DANCE YOUR HEART OUT

"Well, that does happen to be what I'm here for. Good to know I'm getting something right."

He smiles a little in spite of himself, mentally kicking himself and reminding himself to just go ahead and get to business already. This weird in between space of socializing with someone he never thought he'd see again, that someone being her, is just putting nail after nail in his coffin. She's probably thanking her lucky stars that she'd dodged this bullet all those years ago.

That thought is enough to make him straighten out a little bit, crouch down beside the bike and start looking at some of the engine components he can see from where he squats.

"Well, it's nothing I can see outright which is probably a good thing. Sometimes you get a clogged air filter, or get a bad batch of gas and they can act up really sudden like that. It's still worth checking the head gasket and the intake manifold for air leaks, though. Did it stall before it shut off?"

He settles back easily into a more normal rhythm, his mind having no choice but to force itself into a more natural, comfortable mode in order to address her problem. And everything is fine as long as he looks at the bike more often than he looks at her.

"Either way, I'm hoping it's an easy and quick fix for you. If you want I can just keep it over here today and hopefully I'll have it sorted out by the end of the day. I can bump it to the top of the to-do list."

He means for it to come out as a friendly gesture, a sign that even though they have some bad blood between them, it doesn't mean he can't still be a good neighbor, perhaps even a decent friend should she decide to let him. But his phrasing fails him again and he has to close his eyes, shake his head. He has such a hard time when he can't be completely honest. He's not sure why he's trying so hard not to be.

"I'm sorry. Seeing you out of the blue kind of shook me up a little, I guess. But don't worry, I'm a lot more proficient with engines than I am with my words when I'm caught off guard."

"Oh- Oh no, no, it's not that big of a deal."

Except it kind of sort of is. She's really the only one in the apartment with a consistent mode of transportation to herself. The others would rather call an Uber to shuttle them anywhere which, of course, means that whenever there's something urgent, she is the one running out to handle it. The only one with a motorcycle license too.

But... It doesn't really need to be rushed. Besides, what if there's something major wrong with it? She doesn't want him to feel like he's really screwed up because it isn't done by today when, in reality, the bike is just done for.

"And don't freak out about it, it's pretty wild to see you all of a sudden, too. But, yeah, just keep it and I'll stop by after the studio closes to see if you found anything wrong with it."

If it's anything major, they'll need to set up a payment plan because she's not really working with a lot of cash in her checking account. Hasn't for the entire year she stopped touring. No, someone with rights to her professional name has made sure of that, made sure she's stuck in a limbo of regret for...

That's definitely a thought for a different day. Not here, right now, with Dolan of all people. No better way to admit to being a failure than saying all your royalties and assets are going to someone else.

"How late do you normally stay open? Don't want to come back over and the closed sign is up."

If I️ find anything wrong with it?”

Dolan mumbles it a little to himself, cutting his eyes over st her with the slightest of smiles.

“I’ll have it all sorted out for you by the end of the day, no worries. And really I’ll be here... well, I’m here pretty much all the time. Late is fine. You know, just...”

He shrugs as he trails off, realizing that he’s about to tell her he’s living the dream. Now that he’s trying to control himself, he realizes the sarcasm of that statement is wrong for this situation. This was never the dream. The real dream, he stomped that out all on his own long ago. He hasn’t really come up with a new one since.

Really, it’s embarrasing for her to see him here, covered in grease, living what is clearly a pretty pathetic life. You’re supposed to bounce back and come back stronger than ever, let your exes see that you’ve done well for yourself and that you’re happy and thriving.

Its a mix of hurt pride, of knowing where she’s been and what she’s done, how she went on to do all the things they talked about doing together, just alone. Having her here is like holding up what his life could have been against what it is now. The contrast makes him feel bleak and a little nauseous.

“But yeah, don’t worry about it being late. I’ll still be here.”

Dolan reaches over to the side table and pulls out a copy of the normal paperwork to hand to her, fishing around in his pocket for a pen to give her too.

When he hands it to her, their fingers touch. And it makes him want to die. Touching her finger, for that millisecond, somehow makes all this real. Makes it all that much more final. He’s known for years that he cant take it back, can’t go back and change the past, but now he really feels it in the pit of his stomach.

“So... yeah, that’s really all I️ need. If there’s an update or something I’ll... send someone over or something?”

He rubs at the back of his neck again, feeling sicker by the second.

She has to bite back a comment about how his skin is warm and pleasant, just like she remembers, but his hands are also rougher, more leathery from years of hard work as a mechanic. That would be highly inappropriate right now. No, that's something she'll just sit and stew over when she's in the apartment tonight and Sive is trying to convince her to a drinking contest.

"Yeah, come on over. If I'm in a class, I'll just have Caz take over while we come back here and you explain why these two wheels of a mess decided to randomly start hating me."

The paperwork is simple, short, sweet, and to the point, just like he used to be and, apparently, still is. Everything filled in, Trita hands the papers and pen back to him with a smile.

Why? Why is she smiling? She shouldn't be. He's the one that sent her life spiraling, shoved her down the path that forced her to rock bottom. The slowest, most excruciating burn of her life.

This is unbearable. Why is she so conflicted over something this simple? He's just the mechanic working on her bike.

"Uh. W-Well, I gotta go. Those groceries are for breakfast this morning, everyone'll be upset if they wake up and there's still no food. I... I'll see you around."

She gives him a nod before turning to collect the bags off the back of the motorcycle to walk out of the garage and across the street as calmly as possible. Once she's in her studio, a safe distance from the window, she bolts to the back, up the hidden stairs, throwing the apartment door open and ducking inside.

To her horror, Darcin and Sive are awake, occupying the living space. Cin is on the couch, watching the morning news, and Sive is standing by the window that overlooks the street out front. They both turn to look at her and she can feel her face heat up.

"Tri...? What's wrong? Are you sick?"

Darcin tilts his head to the side, noticing the color but misinterpreting it. Clearly, he hadn't seen anything that just happened. Good, it should probably stay that way.

"N-No, just... Just got the food, uh... SO. I'll start breakfast, yeah?"

“SO.”

Sive repeats back at her, letting the blind she’s been holding up with one finger fall with a sharp smack. She folds her arms, a smug smile in her face.

“What took you so long? You stopped across the street for a while, huh? Find anything interesting over there?”

Jurrien picks a great time to traipse out of the bedroom, hair a mess, still in a ripped up muscle shirt and boxers. He and Caz have this joke between them that straight people only wear clothes that are good for sleeping in, and really, Jurrien can’t even say that’s only a joke. Its the gods honest truth.

“Why is everyone so loud all of a sudden. Let me sleep off my dad-induced hangover in peace. God.”

He plops down on the couch, having to readjust his position so he’s not falling practically on top of Darcin. Since he’s been dating Cazmi, his concept of personal space has only gotten worse.

“Oh, Trita’s just about to tell us about all the new friends she’s made this morning.” Sive waggles her eyebrows in the most ironic way possible, going over to help Trita unpack the grocery bags, intentionally nudging her with her shoulder like middle school girls sharing secrets.

"Good morning, Jurrien. Cazmi still asleep per usual?"

Dolan happily greets the other man, patting his messy bedhead, laughing quietly when Jurrien grunts out a response.

Trita looks at Sive, eyes narrowed, trying to make a quick analysis of her expression, see exactly where this is going.

Dolan is Sive's ex-husband, so, if she saw all of that... Is she upset? Jealous? Betrayed? What is she feeling right now? Trita is having an incredibly difficult time boiling down all these options to one solid conclusion. Sive seems to notice, Cheshire grinning ear-to-ear.

"Well."

Clearing her throat, Trita begins to wash off some of the fruits she had picked up at the market, be as casual as humanly possible in the face of seeing her ex-boyfriend and Sive seeing the whole exchange from the "ex-husband" perspective.

As far as friends go, female friends, Sive is the closest Trita has which is irony at its finest, really. Still, most times she couldn't complain. Bizarre as Sive can be, she's good for basically anything once that level of loyalty is earned. Trita feels the need to dance around this topic gently.

"My motorcycle broke down so I had to wheel it into the garage across the street-"

"Oh, Dolan's shop?"

Darcin turns around to watch the two of them over the back of the couch.

Wait. So everyone knew that was Dolan's shop but her? And they didn't think to tell her? What... What kind of logic did they use on that one? How does that make any sense? They're the reasons she was caught so off-guard this morning.

"Y-Yeah, apparently so. Anyways, he's going to look at it today and get back to me later."

Her red eyes flick back to Sive with a bit of a childish pout pulling at her lip as she well enunciates her next sentence for impact.

"That's it. No big deal."

“Oh sure, totally. No big deal.”

Sive is shaking her head, eyebrows still raised almost in a mocking manner that comes off as amused. She’s definitely enjoying herself. She reaches behind Trita to grab one of the apples from the bag, then pulls out one of the kitchen drawers and a huge pile of rubber bands, which she starts winding around the middle of the apple one by one.

“Your face says its no big deal. You look like we’re your parents and we’ve caught you sneaking back in after curfew. Or like we’re zombies about to eat your brains. Or were your zombie parents about to eat your brains after sneaking in past curfew.”

Jurrien groans a little at all the extra noise. Despite not drinking at his dad’s house, he sure as hell had when he got back here afterwards, staying up to whine to Cazmi about the whole ordeal, staring down into one wine cooler after the next, until all of a sudden he was hiccuping with his head in Caz’s lap, not quite sure of how he’d gotten there.

So maybe the hangover is half alcohol and half dad related.

“Sive, if you’re trying to be cute about something, can you just not today? Can you be blunt and abrupt and rude and terrible and all those other things I️ hate about you? Please and thank you?”

Darcin whips his head around to look down at Jurrien with the closest he gets to any sort of stern look. It's really more a look of mild disappointment mixed with surprise, but it's his version of being stern.

"She is not rude, nor is she terrible. She's wonderful and I love any way she decides to express herself."

The entire room, Sive included, groans at that, making Darcin jump at the disgusted reaction, looking around each of them with wide eyes. He's not really sure what he said wrong but, thankfully, it doesn't stay on his screw up too long.

Trita watches Sive's actions with small traces of concern, eyebrow arching, knowing what result this will end it but not really knowing how to get her to stop from achieving it. Instead, she tries her best to ignore the apple-bomb being made near her, focus on the topic at hand.

"Really, it's fine. We talked for a minute because we haven't seen each other since we were in high school and that's it."

All the fruit she needs cut, she reaches into a different bag to pull out a small tub of yogurt. As she starts dishing out portions into bowls, the entire situation starts catching back up with her, pulling the corners of her mouth down in a tight frown.

"Talked about how he's working hard, successful mechanic... How he and this town thinks I'm still some hot-shot doing great. The usual."

She definitely hadn't expected today to start the way it had and now that she replays everything, every word they both said, every glance and movement, every flashing feeling that she was trying to suppress, she feels sick.

"No one thinks you're a failure for coming back home."

Darcin, again, seems to miss the true meaning of her tone. Yes, it hurts that people think she's doing amazing but don't know the truth. It more hurts that the man that broke her heart, ultimately pushed her to her downfall, is doing great, living his life the best he can, has moved on and is living the modest, sustainable life he had told her was best way back when. The opposite of the life she's lived.

Amazingly, he had been right all those years when he pushed her away, mocked her dream job, and it hurts to acknowledge that not only had he broken her heart, he'd been right all along.

"Yeah... Thanks, Cin. Anyways, like I said, no big deal. Everyone happy now?"

Sive is in the middle of eating a handful of peanuts she'd pulled out of the same drawer as the rubber bands when she stops abruptly and spits one out. It hits Trita in the shoulder and she turns and stares. Sive makes a short choking noise, as if she'd had the thing caught in her throat, but it's very obvious that the incident has been manufactured. Especially when, after she's got Trita's attention, she spits another peanut out and it hits her right in the chin.

"Please, please pine a little more for this successful, happy, hard working mechanic man. You're so cute."

She spits one more peanut out, this one aimlessly at the floor, before going back to arranging the rubber bands around the slowly contorting apple. Everyone is still staring at her, a little shocked, but Darcin is the only one staring with some fondness in his eyes. She's definitely going to bang that bunny later.

"That is the most miserable, pitiful, lonely man on the face of the planet and he still acts just like a teenager. Please whine a little more about how great he's doing. I love listening to people lie to themselves. It's fabulous and honestly I think it's the height of my existence."

Jurrien wrinkles his nose up, rolling his eyes. Having lived with the Airins for a while, he's been privileged to more information that a lot of other people. He knows the trouble Trita's landed in over the last couple years, knows that coming home had never been her first choice, really just a necessity move. And he knows about her history with Dolan, realizes where this conversation is going the second Sive opens her mouth.

As much as he's not a fan of his dad, he's not a fan of his uncle. Because, well, they're pretty much partially the same person. Made up of all the same gene pool, anyway, and his family is just beyond saving. And if he knows Sive, despite her strange ways and her standoffishness, he knows what she has in mind and he doesn't like it.

"Just leave well enough alone. Let him look at her motorcycle and be done with it. She is better off if he fixes her bike and then drops off the face of the earth, and we all know this. Let's not pretend like we don't all know this."

"Jurrien's right."

Trita quickly latches on to the fact that someone in this damn room is listening to her, trying to logically sort this out for her and defend her to the others. Her eyes land on him and she gives him a small nod. If Caz were out here, she's sure he'd be turned on by Jurrien taking an opposing opinion to everyone else.

It would probably be more than that, though. Cazmi is wrapped up in Jurrien's family more than anyone so he knows Jurrien's general feelings towards his own. On top of that, Cazmi had been the one who first tried to tell her good ridden to that "asshole Dolan" and that Dolan was throwing away the only good future for his life. If Jurrien is anything like Caz, and he is, he probably holds a similar view... And voicing it would turn Cazmi on. Too bad for Jurrien that the third Airin sibling is such a late sleeper.

"It's just a simple check on my bike. No more, no less. That ship has long since sailed, and it's probably for the best anyways."

Darcin hums quietly at both their conclusions, shaking his head slowly, mostly at Jurrien's strong opinion on the matter.

"We don't all know that, no. Dolan isn't scum. Yes, things happened years ago, but he doesn't deserve to just up and disappear like that."

"... He's your wife's ex-husband, Cin."

"So?"

He turns his pout to Trita now, though his eyes flick nervously to Sive, trying to judge if she's upset with his defending of her ex. She doesn't openly say anything so, for the moment, he hesitantly continues.

"Dolan is still a person. Mistakes happen. I say if you two want to reconnect again, that should be okay, right? It's been so long anyways, what's the harm? And he's really not a bad guy, just... Confused maybe? I don't know, but he isn't evil or anything."

"Yeah, what he said."

Sive is focusing more on the apple at hand than on what Darcin is saying, although she's clearly paying attention enough to add a caveat:

"Except about the scum. He is scum. But he might still be the right kind of scum for you. Which I say in complete and total love."

Jurrien scoffs and nearly turns around on the sofa, up on his knees, fully into this conversation now. He looks like he could come over the back of the sofa and get physical at any point now.

"Hold on a second. Everybody on planet earth knows what a weak move it is to get back together with an ex. It's just conceding that you can't do any better than someone you decided already wasn't good enough for you. It's settling. Please tell me neither of you are actually seriously for this."

The conversation, at this point, has escalated beyond what Trita has even expressed being interested in, but as things often go in this house, that doesn't matter much. Topics fly off in whatever direction they choose, chased down by all the big personalities that live here.

"Cazmi! Get out here and tell everyone I'm right."

Jurrien yells it toward the closed bedroom door loud enough to wake the dead.

"I'm just saying don't pass up an opportunity for some fun should it come your way!"

Sive scowls at Jurrien although she's definitely talking to Trita. Jurrien glares right back at her, even tilts his nose a little in the air to show how superior he thinks his opinion is to hers. At which point, Sive adds the last rubber band around her apple and chucks it at Jurrien's head, where it promptly explodes.

The door to a bedroom right off the living room slowly opens and Cazmi's sleepy bunny head pops into view. His hair is a mess, his ears limp and pointing in two different direction, eyes barely opened, and he looks about ready to fall out on the floor any second and go right back to sleep.

So, with his mind as groggy as it is, the immense confusion he feels when he sees the apple collide with Jurrien's head and explode nearly makes him turn around and go right back to bed. Try again later.

"Wha... Okay..."

He can't think of anything to do but reach up through the neckline of his tank top and scratch at his chest as he drags himself over to Jurrien and begins to slowly pick chunks of apples out of his boyfriend's hair. Honestly, he's not really all that convinced he's awake right now, between the fact he usually is asleep for two more hours and Jurrien keeping him up all night to rant, he could very well be asleep and this is just an oddly vivid dream.

"Listen, Sive and I aren't telling Trita to go out right this second and ask Dolan on a date. We're just saying hanging out and reconnecting isn't the end of the world. You're blowing things out of proportion."

The sentence out of his dear brother's mouth does help to wake him up like the most disgusting shot of pure caffeine ever. Caz's ears perk and his head snaps to Darcin, eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me. What is this about Dolan and poor life decisions?"

Darcin sighs, shoulders slumping a bit in defeat as this topic just continues to spiral out of hand.

"My bike broke down on my way home from buying food for breakfast so I rolled it to the garage across the street-"

"You went to Dolan's shop?"

"How come everyone knew he worked across the street but didn't tell me?"

Trita's glare snaps to Cazmi who holds his hands up in front of him defensively.

"Didn't think it was important information. Clearly it is. Now listen to me. There is no way in hell Tri is going to just skip along and hang out with that asshole. He lost his chance, blew it, ruined his life and moved on- Sorry, Sive."

Cazmi nods over to Sive as if the simple action is enough to breeze over that. It's not, but not initially from Sive herself.

Trita glares at her brother, hands on her hips, disapproving. Darcin blinks and recoils back, offended by basically everything Cazmi just said.

"Hang on, I'd argue that dumping Trita and losing Sive were two of the biggest mistakes of his life. No, the two biggest upsets in his life. They're both great, our sister is great and Sive is wonderful."

But Cazmi just waves his brother off dismissively, turning back around to Trita.

"No, just... No. No Dolan, this is a Dolan-free house. He doesn't get a second chance, friends or otherwise. Let him fix the bike, pay him even though I bet a different mechanic would do way better, and then just be done with it."

Jurrien whines a little bit to gain some extra sympathy as Cazmi fingers through his hair, nodding at the vindication, pointing at Cazmi wordlessly every now and then in a silent I told you so.

Sive looks very disinterested in the whole affair suddenly, drawing with her fingertip on the counter, chin rested so hard in her hand that her cheek squishes up under the weight of her hand. She rolls her eyes. While Cazmi and Darcin seem to go back and forth, Sive leans over to close the space between her and Trita, covers her mouth like she's telling a secret.

"It can still be a Dolan-free house even if you get the urge to go hit that. There are plenty of good motels around this city. I will take it to my grave, and we don't ever have to say his name in this house again."

Sive makes the motion of zipping her lips, although she also follows it with the motion of drawing a knife across her neck for some unknown reason, but she makes her point nonetheless.

Then, she turns her attention to the two squabbling brothers.

"If you two keep making this a bigger deal than it is, I'm going to buy you both cars and then slash your tires so you both have to go over there together. And I'd make sure Trita went with you for good measure."


It's still early, but a few blocks down, Shand is working his way around the kitchen somewhat groggily. He's never been the soundest sleeper, but lately he can't seem to fall asleep at a decent hour to save his life. Or his sanity. Times like these make him really wish he could stomach coffee.

Lunath comes padding into the kitchen after a bit, rubbing his eyes, even more out of it than Shand is.

"Oh, the prodigal returns. You got back like fifteen minutes before Pops did. You daredevil, you."

Shand slides a bowl across the counter at Lunath, who nearly fails to catch it as it hurtles toward him. He cradles it against his chest like it's too early for him to realize what it is. His glasses are also on top of his head, which he probably doesn't even realize.

"We were watching movies. I feel asleep on the couch and didn't even realize and by the time I finally made it back here my heart was pounding so hard I thought I was gonna die."

Lunath flops down into a chair at the kitchen table, his head drooping here and there as he tries to keep himself awake.

"Please never ever put me in the position where I have to think up an excuse for you. You know it won't end well. I'll have you quarantined in the hospital for avian flu so fast, it will ruin both of our lives."

Shand makes the point this time to give a gentle underhanded toss when he throws a cereal box Lunath's way. He still doesn't catch it.

"Lance's couch is just so comfyyyyy."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

There's a bit of distrust in Shand's voice as he plunks the milk down on the table in front of Lunath hard enough to make his head jerk up and his glasses fall right down on his face. His eyes widen as if suddenly the world is alive.

"There you go, sport. Eat up. Replenish your strength, I'm sure your ravenous after a long night of... movie watching."

Trita can't say she completely understands all that Sive had meant that morning. All the pointing, hand motions, telling Trita to flat out go bang the collective ex... Why? That seems like something Sive should be against on multiple levels.

First and most obviously: Telling someone to go sleep with her ex-husband seems... Odd.

Secondly: Sive knows the history between Trita and Dolan, is married to Trita's brother, lives with the whole Airin family, knows about the patch of tough luck Trita has found herself on lately... Shouldn't she be advising against something reckless like that?

Nothing about this makes sense but, then again, that's sort of a staple of Sive, isn't it? One thing she can say, is the way Sive assures that it will be their secret has Trita all sorts of levels of flustered. Her sister-in-law knowing about something like that and then carrying the secret around like a middle school girl. Something tells her it's just good blackmail fuel for Sive to keep under her belt, over Trita's head, but, for once, Sive had seemed rather genuine.

Which only really concerns Trita more.

"Helllllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooooooo, bunnies."

She looks up from staring down at the budget book at the front desk of the studio. Classes don't start for another couple of hours so she thought being down here in the storefront would be some good alone time after everything. She was wrong.

"Good morning, Lance."

Trita eyes the man standing at the other side of the desk, arching at eyebrow as he smiles down at her. His sandy hair is styled back just as it always is. One can't really say not a piece out of place because several pieces are pulled away intentionally from the rest made to look stylistically messy... Well, okay, maybe not a piece out of place still works then.

His gray eyes flick up to sweep the empty studio, humming to himself as he rubs at his jaw, hand making that either wonderful or annoying, depending on who you ask, noise against the stubble on his face.

"Everyone still upstairs?"

"It's still kind of early, so yes."

"Ah, no fun. No fun at all."

Sighing, he sits himself right down on the desk surface, making Trita have to pull the book back quickly before he sits right on it.

"Well, I brought you all your usual morning delivery."

As he speaks, he drops a large to-go container of coffee beside him on the desk and then begins to bring out several other bags, one for bagels, one for cream and sugar, and so on. Trita continues to look him over, eyes wandering to his neck where she can just barely make out some suspicious red marks on his olive skin.

"... You have fun last night?"

"Ah, so you saw?"

Unlike most people who would cover up in shame, Lance just pulls the collar of his shirt down to show off more, let Trita get a better look, grinning ear to ear.

"Why were you looking so intently at my neck, hm? Did you want a go?"

That has her rolling her eyes, smacking his arm, turning her attention back to the budget.

"You wish. You couldn't handle me anyways, wouldn't have an inch of untouched skin left."

Lance bursts out with a hearty laugh at that, flipping his collar back up.

"That sounds absolutely appealing, especially coming from a snow bunny like you. But, I highly doubt my boyfriend would appreciate that. I'll keep you in mind should he decide he's open to a threesome."

"Great, yeah, let me break both of you at the same time."

Despite how absurd this conversation is, Trita finds herself smiling, leaning back away from her work to carry on with it. Lance is absolutely ridiculous but there's something about him, the way he talks and carries himself, interacts with other people, that just puts someone at ease. It's like interacting with a devilishly charming character from a movie or a video game but in real life and, for some reason, he decides he actually cares enough about you to stop and listen.

It doesn't make sense, really, and she's well aware that he's more obsessed with making connections so he can use them later than he is just to make friends, but he's damn good at the act. She'll always give him that.

"Welp. The cafe won't run itself. Tell the bunny squad I said hello."

"Will do. Have fun."

"Always do."

With a wink and a wave, Lance strolls himself out the studio door on his merry way.



Thank God it's still sunny today. Luna checks her phone as she strolls down the street, a leash in hand. It looks like, if they're all lucky, tomorrow should be surprisingly pleasant too.

"Awh, puppy!!!"

A small child and her mother walk past, the little girl making a grabby hand at the dog on the other end of the leash as the two parties past. The dog promptly ignores the interested child.

"... That was rude, Name."

Luna moves her phone so she can shoot her dog a stern glare, but the shiba inu pays no mind to it. His white coat shines in the morning sun and the odd reddish-brown markings along his body shift and contrast in the light. Something about the way his face is set always makes him look pleased, smug, like he knows some big secret to life that he has no intention of sharing.

Honestly, when she first saw him as a puppy, she wasn't sure she could handle a pet like him. He just looked like trouble. As the years have gone on, he's proven himself to be a rather easy dog to care for. Rarely does he chew anything up, he never messes up in the house, and when he barks it's soft like he's more trying to carry on a conversation than howl. This dog is just... Oddly mellow.

Her only complaint she can think of is his disinterest with... Well, nearly everyone. People stop and ask to pet him or try to whistle at him to get his attention, but, more often than not, he just keeps walking. He never acts that way towards her, really, but the average person on the street? It's like they don't exist.

She just sighs to herself and lets him continue to lead to wherever he wants to go this morning. The dog is a couple of years old now, she can't see his behavior changing any time soon.

Next thing she knows, she's on a very familiar street, glancing up at an extremely familiar garage sign. Nameless barks just once, looking back at her with his ever-present sly expression.

"No, we don't need to go in there today. Besides, Dolan is probably busy-"

Right in the middle of her sentence, he continues walking to the open bay door, pulling the leash, sniffing at the metal door frame. Luna tries to pull him back but he just gives a shake, tail wagging up on his back when he spots a bright red motorcycle sitting out... Like he knows what it is and the person it belongs to.

Luna just has to roll her eyes at his odd behavior.

"Name-"

In response, he barks again, but this time into the garage so his voice echoes throughout the space, demanding attention.

Shand nearly drops his first pile of paperwork for the morning at the loud noise echoing off the cold walls of the garage. With the way things are here sometimes, he goes looking around from side to side, fully expecting it to be some kind of ringtone, someone playing a trick or trying to make a joke. But then he hears it again.

And, looking over across the row of cars waiting to be worked on, he sees just barely the top of a purple-haired head, hears a hushed voice in response to the barking. He almost does a double take, narrows his eyes to determine if he's really seeing right. He can't believe his luck.

"...Luna, right?"

He weaves his way around the car line up and she finally comes into view. She clasps a leash, and at the end of it is a rather determined looking dog sniffing at the motorcycle a customer had dropped off with his dad this morning.

"Your dog has some pretty flashy tastes, huh?"

His mouth pulls just to one side, that lopsided grin he can never quite hold back when he's trying too hard not to smile all the way. He nods his head over at the bright red motorcycle.

Before Shand or Luna can say much else, Dolan comes winding in between the cars, too, and Shand slinks back a little, his smile waning a bit.

"Luna, well what are you up to today?"

Dolan nearly goes to lean on the motorcycle casually before realizing how ridiculously unprofessional that must look.

"You find a car yet? You know I'll take a look at anything you want before you buy it so nobody's ripping you off."

Luna looks back and forth between the two men suddenly in front of her. She's known Dolan for years and has heard about Shand for nearly as long, but she's never seen them in the same room together, it almost feels like a glitch or something. It also opens her eyes up to how much the two actually look like.

How much she has to look up to look at both their faces. It's not really fair.

Deciding that's a weird thing to bring up, she continues on with Dolan's question.

"Well, honestly, I haven't really been looking anymore. I've got my legs, a bike, and public transport, that's all I really need-"

As she goes on, Nameless tugs on his leash, lurching forward at the two of them but not barking. He just hops a little, does a spin, and then tries again, trying to will himself out of Luna's control. She sighs.

"Sorry, apparently he wanted to stop in today, see what's going on. Name, stop it."

Instead of just solely pulling back on his leash, she gets down on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck. It takes the dog a second, but he sits in front of her, eyes flicking between the two men.

"And I don't know if I'd call this brat determined, but maybe smug? Too smart for his own good? Things like that definitely fit him."

Luna laughs, tucking some stray hair behind her ear as she joins Nameless in look up even more at the tall men in front of her, letting one of her arms move so her hand can slide down the dog's back to calm him down more.

"When you said you were a mechanic, I didn't realize you worked in this garage too. That's gotta be fun, working with family and all, yeah?"

Shand finds himself staring at the cement floor under him at that question, feeling his dad's hot stare at him. Still, he can't help but let his eyebrows raise a little, a dry look taking over his face. It's not that he never knows what's good for him, it's just more that there are far more important things to worry about. And he just doesn't really care.

"It sure is something. But, you know, it could be worse. I could be working over at the bookshop with Lunath, that's a family thing too. I can hardly imagine, what with me barely even being able to read and all."

Dolan groans up at the ceiling, almost immediately starting to rub his forehead.

"Dear God, not this again."

Shand catches Luna's quizzical look and subtly shakes his head, smiling at her, wordlessly letting her know it's just a joke that will hopefully pass soon. He and his father have an... interesting relationship. In a lot of ways, Shand feels like he more or less raised himself, between his parents' divorce and his dad's mind always being, well, elsewhere. It's not that his dad wasn't suited to parenting. On the contrary, he seems to take everyone he can find under his wing somehow.

Shand just likes to attribute the breakdown in their relationship to a personality conflict. In some ways, they're too similar to see eye to eye. And in others, they're too different and rub each other the wrong way. Regardless of which, Shand had come to see working with his dad kind of more like working with an ambivalent upper classman who keeps you at arms length and that you also have to see at home. He's had worse work environments.

But, he can see that he needs to change the subject now, or Dolan might stay on this path and turn the mood sour.

"It beats having to sit in an office or something, I guess. I'm not much good at sitting still. Which is apparently something you have to do to graduate college, so. Cars it is."

"Well, I think it's cool."

Luna can't help but smile a little bit. Yeah, the answer had been tailored, something to put on some sort of facade, but there was still some tone of sincerity under it. Unintentional honesty that she appreciates hearing and picking up on.

"My father always told me to get a practical degree. Not you, Dolan. Mr. Estenor, that dad. He's my father, you're my dad."

Her eyes flick over to Dolan, noticing how he perks up at the mention of her father and immediately is confused, not remembering giving her that advise at all. They share a grin in response like they're sharing some big inside secret. She only realizes what they're doing when she looks over at Shand and sees his arched eyebrow, his analytical look.

Yeah, that's all just... Probably a very long story to explain right now. Though it's probably worse to not explain it but maybe Shand can just ask Dolan later.

"You can guess how thrilled he was when I declared as a theater major. Honestly, there are worse things I could do... Like a degree in folk music or women's studies. Fascinating as the two are, not really what I'd want to stake my degree in."

Shrugging, she finally lets go of Nameless. Thankfully, he's calm enough now that he just trots over to Dolan, sniffing at his pant leg then at the red motorcycle nearby. Satisfied, he makes very pointed eye contact up at the taller of the two men, face in a dog-smirk, if that could even be considered a thing.

"Anyways, you guys look busy? Any of the parts from my old car come in handy? You could lie and tell me they did, even if you really just had to throw them all away. I realize the thing was in rough shape."

"Oh, were those from your car?"

Shand finds himself squatting down a bit and holding his hand out, absentmindedly trying to beckon the dog to him.

"Yeah, I actually used a few of them for my truck. It's kind of a clunker too, but it's going to keep running as long as I say so, so."

He shrugs, putting more energy now into attempting to play with the dog than into talking. It's another bad habit of his. He'll talk all day long, about any and everything, and fabricate some things in between, but the second he has an opportunity to do something physical, his attention snaps like uncooked spaghetti.

"Yeah, we actually had a few parts match up to some cars that I've had waiting for backordered stuff forever. So thanks for that."

Dolan keeps the conversation going, trying to ignore the unnerving way the dog keeps staring up at him, looking away from it in favor of looking at Luna.

"Hey, so how are things at your apartment working out? You had any more incidents? People try to take advantage whenever they can."

Shand figures it's as good a time as any to butt out. Once Dolan gets to helicopter-mumming someone, that's the end of that. Besides, he'd been excited to see her here at the garage, but the second his dad had walked up, any conversation they might have had was killed anyway. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to her, but it's not like he's going to have an open and genuine conversation with her around his dad. Something about Dolan's presence always seems to kill any chance of that sort of thing for Shand.

"Incidents...? Oh. Him."

Luna sighs deeply, picking at the fur that fluffs up from the curl of the dog's tail absentmindedly. Nameless turns his gaze from Dolan to Shand, just staring at this next man. He completely ignores Shand's attempts at trying to gain his attention, even going so far as to step back whenever Shand's hand gets too close. Again: No snarl or anything, he doesn't even break eye contact, but he doesn't let Shand have any gratification either.

This behavior is odd, even for her dog, but Luna isn't sure how to address it or make it better at the moment, help Shand out, so she tries to let it go, opting to continue the conversation instead.

"Well, he hasn't broken in since back then, as far as I'm aware of. Honestly, Dolan? It's not like we can even prove it was him to begin with. As nice as it would be to just pin it on him, we don't have the proof so it feels wrong."

She finally gives up trying to get her dog under control in a variety of ways and stands back up with a frown. Thank God Dolan has been in her life for years because crazy things have just happened back to back since she moved to Portland. She can't imagine handling them alone. Hell, even over the phone, her own parents could have cared less about everything, even their daughter panicked over a break-in.

But, also, what's wrong with Shand? The two of them had such a great conversation at the cafe yesterday... At least she thought they did. Did she say something wrong? She can't remember saying anything decisive enough for this change in behavior. Maybe he was just being polite since Lance went out of his way to introduce them. Yeah... Yeah, she probably seems like a naive theater kid to him.

There's no point in dwelling on that for too long, she can't expect everyone to be her friend. She's definitely going to lie awake thinking about this tonight but, hopefully, she can figure out a way to handle this silent subtle rejection in a mature way.

"And, before you bring it up, yes, we're still coworkers. I can't just go hopping theater companies because I don't like one person I have to share the stage with. I'll get the stigma of being a diva and word spreads fast in the theater community."

Luna shrugs lightly. Dolan has been trying to get her to change shop for well over a year now, but she just can't see that working. Unless he has some major connection at a different theater, but, seeing as he hasn't offered one yet, she highly doubts it.

Shand's eyes flick up at the talk of break ins and coworkers. It definitely feels like this isn't his conversation to be interjecting into, and he's sure if either of them had wanted to include him in it, they would have given an explanation.

But whatever it is must be personal, or between the two of them. She'd said before that she'd known his family for a while, had been Lunath's piano tutor. So he should probably just accept that she'll have more to talk about with his dad than with him. And beyond that, who was he fooling to think they'd have much of anything in common to talk about anyway? A girl with a degree, living in a city like this on her own. Him, a failure at everything still living with his dad.

"He's a tough nut to crack, huh?"

Shand feels awkward and a little rude saying nothing, so he gestures at her dog instead, giving a little smile to show he's not offended, even though he might be, at least a little bit. He'd given nearly anything for that dog to just let him pet it right now. But apparently today is not his day on so many levels.

"So you, uh. You have dance class across the street, right?"

Shand launches into the random question, then his eyes get a little wide and he feels the need to backtrack.

"I mean, Jurrien is my cousin, so."

To him, that's a good tidy explanation of why he'd know that about her. Not that he'd stalked her through the window for weeks or anything. At the mention of dance classes, Dolan nearly visibly tenses up, his hand twitching a bit before he crosses his arms across his chest.

"Look, I better go get on top of some of these repairs. But you let me know if anything fishy happen over there, okay Luna? And I do mean anything. You know I'm always there if you need it."

Dolan nods a little, gives the normal pleasantries before starting to wheel the motorcycle into the back of the shop to work on it. Shand stands to his feet, rubbing the back of his head as he watches him fade from view.

"He really likes to play neighborhood dad. If you ask me, though, he doesn't let the role sink in as much as he should."

That half smile comes back out, his lips twitch a little at his own, but he refuses to outright laugh.

"I don't mind. Dolan's the closest thing I have to an actual dad. Mr. Estenor and I aren't really... Close. Then again, I'm not close to Mrs. Estenor either, so, I guess when you put it that way, Dolan is the closest I have to parents in general."

Luna gives another light shrug, trying to keep the parent talk as casual as possible. It's a little more than obvious to her that Shand is uncomfortable by some idea to do with Dolan, what that thing is that gets Shand, Luna doesn't know. There's just something there.

And her parents aren't much to talk about either. Though... That's kind of a heavy topic to discuss with someone she's only met twice in the casual setting of "Hey my dog just wandered into your store, sorry. Anyways, how's your Thursday?" Yeah... Discussing the Estenors doesn't really seem like a good fit.

Instead, she looks down at Nameless who is, as stubbornly as ever, still refusing to give Shand much acknowledgement other than a constant steady gaze. She lifts her foot up and nudges his side with the toe of her shoes, but he just starts to wag his tail in response, eyes locked on Shand and taking another step back from him.

"Anyways, I would say sorry about him, but he's giving you more attention than he gives literally anyone else other than me, so I think you're actually pretty lucky."

As if the dog understands the conversation, he barks either in agreement or tauntingly, Luna can't quite decide yet. His behavior is getting a little out of hand so she kneels down and scoops him up in her arms, having to bounce him up to readjust. As content as ever, he just reclines back like a human baby, no shift in his expression or focus on Shand, but somehow he appears more content now that he's being spoiled.

"Come on, at least let him pet you. Don't embarrass me."

She laughs, giving the dog a few quick kisses on the side of his snout as she steps closer to Shand, angling Nameless's head in a way that Shand can finally reach out and pet him.

"He doesn't bite, I promise. He's just a brat."

“That’s okay, I️ happen to know a little something about that.”

Shand smirks slightly at her last comment, leaning in to pat her dog on the top of the head briefly. There’s still a smug look on its face, as if it’s the one actually petting Shand and not the other way around. That rattled him a little bit, so he pulls back and frowns slightly.

“He look like that all the time? Its a little unnerving.”

Shand makes himself laugh it off, not willing this conversation to be rerouted by a dog, especially when he’s just now finally gotten rid of Dolan.

“So, uh. How’s your theatre research stuff going?”

He nearly cringes inwardly to himself. Its obvious to him that they don’t have much in common, don’t know each other well enough for a decent conversation. So he’s reverting to the only actual thing he knows about her. The topic of their last, and only, conversation. He’s sure the reaching nature of it isn’t lost on her, but if anything, maybe she’ll see how willing he is to look stupid just to keep talking to her.

Either way, he rubs the back of his neck again, his little coping mechanism, while he tries to ignore her dog’s pointed stare.

Luna heaves Nameless up and off to the side so he can rest against her hip like a mother holds a child. In a lot of ways, he is just a fluffy child, sure demands attention from her like one.

"Uh, well, I've never seen him fixate on someone like he's fixating on you, but the smug look is kind of his resting face, yes."

Just to try to distract the dog, she boops his nose with one of her fingers. The sensation makes him finally turn away from Shand, looking at Luna with... Nothing short than annoyance and temporary disdain, if a dog can even feel such a thing. He doesn't wiggle to get down, though, so she knows it's just a passing feeling. Nameless even proves it by pointedly looking back in Shand's direction and sneezing at him in response to her touching his nose.

Luna apologizes quickly, taking a step back, horrified her dog is embarrassing her like this in front of someone she's just recently met. Someone who has actually halfway taken an interest into what she likes or at least what she had said. This dog is trying to ruin her social life.

"W-Well...I... I don't really know. I feel like I have a lot of good notes but..."

There's nothing left to do but continue with the conversation, but she chews over her lip as she tries to think of how to continue.

"Um. I don't think I want to present it until after auditions and casting for Wicked. For starters, I don't want this to possible ruin my chances of getting a lead part, be a negative spot on my reputation. I know that sounds kind of shallow, but... It's a cut-throat, do whatever you can industry."

She shrugs, glancing at Shand from the side, taking in his appearance. He must have just gotten to the shop because, while his uniform is dirty, his skin is surprisingly clean, allowing all his various tattoos to dance across his tan skin. And there's a lot of them.

Luna has always been a sucker for a man with tattoos, has even wanted to get at least one herself, but... Some directors will refuse to cast you if you have any. It's just the sad truth of this career. But, people with tattoos... They have entire stories just illustrated across their entire bodies. Some people have pieces flowing together like a song, one entire set, others have separate images like different chapters. Shand's seem to be a mix from the little glimpses she gets and that's only all the more fascinating.

If not a little creepy on her part for staring at him so long. Her cheeks heat up a little bit and she presses on with her second point to try to cover up the awkward pause where she was just looking him over to admire him.

"Secondly, someone at the company I work with saw my notes last night before our practice and told me it was a bad idea and that I need to spend a lot more time on it. He's... Kind of a dick but he's also probably right. I want to be taken seriously so I should give this more thought."

He doesn’t miss the moments in between talking where she just looks at him, and he wonders maybe if she’s thinking, off somewhere else, wishing he’d let her get on with her day instead of stand here and keep her engaged in conversation. But even if she’s thinking that, she keeps going, acting like she’s invested either way, polite through and through.

“Well I️ mean, I️ can definitely see how you’d wanna go about it carefully and intentionally.”

He finds himself folding his arms in front of him, like he’s bracing himself against the inevitable decline of the conversation, trying to figure out how he can let this topic lead into another. And another. So next time, he doesn’t just have to talk theatre with her like an idiot. Maybe next time, they can talk about... well, something else. He’s not sure yet. And here he is even assuming there will be another time.

“But y’know, the greats didn’t get where they did by playing it safe. They took a lot of risks. Just, gotta know which risks are the right ones, I️ guess.”

He shrugs, realizing that it’s not like he knows anything about any of that. Any risk he’s ever taken in his life has turned upside down into failure. So now, he keeps his risks small. Like trying a new takeout place for dinner, or venturing out with a new show on Netflix instead of the one he’s already watched a thousand times. She probably knows far more about calculated risk and reward than he does.

“I️ mean... none of them are going to break into your house if they don’t like what you say though, right?”

His eyes narrow a little bit, going back to what she’d brought up to his dad earlier. Its not like he has any right to be prying into any of that, but it seemed concerning. And if she doesn’t feel comfortable sharing anything about that with him, he thinks she’d tell him. Or smack him and walk away. Either way, she has an out.