Molly Toombs
The Denver Public Library nestled in the
downtown district of the city was a massive building. From the outside
it appeared as a hodge-podge of different buildings all glued together,
but the interior helped it to all come together. The ceilings were
high, and the many windows allowed the bright and crisp morning sunlight
to filter through and highlight the particles of dust that danced and
floated in the air, carrying the smell of many tomes along with them.
There's
a cafe located at the east entrance of the central library branch, so
espresso and coffee smells mingled with the rest. Molly Toombs had
arrived early in the morning, not long after the doors had opened to the
public. She was one of the first customers to show up at the cafe and
request a drink, and among the first (that wasn't homeless, anyways) to
start floating her way between bookshelves and up staircases.
Ultimately
she ended up in the non-fiction section, where the Dewey Decimal system
was king. In the tail end of the 300's, Molly Toombs could be found
standing with a drink in her hand, sunglasses pushed up into her very
red hair (no visible roots, it was growing out to match the dye she'd
covered the black up with). She was dressed to impress, even though her
attire was casual, for that was Molly Toombs's way. A pair of
coral-colored shorts fit well on thick thighs, and a navy tank-top with
loose folds and ties of fabric served well to keep her cool without
displaying too much cleavage or putting her soft middle on display for
judgment.
Some patrons would browse books with earbuds and
headphones, to tune out the public, but not Molly Toombs. Even when
daylight kept her safe from her more sincere concerns, she knew better
than to expect that it would stave off all threats. Dark could
find its way into even the brightest situations, and she's seen it
happen often enough already to expect otherwise. So, when feet would
shuffle by, Molly would glance up and about for a moment before going
back to what she was doing-- skimming the spines of books until she
could find what she was after.
Nathan Amherst
Given
the events that transpire when the sun sinks below the horizon it has
to come as no small comfort for the humans of this city to see each
other out during the daylight. Doesn't preclude them from having become
enthralled to the creatures who themselves live in fear of what roils
beneath the surface of the earth but at least it means they have their
heartbeats.
Nathan and Molly have not seen each other since the
morning before Kragen Kingsmith detonated a car bomb a couple of miles
from their current location. That morning he had been sleep-deprived and
wild-eyed and cutting ties with anyone he thought still had anything to
do with vampires without actually being or serving a vampire. They
never had a chance to talk about what happened the night before or what
went through his head when he decided to offload Shannon's cat onto her.
That
kitten had always been Shannon's kitten. It grew up into Shannon's cat.
Shannon has been dead nearly eight months. So it goes.
She can't
hear him coming any more than she can hear anyone else. The quiet clump
of motorcycle boots on carpet and the rustling of unseen objects in
loose pockets. Nate is not an imposing physical figure but he is not
delicate either.
When their paths cross they run parallel to each
other. Nate may or may not have intended to locate the 398.45 call
number in the vast rows of stacks but that's where Molly is when he
glances down the lane and sees her. He doesn't know how to respond or if
he should acknowledge that he's seen her or what to do about the
mourning ache in his chest even though she's still alive and standing
right in front of him.
Maybe she didn't see him. His hesitation only lasted a couple of seconds.
Molly Toombs
Of
course Molly saw Nate when he paused in the same row of shelves as
her. She was an attentive sort, aware of the area surrounding her. So
when a figure in heavy boots came into her peripherals, she blinked and
glanced up and past her shoulder to check in-- largely just to make sure
it wasn't someone she should be worried about; that it wasn't some
apparition come to summon her to a task or duty that humans really
shouldn't be involved in in the first place.
Nate could at least
rest assured that Molly looked well-- she's somehow managed to keep
herself alive and healthy even with her refusal to separate herself from
the world of the supernatural as he had done. She was seeing enough
sun that her skin was pink and bright (freckled folks don't really hold a
tan, you see), and she wasn't stressed enough to lose weight from lack
of eating. There weren't bruises to circle and ring her eyes-- she was
sleeping sufficiently as well. If Nate didn't know better, he would be
able to peg her for a normal, healthy woman in her mid-twenties.
But
then Molly glanced up and found Nate's face, and the multitude of
different messages that fizzled within the line of eye contact reminded
the both of them that there was nothing normal in what they knew about
one another at all. The simple relief that the other person was alive
demonstrated on its own, without the help of anything else, how abnormal
their lives actually were.
The curvy red-head mirrored the ache
and looked something like a deer in the headlights upon recognizing
Nate. She shouldn't be surprised by running into him-- they did live in
the same city after all. She had almost convinced herself that he'd
willed himself out of her plane of existence with his desire to separate
from vampires and those involved with him.
Unsure of where they
stood, of what was acceptable conduct, Molly had been locked with
hesitation for a few moments as well. When those moments passed and her
brain reminded her to do something besides stare and look uncertain,
she pulled her mouth into a small smile and raised her free hand to
wave. Didn't approach, though-- he was the one that walked away from
her, remember?
Nathan Amherst
His therapist's
favorite thing to do is get him to talk about people he doesn't talk to
anymore as if they're still in his life. Sometimes it's the dead ones
but mostly it's the women in his life who he's either pushed away or who
have pushed him away and his therapist is going to start blaming all of
his problems on his mother if he doesn't manage to maintain a healthy
relationship with a woman for longer than a few months.
That isn't
why Nate hesitates. He hesitates because he'd overreacted that day.
He'd thrown out everything that reminded him of a life he wasn't living
anymore and Nate like most bullheaded men stuck to his decision even
though he was wrong because he didn't want to be the one to pick up the
phone and apologize.
Movement of her head and the cut of her smile
have him aborting his step away from her aisle. That wave reels him
back. Nate's looking carved-down compared to how he looked when last she
saw him. Stress maybe or he's just quit drinking so goddamn much. Beer
has a lot of calories and so does whiskey. He hasn't had a haircut since
he got out of the hospital this last time but his hair does not grow
very quickly.
His scar is still pink. The weather has him wearing
short sleeves and with sunglasses off there's no ignoring the one on his
face.
He stands still for several seconds and it looks as if he's
trying to gear himself up to say something. Lips part and he draws a
breath and then he frowns because what the fuck is he supposed to say to
her exactly. That breath comes back out in a rush and the frown doesn't
dissipate and then he's walking towards her.
Unless she does something to stop him Nate throws his arms around her shoulders and hauls her into an embrace.
Molly Toombs
When
Nate had initially come into view, Molly's fingers had been at the edge
of a book spine, prepared to pull it loose from where it was wedged
between others on the shelf. That had been abandoned to wave hello, and
was forgotten entirely (for the moment, at least) when Nate
approached. Molly stood facing him directly, turned away so the shelf
had her shoulder rather than her front, and waited.
She thought he
was going to start with a 'hello' or something along those lines.
Molly anticipated that conversation would be awkward and stiff, though
her body language was neither. She could choose to be angry with him
for how he'd broken off their friendship and dumped bad feelings and a
cat that was a symbol for those bad feelings in her lap. From how she
kept that small polite smile on her face, though, he could tell she was
making a choice to avoid pettiness.
The hug that he substituted a
verbal greeting with came as a surprise, and Molly's coppery eyebrows
hopped up on her forehead. She didn't pull away from him, though, or
push him back from her. Rather, after a moment's pause, Molly tucked
her chin over the top of Nate's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his
ribs. A hand patted his back a few times, then she went still. The
way she exhaled slow and complete said the hug was a relief, a better
way to make a patch, however temporary, on the fissure between them.
Molly
would leave it to Nate to decide when to break away and lean back.
From over his shoulder and near his knee she said, in a low voice: "I'm
glad you're okay."
Nathan Amherst
Although he
doesn't leap away from physical contact the reporter doesn't strike
anyone he meets as being an overly feely individual. He doesn't touch
other people's hands or shoulders to try and bestow comfort when they're
upset. They were friends for the better part of a year before he kissed
her the first and only time and he was drunk when it happened.
That
she returns the hug rather than pushing him away to remind him that
hey, asshole, you're the one who walked away is as much of a comfort to
him as his presence is to her. His next breath is more of a huff than a
sigh. Like he honestly thought she would be dead by now and seeing that
she isn't has done nothing more than remind him of all the terrors
waiting for night to fall. Of how she walks among them and speaks to
them as if her life has no other purpose than to shine a light. Not to
beat them back but to understand.
Nate doesn't understand her but he never really tried either.
The
embrace only lasts until she speaks. It tightens between her breath and
her voice and then he lets her go. Steps back so they can see each
other proper and puts his hands back in his pockets and he nods. Like
well-p. Here we are.
His eyes flick to the spines of the books
she's facing and he looks as if he wants to laugh but he's too tired to
follow through on it.
"You looking for beach reading?" he asks.
Molly Toombs
"If there were beaches in Denver, I could answer yes."
Molly
separated from the hug smoothly, and also stepped back to put a more
cordial space between herself and the man that she still called a
friend, though the relationship has been split in two for a while now.
The last that Nathan has probably heard of Molly was from his
girlfriend, telling him about the coffee that they'd shared so much time
ago, when it seemed like maybe Nate was two-timing. Molly'd kept her
head down after that, she didn't mean to cause waves and hated to bring
ruin to a relationship. It's no wonder that Nate worried she was dead,
for how well she'd respected his hasty demand that she not call him
again. She'd stopped reaching out entirely.
His hands went to
pockets, and Molly used her free hand to cup her opposite elbow,
supporting the 20 ounce paper coffee cup that she held. A sip was drawn
from it, her eyes hopped to the spines of the books and then back to
Nate's face again. Her expression was mildly apologetic with a dash of
humor-- Well, what do you do?, was the message behind it.
"You
know, knowledge is power and all. After a while the internet runs out
of Truth and just feeds you movie plots." Her mouth twisted to a
somewhat wry smile that she wore to continue with. "Gotta stay on the
up-and-up. How are things with you?"
Nathan Amherst
"Shitty."
Well
as long as they're being honest. It's hard to tell just by looking for
him what his life is actually doing to him. Even when he's on an even
keels he looks as if he hasn't seen the sun or a good night's sleep in
over a month and if the encounter Molly had with Carole at the
coffeehouse was any indication his life has not been on an even keel for
a good amount of time.
Carole is a terrible liar. She has better
luck telling when another person is lying than she does lying herself
but she's still young. She doesn't know how to respond to hearing her
boyfriend may or may not have slept with another woman while they were
not speaking to each other.
But Nate answers the question so offhand it doesn't seem as if he has anything more to say about it.
"But at least I haven't had Twilight fan art pop up in any of my Google searches lately. So I've got that going for me."
Molly Toombs
Molly
pressed her mouth into a line of quiet worry when he honestly answered
that things are less-than-superb. 'Shitty', even, to quote him
directly. He looked like he didn't see much sun or sleep, but that was a
norm for Nathan Amherst (she'd be aware of his name change from the
paper, if he was printing with the new name now instead of Marszalek).
He seemed to have a little less bulk to him, but didn't appear sickly.
No fresh injuries, with breath and pulse, that was about as much as she
could ask for in his health.
She didn't chuckle for the joke about fan art, and instead shook her head a little and sipped her coffee some more.
"That's
a plus. I hope nothing to... ah, mirror that has popped up in your
actual physical life since....?" She didn't quite finish the fractured
sentence, but he knew what she was getting at. She was checking to see
if other vampires have come after him since he made his effort to
separate himself from that society entirely. Her gaze was open, a bit
earnest, but mostly searching and curious (ever curious, Miss Toombs)
for the answer over the plastic lid of her cup.
"I mean, that was the idea. I just hope it worked. That way it could be worth it, at least."
Nathan Amherst
[odds yes evens no!]
Dice: 1 d10 TN6 (7) ( success x 1 )
Nathan Amherst
It
wasn't worth it. If Molly can tell nothing else just by looking at him
it's that pushing her away had neither solved anything nor had it done
what he had wanted it to do. For all that's happened to him in the last
quarter century he isn't an angry or volatile young man. Doesn't turn
into a sopping mess when he's had too much to drink. Doesn't air his
regrets or his pain to anyone who will listen. Gets a little belligerent
sometimes but that's a side effect of finding himself surrounded by
assholes.
He tries to smile like that's going to dissuade her of
the notion that it wasn't a terrible idea. It just makes him look the
haunted that he always is.
Someone comes up the stairs and starts
walking brisk her sandals calling out slapslapslapslap as she approaches
her pace picking up as her point in space and theirs draw nearer and
Nate glances away two seconds before a tall blond girl wearing very
short denim shorts and a halter top comes around the corner of the shelf
and bumps into Nate not to try and knock him over but just to nudge
him. Hey brother. Whatcha doin'. That sort of a bump.
The girl is
only a few inches shorter than Nathan and if Molly actually looks at
them it's not hard to see they're related. But she has to stop and
actually look. The girl has long arms and legs and an athletic build and
wavy sun-bleached hair that unrestrained as it is falls to the middle
of her back. Her eyes are green instead of brown and they have a
mischievous good humor to them even when she isn't smiling. She's
carrying a pink-and-white blended drink in one hand and a trio of books
in the other.
"Ow," Nate says to the elbow colliding with his side.
"I'm done," the girl says. It takes his attention off of Molly.
"You were gone for like five seconds."
"I don't mess around when I'm at the library." She looks away from him to acknowledge Molly and beams at her. "Hi."
"Molly, this is my sister," he says. "She's a pain in the ass. Hannah, this is my friend Molly."
Hannah lifts her drink in lieu of reaching out to shake her hand.
Molly Toombs
The
smile was a lie, and no words had to pass to conclude that discussion.
He would try to lie about how well his separation maneuver had worked
out by using that smile, and he saw how Molly's eyes turned to a
sympathetic shade of blue. He knew she saw through that, and the
expression was a simple and honest Oh, Nate.
Then Hannah
introduced herself into the equation, and initially Molly wondered if
this was a new girlfriend, if Carole had vanished from the equation.
Then the two spoke with one another and Molly had time to recognize that
their cheekbones and chins and the shape of their eyes and mouths
shared similarities. Her hair was the same as what Nathan's would be if
it was long and witnessed more sunlight.
Nathan introduced the
younger woman as his sister, and the lift of the drink was mirrored in
kind with Molly's hot coffee cup-- apparently she wasn't one for fruity
blended drinks herself, even when it was a pleasant day in summer.
"Good
to meet you. You picked the best time of year to come to Colorado to
visit-- surprise snowstorms are more a May thing than a June one."
Nathan Amherst
As
she gets herself of a mind to stand and cockblock for a few seconds
Hannah adopts a slouching teenage girl's posture that lends another
layer of difference between her and her military-stiff brother. Weight
cocked on one hip and swaying a bit like she wants to fidget. Like she
has all this energy she doesn't know what to do with.
Hard to
believe they have the same parents but there is that nine-year age
difference and the fact that Hannah doesn't hear dead people and hasn't
been to a war zone.
"Everybody keeps saying that," Hannah says.
Nate keeps one hand in his pocket while the other turns into a pointed
finger to poke her in the arm and ribs as she talks. It makes her squirm
but she otherwise ignores him. "I'm from Nebraska, it takes more than
weird weather to impress me." Now she knees Nate in the thigh. He puts
her in a loose headlock. It doesn't shut her up. "Do you, like, work
together?"
Molly Toombs
A chuckle preceded Molly's answer. "Nebraska? Shoot, I'd expect that everything would
impress you if that's the case. Besides sprawling corn fields,
anyways." Molly glanced to Nate as he prodded at his sister, dishing up
revenge for her introduction into the conversation by way of elbow to
older brother's ribs. The age difference was apparent-- Molly couldn't
help but think of her younger brother who'd just graduated from school
several weeks ago.
A faint look of nostalgia, maybe even a touch
of distant fondness, was shaken away when the question of how they knew
each other was presented. Molly fielded it with a shake of her head and
another sip of her coffee.
"No, I'm a nurse at St. Luke's-- the
hospital that's right downtown. We just ran into each other at a bar
that's positioned between our workplaces. Started talking, started
hanging out. You know-- friends." Eyes flicked briefly toward Nate's
face, as though seeing how he felt about that answer, wondering if they
were going to be in mutual agreement about not discussing their falling
out and divide. It was better not to, if you asked Moll. That way they
didn't have to come up with some lie about why Nate bailed in a panic
of haste and self-preservation.
"I think I remember Nate saying you're a student-- what are you studying?"
Oh look, pleasant, normal, human subjects. Molly does remember how to function as a typical person, it seems.
Nathan Amherst
It
doesn't surprise her that she's come up in conversation if they met at a
bar and he's a reporter and she's a nurse. Talking about family must be
a nice change of pace compared to talking about dead people and murders
and whatever else it is that reporters and nurses talk about.
The
headlock loosens once Hannah settles in against his side. She gets too
comfortable and Nate pushes her off of him and the girl laughs quiet so
as not to interrupt Molly. They settle down now Nate with his hands in
his pockets leaning against the shelves. Hannah sips her drink. Holds
her books against the hip now-again holding her weight.
"Everything,"
she says. "My major's Development Studies but I think I need to double
major in Political Science so I can get everything I want to have on my
transcript before I apply to law school because they don't have an
International Relations major like everybody else does."
"I keep telling her to transfer to NYU or Columbia if she wants to go to law school but she doesn't listen to me."
"I don't wanna be in New York the next time you wind up in the hospital. Plane tickets are expensive."
"Transfer to NYU."
"Shut up."
"Hannah."
She
looks away from him and rolls her eyes in Molly's direction. That good
humor persisting. Her brother is such a pain in the ass.
"Hannah, tr--"
"I'm
walking away now," she says and then she walks away. Slapslapslapslap
go her sandals as she wanders to the other side of the floor to browse
around in the business section.
Molly Toombs
Quiet
as a mouse, Molly watched the exchange and did nothing to interrupt
it. Eyes hopped from Hannah to Nate like watching a ping-pong match
when they spoke in turn. Nate wanted her to transfer somewhere else,
and she insisted upon staying on account of how often he ended up in the
hospital, or so it seemed. Once she'd walked away with a slapslap of
sandals on the bottoms of her feet, Molly turned her eyes from the
girl's retreating back to Nathan once more. Eyebrows crawled up on her
forehead.
"So, she's living out here now?" Those brows creased down some.
"I
see why you want her to transfer." Pause, and then. "Does she know?
About any of this?" Of course, he knows what 'this' means.
Nathan Amherst
Once
she's gone Nate takes his hand out of his pocket and scrubs his face
with it. The liveliness come into him when she was around saps just as
soon as she isn't. His relationship with her is different from any
relationship he has with anyone else on the planet but he was nine years
old when she was born. He had to take care of her when their parents
spent that year in court battling over custodial rights. Was the only
holdover from their old life that she didn't rage at when they moved to
Nebraska. Lord knows how angry she must have been at him when he
enlisted and went off to war.
So, she's living out here now?
"Internship in Fort Collins for the summer," he says behind his hand.
Does she know? About any of this?
He
pockets his hand and huffs out another breath. When he answers he's
looking back over his shoulder at the empty space in her wake like to
make sure she won't sneak up on him while they're talking.
"I've
never told her anything." He looks back and runs his hand through his
hair. Half the sentence he speaks while looking at her shoes. Doesn't
give her back his gaze until the end of it. "Told my dad about the
hearing-ghosts thing a couple months ago and... y'know, he didn't know
what to say."
Alright. This has been fun.
"I'll, uh..." He clears his throat. "I'll get outta your hair now. It was good to see you."
Molly Toombs
As
Nate spoke, Molly nodded, quiet and supportive. It was like she was
afraid that if she became too animated she would frighten Nate off.
"It's a difficult pill to swallow unless you've seen things firsthand."
She was guessing that his father hasn't had much experience with the
supernatural.
When he stated that he'd get out of her hair, Molly
pulled a smile across her mouth again. It was a little sad, like being
on the outside looking in. The last time they'd seen one another,
actual months had passed before they reunited again, and this was only
just by chance.
But Moll, he could've just walked away. Could
have given you his shoulder and gone off into another aisle. That
didn't happen, now did it? Relax, he's still around.
"It was
good to see you too." He was going to be the one to walk away, not
her, so Molly's posture didn't change. She would wait for him to go
rejoin his sister and get back to her book browsing, but before that
happened she stated hopefully and honestly: "I'd love it if you called
sometime. You're missed, you know."
The way she spoke made it
clear that she wasn't putting him on the spot or demanding an answer.
He didn't need to confirm whether he was going to be calling or seeing
her again. She just wanted him to know, really, that the radio silence
wasn't going both ways. He'd told her not to call and she'd respected
that, so it was instead on his plate to reach back out again. But he
could figure out when that would be on his own. Molly would (probably)
still be alive to answer the phone when he opted to call.
"See you later, Nate."
Nathan Amherst
You're missed, you know.
It
doesn't put him on the spot. People need to hear things like that. They
have no way of knowing they're loved or appreciated or missed unless
the other person gives the thought words. It's an echoed sentiment even
if he doesn't give it words. In the silence she can see him swallow and
he nods his head and that's not that but it's going to have to serve for
now.
Anyone could have told Molly that it's both easy and
difficult to love Nate but Molly has never been the kind of woman to
find contentment in taking telling at its surface value. She needs to
experience it on her own and she has.
The last two months may turn
into yet another regret for him but the offer is there. If the fates
are kind this won't be the last they see of each other. He hasn't
deleted her number from his phone.
"Alright," he says at the end
of all that. Hovers at the end of the stack a moment longer than he
needs to. Then he nods and turns and walks away.
Low hum of the
central air conditioner. Dust motes dancing in the sunbeams loud through
huge glass windows. Hannah's sandals slapslapslapping and the low
murmur of their voices and then everything is as it was.
The book Molly was looking for is right where it's supposed to be.
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