Hanging Out

[Morgan Lake] Running was done long ago, and several hours were spent in esoteric sorts of study . . . which leaves Morgan with free time for lunch, and a small picnic basket containing hers. It's rather large, this lunch, in case she runs into someone (as she often does), in case she's extra hungry (as teenage athletes often are), just in case. It's a thing. She's driving, and at a red light she pulls out her phone to (illegally) text James.

Lunch at Lake Park? I'll pick you up, if you want.

It's been awhile. She's going to change that because . . . well, just because. Partly because she wants to learn sign language. Partly because she's curious about the new guy with whom she actually has less trouble understanding than the Limey she met last night, despite the barriers. Partly because he's a cute boy and close to her age and interesting, so of course she wants to hang out on occasion. The reason doesn't really matter - it's all about the end result.

[James Blake] It's surprising (to him anyway) that he responds to his phone vibrating at this time of day. He's only been asleep for a few minutes when the thing buzzes on his nightstand, a cheap wooden thing with glass inlay, but its rattling wakes him up. He pushes himself up on an elbow, reads the message, and smiles. He hasn't seen Morgan since their impromptu brunch was crashed - wanted or not - by her mentor, and it's nice to hear from her. So he answers as quickly as he can.

If we go up on the roof we can see the lake from my house. No crowds either.

He gives her the address to the house where he rents a room in Lake View, then peels himself out of bed and showers as fast as is humanly possible. By the grace of the One does he manage to get out before she pulls into the driveway. The house is a two-story yellow affair with a long white driveway and a basketball hoop at the end. There is a red VW coupe parked on the front lawn, and a white metal gate, open, enclosing the yard. There are no pets and no sign of a landlord or other occupants. There's no sign of James either.

[Morgan Lake] It's not out of her way, really - a bit past where she intended to go, but Morgan doesn't mind. She drives exactly at the speed limit where she'd usually do five over, just to give him a bit of time; this, like all their meetings thus far, is rather impromptu. Better to give him a bit of time to prepare than to show up immediately.

Regardless, it's not long before she shows up, all preppy-cute with clean hair in two french braids at either side of her head, khaki shorts that hit just above her knees and a light, thin polo in a sunset shade somewhere between pink and red (complete with man on horse on the left side). Once parked, she heads to the door and rings the bell, hoping it's hooked up to some sort of light fixture or something - she's not sure how he'd know someone's there otherwise, though at least he has forewarning.

When he answers the door? There she is, looking like she should be on a golf course, or maybe getting ready to play tennis, with a picnic basket on one arm and a hint of shy smile playing on her lips. "Hey. How's it going?"

[James Blake] If this were his place he would have wired the place so that he would know when someone arrived at the door. This is not his place though. He found the room on Craigslist, and had told the landlord that he was Deaf but that he was quiet and didn't smoke inside and was employed full time and the guy had not asked very many other questions. They largely communicate through notes left on the refrigerator or under his door. When they have to talk face to face they find ways around the language barrier. His landlord has no complaints about his tenant other than...well...the fact that he's deaf.

At any rate, the lights don't flash when Morgan rings the doorbell. James has to keep looking out the window to see if there's a car in the driveway or a body at the back door. Luckily he catches her car as it's pulling up outside his window. When he arrives at the back door he's wearing clothing befitting the hot weather - khaki shorts, a blue polo shirt that sets off his eyes, no socks or shoes or jewelry other than the thick silver band on his right thumb. He's not wearing the thin silver band on his ring finger anymore. His overgrown hair is damp from a shower, and he beams at her.

"Good," he says, making the sign with his right hand. He lets go of the door so that he can make the next sign with both hands. He mouths rather than speaking, How are you? Want to go up?

[Morgan Lake] I'm fine, she signs back, that smile widening just a bit - the movement is still a bit choppy, clumsy, but she's made the attempt. It's something, at any rate. Then, spoken and signed affirmation, though the signing ends after a simple, "Yeah. It's a nice place you've got."

She allows him to lead the way, of course, taking in little details as they go - he hasn't been here terribly long, she knows, but still. She works for a private investigator and is so very discerning on her own. She's curious about this man, and made more so by the complications communication provides - notes work admirably, as long as one's patience holds out, and signing - like most other languages have been for her - is proving a slow process. She doesn't know how well she'll do in the end, but she holds out hope.

Only when they can look at each other again does she say, "I hope Ashley didn't grill you too hard or anything. She's pretty awesome, once you get to know her." And maybe more so, in some ways, when you don't - in the actual meaning of the word.

[James Blake] That beam becomes a thousand watt smile when she signs back to him. To look at him she's just made his day. He does not guide her into the house but instead pockets a set of keys and closes the door. To her claim that this is a nice place, he makes a sign that is similar to "Good" but slower, more deliberate. Thank you! He leads her up a set of wooden steps leading up to the first floor. Knocks before entering - as if he can hear if someone yells "Don't come in" or doesn't answer at all - and then leads her into a kitchen. They go through the kitchen and through another door. Up a fire escape.

Once there, he holds out his right hand to help her keep her balance as they creep across the roof. He looks back at her, then leads her to a flat expanse of roof where true to his word they can see Lake Michigan spread out to the east. He helps her sit herself down, taking the basket from her if he has to, and when he answer it's in that disconcerting combination of sign and speech.

"She wanted to know what happened with Alex and Riley. Tell me I can go to the Chantry, that she'd clear me. She seems like she'd be a good mentor. You're lucky."

[Morgan Lake] "In a lot of ways, I am." She's pretty much exhausted her knowledge of signing - she'd made sure to learn some basic pleasantries ('hi', 'how're you', 'I'm fine' and similar) and has known the alphabet since fourth grade when it was the way to talk in class without getting caught, but that's about it.

She doesn't enumerate anything that might be unlucky, but leaves it at that - she's lucky to have Ashley, and to be where she is rather than . . . well, elsewhere. Things could have gone rather a lot differently for her, and she still cringes sometimes - still has dreams that have her waking in a cold sweat, panicked. But now, there are more important, and interesting things to talk about - and there's lunch, which, once she's sitting on the flat spot next to James, she starts divvying out. There's an obviously home made bread, sausage, cheese, mustard, a bowl of mixed fruit and the requisite utensils to go with it all. For drinking, there are plastic wine glasses and a bottle of chilled sparkling juice, which she opens with a flair and pop of cork to pour first.

"What did happen with Alex and Riley? I heard a little bit, but only in passing when other people were talking about it."

[James Blake] She doesn't speak as she opens the sparkling juice but James is watching Morgan anyway, intently, as though there's a chance that she may. In the daylight his eyes are clearly blue...not like they are at night or in dim light when they tend to soak up whatever color is around. That flair has him smiling. It's gone a moment later when she asked what happened with Alex and Riley. He shakes his head slowly. His expression is somewhere between amused and tired. When he looks back up at her, he starts signing. As usual when he does this he dictates what his hands are saying. He has stopped doing this in front of Molly after the sniping comment about not being able to control the volume of his voice.

"I had to explain this to so many people...a Fallen abducted a friend of mine. Had abducted other women too. I got shook up trying to stop him. Call Alex. Alex comes to help, calls Riley too. We go after the Fallen but it was dark and neither of them sign so there was bad communication. Alex shot himself in the foot and Riley flipped out. Big mess. I don't know who told her but Emily heard wrong what happened and told...a lot of people that I sent Alex in by himself."

[Morgan Lake] "Sorry," she says, lips twisting ruefully as he finishes signing and she hands him his glass. "Yeah, I can imagine it must get to be a pain, repeating yourself. I didn't hear all that much, just that there was a Fallen, and you, Riley and Alex were involved. I'm glad everyone's okay, though."

She doesn't know Alex or Riley all that well - has met the former a couple of times but the latter only once, and isn't in a hurry to repeat the occurrences - not because she didn't like them or what have you, but because she doesn't go out of her way to hang out with much of anyone. Once, she was well liked - social, captain of a sports team, on the homecoming court, voted most likely to become speaker of the house - but that was before a lot of things. Now, she keeps her distance [physical, mental, emotional] from almost everyone. He'd felt some of that in her unease with the mind link the day in the park with Ashley, though she'd fought against it at the time.

"No more serious stuff, unless you want to. Here - to frivolous lunches on roofs overlooking the lake." And she raises her glass, offering a smile to go with the toast.

[James Blake] Sorry, she says. No, it's fine, he signs. The expression on his face says the same thing. Even without signing he's able to convey a lot just with his face. Most times that is how non-signers can tell if he's happy or angry or upset. He isn't angry or upset now. He smiles when Morgan says she's glad everyone's okay. A glass is handed to him, and he takes it, signing Thank you with his free hand. The Hermetic makes her toast, and James smiles back at her.

"Frivolous?" he teases.

[Morgan Lake] "No studying, no running, neither of us trying go gain anything from the other. That I know of, anyway." Here, an eyebrow raises questioningly - she's here because she's enjoyed his company the few times they've been together, and because he's the nearest to her age (that she knows), and because . . . well, partly because she's been told (and knew before the telling, really) that being social is an important part of expanding one's understanding of the world, and she should endeavor to do so. "Just . . . you know. Hanging out. So yeah, kind of frivolous. But not in a bad way."

There are a few things it's very easy to tell about Morgan - that she's confident in a way that sometimes borders on arrogance, that she's blazingly intelligent, that she's insatiable in her desire to know, to learn, that she's driven and ambitious and rarely takes the time for things like this. She's not completely certain what to do with herself in 'at ease' time, and it shows in a fidget here, a straightening of the plate with their lunch on it there.

"I made the bread, by the way. It's a cheesy herb beer bread - a bit heavy for summer, but it goes well with the cheese and sausage, I think."

[James Blake] One of her eyebrows raises. James lifts both of his in teasing response, tipping his head to one side and taking a sip of his drink. It is notoriously hard to offend members of the Deaf community. They tend to be...blunt...compared to hearing people. They are not afraid to ask questions that the world at large would deem none of their business. If they're late, it's considered rude to not explain exactly why they are not on time. James tends to curb his desire to give detailed accounts of his activities to hearing people. It has nothing to do with humility and more to do with having been brought up among them. He knows that for having all five of their senses they tend to be more closed off than the blind or the deaf.

He makes a sign that indicates he understands what she's saying, then takes another sip of his drink. There is no alcohol in it, but it's a hot day and he drinks quickly anyway. That she's fidgeting could be interpreted a number of different ways. Thus far he hasn't caught her flirting with him. He wouldn't even say that she views him as anything other than a casual acquaintance, someone who she's comfortable spending time with for whatever reason. Maybe it's because just about everyone in Chicago's Awakened society is past their mid 20s and they're both still under the legal drinking age.

She tells him she made the bread, and he looks impressed. He sets the glass down careful so he will have both hands free. "You go to school for cooking, or just know how?"

[Morgan Lake] "Oh no, I start pre-law in September - I like to bake, it's relaxing. I saw a t-shirt that says it's science for hungry people." This is amused, and with a shrug. "I don't want to ruin it, you know? And I've wanted to be a lawyer and more for as long as I can remember. My mom bakes, or used to. I assume she still does." For a lot of the same reason, in fact - it's relaxing, after a hard day. But her mom is a closed subject, as is most of her past - it's there, a subtle, quiet shutting of doors.

Much like James hasn't caught her flirting with him, she hasn't caught him flirting with her; the closest she's seen is his not looking at her during the Mind link in the park, which - like her fidgeting - could be interpreted in a lot of ways. She thinks he's attractive, sure, as most women and many men would, but as said before . . . she's focused, driven. And when she flirts, it tends to be in different circumstances than most they've been in together; much of the time, it almost seems that she's not sure how. The eye contact she makes is a matter of directness, and so on.

"What about you, are you in school?"

[James Blake] Habit has him trying to play with a ring that isn't on his finger anymore. His thumb touches the spot on his fourth finger where a wedding band had been the last time Morgan saw him. When it finds nothing he balls the whole hand up. The thumb is trapped for a moment. Still he doesn't take his eyes off of her. It would be easy to assume that's because he has to watch her face to figure out what she's saying. He hasn't done a Mind rote on her to make communicating easier. He'd seen how uneasy she was when Ashley did a more powerful version of what he does a lot these days. He doesn't want to make her uneasy so he stays away from her mind.

As much as he can without being able to hear, he listens to her. He nods where appropriate but not because it's what is expected of him. He wants Morgan to know he's paying attention. He is paying attention. This girl has ambition and drive that's almost intimidating. He wishes she would talk more about wanting to be a lawyer...like maybe why at 18 she's so focused on a career when most girls her age are interested in boys and shoes and drinking. Instead she turns the conversation around. James makes a self-depreciating, hesitant face, then shakes his head and signs No.

"I dropped out of high school when I was 16. After I woke up four years ago. I work now."

[Morgan Lake] Oh, Morgan's interested in boys and shoes - but not enough that it distracts, at least not [most of the time] now. She's focused because she's always been so, because she doesn't know how not to be; it comes from being the daughter of a professor and a high end financier, perhaps, but she'd have to tell James about them for him to know that. "I woke up last Halloween and graduated last December, a semester early." But she shrugs, as if it's to be expected - of course she woke up and graduated in the space of two months.

"What do you do?" She'd rather know about him than talk about herself, that much is obvious - but she's trying to share a little, at least. She's trying to relearn how to let people in, and James seems like as safe a start as she's likely to get. "I've been interning with a PI, Malcolm. He's one of yours, but always super busy."

[James Blake] Thank Christ she doesn't give him a huge amount of time to answer what it is he does. He stalls. She says that she's been interning with a PI. James relaxes as though he's been let off the hook. Seems he isn't in any bigger of a hurry to talk about himself than Morgan is to talk about herself. He makes the Y hand shape and bobs it up and down like he's nodding with his hand. It translates to I see.

"That's more interesting than what I do. Do you help him with cases?"

[Morgan Lake] "Not much. Mostly, I do his filing and answer the phone. It's not all that interesting, though sometimes I look at the files. There's a lot of adultery out there, you know, and a lot of people robbing their employers of money, information or both." She shrugs, wrinkles her nose. "It's a whole world of not right, but at least I get to see how some court cases look from that angle, I guess. That and the minimum wage paycheck make up for the boredom - plus, it'll look great on resumes later."

She hadn't left him much time to answer, no, but that doesn't mean he's off the hook - she's sharing more with him than she has with anyone not-Ashley in a long time. (Not counting a whirlwind trip to California a few weeks ago, but she hasn't even told Ashley about that one.) "I'm terribly rude sometimes, you know," this is with an exaggerated seriousness, as if she's admitting to some fatal flaw in character. "I should have left you time to say. "What do you do?" And this time, she refills their glasses and puts together a little sandwich for each of them, rather than running off on something else.

[James Blake] James cuts her a look that says Yeah right when she says she's terribly rude sometimes. He refuses to believe that. He also realizes that she's going to repeat her question when she says this, and takes a break to drain his glass. As though it contains a more potent liquid than carbonated grape juice. He reaches up to run a hand through his damp hair, spiky as it waits to completely dry, then stops stalling.

"I spend time with people. Keep them company. Nothing very exciting."

[Morgan Lake] "Maybe not, but there are worse jobs to have," she says matter of factly. "I spent some time volunteering in a hospice house in high school. It's sad, and boring, but . . . yeah, there's worse." Whether or not she believes this is all he does, given his reluctance to talk about it, is anyone's guess - but she lets it go without pressing. There's time to find out more, and this is lunch on a roof with a good looking young man close to her own age, and she's hardly telling him everything, so doesn't particularly expect him to do something she's not willing to do.

Not yet, anyway.

"What do you do when you're not working?"

[James Blake] She says there's worse, and he gives her a smile of agreement. Most of the people he works with aren't dying. Not actively anyway. A lot of them are alcoholics and wind up off their faces by the end of the evening. A lot of them aren't though. A lot of them are normal people who happen to be lonely and not very good at meeting people. They're older maybe, think they are past the age of being able to have a normal conversation with someone they're attracted to, or else they have stressful jobs that don't afford them time to have relationships. He can't remember the last time that he was intimate with someone without being paid to do it - okay he can but that's nothing he's going to talk to Morgan about. Not their third or fourth time meeting each other anyway. Asking what he does when he's not working gets him more animated. He sits up straighter, and he has to force himself to slow his hands down so that he can keep up with his own translation.

"I play basketball. On the driveway alone mostly but 2-3 times a week I go to the park and play with other people. I go to church 2-3 times a week too. Not just Christian church...I go to synagogue and sometimes I can go to mosque. I just like seeing how Sleepers worship. It's pretty cool. I like talking to people afterward." He wiggles his fingers, the signing equivalent of an Um. "I go to movies. A theater near here shows captioned movies. They're usually old but it's the first time I see them so I don't care."

[Morgan Lake] "Nice. Only sport I was ever much good at was running, though I've tried a few. And church . . . I've been a few times. I don't really get it." She shrugs, and knows (through various experiences) that there's something out there, but she doesn't know about all this worshiping and praying and what not. Raised as an intellectual atheist, it's hard for her to wrap her mind around a god or goddess, or the creation theory, or a lot of things she's come across on her forays into that arena, which have only come since her Awakening, since she was on her own.

".....I can't remember the last time I went to a movie. I think before graduation . . . I mean, they're on sometimes, at the house. But I'm usually doing other things - playing video games sometimes, but mostly studying." Mundane stuff, magic stuff, anything, really. "Maybe you can teach me to play basketball or something." It's with a slightly teasing quirk to her smile, that, and she drinks the last bit of juice before replenishing their glasses.

"If you want, I mean."

[James Blake] If she wanted to talk all day without pausing to ask a question or breathe James would probably be happy just to watch her the entire time. Not once does he look away from her to see what the lake is doing or pick at the food she's laid out in front of them. He has a toned build that comes from playing a strenuous sport several times a week but he is not bulky. He's not starving, either. Still he doesn't require mountains of food to keep his weight up. Morgan might note that he hasn't lit a fag the entire time they've been up here. He's wanted to but not as much as he's wanted to keep Morgan from having to see and smell it. She teases a bit, the first time he's seen that sort of smile on her face, and he returns it.

"I have a ball," he says/signs. "Want me to show you the basics?"

[Morgan Lake] Morgan, on the other hand, alternates between a thirteen mile run and two five mile runs six days a week, and does light weight training on the seventh - she's a sort of thin that would border on skinny if it weren't for the lean, lithe muscles, and she does need a mountain of food to keep up body weight. Which is lucky, since she loves baking and samples liberally of her own product, and likes to eat in general. So, before she so much as answers, she inhales the sandwich she's made for herself (neatly, delicately), and finishes off her juice before packing things back into the basket.

"That sounds like fun, yeah. I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

[James Blake] It isn't until the tiny teenager picks up her sandwich that James starts in on his own. He doesn't eat as quickly or as much. For the first time since they sat down he looks away from her. Maybe he's afraid of unnerving her by staring at her while she eats. So he watches the lake. The water is quiet without many waves today. There haven't been many storms lately. Not outside of James' dreams anyway. He eats with a fastidiousness that comes from doing so slowly, and he seems to relish the sandwich that Morgan's made. When she turns back to him James sets his food down on the plate and looks at him, brushing crumbs from his lips. Her question makes him laugh. It's voiceless but shows his straight white teeth and lights up his eyes.

"No," he tells her. "I'm with you right now."

[Morgan Lake] She'd only seen him smoke the once, but she knows about the addictive properties of nicotine - and she's seen him with the ring more often than not, so an eyebrow raises, briefly - not distrustful, but curious, inquisitive. Details are important things. "Did you quit smoking?"

The ring, though, is harder to ask about; she's not sure what to ask, so she shrugs and (after he answers the question), grins. "If you're sure. I'm way ahead for the semester as far as reading goes. So I've got most of the day."

With everything packed up she rises and lets him lead the way back off the roof - she's not afraid of heights (or much of anything, really), but is cautious, careful. She's not keen on falling or anything like.

[James Blake] Did he quit smoking?
No. This, with another of those self-depreciating smiles as though she can figure out the reason why he's refraining from lighting up in front of her without giving her the answer straightaway.

If she had asked about the ring James would have had to tell her the whole messy story. He's not sure that he's ready to tell anyone what happened...either back in Alaska or the other night starting with that crazy text message and the events that followed. Morgan doesn't ask. She stands, and lets him show her the way off the roof. Once again he holds out his hand for Morgan to take. Despite the heat of the day his hands are not sweaty or terribly hot. He leads her to the fire escape, through the kitchen, and down the stairs. He holds up a hand for her to wait out on the driveway and ducks into the back door. The door stays open, revealing a mud room and another kitchen beyond. He is gone a matter of seconds. When he comes back he's wearing sandals and carrying a basketball.

"Hoop's there," he says, pointing to the very end of the driveway where a standalone net is resting. He hands her the ball. "You ever play before?"

[Morgan Lake] "You can smoke, you know. I'll just make sure to stay up wind." Again, it's a little teasing, and when his hand is offered, she takes it - hers are soft, smooth, a student's hands and well cared for - not manicured, but with neatly kept nails of a reasonable length. And so it's down through the house - she lets go of his hand when they're off the roof, though it's not in any kind of hurry to do so (that little bit of contact, for a little bit, is okay it seems), and then there's waiting outside while he gets the ball.

"I've fooled around," she says, and though it's a phrase that could have many meanings? There's no doubt that she means the one pertaining to the question asked. "And, you know, played in gym class. But never seriously or anything, and I'm bad at it." Morgan doesn't like being bad at things, really, and so if they're things she's interested in, she practices or studies until she's not. If they're not things she's interested in, they fall by the wayside. "My ex-boyfriend played, in the off season."