DANCE YOUR HEART OUT

Shand had taken lunch back to the shop and dropped it off in the most hasty, unceremonious fashion he was capable of. He’d practically thrown it on the table along the wall, yelled some unintelligible excuse that actually had just consisted of a lot of guttural anxious noises, and walked right back out before Dolan could question him.

He parks his truck out back. Not like there’s anything to protect it from. Its beat up and old, but he puts a lot of work into taking care of it. Its far older than he is, but he’s kept it running with mammoth projects here and there. Last summer it was a full body sand and paint, getting rid of the rust that had accumulated. The summer before that it was a completely new transmission. It had taken a long time, a lot of sweat and hard work, especially with his attention span, but it had saved him having to buy another car.

And what would have been in the point in that? Hes the same old person he’s always been, living in the same old town. Might as well stick to the same old truck.

He squints at his phone and out the windshield alternately. Its really coming down out there, and his windshield wipers squeak against the streaked glass, doing their best to cope. Seems about time for him to change those, too. He’s about at the address Lance has given him, and it occurs to him that he doesn’t know who he’s looking for. Not like Lance would have told him anyway even if he’d asked. That’s just Lance for you.

He slows down, watching the GPS marker for his destination hover right over where it says he is right now. He pulls up to a curb, turns the radio down, and looks out as best he can. The rain makes it hard to see much, but he knows where he is. The bus stop is across the street, and the-

Wait. In between the furious cadence of the windshield wipers, he thinks he sees someone hunched over on the curb right under the bus stop shelter. Is that-?

Oh. Shand’s stomach starts to feel hot and churning as he realizes what Lance had been so pleased with himself about. But he doesn’t have a whole lot of time to mull over that. Its still pouring and cold out there. He leans across the seat to pull up the manual lock in the door before reaching for the pull to roll his window down crank after slow crank. It feels like he can’t move fast enough, but his brain can’t seem to think ahead to what he’ll do when he gets there.

“Hey! Luna, over here!”

That voice- She knows that voice by now, hell, she just heard it this morning. But why- How-

Lance. This is what Lance had meant when he said he couldn't come but someone else could.

Not that she's in much of a position to complain about Lance's crafty set-up, she's just happy to see a familiar face offering her some help. Luna looks both ways down the street before furiously bolting to the other side of the road towards the truck, her safety. Screw pedestrian crosswalks, she doesn't have time for that.

She flings the door open and throws her bag on the floorboard then heaves herself up into the cab, slamming the door shut behind her. The rain almost sounds peaceful on the top of the truck as opposed to the roof of that flimsy bus stop.

"Sorry-"

Muttering a quick apology for slamming his door, she works all her long hair up into a messy bun on the back of her neck to get it out of her way. He doesn't drive off yet and that's when she realizes he's waiting for her to buckle up. It's a cute little hang-up that she quickly appeases him up, clicking her seatbelt into place once her hair is twisted in on itself.

"God, am I happy to see you. I've been out there for over thirty minutes, you're a lifesaver."

Luna laughs quietly, looking over at him with an extremely guilty and apologetic smile. She can't believe she just inconvenienced this man she just met. Thank heaven above he was willing to help, but he definitely didn't have to.

She adjusts her clinging shirt, fiddling with the hem of it sheepishly, looking at her wet pants and how they turn the seat under her a slightly darker shade.

"I think I distinctly remember saying we have to stop meeting like this, but I guess this is just our thing now. Sorry about your seats."

Shand is gripping the steering wheel the whole time, knuckles a little white from trying to control himself. He keeps glancing over at her, trying not to stare at how her wet shirt clings to her body. Trying not to think about how he hadn’t been able to see as much of her shape this morning, but it’d been under her clothes like that the whole time.

Dammit, he’d better stop that. He blinks a few times, a little taken aback even by the way she says our thing, so cute and sweet and innocent but. They have a thing now? He doesn’t care what that thing is, he’ll take it.

“Yeah, don’t- no worries. Glad to do it.”

He nods, trying to reinforce the friendly nature of all of this, even to just himself.

“Oh, and please don’t worry about the seats. They’re older than I️ am. I️ need to get them replaced, really... this whole truck is basically a dumpster fire, so do not worry about any of that at all.”

He draws out his last few words to emphasize, tapping on the steering wheel.

“You, uh, where you heading to? Thirty minutes is like an eternity in Portland rain, if I️ was you, I’d be really proud I️ didn’t melt and just wash away. It’s been known to happen.”

He quirks a little sideways grin at her- he can allow himself that, cant he? If not, then he’d barely be being friendly and normal. So that’s a must.

“Oh- and sorry I️ didn’t get here sooner. I️ was a little confused, Lance didn’t give a lot of detail, so... I️ was looking around for a few streets until I️ saw you.”

Luna watches his hands specifically as he grips the steering wheel tightly, taps his finger against it much in the same manor people do while sitting impatiently in traffic.

Oh no... She totally threw off his day, didn’t she? She took him away from work, screwed up his whole schedule, and now he’s probably sorting through the millions of other things he should and wants to be doing. Why did Lance do this? What was he thinking?

She tries to avert her eyes, look out the windshield as intently as he is and make herself less of a nuisance.

“Um... Just back to my apartment. I really should change, but that’s where I was trying to go anyways.”

Her fingers play at the hem of her wet shirt, ringing it around enough that water drips out of it and onto her thighs. Well, at least her pants catch the water and she doesn’t have to do anymore damage to his seats.

No one says anything for a long moment which gives her time to collect herself, pull out her phone, and GPS her apartment. The computer voice speaks out loud and clear, interrupting the silence for both of them.

“Yeah, so, if you see a random navy umbrella laying around the streets with the initials ‘FLE’ written on the handle, let me know”

She knows that umbrella is long gone by now, whoever is enjoying it and has no intention of bringing it back. There’s no point in even looking for it. But, it’s something casual to bring up and laugh about, hopefully ease the tension in his shoulders.

It at least seems to halfway work as he gets the truck in motion and pulls off down the street, following the blue GPS line.

Sent from Topic'it App

He splits his attention between the barely visible road and her GPS, his wipers flicking back and forth and adding to the background noise of this downpour.

“You lost your umbrella? You know they’ll make you leave Portland if they find that out. Its against regulations for residents.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before he makes intentional eye contact, flashing that easy grin to let her know he’s just playing around with her.

He clears his throat and, in a similar playful way, goes to make a comment about how she might get kicked out of the city for wearing a white shirt on a day like today, but his eyes accidentally linger on it for too long and he decides he can’t follow that up with a comment, joking or not. He just turns back to the road, blinking himself out of that thought.

“Kinda not the best case scenario to have to rely on public transit when the weather’s like this.”

He allows himself another short glance over her, as if he’s leading her with his statement.

“Does Lance give you rides often? I️ only ask cause, I️ mean, I️ know he’s kind of a busy guy. From one thing on to the next all the time. It seems like it would be kind of frustrating to be depending on... that situation.”

He manages to keep his tone friendly, not maligning Lance, but just bringing attention to the obvious.

"Well..."

Luna looks out the window as he drives, mentally counting the buildings as they go, also noting how, out of all the bus stops they pass, barely anyone is out waiting on transit. Not that she isn't used to that sight with all the times she's had to wait on buses in rain like this. Alone at stops is normal, though you wouldn't think it in a city like Portland.

"I don't really like to ask for rides from people. I either walk everything or hop a bus, a taxi, or something. Tried Uber once, freaked me out. But I'm really just used to walking in this weather or waiting in the rain. However, that's much easier to do with an umbrella or a raincoat."

As they pass by a rather official looking government building, she points at it but drops her hand, remembering she most definitely shouldn't distract him in weather like this.

"Over there is Portland's Treasury and one of the more historical churches. If you cut through that alley, you get to the community college's campus and, if you cross that and then the street on the other side, you wind up at that little pizza place. I really do just walk solo everywhere, I'm used to it."

And she would've done all of that today if someone hadn't taken her umbrella. She has her usual route, the route that gets her where she needs to go, wherever that may be. Maybe to the pizza place, maybe to the dance studio or Lance's cafe, or home.

Long walks alone have just become the norm in her life, rain or shine. She's sure a younger version of herself, maybe back in high school or early college, would have detested the thought of doing so many things alone. Older, more experienced her just realizes that's part of life and it's best not to fight it. People can't and shouldn't be expected to drop everything they're doing and walk her across the street-

Oh. Right. Speaking of that...

"Um, so, Lance has picked me up a handful of times, even your dad has helped me out, but I try to make sure it's only when absolutely necessary."

Her eyes flick back to him and she can feel herself already reeling before she says anything, but she really feels like there's little choice. Shand deserves for her to extend the same kindness she would have given Lance for this, it's only fair.

"I actually promised Lance I'd buy him dinner for doing this, but, since he isn't the one here, I guess I owe you a dinner, huh?"

Shand feels his fingertips get a little more jittery as she talks, as he starts piecing together lots of different things. The look on Lance’s face that morning when he’d spotted Shand and Luna talking at the garage, his face the day before when he’d practically pushed them into conversation. The look on his face when he was practically demanding Shand do him this favor.

“Ah. Dinner. So that’s what he meant.”

Shand shakes his head, remembering Lance’s promise that he’d get dinner out of this somehow. His face starts to get a little warm as he realizes that Lance hadn’t asked Shand to do him this favor because he was the first person to walk through the door at the right time. Shand should have known. Lance is always far more intentional than that. Intentional and scheming.

He opens his mouth to make a joke to Luna about Lance trying to set them up, but he clears his throat instead. It feels a little wrong to come to the conclusion that Lance had done this on purpose and not share it with her, as if that somehow makes Shand guilty of something. But it would feel awkward to tell her, too. So maybe he should just let it go.

“Uh, you know you don’t have to do that. You were sitting in the rain, for way too long, you don’t owe me anything.”

As he says it, thoughts flash through his head, imaginings of what a dinner with Luna would be like. Just the two of them, hanging out. Something casual, even. But a long, uninterrupted opportunity to listen to her talk, watch her smile and watch her eyes light up.

Ugh, he’s so stupid. Its the polite thing to turn it down, but he wishes he hadn’t now.

"No, that's not really how this works, Shand."

Luan's brow knits as she frowns at him, taking this all more seriously than he seems to be.

"You're helping me out, so I'm going to do something nice back. I can't really... Buy you a dinner, but I can make you one. I'm not going to say I'm the best chef in the world, but I'm not half bad either."

What could she make for him? Everyone likes some sort of pasta, that's probably the safest bet, really. Chicken parmesan, maybe? Eh, there are worst options, but there are better ones too.

Well, he did confirm he's an ocean kind of guy, does that mean he likes seafood? She could work with that.

"I make a mean shrimp scampi, and the garlic knots recipe I have is an actual guilty pleasure of mine."

Deciding he's earned enough of her scowl, she lets her face relax, let's herself shift back in the seat and adjust herself to a more comfortable position. Now that she's thinking about it, when's the last time she's cooked for someone? Whenever she spends time with Kael or Rowan, or even Dakara or Alliy, they always cook, just tell her to bring over some small side dish or dessert. Well, isn't this a change of pace?

But... Is she being too forceful? He may not want to eat with her, he did rather quickly decline. She tries not to look over at him and stare, but she is curious to see his expression, see what may be going on in his mind. She shouldn't be pushing this on him, she is just a stranger after all, being invited to some random person's apartment for dinner is majorly bizarre and weird. What was she thinking?

"Unless you actually don't want to, then that's totally fine. I get it."

Worse yet: What was she thinking and why did she feel so defeated to hear him turn her offer down? She needs to think of this from his perspective, realize what an odd situation this is for him.

“No, no- that’s not it at all.”

He bites at his lip immediately at how quickly he’d jumped to deny that, to keep her from feeling like he doesn’t want to spend any time with her. He has to check himself to keep from sighing deeply with the nervous energy he has building up. This is harder than he remembers. Granted, he hasn’t had a true crush since, well, since a long time.

Oh, God. He’s just admitted it to himself. He has a crush on Luna. How much of a middle schooler is he, still? His stomach feels a little fluttery and his face is still warmer than it should be. He needs to relearn all over again how to do this. How to properly interact with someone he’s attracted to.

“Clearly I️ enjoy talking to you and honestly I️ was kind of pleasantly surprised when I️ saw you sitting on that curb, so it’s not that I️ don’t want to. I️ just didn’t want to make you feel obligated or anything. Just, giving you a ride isn’t some big sacrifice you need to pay me back for. I’m happy to help. Anytime.”

He thinks maybe, in hindsight, it might have been a bit much to tack that on the end there, so instead of embarrass himself further, he lets it be and instead keeps his focus back and forth between her GPS, which says they’re getting pretty close, and the wet street outside.

"Please just let me cook dinner for you, it's all I'm asking. You can even pick the day and time, I don't care, but I would like to do this for you to thank you."

She tries to not come across as overly pouty, not wanting to swing her weight around and guilt him into this or anything. At the core of it all, she really does want to thank him, but the added extra bonus of hanging out with him is nice. It'll be their first intentional hang time. Won't that be nice?

He turns a corner and she can see her apartment complex coming up. As much as being caught in the rain sucked, this carried with him was fun. No complaints on her end of things. Probably the most enjoyable part of her day other than this morning when... She saw him.

Wait what was that thought....? No, that just has to be because he's so friendly and pleasant to speak with. Other people probably have similar thoughts about him.

On that mental topic, she looks over at him. He's nowhere near as soaked as she is, but he is still wet, probably from having to run into his car to pick her up. She can say from personal experience that the rain is cold, too.

"Actually, I guess I have something else to ask you..."

Clearing her throat, she starts gathering up her bag to give her something to focus on, to keep the atmosphere casual.

"Would you like to come in? I can get you a towel for your hair and make you a cup of tea before you go back to work."

His immediate reaction is to refuse, tell her that he’s fine although he appreciates the offer. But he stops short. It had seemed to make her... not upset, but not delighted either when he’d tried to turn down dinner. He’s just so used to relying on just himself, being self sufficient, keeping other people at arm’s length just as much for their own good as his. But, just like with dinner, it’s not that he wouldn’t want to come in. He does.

“I️... if, if you’re sure it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

He’s aware how strange that must sound coming out of his mouth, the kid in the coveralls with piercings and with tattoos snaking across most every piece of exposed skin. Sometimes he forgets that’s the person people see when they look at him. The person he feels like inside seems much different.

She directs him to stop along the curb in front of an apartment building, and he leaves the engine running for a few moments while she gets her things together and prepares to make a run for it.

"Nope, no trouble at all. Let's go."

Luna smirks at him as her tone drops to something playfully serious, pointing at the still terrible weather outside, like she just gave them a serious mission to begin.

He shuts the car off and she immediately hops out, booking it to the front door of the apartment building. Not that there's really anymore reason for her to run, she can't get any wetter than she currently is. Maybe it's just habit, this is just what people do in the rain, dry or not.

They both get to the door and she throws it open so they can both step into the old front lobby. Shand looks around a little, eyebrow arched at the odd setup.

"From what I understand, this used to be an old hotel they renovated into small apartments. You probably know more about that than I do, it happened... Oh, fifteen years ago from what I read?"

She shrugs, leading him to the elevator. The ride up is uneventful as is the walk down the long hallway to her apartment. The only thing to note is that the place is old, not too much work done in the halls since the building was a hotel. As she turns the key in her lock, there's a metal clinking from inside the space followed by the sound of paws tapping on the floor towards the door.

Sure enough, when the door is open, Nameless is standing right there, not jumping or barking to greet his owner home, just staring at her to observe her, then trotting back towards his bed in front of the glass door leading to the small balcony.

"Good to see you, too..."

She mumbles under her breath, stepping aside so Shand can come inside. It's a small studio apartment, longer than it is wide, everything open concept with little to no walls other than the bathroom and closets. The front door opens up into the kitchen which, while small, seems functional and decently sized for the space. She's even bought a rolling butcher's block cart to work as a makeshift island, helping separate the kitchen from the rest of the space. After that is the small living area, a love seat against one wall, a tv opposite of it hanging above a small desk. Then the "bedroom" which really isn't all that special, just a bed and a nightstand.

Everything is decorated nicely, a few plants here and there, a couple of paintings and posters on the walls, her bike hanging on the wall near the front door like it's a decorative piece all its own. Overall, it's cozy, lived in, and all her work sprucing the place up hides the areas where the renovation had cheaply skipped over the remnants of the hotel.

"You can sit on the couch or the table- Oh, wait-"

The door closed behind them, she walks over towards the balcony window where a large rectangular piece of wood is hanging pressed to the wall. She has to grab one of the two nearby bar stools and step up on it to undo a latch on the top of the wood. When she does, the wood slowly lowers of the wall and snaps into place as a small floating table just big enough for two people. Perfect for the two bar stools she has that she sets up at the table as chairs.

"There we go. So, yeah, couch or table, up to you. I'm going to go change and then I'll be right back with a towel."

She motions for him to make himself at home as she crosses the space to her closet, snatching the quickest outfit she can find before disappearing into the bathroom.

“Look at you. All organized and neat. I️ should have known.”

Shand says it a little loudly, even after the door has closed behind Luna, looking around to take it all in. And he hadn’t considered it, but it does indeed make sense. Everything has a place and a particular use. There’s nothing excessive or over the top. Even most of the decoration items are functional, and all of the functional items are also beautiful. Somehow, it fits with her personality.

He goes to sit on one of the stools but stops himself short. He cant see it all, but he’s pretty sure there’s some grease somewhere on his clothes, and it would be the most mortifying thing ever for her to invite him into her apartment just for him to get stains on all her stuff. So standing is perfectly fine.

His eyes stop their visual tour of the place and land on her dog, sitting in the floor with regal posture across the room, staring straight at Shand. He barely even blinks, which throws Shand off a bit. He gives another attempt at playing, at kneeling in the floor and whistling, patting the floor, trying to entice the dog into some kind of interaction, but it remains unmoved and steadfast.

“He, uh... he’s not stalking me to kill me or anything, right?”

Shand calls out with a furrowed brow after a few more seconds of that disconcerting glare.

"What-?"

The bathroom door opens so she can peek out as she reaches for something unseen to Shand in the bathroom. She's in a pair of black joggers and a long-sleeve, loose crop-top, her ideal outfit for lounging around. She has no plans to go do much of anything now, so why not get comfortable? It's one of her rare off evenings from dance classes.

Her eyes narrow because she can't see what Shand is motioning to but she can take a good guess now that she's got the visual of him kneeling.

"Oh, Name. No, he's harmless, just... He's got a personality all his own."

There's really no other way to word that and the dog seems to agree with the sentiment, huffing a quick burst of air out of its nose. Apparently, Shand gets on his nerves enough to make him stand up from his bed by the door and walk away- Oh, no. It's just dinner time for him.

Shand looks a little hurt, prompting her to walk over, light blue towel in hand as she offers it to him to use on his hair.

"He's got a very particular schedule he likes to stick to. This is when he eats dinner, he's letting me know he's ready for it."

Once Shand takes the towel, Luna makes her way to the kitchen, Nameless close behind her. Before she gets to the tea, she knows she needs to take care of the picky dog, so it's off to reaching for his food bowl from the ground near his water. She roughly wipes it out with a paper towel as she reaches under the counter for a sealed container of kibble, working to get him a moderate portion.

"So, I'm a bit of a tea person, I have way too many kinds to really go over the full menu. If you want, there are two cookie jars under the microwave. One of them has sugar cookies, help yourself, the other has all my tea. Pick out whichever strikes your interest."

Nameless barks quietly, in that same way he really more uses his "voice" to carry on a conversation than to actually full-on bark and demand attention. It makes her sigh because she knows what it means, unfortunately. She picks up the bowl filled with food and shakes it a little to make sure all the bits are evenly distributed for him. Finally, she can put the bowl down and he quickly gets to enjoying his meal.

Shand tries to stand back a ways so he doesn’t hit anything while toweling his hair off. His father still complains that Shand had never learned to do it like a civilized person instead of an animal, but as far as Shand can tell, Dolan towels his hair off in the exact same way.

“Ah, how about I’ll have whatever you’re gonna have? I don’t drink tea super often, so I trust your opinion much more than mine.”

His voice comes out a little muffled from under the towel. He hadn’t realized how wet his hair actually was until he’d gone to lower the towel and realized he hadn’t finished the job. In between flashes of the fabric, he can still see Nameless alternating between taking polite bites of food and eyeing him.

When Shand is finally done, he shakes his head a few times to try and get his hair to settle down, although he knows there are no guarantees there. He tries to fold up the towel somewhat decently so it doesn’t look too messy. Despite it being used. He’s definitely on edge in a good way being here, nervous and trying to do even the smallest thing right. To the point that he knows he probably looks stupid.

“Uh, where should I put this?”

He holds up the used towel while he waits for direction.

"You can just go hang it over my shower rod so it can dry... Maybe grab my hairbrush while you're in there. Looks like you may need it."

Luna smiles a little at him, eyeing his hair teasingly, but, in reality, she's staring a bit in disbelief. How can one man's hair floor up the way his had from a quick towel dry? It doesn't seem possible but there he is, the slight little curls frizzing up and flicking out at the ends. The main reason she suggested the hairbrush is because seeing his hair like that makes her want to run her hands through it but that's... Definitely not appropriate.

Trying to not stare for too long and just focus on it, she turns around to grab the tea jar, sorting through the options. Today seems like a peppermint tea sort of day, in here away from the rain, so she takes out two bags of that then reaches for some matching mugs from the cabinet above.

"So, Shand, about that dinner, when do you want it? I think I already have everything to make it except for the shrimp. Good thing we live in Portland and there's no shortage of seafood, huh?"

Nameless wags his tail, almost in response to hearing around the dinner, but that's crazy, there's no way he understood that. No, he's probably just happy with his food. There really is no point in figuring that dog out, she has to force herself to give up, turning around to set the kettle and get the water boiling.

"We can do this weekend, next week, it's up to you. Oh, and are you a late or early dinner type of person?"

Shand’s hand wanders up to his head to feel how crazy it had managed to get up there and he turns a little red, mumbling something and ducking into the bathroom. He hangs the towel up like she’d said and tries to smooth his hair down the best he can with his hands. He knows she’d said to use her hairbrush, but he doesn’t want to go rummaging in anything. That would feel rude. Besides, he can’t think of the last time he actually used a hairbrush. Obviously, based on what his hair looks like.

He clears his throat and steps out of the bathroom once he feels the situation is somewhat well taken care of. His hair will probably inflate itself back a little more as it air dries anyway, pieces around his face and his temples, all the baby hairs, curling up at awkward angles. Maybe he won’t be here any more by the time that sets in. The idea of leaving is sad, but the thought of her seeing his hair like that is even sadder.

“You know, anything really is good with me.”

Some comment flicks through his head, something his mother has probably said at some point, about the benefits of playing hard to get. He has to blink that away- it’s not like this is even a date. Or anything like that at all. And it’s not like, even if it was, he should even consider taking any of his mothers advice in that arena.

“Whenever works best for you, really. And I️ don’t have much of a set dinner time, to be honest. Dad and Lunath are out a lot, we don’t have a lot of structured mealtimes. Freezer fish sticks in bed with a magazine as a plate, that’s usually as good as it gets. That or cereal.”

He shrugs, then thinks better of how hes just let her know that he’s basically a slob who never eats a real meal.

"... Why don't you pick something?"

Luna glances back at him over her shoulder as she faces the stove, rubbing at her arm a bit awkwardly with the leading statement and tone she had used. It seems to work because he arches an eyebrow, silently trying to figure out what she meant.

Maybe that came across as rude, she should smooth over this situation and fast.

"I mean, you've been extremely polite and accommodating, but it's always what I'm thinking or what I'm doing or having. I'd like to take you as a person with individual taste into consideration for things. Have you state your thoughts and opinions."

The kettle begins to sing which at least gives her something to do with her hands, even something as simple as grabbing the handle and bringing it to the two waiting cups on the makeshift island behind her.

"Example: I like peppermint tea, so I'm making that for myself. You said to make you whatever I'm having, but..."

Her eyes flick up to look at his face, watch him closely, try to see any shift in his expression as she continues. She pours one cup full of water but pauses before she finishes the other.

"Do you even like peppermint? Not everyone does. I want to know if you're one of those people so I can make you something else. It really won't be any trouble, the hardest part of making tea is boiling the water and that's already done."

“Peppermints fine! Really.”

He tries nodding to try and reassure her, though at this point there doesn’t feel like much else he can do to that end.

“Really, I️ mean, like the tea, I️ don’t really have a lot of experience with regular or late dinner times, or what those even mean, so yet again you’re the one who knows what you’re doing and I’d feel much safer following your lead.”

He lets a hint of sarcasm, a little silliness come through in his tone. He could save some trouble and just go ahead and tell her one or the other, but like he’s said, neither would really be true.

“Sometimes I️ eat dinner at like nine o’clock. Sometimes I️ eat it before I️ leave work because Dad put leftovers in the work fridge and I️ want to steal them. And sometimes I️ eat at midnight cause that’s the first time I️ realize I’m hungry. Really, I’m a mess in terms of standardized meals. I️ welcome your guidance.”

He makes another slightly humorous bow of his head, like he’s making some kind of supplication to her, or pleading.

"Okay, so, peppermint tea."

She gives up on that subject and pours water into the second mug, pushing it to the other side of the counter with a small spoon beside it.

"Well, you have to make a decision on your own now. Use as much sugar as you'd like. Oh, and don't worry about taking too much. I add a childish amount of sugar to things."

Luna grins, playfully shrugging while she sets the small container of sugar down between them, popping the lid off. Just to showcase she was being serious about him not having to be ashamed, she begins to shovel several spoonfuls of sugar into her mug, swirling the spoon around once she's done so that soft clinks begin to sound out.

Her cheeks heat up a bit from having just done that in front of someone. Sure, she sweetens her tea at the cafe but there's usually a crowd. A crowd is less likely to narrow in on one person's actions, especially mundane ones like sugar in tea. Here, it's just Shand and his attention is pretty firmly on her. Part of that makes her happy in a way she can't explain... Part of that terrifies her as he watches her fix her tea.

But at least she can say she's trying to put them on equal ground as people.

"So, day-wise... Does a weekend work better for you? I'd imagine you're pretty exhausted after working on cars all day during the week. But, if you like to use weekends as recharge time, I get that, because... Well, same."

He has to think about that one for a second. He moves behind the counter and lets the sugar business distract him. He wouldn’t have taken her as someone with a sweet tooth, but watching her mix in all the sugar, hearing the excess granules scrape against the bottom of the mug, make him grin for some reason.

He adds just a spoonful of sugar to his, mixing and laying his spoon where she’d put hers. Now that that distractions over, he actually has to think about her question.

Is he tired when he gets home on the weekdays? Is it just that he’s tired all the time no matter what? He’s not sure what exactly he uses his weekends for. Most of the time he just goes down to the garage anyway. Not like he has a ton of friends or a ton of things to do. Some weekends he think about jumping in his truck and just driving to the ocean, but. He always realizes he’ll have to drive back here and go back to this life all the same. And that seems to prematurely take the joy out of it.

“You know, there’s not a whole lot of difference between weekdays and weekends for me. Dad and Lunath go out and do stuff, so when I’m at the house, it’s mostly just me. Not my favorite, but what are you gonna do.”

He takes a break to blow on the tea a bit and take a sip. It opens his airways up a bit after that rain, makes him sniff a little, then hum in satisfaction.

“I’m glad I went with your pick, I️ apparently like peppermint very much.”

He offers a slight smile before another sip, then gets back to the topic at hand that she seems to want an answer to so badly.

“I️ don’t know, maybe a week night if it worked for you. It would be nice to not sit at home alone for dinner.”

He cringes a little internally at how pathetic that sounds.

“I️ mean, not that it’s the worst thing. Dad and Lunath just... they... I️ guess they have more roots here than I️ do.... that’s dumb, let’s just pretend I️ didn’t say anything except, how about a week night?”

"Hmmmm....."

She thinks on all of that for a moment, frowning a little bit to herself. Is he seriously alone every night? Granted, that had been her life as well until Kael started dating Dakara. Lonely nights sort were sort of flipped on their heads then.

It was a bizarre situation, thinking back she still can't totally believe it. Luna had met Dakara twice, once when Kael brought her to the usual weekly dinner with the three East Coasters, the second time randomly out and about. It was the second time that really sealed the deal, apparently. Dakara had been out shopping for groceries the same time Luna had. She doesn't remembered the entire conversation, something about how Dakara was planning a few dinners with Kael, some with both the twins, and Luna made an off-handed comment, much like Shand just had, about eating alone most nights.

The determined redhead couldn't let that one go, apparently. Maybe it was pity, maybe it was something a little kinder, but Dakara made a dinner between that entire group once a week a mandatory event. That meant two of her nights were spent eating with other people. It didn't stop there, then Dakara wanted just dinner with Luna at least once every week, and, when Alliy joined the crew, the schedule only grew.

It had all happened so suddenly, she hadn't even thought about what different situation she's in now compared to just a year ago. Mixed in with all of those are the occassional dinners with Lance, Lunath, or both of them, sometimes she'll even meet Dolan for a quick coffee, usually to discuss some sort of life question she has.

Shand doesn't have that... And Luna isn't really in the position to give him all of that. But. Maybe she can take a page out of Dakara's book and try something new for this person.

"Well, what about we make every Monday our dinner night? You'll come over here, we'll eat, hang out. Nothing big, just casual. You could show up in your sweatpants for all I care."

Her eyes flick up to his as she slowly sips on her tea. That was probably presumptuous. She's only talked to him three times... Then again, Dakara had only spoken to her twice when she made her plan take shape. If she's going by that scale, technically she's more conventional than Dakara had been.

Still, she shouldn't have thrown something like that at him so suddenly. It just put him in an awkward spot where he probably feels awkward saying no.

"Unless that's weird. If that's weird, you can totally tell me, I get it."

Shand chokes on his tea a little at that, and not very subtly either. He’s left coughing into his sleeve, trying the best he can to seem casual about it but definitely not succeeding. Its not that the offer had made him upset in any way. Actually, he thinks it probably the nicest thing anyone had ever offered him in maybe his entire life. And he can’t help but be surprised, but also feel like this is just another nail in his coffin in terms of not being able to deny his growing crush.

“That’s... that’s really really nice of you. I’m sorry, I️ definitely didn’t mean to come across whiny or anything, you certainly don’t have to...”

He goes to talk about how much effort it would be for her, what an inconvenience, how if she knew him better she probably wouldn’t be signing up to spend any amount of regularly scheduled time with her. But as he goes to say it, his imagination slows his mouth. He starts to see them much like they are now, maybe seated at her table, maybe on her couch. Talking, laughing, eating.

Its not a bad thing to imagine. In fact, the more he lets the mental scenario play out in his head, the more he feels like he misses a slot of time he hasn’t even spent with her yet. That’s crazy, right? Isn’t that crazy?

He takes another sip of tea to punctuate his abrupt stop in the middle of his sentence so he can try again, start over. Its just like Lance is always telling him, if he never takes a chance on anything, nothing will ever happen.

“I’m just saying I️ wouldn’t want to put you out or take too much of your time... the idea is actually really nice... it seems, really nice.”

He’s not sure what to say beyond that, and he doesn’t trust himself not to go on ranting in narrating his imaginings and the thought of how they make him feel closer to her already than he actually is. That’s a good way to get kicked out of her apartment immediately.

“You would... would you really want to do that, or was that a pity offer? Its totally fine if it is, I️ just don’t want you to... you know.”

He doesn’t know. He’s pretty sure she doesn’t know either. But that thought runs its course without telling him where it’s going and he’s left with his mug in his hands swallowing hard.

"Oh, not, not pity I really want to. I like doing stuff for people."

Luna smiles at him, trying to not laugh as she tears off a paper towel from the stand and hands it to him. He's going to need that towel back and not because of the rain but his own doing. It seems he was right about being clumsy. Something about this tall tattooed man being clumsy is endearing. Polar opposites in one person.

"I think it'll be fun. And it'll make sure we actually get to, ya'know, hang out. Not just do our little quick 'bump into each other' thing that we're apparently great at."

The idea of him coming over has her mind racing suddenly. Shrimp scampi is next Monday... But what about the Monday after that? Besides, it's not like she's an outgoing ball of fun like Dakara is, not loud and boisterous like Kael, charmingly polite like Alliy, and the full package of looks and brains like Rowan. If any of them were in her shoes, there would be nothing to worry about.

But Luna? Luna Estenor? What does she do? Other than talk to much about theatre and go to dance class certain nights of the week. There's not much. She's typically quiet and reserved, lost in thought staring out a window somewhere by herself. That's doesn't exactly scream "fun" for hanging out. She really should have thought this through. They're just going to be staring at each other awkwardly because she has nothing to do or say.

"Um... Do... Do you have anything you like to do? Like a favorite genre of movie to watch? Maybe even a game, board or video? Or if you play any portable instrument, you're welcome to bring that over. I have a keyboard in my closet and I can sing some."

She's hoping he has some idea, that her listing things out will spark something. If he suggests it, then she knows he's going to like it which at least takes some stress off of her.

“Huh.”

He wipes the tea off his face, pats at the trail of it down the front of him as he thinks.

“There’s cards. Poker and stuff. We could bet with popcorn or candy or something because otherwise it could get ugly... and, given my usual dinner arrangements, I️ watch anything and everything. Usually mostly just to have some noise in the background. I️ kind of like video games sometimes, watching fail videos on YouTube. Laughing at things that are probably a little cold hearted to laugh at. That kind of thing.”

He does laugh at the end of it, a breathy nervous little chuckle and he balls the paper towel in his palm and Kees squeezing it smaller and smaller.

“You know, more often than not I️ just drive. That’s not really a hobby I️ guess, but I️ just like to drive a lot. Get lost places I️ dont go super often. Try to find neat things to see or do somewhere I’ve never been before. That kind of thing.”

He won’t admit to her how many nights he slams the apartment door at 2 AM and fires the truck up and just takes off into the night. How often that nameless restlessness makes him just jump up and go. He never knows where and he never quite knows why, but he seldom denies the urge.

It takes a second for him to realize how that might come across, and he’s shaking his head and waving his hand soon after.

“Not that we’d have to do that. I️ know that sounds creepy. That, that was just word vomit I️ guess. Irrelevant information, which I’m often just super good at providing.”

He rubs his boot softly across the floor just to give him somewhere else to look, mindful of how easily, how quickly, how proficient he is at making a fool of himself.