullets and knife blades, attempting to figure out magic that wasn’t always measured by the gram or set to boiling points but rather inherited. He could feel the pull of something else phantasmal in nature, always had. Adjusting to that in a world where he struggled to survive even as normal as could be, that added an extra layer on top of things. "You're alright then?" he asked, since people probably didn't ask Maeve how she was doing very often. At least, not many who gave a shit about the answer. Her eyes widened at that, “Damn, if I had known you were that bad off I woulda’ made up some fun lies about the whole snafu.” Also, it did actually made her feel a twinge of guilt about the whole thing. Granted, she had learned from it, and he seemed alright as far as she could tell. As sane as anyone on this island could be at least, although of sane and stable seemed to come in waves with people like them. Whatever that meant these days. Plus if he was a still little loopy from her Fae booze then Julius would probably still be moody at her about it. Asking after her even after she gave him shit for his his blurry incident made her give him a more proper smile instead of the teasing one, “Yeah, lost half my day off because someone got sick, but no big deal. You off today too or did you run away after the lunch rush?” Julius could pick at her style of working the same types of shifts as her employees on a regular basis but it made it easier to commensurate with people like James and kept her feet on the ground, “Nice of you to ask.” And she meant it too, easy to get forgotten when you were part of the serving staff, or not one of the more important or flashier residents. “I don’t work ‘til later,” James replied, moving up in the line a bit - Christ on a cracker, this stand was popular. Almost as popular as the stand where you could buy boomsticks or nunchucks or whatever - bless America, it even seemed like that type of thing was a popular stocking stuffer to pick up at any local Wal-Mart anyway. But since he didn’t work until later he’d take care of some errands first. Like hot chocolate, always an important one - right up there with laundry and ‘remember to eat something of substance for breakfast.’ Interesting to hear that someone had called in sick at Maeve’s pub though - James had just dealt with something similar, maybe there was a bug going around. Or people were just more apt to play hooky around the holidays. He stuck his hands in his pockets, in his trusty leather jacket - being closer to the stand meant that he could properly peruse the menu, eyes the shade of antique medicine bottles roaming the selections. Even if he was fairly certain about what he’d order. “I’ll be working right up ‘til the holidays too. Going out of town or anything for it?” he asked. “Back to the Motherland?” Did Veritas even get a lunch rush? Now that she was considering it, the idea did seem a bit odd. It was a bit too posh for that, or maybe that was just her tastes. Briar may have done stints at fancy hotels but her default comfort level was never a place where one might find multiple forks at the table. “Ah, that makes sense, right when the other half of town is waking up. The pickier ones, I imagine.” It was entirely possible people were playing hooky, and she honestly didn’t begrudge them for it. Maeve, like Briar, had never been especially fond of the cold. Blamed it on the fact that neither of her parent’s families going back as many generations as could be counted never lived in a place where snow really stuck. Especially her mother. She would much rather hibernate, or fly south for the winter, personally. But she had a business now so, no such luck. “Maybe. I miss Winterval sometimes. Orrr I could find somewhere a little less familiar to be irresponsible in. That’s what the hols are for aren’t they? You feeling homesick?” A sympathetic glance as sent his way at that, remembering those days, even if they were distant now. She pivoted around as her turn finally came up, digging her leather wallet out of her back pocket as she talked to the clerk, ordering the spiced horchata with a ‘kick’, the board even had a magically charmed donkey with a turned over moonshine jug beside it. Fantastic. Family friendly was different ‘round these parts. Maeve slid a 20 across the table as they poured her drink from the fascinating looking caskets behind them, gesturing to James behind her before dropping a five in the tip jar. By the time she stepped to the side to let him order they were handing her giant...Metal? It felt like metal but was oddly light while also being blessedly warm, and smelling divine, so she didn’t care, and she barely refrained from taking a sip of the steaming liquid right away as she waited for him. “Homesick? Sometimes, but it doesn’t matter much. It’d be difficult to return to Belfast - besides, there’s nothing there,” James shrugged. “At least not for me.” The one thing he missed was a pub called Hole-in-the-Wall; it was rumoured to be haunted and used to be a jail, so he supposed that made sense. But aye, just little things like that. Those were what he yearned for sometimes. When it came time to order, he reached for his own wallet but apparently was too slow on the draw. “Thanks, love,” James was surprised Maeve pulled out that twenty - he’d been planning to buy her decadent wintry drink, but no matter. “I’ll get next time.” It was an offer he meant; he wouldn’t just go back on something like that. Not in such a small town when she knew where he lived and breathed. It was an Irish hot cocoa for him, and he let the warmth flow through his fingers when he took the exquisite goblet-looking thing. Much better than a flimsy paper cup and him potentially spilling boiling liquid all over himself. The top was swirled with foam, the drink itself dark and rich - no, he wasn’t complaining in the slightest. “Dinner, perhaps?” was his offer to compensate her in return. “And certainly not in this town, gods. I mean in Atlantic City. It might be a place to be irresponsible in for the holidays too.” There were plenty of shows, plenty of parties in the various posh hotels - literally teeming with trouble, now wasn’t it. And damn, if she didn’t know that feeling. Briar had very mixed feelings about her home city, even if she did own property there and give some of her rather rare valuables there. “Hmm. Home is where the guilt is.” Came the simple, sage reply instead of properly opening up that can of worms. Which was more fitting when speaking of Ireland. It was one of those things that Catholics were famous for, you may have got the wine but it was there to wash the guilt down. The thanks was waved off as she watched him out of the corner of her eyes, curious and observing him now that they were out of the only environment she had ever interacted with him in — especially now that his attention was off of her. Next time was also interesting, and another thing she didn’t hear often, though she bought the food and drink for people she was with on a regular basis. Maeve took a deep breath of the steam rising from her cup with a happy hum as joined her again, and couldn’t stop herself from taking a sip. It was followed by an undignified squeak as she held her hands to her lips, a few sailor worthy curses muttered as she glared at her drink. Always impatient. His offer was a good distraction from the sting though, “Dinner sounds delightful.” The smile that stretched across her features was genuine, “I haven’t been to Atlantic City ‘cept to drive through in forever.” Dinner seemed like a big step up from paying for his five dollar drink, but she wasn’t going to turn it down all the same. Especially if trouble was going to be part of it. Maeve herself had never caused a good old fashioned mess, and even Briar hadn’t outside of a job in a spell. He didn’t blame her for being impatient, the drink was bloody delicious. Besides, out here in the cold it would become a more manageable temperature quick enough. His return smile was eye-crinkling and blazing in its own genuineness; what could he say, he simply liked taking ladies (or gents, whichever) to dinner. Especially ones with a tinge of darkness to them, a type he identified with even if he didn’t know all the details. He just felt the similarities. The darkness that wasn’t so much ‘bad boy,’ but more teeth and claws and like being buried alive in a velvet-lined coffin. Difficult to crawl out of, that. “Grand - I think you’ve got my contact info?” Perhaps not, but he guessed she could always get it from Jules. They were joined at the hip in an odd way. However, he’d make it easier. “Or...here - “ With his free hand, he reached for a business card and offered it to her. Nothing advertising the illegitimate employment he had once been a great conductor for, only your run of the mill ‘moved to a small town, no shady past to be found here, none at all’ variety. “Just let me know when’s good for you.” You had to admire his confidence, and his grin. The one that seemed like a challenge and a personalized temptation all at once, learning he had a bit of a wild side wasn’t so much a revelation as a confirmation, one she was pleased about. There had to be a few people around here she could let loose around, even if Julius knew what she was capable of — and the kinds of punches she could throw — he had his dignity and standards. Somehow she didn’t see him stealing cars to go joyriding with her. This one though, he might just. He had a familiar spark of mischief that resonated with her and the restlessness that was never far from her bones. “This is, surprisingly, the first time you’ve offered it to me, so no.” Her own blue eyes sparked with amusement at his assumption, smile only partially hidden by the cup in front of her face. Another, slightly more bold sip from the cup as she peered up at him, eyes closing briefly as she savored the taste, that is, until he was handing her a business card of all things. “A business card! I don’ even have one of these.” Partial lie. Briar did, but they were charmed, personalized, and served a very specific purpose to a few people. Very costly. For this sort of thing she much preferred the traditional method of sharpie on the back of the hand, thank you. Maeve examined it closely before flipping it over her knuckles like it was a playing card and she was back on the streets of The Bronx conning saps out of a few coins playing things like find the queen, “You’re just full of layers aren’tcha’? It was endearing and absurd in equal measures, and the expression she gave him was a bit more intrigued now. Little surprises were nice at her age and with all she had seen with the world. “Alright James, I’ll text you, yeah?” Although hims saying he doesn’t like texting would be a bad surprise, some things were great about the modern era, why not embrace them? Not to worry, James was a product of the modern era - even when he couldn’t afford a mobile phone, he had nothing against technology. “Aye, certainly - text me anytime,” he said. Wasn’t like he slept very much, or all that soundly - he worked very late most nights and then had to wind down once he got home. “Me and my layers will just be running along now,” he smirked, taking another sip of his hot cocoa before he toasted Maeve with the cup. He might have layers (he did, in fact, but getting through the rungs of superficiality and down to the black swamp that was the heart, it was a treacherous task - perhaps a persistent person could manage it, but he had yet to find one) though he had never been good at keeping his eyes impassive. They were always more expressive than he would like. But at any rate. He’d see her later, he was sure. |