Logs:Helpful Sort

Helpful Sort

Players

11 August, 2022

Fiametta investigates a stranger on behalf of a friend.

It's a nice day for a meandering walk, in the early afternoon. Though it's sticky as usual in the late summer, today there's a break from the heat. Fiametta is still dressed for it, in a sleeveless mini sundress that reveals short denim cutoffs underneath occasionally, feet tucked into scuffed sneakers. She probably blends in well with any crowd of young people. Except for the flame-bright hair, piled on top of her head to keep it off her neck right now, but gloriously bright.

Her pace has been leisurely and nonchalant--not really trying to evade or hide. Maybe that's why he might not have noticed it at first. There's lots of people in the city, especially while the schools and colleges are still out. But maybe it happens one too many times, catching that flash of copper gold. Waiting in line to grab an iced coffee in one area, sitting on a bench looking at her phone in another. Walking along the other side of the street in yet another location.

Maybe Darwin is lost in his own thoughts. But when you're something of a monster in a sea of humanity, with its own dangers...it's probably not too terribly hard to get that sensation that one is being watched, even if from afar, and never with a direct gaze.

After the third strange prickle traveling up his spine, Darwin starts to pay closer attention during his afternoon errands. Just a quick stop at the post office, and the moment he emerges, he looks for that flame-hue. He moves on to the corner store, and tries to peer through the wall-to-ceiling windows while he peruses the short aisles. Maybe he's imagining it. Maybe he needs some sleep. Maybe he's distracted for completely botching a friendly visit the prior evening. He leaves the store, rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye and smoothing hair back. But there she is again. Okay, definitely being followed. By who? Someone from that Pure pack?

Fearful, Darwin moves through the bustle to duck into a narrow alley between a pair of restaurants. He moves briskly, holding his messenger bag against his side.

With his senses tingling on high alert, maybe he really can hear her leisurely footfalls as she moves past the alley's opening--though only just. The willowy redhead leans up against the brick edge of the restaurant's building, tucking one foot underneath her, rudely putting the bottom of her shoe against the bricks. It's hard to see her facial expression from this angle, but her demeanor holds all the indications of relaxation, should one observe from a distance. But it's possible Darwin can see and sense far deeper. A restless energy, just a lick of excitement, in that moment before the spark catches flame. It's not exactly predatory as he probably is most familiar with. But is there a taste of that, albeit muted? Probably very possibly so.

Fiametta takes a deep breath, as if trying to catch the scent of the delicious stuff that's being made in that restaurant she's leaning up against /right now/. She releases it slowly, scrolling through something on her phone. The menu maybe? It's probably past the worst of the lunch rush, but never hurts to be prepared. The minutes stretch on, however, and then she scowls, just a little. A few minutes more, and she peers around the edge of the building, into the alley, dark blue eyes open wide.

Darwin moves deeper, towards the intersection between buildings, and... ducks behind a dumpster. He waits. And waits. The anxiety building in his throat eventually bleeds to anger, like it is wont to do, and the very moment Fiametta's eyes peer and meet his, he attempts some kind of... effect. His eyes flash silver for an instant, but nothing happens. "Fuck," he curses, pulling back to flatten against the dumpster. "I don't owe you money, do I?" he calls, voice edged with nervous laughter.

The anxiety is what lures her just a few more steps into the alley, as if that were as irresistible as the mouthwatering scents that escape the nearby restaurants. But at seeing the flash of his eyes, her steps immediately halt. There's a certain healthy respect and wariness there, a reminder to tap back on that glitter in her eyes. The redhead straightens, tucking her phone away into her back pocket. It's a simple gesture, but it also lets him see her hands at least. Fiametta is silent for a long moment, studying him with solemn intensity. Just when the silence is probably getting very...loud...she speaks. It's a soft voice, though. Louder than a whisper so that he can hear it, but not much above what is strictly necessary. "No," she tells him honestly. Perhaps it's reassuring. And then, perhaps, a surprising question. "Are you all right?"

Another long pause follows Fiametta's question. Then Darwin steps out of the cover and stand across from her, palms up in clear surrender. "That depends," he says, staring at her sundress rather than her face. There's still that undercurrent of anxiety, though any anger has dipped back into fear. "I don't want to fight. Why are you following me? I... I don't want to join any pack."

"A pack of what?" Her head tilts to the side, ever so slightly, as she studies him. For some reason that phrasing seems to disturb her for a few moments, tension rising in her willowy frame. But she maintains that distance, carefully. And eventually she exhales again, softly. "No, you can't mean /that/ kind." The last is spoken so quietly, that he may or may not even hear it. "I was curious, about you." Once more, her words, while not wholly answering the question most likely, don't appear to be evasive. "I don't want to fight either. I just wanted to make sure that...you aren't the kind to harm anyone without cause." She takes a few steps to the side, giving him likely an easy exit, unimpaired, if he wishes. It's a subtle gesture, but she leans up against the alley wall now, so that she'd have to give clear indications, likely, were she to launch an attack. Though she closes her eyes, briefly, as if basking in that fear, when she reopens them there's a glimmer of sadness there too and a strange sort of empathy, before it's brushed aside as she tucks a stray strand of copper behind one ear. "Do you owe a lot of people money, or something?" She frowns very slightly, but there's a mote of amusement in her tone.

There's an exit. And the stranger seems... chill, as she leans against the wall. The fear Fiametta basks in starts to fade, slowly, replaced by confusion. "I, uh, have some payments that I'm behind on," he admits. Then-- a new round of fresh anger. "Harm anyone without cause-- he said he wouldn't tell anyone! That stupid bug!" His cheeks burn, and he shakes his head. "We settled it. No coins needed. Just a misunderstanding," he mutters hastily. "What-- what are you? Another bug?"

"The kind of payments that you worry about someone finding you in an alley for if you get behind?" The redhead's lips purse slightly, perhaps with concern, as she looks him over once more. "Do you need help?" But the mention of coins makes her stand up straight again, though now it's time for confusion on her end, her brows drawing down into a little frown. "You get into fights with /bugs/." Though the dark eyed gaze she fixes on him might be unsettling to some, there's not even a shred of disbelief in her tone, even though it might also be apparent that she hasn't the slightest idea what he's talking about. Which might be unsettling in and of itself! "I'm not a bug," she reassures him. "Though I wouldn't mind being able to fly. Or climb up walls. When I wanted to. I'm nobody special. Just a friend looking out for a friend." A beat. "I apologize for scaring you." She doesn't say she's /sorry/ though.

Darwin watches Fiametta closely, finally meeting her eyes. When her confusion becomes clear, Darwin chews his lip and tips his head slightly. "Is... your friend not a bug?" He lifts a brow when Fiametta claims she's nobody special. "Tch. Is this a vamp thing? No. Wait. Fairy!" He drops his fist into his palm. "Friggin' fairies!" It must be her politeness that burns off the last of his fear, as he wears an easy smile now. "No worries," he assures. "And my debts are my problem, but I appreciate the offer. You sound like the helpful sort."

Her luminous gaze remains centered on him, her expression still and somber, though it softens just a little at his smile. "It's dangerous to know a bunch about a lot of things," she says, in that voice only just above a whisper. "Especially when it's spoken aloud. That scares people too. There's things worse than us that might be listening." But she nods then. "So they are," she says of his debts. "I'm just a softie for people who...get in over their heads, with those types of debts," she explains, with an easy shrug. "I don't know if many people would name me helpful," she hides a smile. "I like to keep watch, though."

Darwin's eases slightly, and he glances over her shoulder, then back over his. He nods sheepishly, clearing his throat. "Well, you can tell your friend that I'm not interested in hurting anyone. I'm just trying to stay out of the politics and keep my students safe. I didn't mean to come off as-- aggressive? I mean, if it's not the bug guy, then..." A few names flit through his mind, and the thought of him frightening /anyone/ draws a fount of sadness. "...Worse things?" he asks. "I'm Darwin, by the way. But I bet you already know that."

"Nice to actually meet you, Darwin," she offers. "I'm Fiametta." There's too much distance between them to offer a hand, and it seems she doesn't want to press that, respecting his space. "I'm happy you don't seem to be the type of hunter I was worried about," the redhead tells him, earnestly. "It's just that...well. As lonely as it is, most of the time, it's also hard to not worry. You know?" There's a knowingly sad look cast his way. It would seem guarding her emotions isn't this young woman's strong suit. "I should go, though. Gotta get ready for the next gig. I think probably our paths will cross again. Keep yourself safe as you can, okay?" There's a quirk of a smile on her lips. "Don't let the bugs bite. Or anything else, for that matter. Unless that's really what you /want/." But then she's turning, as if to make her way out of the alley, though not before looking back over her shoulder at him. Her index and middle fingers point to her eyes, then his, and then back. But this time her smile reaches her eyes, playfully shy even if it's a little teasing too, and she offers him a wink before turning back towards the entrance of the alley.