Late night bruises and morning coffee

[Isla Hudson]

Smiling, Isla nodded, accepting the one-word answer, not really expecting more, and not needing more. Some folks just weren't chatty like she was, and there was nothing wrong with that. She just hoped she hadn't touched a sensitive spot for him, he was shy, or uncertain, or was just holding back, and he seemed like a feral puppy that wanted someone to trust but was more likely to bolt at the slightest movement.

"Anyway," she continued with her chatting, "while I'm going to school I'm going to school I'm working as a court recorder...boy, it's amazing the things people say, how they don't realize that the choice of words can be so important...guess it will help me with my paperwork when I get into nursing."

She was rambling again, but there was a hint of nervousness in it, trying to find a way to reach out to him, but sensing that it was unwelcome, or unwanted. Still, her nature wouldn't let her back down too easily.

"Has anyone looked at those cuts?" she suddenly asked. "I can check them out if you'd like, clean them up so they don't get infected." Take him home and offer a shower and to launder his clothes...Steven would have her head, but she really didn't think Isaac was any sort of danger...

@isaac,

[Deleted]

He felt he should have warned her from the start, told her he wasn't one to talk much, but the fact itself had prevented him from doing so. His one-word answer really wasn't one to allow a conversation to carry on, he knew, but the whole situation had him at a loss for words, even for the simplest ones. After hearing about her brother, seeing her admiration for him and then thinking about his own sister and how she would never feel that way about him, for a reason, his mind wasn't in the right setting for a conversation. Which was unfair to her, after everything she had done and how hard she was trying to have him talk, but he feared that if he tried, he would make it worse. He wasn't sure he had the strength to try.

So he listened. He had stopped looking at his hands so he could look at her, and they had fallen flat on the table, weak. Everything in him felt weak. He couldn't even think of leaving now, he wasn't sure he could think at all. Each of her word echoed, distant, only understood a few seconds after she had said them. She was telling him so much about herself, but he wasn't sure he understood why. Was she really that trusting of him to share all of that? If the case was, she really shouldn't. He was still a stranger to her, and he was known to disappoint... Then again, was she trying to reach out to him? Have him talk? It was honorable, but he did not know of to react to that. Slowly his eyes left her to go back to his hands. In delayed manner he nodded, agreeing to her statement, but not saying anything.

His cuts... "I-." All of a sudden he was remembered of his appearance, and quickly he dragged his hands away from the table and hid them in his coat. He almost spilled his coffee in the process. No, no one had looked at them, both because he had made sure to hide the bruises he could hide, and because no one had cared to do so. However, he couldn't hide all of them, his black eye, anyone could see. "No one has. I..." He turned away to look at the floor, pushing his hand further into his coat. They weren't pretty, for sure, but they did not hurt anymore, so he hadn't paid too much attention to them. Like he had to those he had gotten before. And now Isla wanted to look at them... He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable. Why was she so kind to him? He wasn't worth any of that. Yet, she probably knew more about caring for them than he he did... No, he really did not how to respond to that.

[Isla Hudson]

The man was obviously uncomfortable, and Isla couldn't really blame him, after all, men didn't like to show weakness, even if it they were truly hurt, and maybe even his injuries were caused by something or someone he didn't want to talk about, and she certainly wasn't going to ask questions. If he wanted to tell her what had happened, that was fine, if not, that was his choice.

"I can take a look at them if you'd like," she offered, although she wasn't exactly sure where. While she was generous and caring, she wasn't stupid enough to invite him to her home, and besides, Steven would have her hide! And all that was here were the restrooms, and using either of those would be uncomfortable and awkward.

"You don't need those getting infected, and I bet you'd feel better if they're clean."

She thought for a moment, then offered, "Hey, there's a fire station just up the street, I bet they'd let us use the facilities there...or we could just use the men's room here and lock the door or something." Neither option was particularly great, but it was the best she could think of.

@isaac,

[Deleted]

Showing weakness... He had very little else to show. It was a bit of a pointless thing to try and hide it in such an instance, when it was more exhausting to do so than simply let it be, but his bruises, unlike his weaknesses, he felt it was different. It was the questions that came with them he wanted to avoid. Questions to which an explanation required telling so much more than he was comfortable with. Yet, he knew that he couldn't hide all of them, knew that it was inevitable that someone would question it one day. He had hoped that day wouldn't come, but now that it sort of had, he was glad it wasn't his sister questioning him, he did not want her to see him this way... Still, pushing his hands even further into his coat, he avoided to look at Isla, fearing she would ask those questions he did not wish to answer.

He wasn't entirely sure why she had offered such a thing, after everything she had already done for him. He was but a stranger after all. Although, his confusion aside, he was glad to see that she hadn't asked anything about them. Then again, being a nurse, it probably was obvious to her what could have possibly caused them all... A fight left easily identifiable evidence on a body... "I don't think..." He shook his head, still looking at the floor. "They're not... I don't know." They weren't that bad, were they? Surely he had had worst in the past, he was fairly certain he couldn't question that. They usually healed without much complications... But it was true, it would feel better if they were properly cleaned, yet, he wasn't entirely sure he was comfortable with her proposition.

What? Lock themselves in a bathroom? "No! I mean..." He jumped, hitting the table with his arms as his hands flung out of his coat, coffee yet again very close to spilling everywhere on the table. No, that wasn't happening. It was too... odd. So very odd especially since he did not know her, she did not know him. And the fire station... He was trying to avoid people knowing he was in Chicago, and a fire station housed a lot of people. It was most likely a little paranoiac of him, but that idea did not make him any more comfortable. He suddenly felt like running towards the door, but something stopped him from doing so, and he simply stayed still, sat in his chair with frightened wide eyes and hands holding the table. Oh, way to show gratitude for her kindness...

note: So sorry this took so so long D:

[Isla Hudson]

"Hey, hey," Isla murmured softly, trying to still him. At least they were in a sort of cove where they weren't easily observed, although his actions had caused a bit of attention. She reached to lightly touch his wrist, although the gesture was fleeting -- she knew that the touch wasn't welcome, despite it being intended for comfort.

"It's okay, we don't have to do anything or go anywhere." As much as she would like to help him, and thought that cleaning up the wounds was in his best interest, spooking him off wouldn't do any good. And in her kind nature, even though she had a pang of misgiving about the man, she still wanted to help, and was more inclined to dismiss the possibility that he had been the aggressor in whatever had caused him to be injured. And, after all, where was the harm in trying to help, so long as they were in public? He certainly wouldn't be silly enough try anything with an audience.

"I have some Ibuprofen if you think that will help with aches and pains," she offered, suddenly wondering if he had a place to stay, not that there was much she could help with that, besides offering remote assistance. But if he needed it and would accept it, she wouldn't mind making sure he had at least a couple of meals a day and a blanket to keep him warm at night.

"Hey, you know, I bet there's a faucet out back...we can go out there and get you cleaned up. I mean, it's not ideal, but it's better than nothing."

@isaac

[Deleted]

He hadn't realised people had been looking their way following his outburst, his mind still entirely focused on what he had just heard. He barely heard Isla as she spoke again, eyes still wide as he looked at the young woman, hands still clinging onto the table. He could feel them shaking from how hard he held it. Still he was unsure of why he was still holding it. Was it to prevent himself from leaving, running away and dart towards the exit? Or to simply prevent the table to move so his coffee wouldn't spill? No, that felt stupid. "No!" He had watched as Isla had reached out to him, everything almost in slow motion, and the moment he felt her against his wrist he snatched his hand away. That caused even more people to look their way, but once again he saw none of it. He was looking at his hand, unable to look at Isla. He really did not like being touched. Yet she barely had done that, it wasn't as bad...

Okay... He kept staring at his hand, not making a move or a sound. Try anything? No, he never would, were they to be in public or not. Fights were what he wanted to avoid, there was no point in starting one, and he wouldn't wish a fight like he knew them on anyone. Because those he knew, those who had left the bruises he carried that day, and had carried many times in the past, were simply awful. She had nothing to fear in that regard, he would never intentionally wish to hurt someone. The worse he could do, really, was to get up and leave, run away. It was very tempting to do so right now, but it wasn't her fault. Everything that had happened ever since he had come back to Chicago had been overwhelming, but it was even more so now, as he found himself in in a situation he really had no idea how to react to. She had simply wanted to help him and all he had done was to... act like a jerk, he would almost say. "I... Sorry." He went fro looking at his hand to look at the floor, addressing Isla but still being unable to look up at her.

They didn't hurt as much now as they had a day ago, but it still was rough to move. He had hoped his coffee would have had the same effect as the Ibuprofen she had offered him, chase away the headache and the pain that remained, among other things, but he hadn't had a sip of it yet. Maybe he should now, but after what had happened, he wasn't sure it was right. "No, it's fine... Thank you." He shook his head, pushing himself further into his seat. He shook his head again as she mentioned the faucet. Sure, it was a better option, but at this point, the idea had lost its appeal. He shifted again, less and less convinced that it had been a good idea to stay. For her sake.

[Isla Hudson]

"It's all right, really. You don't have to." Isla smiled, but she was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable herself. She really wanted to help but he had to want to be helped, or rather, to allow himself to be helped.

Not that she was up much on psychology, but it didn't take a keen observer to see that while part of him wanted to accept her help, something was holding him back, and she had no way of knowing what that might be...she certainly wasn't going to ask, it was none of her business and would likely spook him off.

And he didn't want to talk, which was fine, but she did want him to at least enjoy his coffee and bagel, but she wasn't sure she could keep him here long enough for that.

"Anyway, the coffee is getting cold, and we don't want to ruin that, right?" She grinned. "That would almost be a sin, to waste coffee!" Taking a sip of her latte, she shrugged, then commented, "This place is nice, but there's a little cafe up the street that has the best pancakes," she lowered her voice and leaned forward, "and the waitresses are a lot nicer!" Grinning, she leaned back again. "I usually stop by there after shift if I don't come by here."

She wasn't going to say it flat out, but he could read into the statement if he wanted to.

@isaac

[Deleted]

Was it all right? He didn't think so. He had obviously made her uncomfortable, but he was too, still shifting in his seat. His own awkwardness didn't make it feel any better. Oh this wasn't going so well, and he had feared it would when he had sat down with her earlier, but still, he had done it. Maybe it was better for him to go? If he did, that would turn him into a story, one strange man she had met once and then forgot about, but maybe that was better, for her, for him. All he could do from now on, he felt, was to make it even more awkward, and he did not want that for her. She had helped, still wanted to help, and he could barely speak to her...

He did not want her to feel uncomfortable, had never been his intention, but he had done so very little to show the contrary. With his eyes on the table as he was still unable to look at her he could barely envisage a way to make it better. He had no words to say, no idea of what to do, his brain somewhere else entirely. Why she was still here to talk to him after all of that was a mystery. Hadn't his behavior been weird enough to spook her off? He would have thought so, it would have most likely spooked off other people... Yet, when she spoke again, he found himself agreeing with her statement, only nodding to show it. Coffee was a life saver in many ways, it was a shame to be leaving it out to cold on the table, but he felt even less welcomed to be taking it now after what he had done, or hadn't done, so he did nothing more than brush his fingers against it.

The place? He hadn't stopped himself to really take in his surroundings, in between dropping his money and being shoved aside by a stranger. He never really did take the time to do that anywhere, usually going in and getting out with what he had come to get, doing his best to avoid people. It was... a cafe, and yes, the experience with the barista hadn't been the nicest, but he wasn't sure he could blame her. Still, he did not really know why she was telling him that. Pancakes? Hadn't she already gotten something to eat? For a moment he eyed the remnants of her muffin, and then turned towards his bagel, still untouched. He could feel that he was hungry, but looking at it, he really wasn't convinced of his own hunger. Still, he tried.

"I... I'm good." He slowly extended his hand towards his bagel, gently breaking off a piece. For a time his hand stayed in suspension, as if he was waiting to see what Isla would do. Was he still allowed to eat it? She had bought it after all, she could still take it away, and he wouldn't oppose her.

[Isla Hudson]

"Good." Smiling, she gave him a nod, wondering if he'd gotten the hint that chances were good that in the mornings he'd find her in the neighborhood if he needed a meal or wanted someone to talk to. "Go ahead and try that," she continued, not sure why he was hesitating, "I think you'll like it."

Leaning toward him, she dropped her tone, "The people here aren't all that nice, but they make a mean scone!" Grinning, she sat back. "Made from scratch here,I have to give them that. Most places ship them in frozen or use a mix."

She wasn't sure about talking, she knew he didn't want a conversation, but that didn't mean she couldn't yammer. "I tired making scones once when I was a kid but they came out kinda...hard. My brother used one like a baseball, hit it with a bat, and it didn't break apart." She chuckled. "He's such a brat!"

But anyone who was an observer of people could tell from her tone that the teasing was affectionate, not at all hostile.

@isaac

[Deleted]

Good... He understood. At least, he thought he did, but he wasn't sure of what he would do with that information now. He wasn't sure he would be staying long enough to do something with it anyway. Maybe he would come around once more, one last coffee before he decided on truly leaving Chicago or not, but even that he had no idea if it would happen. Maybe he would see her again then, maybe not. Was she really suggesting that she would be okay with him appearing out of nowhere again? After how he had showed his gratitude to her? More and more he felt he did not deserve this amount of kindness, and it was enough to stop him from picking at his bagel. That she had taken notice of it didn't help.

"I should..." He should like it, he was hungry, had been offered the food, but the hesitation still stopped his movement. And as his fingertips brushed against his coffee he didn't feel any warmth. Gone cold already. Just how long had he been staring at his food? Probably long enough to make it seem that he was ungrateful. Rusty people skill was an understatement. Certainly not an excuse, however.

Scones. He had never had any, he wouldn't be able to tell the difference between made from scratch or made from a bought mix, he was sure. And making them on his own like she had, he couldn't even think of such a thing. He tried to survive on coffee only, so cooking... As for nice people... He didn't feel any nicer to her than they had been to him. And if she was keen on saying that they hadn't been that, he, unfortunately, could almost say he was used to it, enough not to say a word against it. It was tiring to try and oppose it, so he simply carried on, as much as he could. Still, being used to it in no way meant it was easier.

"Your..." He paused, dragging his hand away from his bagel. It was hard to breath for some reason, and he dared not look at her as he asked. "You like your brother?" His tone made it sound like both a factual statement, and a question. He had no idea what he was trying to learn with that, and the fact was obvious already, but in his place, the thought of such a relationship, almost alien. If he could get a glimpse of what it looked like, what it could have been like... He couldn't fix it, but he could dream, could he not? Dream of it and feel guilty afterwards.