Post by Mikaela Holden on May 22, 2016 9:53:05 GMT
Location: Private Residence
Characters: Mikaela Holden, Max Valentine
Mikaela: Saturday night after the Dive's close found Mikaela at home; the lights of the Airstream that was hers and all hers illuminated the circle of cleared land she'd long ago parked the thing, there in the break of thick palms and other native shrubbery to keep it well hidden from most views. Few people knew it was back there -- she had to really trust someone to give up that information. The night had been busy, and thus, she was a little wired; misplaced energy coursing it's way through her despite the late hour. Music played, though not all together too loud. Something blues rock, with heavy guitar rifts and a gravelly voiced singer. She might be seen moving back and forth through the windows, behind the locked door, almost as if she were pacing the length of the trailer -- but really, she was tidying up. No time like the present, and the past several days had found her far too busy to do it. There wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. Clean clothes to put away. A few dishes to wash. Idle tasks to help her wind down. Having changed from whatever she'd worn that night at the bar, now she was in an oversized baseball tee; white with blue quarter sleeves. The length of it went past her butt, just barely, and kept long long legs bared. Given the logo of the Marathon Marlins, it was clear this was an ex-boyfriends softball shirt. Bare feet barely made a sound on the faux wood flooring, and she sang along softly to the music distracting herself from her black mood-- currently standing at the bed, just inside the door, sorting and folding the laundry she'd dumped there that afternoon. -d-
Max: -Things happened. That was the law of the world. Nothing ever remained the same. The almost easy placement of monitoring his shipments and directing his people had lost its comfort. A week spent looking for and drumming up leads to find his two missing smugglers. It meant things had been neglected while things happened. Since returning her to her abode early in the morning, there had been no sign of Max.. Indeed no sound, either. The hydraulic lifts in his boathouse were working overtime. Putting on a dive suit, breaking out a tank, and cleaning the hull of the Spellbound was tomorrow's business. Today had been The Woody's cleaning day. Beneath a boat suspended by cloth straps, he scraped and polished and buffed and waxed hull and deck and bow and dash. Left to let the wax dry while the boat was held aloft, Max took his truck out Without calling or texting, he arrived. Arrived with a knock-knockknock-knock pattern on the trailer door. In his left hand? Pizza.- "I come bearing gifts of Pizza and dick." -Spoken into the crack of the door by the beach bum wearing pale blue swimming trunks and a tie holding damp hair out of his face. Despite showering and scrubbing, the smell of salt water and wax and engine oil clung to him.-
Mikaela: Mikaela wouldn't have heard his truck -- there wasn't any place to park near the trailer, in fact she kept her Wagoneer ( also very commonly known as a Woody, because of it's wood grain sides ) parked at the Dive and walked in through the trees. There was a path that lead to the beach, that many people used. Less people knew about the cut that took you to her Airstream. The without-warning knock on the door tensed it's way through Mikaela's shoulders when it sounded, and her head came up from the attention she was giving to the shirt she folded. The quip that came through the door wrinkled her nose some. The shirt, the process of neatly folding it only half complete, was set down on the bed atop the pile of the rest, and scraping teeth along the bottom of her lip, Kae flipped the lock on the door, and swung it open -- it opened outward, watch your face. "I'll take the pizza," she responded to his gift bearing, and stepped out of the way to let him in to the cool interior of the metal tube. -d-
Max: -The door came closer to hitting his face than he would have suspected, but he had heard her turn to the door. As it happened, he bobbed as if drunk to avoid the figurative assault and return to his place.- "Oh... I don't blame you. I smell like boats and pizza smells like pizza." -Inside! Chicago pizza in the far South of Florida. Modern marvels knew no bounds. The deep dish, crisp crust, meat lover's pizza did smell delicious. Given free reign to come inside, he slipped in with a brush past her and a smooch at her face before making his way to the kitchen. Pizza down on the counter, Max placed one hand on the wall and began a slow turn. Slow, but forceful. Crack...crack crack. A bit like a light bulb breaking underfoot, his back popped and a look of pure bliss showed on his face.- "I have a three day trip scheduled in like a week. I could tell you the day, but my phone fell in the water... which reminds me; sorry if I didn't respond to any calls, and fair warning if you try til I get a new phone." -Making himself at home, he went for a glass and water.-
Mikaela: A squint of one eye, watching him as he came inside, and got real chatty. She leaned out, snagged the inner knob of the door and pulled it closed again; not bothering to lock it this time. It was easy to turn and lower the music, and this time rather than standing at the edge of her bed, she climbed up on it and made herself at home surrounded by the clothes. Long legs folded indian style, and she began to go about her task once more. "Okay," she nodded softly to his three day trip, but then her head shook. "I didn't call." It was Saturday, and that was always the busiest of the week. She'd barely had a moment to breathe, let alone make a call. The shirt, now neatly in it's fold just the way she liked, was placed on top of a few already done, and she reached for another one. -d-
Max: -Chatty? Except on those occasions where his anger was in control, he normally talked a lot. It put people at ease, usually. And, usually that was a good thing. Water in hand, he took a lean against the wall, mindful of his head lest he earn himself a bruise.- "Hey, doesn't hurt to cover your bases." -The red sea doth flow; that he came to spend time with her knowing that, and with a lovely pizza? Well, maybe he should have brought chocolate, too. Reese's? Sip of water as he watched her begin to fold clothes. Max owned very few things aside from variations of shorts, but the few shirts he did fold never turned out so...well folded. It was more a spin around into a spiral and a tuck away into a drawer.- "You want some help, or should I keep to myself and make a plate for you?"
Mikaela: "You don't have to check in, and tell me every time you have to go away," A shoulder rose up in a shrug, vision rising with it to glance at him as she spoke. "I'm not keeping tabs." This shirt folded quicker than the other -- some just did -- and it was set atop the pile; hand skimming it's way through the loose sweep of golden dark blonde, and she began to pick through the large pile for bikini pieces, tucking them into the bowl that her criss crossed legs made. "Nah, I got it." She has a system. Kae, while a mess in her life, wasn't in her home organization. "I actually .. really don't want pizza. Ate a bit ago." Nor would she have wanted chocolate, and would have been rather insulted if he'd brought her some with the reasons he was thinking. A top here, bottoms there, things mostly made of strings, all dropped between her legs. She fell quiet, watched her own actions instead of him. And then -- "Where's my father?" -d-
Max: -That dismissal caused him to shift his posture from loose to guarded. Brow raising, he slowly brought his arms across his chest. The glass of water discarded onto the counter top while he watched her fold.- "I didn't tell you because I'm answerable to you, I told you because I didn't want you to worry if you went looking for me." -There was a difference! And, then came the question. The question that made itself burrow in like a tick.- "Where he is, I don't know." -This was the sort of a moment he wanted to sit down on something comfortable and release the entirety of what he knew.- "I do know some things, though." -Shift of weight to his other foot and then he dropped into a squat in her kitchen with elbows on his knees.- "The cocaine you got from him... was from the missing shipment. He was pushing for this new group trying to poach Network business." -Muted green eyes slid along the floor and then up to her once more as he continued after a few second pause.- "The Network had him, last I heard." -The details of her father's involvement and his subsequent treatment, what little he actually knew of it, was left to fall in the silence after his speech.-
Mikaela: A soft tilt of her head, minute gaze centering on his face. "Now why would I come looking for you? You always just .. show up .. anyway." A sweep of her head to add gesture to her statement, and that gaze tracked him as he moved into his crouch -- leaving her looking down on him from her own place on the bed. Quiet as she listened, until he spoke of who had Arch. A dry laugh. "Oh, the Network has him? And aren't YOU the Network, Max? What? You're suddenly out of that fat assholes good graces? Mederos not sharing secrets anymore? You did lose two million in fucking cocaine after all." Movements jerked, yanking a dress now from where it was caught among the other clothes; causing a couple tanks and undies to topple to the floor from the pile. -d-
Max: -That tirade left him without a response, but it was the quiet gaze of a man waiting for a conclusion before he spoke rather than some open mouthed uncertainty. She was angry? Well, she'd poked the bear.- "Yeah... I did. I trusted someone to keep doing what they were supposed to be doing, to work in their own self-interests, and instead I got fucked over. I lost trust, and almost got the blame myself. So, Mederos is unhappy with me, I'm on some sort of probation where my neck's literally on the line. Yeah, I'm in the Network, but so are you. You got Arch in the bathroom trussed up like a ham? Don't get pissy with me because that... asshat you call a father fucked shit up." -Fidgeting, his right hand began flicking his thumb against his fingertips.-
Mikaela: "No," dropping the dress back onto the pile, her hand shot up and she pointed at him. "I work for the Network, I didn't climb through the ranks to be Mederos' bitch. My neck's not on the line -- and won't be. Maybe you should watch who you trust." Snatching up the garment again, Mikaela began to furiously fold the thing, and not at all in the neat and careful way she would prefer. "Everyone knows my father is a fuck up, this shouldn't be news to you, and don't throw it in my face like I have anything to do with it." The sundress was whipped to the side, and her hands dropped to press to her knees; pretty face lifting to meet Max's gaze. "Get that fucking pizza out of my trailer. It stinks." -d-
Max: -Max listened to the return volley with an emotionless expression on his face. Calm rationale tipped the scale for the man usually driven by his impulses. A slow blink followed by a sniff in of air through his right nostril.- "Yeah... it's different being the one getting yelled at by you instead of just seeing it happen." -Max pushed himself up, though he kept his head bent forward to avoid the ceiling.- "I'm Mederos's bitch... all right." -Pizza in his hand as he walked back through the trailer to the front door,he avoided looking at her. This fight, ironically, had very little to do with them being together. As he saw it. Likely would have happened regardless. But, they were. Would they be in the morning? Well, he didn't take well to being pushed.- "You know, I didn't throw that shit about your father at you. I told you not to get mad at me for the shit he did to himself, but you're too busy wearing that shit like a badge." -The front door open, he flung the pizza outside, it sliding free of the box to bounce on her front lawn.- "All right, it's been fun, maybe next time we can blame me for shit that isn't my fault at my place." -Barefoot, he started his walk back to his truck.-
Mikaela: Proud -- or maybe arrogant, sometimes it's hard to tell -- chin rose up a notch at his comment on being the receiving end of her ire, and her jaw tightened visibly, but she chose not to comment. Anything she said was just going to be far more petty than she needed to be. He was avoiding looking at her, but she was on the opposite end of that. Still tracking his movements as he complied with her demand for the pizza to be gone. "Yeah. Did it to himself. Where he'd get the drugs, Max?" It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer to that. If his guys hadn't sold out, stolen that shipment to give to a new player on the field .. there wouldn't be this mess. Made perfect sense to Kae. Just about to tell him he could follow that pizza he flung out into the darkness, he was doing it himself. "Bull fucking shit it's not your fault," shoving the clothes to the side, Mikaela scooted across the bed and to her feet -- not to follow, no, but to lean out the door to reach for it. "I'm not your fucking booty call either. Keep your dick to yourself." The door slammed with a loud crack in the night; lock flipped, and Kae falling back into the bed that was just beside it. Fumed for a moment, lashes closing tightly against the light in the room -- before she rolled to her side and snagged her phone from where it had been charging on the ledge behind the bed. Scrolling through to find the T's, and a text hurriedly thumbed. -d-
Characters: Mikaela Holden, Max Valentine
Mikaela: Saturday night after the Dive's close found Mikaela at home; the lights of the Airstream that was hers and all hers illuminated the circle of cleared land she'd long ago parked the thing, there in the break of thick palms and other native shrubbery to keep it well hidden from most views. Few people knew it was back there -- she had to really trust someone to give up that information. The night had been busy, and thus, she was a little wired; misplaced energy coursing it's way through her despite the late hour. Music played, though not all together too loud. Something blues rock, with heavy guitar rifts and a gravelly voiced singer. She might be seen moving back and forth through the windows, behind the locked door, almost as if she were pacing the length of the trailer -- but really, she was tidying up. No time like the present, and the past several days had found her far too busy to do it. There wasn't much in the grand scheme of things. Clean clothes to put away. A few dishes to wash. Idle tasks to help her wind down. Having changed from whatever she'd worn that night at the bar, now she was in an oversized baseball tee; white with blue quarter sleeves. The length of it went past her butt, just barely, and kept long long legs bared. Given the logo of the Marathon Marlins, it was clear this was an ex-boyfriends softball shirt. Bare feet barely made a sound on the faux wood flooring, and she sang along softly to the music distracting herself from her black mood-- currently standing at the bed, just inside the door, sorting and folding the laundry she'd dumped there that afternoon. -d-
Max: -Things happened. That was the law of the world. Nothing ever remained the same. The almost easy placement of monitoring his shipments and directing his people had lost its comfort. A week spent looking for and drumming up leads to find his two missing smugglers. It meant things had been neglected while things happened. Since returning her to her abode early in the morning, there had been no sign of Max.. Indeed no sound, either. The hydraulic lifts in his boathouse were working overtime. Putting on a dive suit, breaking out a tank, and cleaning the hull of the Spellbound was tomorrow's business. Today had been The Woody's cleaning day. Beneath a boat suspended by cloth straps, he scraped and polished and buffed and waxed hull and deck and bow and dash. Left to let the wax dry while the boat was held aloft, Max took his truck out Without calling or texting, he arrived. Arrived with a knock-knockknock-knock pattern on the trailer door. In his left hand? Pizza.- "I come bearing gifts of Pizza and dick." -Spoken into the crack of the door by the beach bum wearing pale blue swimming trunks and a tie holding damp hair out of his face. Despite showering and scrubbing, the smell of salt water and wax and engine oil clung to him.-
Mikaela: Mikaela wouldn't have heard his truck -- there wasn't any place to park near the trailer, in fact she kept her Wagoneer ( also very commonly known as a Woody, because of it's wood grain sides ) parked at the Dive and walked in through the trees. There was a path that lead to the beach, that many people used. Less people knew about the cut that took you to her Airstream. The without-warning knock on the door tensed it's way through Mikaela's shoulders when it sounded, and her head came up from the attention she was giving to the shirt she folded. The quip that came through the door wrinkled her nose some. The shirt, the process of neatly folding it only half complete, was set down on the bed atop the pile of the rest, and scraping teeth along the bottom of her lip, Kae flipped the lock on the door, and swung it open -- it opened outward, watch your face. "I'll take the pizza," she responded to his gift bearing, and stepped out of the way to let him in to the cool interior of the metal tube. -d-
Max: -The door came closer to hitting his face than he would have suspected, but he had heard her turn to the door. As it happened, he bobbed as if drunk to avoid the figurative assault and return to his place.- "Oh... I don't blame you. I smell like boats and pizza smells like pizza." -Inside! Chicago pizza in the far South of Florida. Modern marvels knew no bounds. The deep dish, crisp crust, meat lover's pizza did smell delicious. Given free reign to come inside, he slipped in with a brush past her and a smooch at her face before making his way to the kitchen. Pizza down on the counter, Max placed one hand on the wall and began a slow turn. Slow, but forceful. Crack...crack crack. A bit like a light bulb breaking underfoot, his back popped and a look of pure bliss showed on his face.- "I have a three day trip scheduled in like a week. I could tell you the day, but my phone fell in the water... which reminds me; sorry if I didn't respond to any calls, and fair warning if you try til I get a new phone." -Making himself at home, he went for a glass and water.-
Mikaela: A squint of one eye, watching him as he came inside, and got real chatty. She leaned out, snagged the inner knob of the door and pulled it closed again; not bothering to lock it this time. It was easy to turn and lower the music, and this time rather than standing at the edge of her bed, she climbed up on it and made herself at home surrounded by the clothes. Long legs folded indian style, and she began to go about her task once more. "Okay," she nodded softly to his three day trip, but then her head shook. "I didn't call." It was Saturday, and that was always the busiest of the week. She'd barely had a moment to breathe, let alone make a call. The shirt, now neatly in it's fold just the way she liked, was placed on top of a few already done, and she reached for another one. -d-
Max: -Chatty? Except on those occasions where his anger was in control, he normally talked a lot. It put people at ease, usually. And, usually that was a good thing. Water in hand, he took a lean against the wall, mindful of his head lest he earn himself a bruise.- "Hey, doesn't hurt to cover your bases." -The red sea doth flow; that he came to spend time with her knowing that, and with a lovely pizza? Well, maybe he should have brought chocolate, too. Reese's? Sip of water as he watched her begin to fold clothes. Max owned very few things aside from variations of shorts, but the few shirts he did fold never turned out so...well folded. It was more a spin around into a spiral and a tuck away into a drawer.- "You want some help, or should I keep to myself and make a plate for you?"
Mikaela: "You don't have to check in, and tell me every time you have to go away," A shoulder rose up in a shrug, vision rising with it to glance at him as she spoke. "I'm not keeping tabs." This shirt folded quicker than the other -- some just did -- and it was set atop the pile; hand skimming it's way through the loose sweep of golden dark blonde, and she began to pick through the large pile for bikini pieces, tucking them into the bowl that her criss crossed legs made. "Nah, I got it." She has a system. Kae, while a mess in her life, wasn't in her home organization. "I actually .. really don't want pizza. Ate a bit ago." Nor would she have wanted chocolate, and would have been rather insulted if he'd brought her some with the reasons he was thinking. A top here, bottoms there, things mostly made of strings, all dropped between her legs. She fell quiet, watched her own actions instead of him. And then -- "Where's my father?" -d-
Max: -That dismissal caused him to shift his posture from loose to guarded. Brow raising, he slowly brought his arms across his chest. The glass of water discarded onto the counter top while he watched her fold.- "I didn't tell you because I'm answerable to you, I told you because I didn't want you to worry if you went looking for me." -There was a difference! And, then came the question. The question that made itself burrow in like a tick.- "Where he is, I don't know." -This was the sort of a moment he wanted to sit down on something comfortable and release the entirety of what he knew.- "I do know some things, though." -Shift of weight to his other foot and then he dropped into a squat in her kitchen with elbows on his knees.- "The cocaine you got from him... was from the missing shipment. He was pushing for this new group trying to poach Network business." -Muted green eyes slid along the floor and then up to her once more as he continued after a few second pause.- "The Network had him, last I heard." -The details of her father's involvement and his subsequent treatment, what little he actually knew of it, was left to fall in the silence after his speech.-
Mikaela: A soft tilt of her head, minute gaze centering on his face. "Now why would I come looking for you? You always just .. show up .. anyway." A sweep of her head to add gesture to her statement, and that gaze tracked him as he moved into his crouch -- leaving her looking down on him from her own place on the bed. Quiet as she listened, until he spoke of who had Arch. A dry laugh. "Oh, the Network has him? And aren't YOU the Network, Max? What? You're suddenly out of that fat assholes good graces? Mederos not sharing secrets anymore? You did lose two million in fucking cocaine after all." Movements jerked, yanking a dress now from where it was caught among the other clothes; causing a couple tanks and undies to topple to the floor from the pile. -d-
Max: -That tirade left him without a response, but it was the quiet gaze of a man waiting for a conclusion before he spoke rather than some open mouthed uncertainty. She was angry? Well, she'd poked the bear.- "Yeah... I did. I trusted someone to keep doing what they were supposed to be doing, to work in their own self-interests, and instead I got fucked over. I lost trust, and almost got the blame myself. So, Mederos is unhappy with me, I'm on some sort of probation where my neck's literally on the line. Yeah, I'm in the Network, but so are you. You got Arch in the bathroom trussed up like a ham? Don't get pissy with me because that... asshat you call a father fucked shit up." -Fidgeting, his right hand began flicking his thumb against his fingertips.-
Mikaela: "No," dropping the dress back onto the pile, her hand shot up and she pointed at him. "I work for the Network, I didn't climb through the ranks to be Mederos' bitch. My neck's not on the line -- and won't be. Maybe you should watch who you trust." Snatching up the garment again, Mikaela began to furiously fold the thing, and not at all in the neat and careful way she would prefer. "Everyone knows my father is a fuck up, this shouldn't be news to you, and don't throw it in my face like I have anything to do with it." The sundress was whipped to the side, and her hands dropped to press to her knees; pretty face lifting to meet Max's gaze. "Get that fucking pizza out of my trailer. It stinks." -d-
Max: -Max listened to the return volley with an emotionless expression on his face. Calm rationale tipped the scale for the man usually driven by his impulses. A slow blink followed by a sniff in of air through his right nostril.- "Yeah... it's different being the one getting yelled at by you instead of just seeing it happen." -Max pushed himself up, though he kept his head bent forward to avoid the ceiling.- "I'm Mederos's bitch... all right." -Pizza in his hand as he walked back through the trailer to the front door,he avoided looking at her. This fight, ironically, had very little to do with them being together. As he saw it. Likely would have happened regardless. But, they were. Would they be in the morning? Well, he didn't take well to being pushed.- "You know, I didn't throw that shit about your father at you. I told you not to get mad at me for the shit he did to himself, but you're too busy wearing that shit like a badge." -The front door open, he flung the pizza outside, it sliding free of the box to bounce on her front lawn.- "All right, it's been fun, maybe next time we can blame me for shit that isn't my fault at my place." -Barefoot, he started his walk back to his truck.-
Mikaela: Proud -- or maybe arrogant, sometimes it's hard to tell -- chin rose up a notch at his comment on being the receiving end of her ire, and her jaw tightened visibly, but she chose not to comment. Anything she said was just going to be far more petty than she needed to be. He was avoiding looking at her, but she was on the opposite end of that. Still tracking his movements as he complied with her demand for the pizza to be gone. "Yeah. Did it to himself. Where he'd get the drugs, Max?" It was a rhetorical question, because they both knew the answer to that. If his guys hadn't sold out, stolen that shipment to give to a new player on the field .. there wouldn't be this mess. Made perfect sense to Kae. Just about to tell him he could follow that pizza he flung out into the darkness, he was doing it himself. "Bull fucking shit it's not your fault," shoving the clothes to the side, Mikaela scooted across the bed and to her feet -- not to follow, no, but to lean out the door to reach for it. "I'm not your fucking booty call either. Keep your dick to yourself." The door slammed with a loud crack in the night; lock flipped, and Kae falling back into the bed that was just beside it. Fumed for a moment, lashes closing tightly against the light in the room -- before she rolled to her side and snagged her phone from where it had been charging on the ledge behind the bed. Scrolling through to find the T's, and a text hurriedly thumbed. -d-
