Flew the Coop

[l3wt]

Thoughts that could only be labelled as treasonous poured in across lanes of inquiry James had thought long since dried with the dull, gray mass of time - and the chill of resignation. They originated, he realized, from some baffling, boyish place that had somehow clung to life. And this dawning realization, that this place had likely had an uncomfortable amount of sway over too many decisions - That was just another entry to add to the pile.

Would she be happy to see him?

Would he put his foot in his mouth the moment he opened it?

Get a hold of yourself. She's just a friend, not a bomb.

The tangled snarl of unhelpful sentiments James had been silently nurturing menaced towards deafening when he'd seen the first glimpse of auburn, approaching at speed just out of the corner of his eye. He'd turned about to address her, look at her - there was no mistaking her for anyone else, same autumnal hair and long frame and spacer's gait, bright eyes almost perfectly level with his own - and, he thought, with small relief, a growing smile.

James' mouth - a thin slash, most days - was still working towards a greeting of some kind. Still spinning on the roulette wheel of what degree of insincere nonchalance to inject.

Sarah McFarlen had closed the distance so quickly and completely an old alarm in the back of his mind span into life, shrieked you're going to die why are you holding that grocery bag but - there was no bladed implement, no gun barrel pressed into him. Just a pair of slender arms wrapped around his neck, a quick, tight squeeze and the simple warmth of another human being. The sensation stopped every thought - stupid or otherwise - cold in their tracks like she'd clocked him with a shovel. At least his hands were full, he'd have a good excuse for just having stood there.

She'd detached as quickly as she'd approached, motoring right into an array of practicalities, questions and concerns - by the time the word "Spookshow" had passed her lips , he could no longer stop the spreading grin or his shoulders from shaking with the barely audible laughter welling up within.

"Sparks, hey-" That's what Leslie'd sometimes called her. It was out before he could consider whether it was something he had a right to. "Easy. Dumb grunt, remember? Have to talk slow to our type."

They get moving at a slow, meandering sort of pace back to the elevators, Sarah leading the way - James composes himself, mentally files away the cutter that had been looking their way a few rows back under "dangerous." By the look of her, she was sure to be doing something similar. He turns his thoughts back to his new employer.

"No surprises on the trip here. Nobody pays much mind to a lone Raven on the lanes. Not worth the robbery, I suppose, but you never know out in the Taus. As for my stuff," He gestures with a shrug of his shoulder. A dufflebag swings heavily, off there. "You're looking at it - I've been living real, er… Light, I guess. I won't take a lot of space. And," He adds, conspiratorially, "Would you believe I brought dinner too? I figured I might be able to do something with the noodle monolith you've built somewhere. It'll keep, supposing you've got a fridge." He offers a smile again, hoping it didn't look as weary as he was. "Just show me the right locker to stuff me into, and we can get at that," he motions towards the cooling styrofoam. "Before it gets cold, then do the grand tour?

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