On a whim, even though I’m reaching alarming account balance territory, I toss a cheap burner phone on the counter and pull out my debit card. “Not trying to come across as a creep here, Crackles. But you can’t blame me for not wanting to pretend I don’t know what’s going on just because it’s uncomfortable to talk about. Us mages need to look out for each other.”
She licks her lips, scrutinizing me. “Since when do mages care about anyone besides themselves?” As acidic as the words are, there’s self-deprecation there as well, no doubt more than a single night’s worth of baggage to unload with the statement. Dave gives her a curious once over and I bristle, annoyed at the appreciation I see in his eyes.
“Since the world went to shit,” I bite out, snagging my card back and stuffing it into my pocket. “Come on.”
Shoving open the door, I hold it open for her, waiting for her to come to a decision and hesitantly follow me. Exhaling a harsh breath, I open her door for her and she looks at me like I’m absolutely nuts. Still, despite how annoyed I am, I was raised with manners. And when faced with a situation where I only have half of the facts, I err on the side of caution and default to chivalry as a failsafe. That’s not to say I’m typically an asshole, but I’m more inclined to overanalyze my actions when faced with an unknown situation that already has me keyed up.
The joys of anxiety.
Shutting her door, I get into the driver’s seat and head home, the two of us sitting in silence. Her, no doubt mentally spiraling at going home with a practical stranger in the middle of the night and weighing the merits of taking her chances out in the cold, and me, trying to get my annoyance under control. Not at her, but at Dave, at whatever caused her to choose sleeping in a gas station over somewhere safer, the world as a whole. I’m usually a laid back, go with the flow sort of guy, but right now?
I want to hit something, and I low-key hate myself for entertaining that macho bullshit over being a competent adult.
We pull up outside of my simple two-story house. It’s nothing fancy, but as someone that didn’t ever think they’d be able to afford better than a shitty apartment, I love it.
“Careful, the driveway’s slick.”
We climb out of the car and start carefully heading up the steps onto the porch, clutching the hand rail. Fumbling my keys, I manage to get it in the door, and all the while I’m surrounded by oppressive silence.
Kicking my boots off in the entryway, I start shucking off my winter gear. Esmerelda closes the door behind her, eyes scanning the space like she’s expecting to get jumped. My stomach flips at the haunted look in her eyes, and my brain starts tossing one horrible scenario after the other at me. I’m starting to think even the alcohol won’t be enough to put me to sleep tonight.
“Hungry?”
Heading to the kitchen with my bags, I don’t turn around while I speak, trying to give her room to breathe without feeling pinned down and confronted. Or worse, have her overanalyzing my face in search of pity that isn’t there. No, all I have is a low simmering hatred I’m unfamiliar with, and the absolute last thing I want is for her to think it’s directed at her or that she isn’t safe here.
“That’s alright; Rin gave me a box to take home after work.” There’s a faint thud as she kicks her shoes off, setting her bag down while she sheds her coat before struggling to stuff it into her bag rather than hang it up.
Only one thing to grab if she needs to make a hasty exit.
Shrugging, I grab a cheap pizza out of the freezer and toss it in the oven. “More for me then.”
Unscrewing the jar of moonshine, I’m pretty sure my eyebrows get singed. Pouring myself a shot, I don’t offer this time, not wanting to come off as some creep that brought her home in the middle of the night just to get her drunk. Slamming it back, I cough as it attempts to dissolve my throat, but it does the trick and instant heat pools in my stomach to combat the rage. Another takes the edge off and I feel more like myself, putting the lid back on and sliding it onto the center island.
“You alright?” Her voice is amused as she comes to sit on one of the stools in the middle of the kitchen, leaning an elbow on the countertop and resting her chin on her fist.
Leaning a hip beside the stove, I cringe. “Nervous.”
She snorts. “Worried I’m going to stab you in your sleep and regretting the offer already?” The words are delivered flippantly, but there’s an undercurrent of hostility she fails to veil.
“Nah, that I’m going to burn my breakfast. Need a new stove, but they’re so damn expensive. I’m just suffering through this one for the time being and hoping someone in town upgrades so I can get their old one at a steal.”
A genuine smile replaces her unease and it’s like the air becomes less suffocating with the shift in tone, making things less awkward. “Breakfast? It’s nearly midnight.”
Searching for an oven mitt, I give her my back. “And we need to be up for work in a little under three hours. Thus, breakfast.”
Withdrawing the pizza, the edges are slightly black and the center a bit underdone, but close enough. Cutting off a few pieces, I set it on the center island so that it’s within reach if she chooses without me making a big thing about her needing to eat whatever she can get her hands on.
Groaning, she thumps her forehead on the counter. “How can you do this every day? I’m already exhausted.”
Burning my mouth, I struggle through a few bites and reach for another shot. “Might look like an alcoholic, but when you need to hurry up and fall asleep at six p.m., you have to do whatever works. Sleep is far too precious to sacrifice for a social life.”
Lifting her head, she gives me a cautious look as she slowly reaches for a slice, seeing if I’m going to stop her. When I don’t, she devours it quickly, speaking between bites. “So why were you at the gas station so late?”
Swallowing, I fill up a glass of water and slide it towards her. “Couldn’t sleep and was growing desperate for a way to at least get a nap in so I’m not dead tomorrow.”
With less reservation, she snags another slice. “Must be something in the air; I was tossing and turning the last few hours too.”
“To be fair, tile can’t be that comfortable.”
