DANCE YOUR HEART OUT

"Yeah, fuck your straight love and your stupid capitalism!"

Jurrien is hurling yelled insults along with Cazmi. Sive seems to be enjoying it and Darcin, one after the other in tandem, and when she's got her back turned to the glass case again, Jurrien pulls himself on top of it and hangs down, prying inside the case and grabbing two cupcakes. Cazmi has to grab onto his ankles to keep him from slipping back behind the case, and once Jurrien's got a cupcake in each hand, they both work to get him back over on the safe side of the bakery.

"Hah! Take that, enemies of the free market! I will smash this one in Caz's face and he'll smash this one in mine, and then neither of you can stop us from running out of here to enjoy the results together. Here Caz, get ready to smash me real good."

Jurrien gives a quick, overdramatic wink and suggestive smile that lasts for only a second before he's back to his furrowed brow and his getting down to business face.

"Oh, well. Guess we'll have to put you on our dined and dashed board."

Sive pulls a disposable camera from seemingly nowhere and clicks it twice, fast, with a flash that makes both young men shield their eyes.

"I'm sure you both look darling for our wall of shame."


Shand slips back through the back door of the garage as quietly as he can, feeling uncannily like a teenage version of himself trying to sneak back into the house long after curfew. His dad doesn't seem to be feeling much differently, either.

Dolan suddenly appears out from under a car, rolling out on his back, disapproving look on his face from the second he becomes visible and Shand very nearly jumps.

"I could have easily dropped your coffee. Decaf. That's what took so long."

Shand mumbles as Dolan pulls his long frame up, stretches, and takes the cup from him.

"It doesn't take that long to brew coffee."

Dolan simply watches Shand while he sips, unblinking, face blank. This is what has always gotten Shand, ever since those sneaky teenage days. His dad doesn't usually pepper him or yell. He just stares with those eyes, makes neutral, fact-based statements and waits for Shand to start sweating and fidgeting.

"We were just talking. There's no conspiracy to this, Pops. You're getting too old. Must need to take you to a bingo night or something, get some excitement in your life."

Shand fairly tosses the lunch bag onto the workbench along the wall and shrugs defensively as he fishes out his order and lays out Dolan's.

Trita pulls out her phone as they all yell back and forth at each other and nearly bolts upright as soon as she seems the time.

"Ah, shit- Jurrien, Caz, we gotta go. We wanted to stop by the flower shop so you could pick up flowers for Yvaine, right?"

Her red eyes land on Jurrien who, for a short second, looks just like a little boy remembering he forgot to make a card for Mother's Day. It's gone as soon as she sees it, but there's still no denying it was there.

Cazmi turns to Jurrien, watching him just as Trita is. Jurrien's relationship with his father is... Complicated. He doesn't like to go into detail about it but, from what little information he has shared, Cazmi gets it. Then again, that may not prove Jurrien's case. They're both not good with personalities like Kvanne so it could be Jurrien, could be his day, could be both. Given Cazmi's affection for Jurrien, he finds it easier to just side with his boy.

It's completely different when it comes to Jurrien's step-mother. Jurrien adores the woman, almost more than Cazmi has ever seen sons love their actual moms. Though he can't fully piece together why, he also can't blame him. It's Yvaine. Everyone loves Yvaine and, if you don't, you're wrong. Not in a creepy cult way, she is just literally that kind and good.

"Well, you all go, don't keep her waiting- Oh, and when we get home tonight, make sure to tell me how those cupcakes are because I added a little extra cinnamon to the mix."

Darcin smiles warmly, watching as Jurrien quickly tries to pick himself back up, get his usual facade back and in place. As they all make their way to the door, Darcin rests his cheek on top of Sive's head and opens his mouth to say something but Trita interrupts.

"Oh, Sive, by the way, I was going to pick up some more alcohol tonight before coming home. You want the usual, right?"

Sive gives the curtest of nods which Trita still decides to interpret as appreciation as she runs out the door to catch up with the other two.

"... You wanna go in the back and clean off the rest of my face?"

As they stand there waving, Darcin gets back to his thought quietly.

Jurrien slips out the door in front of them both, both cupcakes still in hand. Once they get back out on the street, he goes to hand one to Cazmi, then mimes ramming it in his face, only to stop at the last second and hold it out for him to take anyway.

"It would have been fun to shove it in your face. Maybe another time. We could've done it better than them, anyway."

Jurrien works the lining off the cupcake he's left with and tosses it on the ground, but not two steps later he sighs and turns around to pick it back up. Sure, its biodegradable paper lining, but there's only one environment so better to be careful than too cavalier.

He shoves it in his pocket and starts eating the icing off the top first, as if cupcake and frosting are two separate courses in one meal. The florist shop finally comes into view, fresh flowers and bright planted greenery visible from inside the huge unobstructed window fronts.

There's a little bit of silence as they walk, and Jurrien knows why probably. He'd only mentioned that he wanted to get flowers for Yvaine, and had never explained why. Often, he doesn't feel compelled to explain himself unless nailed down to it, and often when he is cornered into doing so, something other than the truth comes out naturally. But he and Caz have been working on that.

Jurrien sighs.

"She's just been kind of stressed lately, you know? And a little frustrated. She's been trying to pull together these family dinners and, well. Not all the family is being super cooperative because, you know. It's my family. THE trademarked shitshow. And it makes me feel bad because I sure as hell can't make them all do what they're supposed to do, but I wish I could, cause she deserves that much at least."

Jurrien takes the break in his thought process to shove the rest of the cupcake, sans frosting, into his mouth, taking a moment to note the extra cinnamon before he wolfs it all down.

"Last time we all got together, she spent weeks beforehand trying to put together a menu with something on it everyone would like. But everybody fought about everyone else's food choices and it was this huge fiasco. She was so stressed out by the time she got to asking me what I wanted that I freaked out and told her the first thing that popped into my mind. So asparagus. Now she thinks asparagus is my favorite food."

He hangs his head back a little in frustration, still trying to figure out when will be the best moment to undo that little blunder.

Cazmi and Trita glance at each other. It's a difficult situation for them to comment on. Their mother died when they were little and their father remarried almost instantly to a terrible woman and, nearly after that, he fell into a spiral of gambling. They would've been taken away by protective services if their "uncle" hadn't taken pity on them and adopted them all in. So, when it comes to the sort of family Jurrien has with a father and actually decent step-mother, it's a bit outside their understanding.

"Not that we talk at that much to Yvaine ourselves, but I have a feeling she'd much rather you tell her sooner rather than later. If you wait, you just add another day to her list of ones she's going to freak out over."

In between bites, Cazmi tries to add some commentary on the matter. Between the two Airin siblings present, he's the only one who has really met Yvaine and only because of following Jurrien around. Even from their brief interactions, Yvaine seems pretty easy to figure out.

Jurrien keeps looking down at his shoes, clearly not feeling any better from Cazmi's words, so Cazmi frowns, trying to think of a way to smooth over what he said. He licks at the frosting on his cupcake then quickly reaches around. Instead of smashing it to his face like Sive had done with Darcin, Cazmi just slowly and steadily presses it up to Jurrien's mouth until it slowly starts to crumble and flatten against his lip.

As they do, Jurrien goes to take a swing at him, but Cazmi steps out of the way, leaning past Jurrien as he's off-balanced from his throw, stealing a kiss right into the frosting and crumbs. When he pulls away, he feels the icing all over his lips now too. He grins teasingly, playfully bolting off in a sprint to the flower shop now in sight and ducking inside to run from Jurrien.

Trita sighs, following after them at a slower pace, eyes on the sky above. Today would be the perfect day to ride her motorcycle around the town, feel the wind in her hair. Truth be told, that's probably a gamble, the bike is not and has never been the most reliable thing ever. She'd be willing to take that risk today, though.

But no, instead she's babysitting two love-struck adult toddlers from shop to shop.

Jurrien is mopping his face with his sleeve, mentally making a note of how he'll need to change as soon as possible, when Cazmi runs into the shop and Jurrien bounds in after him.

It's a little dimmer inside then out. Alliy has never liked harsh lights. It's part of the reason why they'd had to have this store front in particular, with its huge front windows ceiling to floor, letting in all kinds of natural light.

"Alliy, my savior, tell me you have something sweet and fabulous that you wouldn't dream of overcharging me for."

Alliy slowly ascends from behind the counter, clearly having been kneeling on the floor or something before the boys' entrance. She's got with her a vase in which she's trying to arrange what Jurrien thinks are way too many flowers. They tower over her and probably him too. But she sets the vase on the counter and lays the remaining flowers down gently beside them.

"Good to see you, too, Jurrien."

She gives a pleasant little smile that wrinkles the corners of her eyes a little bit as she puts her finger to her lip, starts looking around behind the counter at all her fresh cut inventory.

"Well, just your luck, I got a shipment of lilies in yesterday... cross your fingers real tight while I check, I think there were enough pink ones for a whole bouquet."

Jurrien presses his hands together in some sort of supplication like he's praying to the flower gods.

"Rowan? Love? Do you remember which fridge we put the lilies in? We've got some of our favorite customers here."

"Lilies?"

There's a small lofted area above the register space for employees only where the tops of several silver refrigerators can be seen along with petals and leaves of a variety of flowers poking into view. Over the wood railing, Rowan pops his head up and looks down at the group, his jet black hair pulled back into a messy bun that rests mostly against his neck. His dark skin comically and drastically contrasts with the bright colors surrounding him.

"Ah, if it isn't you three. Hang on, I'll bring them down. Alliy, I'm going to bring the yellow ones down too, for the five o'clock order."

Sounds of shuffling can be heard above them and Trita can't help but smile. The bakery is calm though Sive adds her own touch of chaos to it. The flower shop? It's a complete anomaly. Everything is colorful, peaceful, Alliy and Rowan move about in graceful yet semi-slow ways. And how they talk to each other is out of this world. Stepping in here has always felt like stepping in a portal.

Cazmi seems a little on edge and he is. He loves this place, but he's afraid to let people know how much he loves it, how much it calms him. He's also afraid to touch any of the delicate flowers or fragile vases. After the amount he had to pay the last time he broke one, he's not sure his wallet could handle that again.

"Let's just get these and get out..."

He grumbles mostly to himself, stepping up behind Jurrien and pressing against the man's side like a shy child.

Whatever deity exists must hear both their prayers because Rowan comes down the stairs a minute later, arms full of pink and yellow lilies, a pen tucked behind his ear, clipboard under his arm. He smiles pleasantly at the group as he ducks around them to join Alliy, handing off the pink lilies then turning to go find a spot for the yellow ones.

"Sorry, you caught me taking stock and running the numbers. Oh, by the way, dear, we're surprisingly low on white roses. I'll go ahead and order more so don't worry about it. Just wanted to let you know in case a customer comes asking for a bouquet of them."

With his arms free, he steps up beside her and looks over her shoulder at the arrangement she had just been working on, tilting his head to observe it. A slow smile spreads across his face. As usual, her craftsmanship is remarkable. Not a single bare spot and not a single section lacking the perfect balance of color. The only thing he can really say is that she always makes her pieces too full, but, really, is that actually a bad thing? Sure, maybe it means he has to rework the budget because of how many flowers she uses, but the arrangements never cease to amaze and the customers are always happy.

"I think that one is done, I'll put a bow on it and finish it up while you help them."

He kisses her cheek and steps around, grabbing the vase, taking it off to the side several feet away where a wrapping station is prepped and ready to go.

Everyone is so... Lovey-dovey today... What's going on? Trita finds herself looking away from the two and all their gentle glances and conversation. Granted, these two are always like this, but Darcin and Sive were sure all about each other too. Cazmi and Jurrien are always playful with each other but they sure do feel the need to touch each other a lot today. It has to be the weather, there's no other explanation for it.

Earlier, it had made her smile, now it just feels like overkill. All of it is starting to leave a sour taste in her mouth and she can only guess it has to do with that man that walked by the bakery bringing up old feelings and memories she buried away. Screw him, whoever he is.

Jurrien gives a little triumphant clap when Rowan comes out toting the lilies, smiling over his shoulder at Cazmi, despite his boyfriend's lack of enthusiasm.

"Ugh, if I ever get a hand in the apocalypse like I've been praying I would since I was four years old, I will straight up spare you two. This is perfect."

Alliy starts to wrap the lilies up in thin, gauzy tissue paper without even asking the colors, because this is an order she knows by heart. Jurrien bounces a little from his heels to the balls of his feet as he waits, excited watching it come together.

He's never been close to his father, not a day in his life. That's reserved for his older sister, who thinks in that exact same boring and restrictive and suck-the-fun-out-of-everything way. Jurrien's kind of surprised she hadn't become a lawyer just to suck up to their dad. Either way, it's not like Jurrien couldn't have held his own in a room full of lawyers. He credits most of his tenacity and attitude and fighting spirit to growing up under his father's horrific choice of profession.

So when he thinks about how Yvaine and his father possibly work, it makes no sense and his head starts to hurt. Yvaine is everything Jurrien has always imagined a mom would be. And she's not even his, really, but she'd stepped in and acted like it regardless, even when Jurrien had pushed back at her at first. She'd earned more respect with him that way, being gentle and kind and patient with him, than his dad had ever managed to demand from him.

Cazmi is still eyeing the place carefully, and Alliy hums a soft little raspy tune as she finishes bundling the flowers, her dark, blunt cut hair shifting like silk around her neck.

"And here we go-"

"Oh, can you add-? Yup, there ya go."

Jurrien grins ear to ear as he takes the huge pink bouquet, as delicate and graceful as Yvaine herself is. Jurrien balances the huge thing in the crook of his arm like Miss America or something while he fishes out his wallet and Alliy rings him up. When he turns back around, he twirls a little white daisy in his fingers that he promptly raises up on tip-toe to tuck behind Cazmi's ear.

"Babe, you look like spring."

Jurrien is beaming, happy with his bouquet secured and proud of himself for his flirtation.

"Are we ready? God, Trita, did you develop a flower allergy like... just now? Why is your face like that?"

There is a very near scowl on her face, something only slightly different from her normal resting face, but Jurrien has spent enough time around her to tell the difference.

"Did you just call me the Easter Bunny?"

Cazmi tries his absolute best to sound annoyed, to appear put off, nearly offended, flicking his ear out as if the flower is bothering him. In reality, his heart has melted completely and the light weight of the flower makes his heart beat faster. Without really turning to acknowledge Jurrien beside him, Cazmi discreetly reaches down and snatches Jurrien's hand that isn't occupied with holding the flowers.

Trita turns to look at them both quickly, eyes a little wide for a brief moment when Jurrien calls her out. She remembers herself and settles back into her usual state of being, giving a casual shrug.

"Just had something on my mind, that's all. We all done here?"

It's impossible to miss the two of them holding hands, it's just as impossible to miss how Rowan walks back over to Alliy and starts playing the the ends of her hair. What's wrong with everyone today? Has she been dropped into some romance movie suddenly?

Before any of them can really answer, she gives a nod as if they had and swiftly makes her way out of the door of the shop.

Cazmi finally turns to Jurrien, eyebrow raised, a frown on his face.

"... Did we do something wrong?"

Things are slow at the garage for the rest of the afternoon. More oil changes than Shand would admit to Lunath to save his life. In reality, he can’t really complain. He can fix more complicated stuff, but it’s not his favorite. That’s his father’s arena. While Shand wants to do the job as quickly as possible, not have to sit still and focus on it for any longer than necessary, Dolan can lose the whole day under the hood of a car, or slid underneath the suspension, putting pieces together and figuring out more complicated glitches.

That’s not to say that this garage, this profession has always been Dolan’s dream. He can’t remember a recent time when he really truly felt passionate about something, spent time doing something that made him feel really alive. The garage had been the fallback plan- the reliable and stable thing that Kvanne had always said would be smart and would be the one thing he wouldn’t regret.

The transition from rebellious unruly high schooler who’d rather race cars at night down abandoned airstrips than work to bring one back to factory standards hadn’t been immediate. In reality, it had happened almost when he wasn’t paying attention. All of a sudden one day he’d woken up, walked into the shop, and realized not many traces of the person he used to be still existed in his life now. Kvanne’s voice in his head made that out to be a triumph, but there was still a deep, empty feeling.

There still is. But spending the day figuring out mechanical puzzles and figuring out complicated issues keeps him distracted, helps pass the time at least. And if nothing else, everyone has to accept and live with their own choices, for better or worse.

Shand is washing up close to the end of the day. He hasn’t seen Dolan for hours- he’s probably under one of these cars somewhere. But when there’s a knock at the back office door, Dolan wheels out on his back on cue, looking around for Shand.

“I️ got it, I️ got it. For heavens sake, don’t get up.”

The door to the garage rattles and shakes as if someone has it by the doorknob and is shaking it violently, wild rushes of air pushing through all the various cracks, pointing out all the issues with how it's sealed.

Once the door is open, a large gust comes rushing into the garage, blowing rolling cart several feet and some paper off a nearby board to the sound of impossibly large beating wings. Now that the entrance is open, Naemi ducks her head and allows herself to glide through, folding her wings up close to her so she drops down onto the floor, her shoes clicking as she lands.

She gives a quick adjustment to her old-time mail hate that looks almost more like a naval captain's than anything, and then goes to brush off her shoulders. When everything is straight, she looks around and doesn't immediately see anyone which prompts her to turn and look back at the door. Shand's hair is a wild mess from all the wind she'd generated, it takes a lot to stifle the laugh she feels trying to form.

"Good afternoon. I've got a delivery for you from the garage on Elmer's Street."

Hanging off her shoulders, crossing her back and chest to rest on both her hips are two large identical mail-carrier bags. The right hip bag has a clipboard attached to the front of it that she snags and tucks under her arm so she can flip the bag open and search through it.

"Some sort of part for that old truck of yours. Spark plugs, I think."

The world of a mechanic is not completely beyond her comprehension. Where she had grown up, everyone had done practical jobs like that. Her father had wanted her to be an electrician but the idea of sitting around fiddling with wires did not appeal to her. It hadn't made him thrilled to hear she wanted to be a delivery girl, but she really made her way.

Most people think of her as more of a formal courier, really. She doesn't work for the mail office or anything, she's hired by whoever, whenever they need a package rushed same-day in Portland or the surround area. Anything from flowers, to cakes, engine parts, birthday presents, anything special and unique.

"Here we go."

The package in hand, she grabs the clipboard back up and reaches out to hand Shand both. Once he takes them, she fishes around the various pockets on her uniform and fishes out a pen, holding that out for him too.

With both hands occupied, Shand tries to blow some of his hair back into its rightful place with very intentional blasts of air, but his hair is not nearly as responsive as he'd hoped.

"Naemi, we gotta talk about your mode of entrance. Maybe you can tweak it a little here? Please?"

After he signs and frees up a hand to straighten his hair back, he takes a quick look over his shoulder at the car Dolan had rolled out from under, but he's predictably gone back under it.

Shand turns back to Naemi with half his attention still on the car, his mouth half covered with his hand.

"Hey, has Yvaine talked to you about this family dinner thing? Do we know what exactly the hold up is here? Any good ideas on how to make this happen? Blackmail? Just straight up deception?"

Shand scans the label on the box and nods absently to himself. These are for his truck, the old run down thing that wouldn't ever start if it wasn't scared to death of Shand throwing a fit and kicking it into oblivion in the middle of the street. It had happened one time before, and never since. Of course, since then he's been much more vigilant about its needs, but still. He attributes the success of their relationship to his assertion of dominance on that particular day.

"Yvaine just seems really upset about it. Like really upset. She knows how my dad is, and she knows how Kvanne is. It must just mean a lot to her to do the whole weekly Sunday night thing. Maybe she was raised that way? I don't know. Just. We gotta figure this out before we all go crazy."

"And maybe we need to talk about your handwriting... Your signature is illegible. You're lucky I know you so I can vouch for you."

Sighing, Naemi sticks the clipboard back on the outside of the back, eyes flicking around the garage. Parts hang everywhere, the place is a mess... As much as she's aware some people may want to blame this on Shand, she knows this is more by Dolan's hand. He seems to go through cycles of just forgetting himself, not caring what's going on around him, the state of his garage a physical manifestation of whatever is going on in his head at any particular time. Must be a little messy up there right now.

"Yeah, Yvaine asked Aleric and I, too. Said she just wants everyone to get together, be a family. You know, typical Yvaine stuff. Though she seemed more adamant than usual."

Well, since she's here, she may as well take advantage of the moment. There's a small stool nearby that she seats herself on, stretching and bending her wing around in front of her so she can file through the feathers, flicking out small bits of debris that were caught between the layers from all her flying today. And she's still not even done.

"I could always just force him there. I'm sure once he's twenty feet up in the air, he'll listen to reason."

Her tone is oddly earnest, not playful but not threatening either, just calmly stating facts in a friendly sort of way, glancing up at Shand with her bright orange eyes as she does. He seems a little surprised by the suggestion which only confuses her more.

"What? I was being serious..."

"Signatures aren't supposed to be legible, are they?"

Shand leans back in a little closer to her, head tilted up a bit, trying to look back over at the clipboard.

"I just think... in terms of getting him there, that maybe forcibly bringing him to the event is not going to make for the pleasant idyllic family atmosphere Yvaine is going for. Aaaand... the problem is, I'm not totally sure anything is gonna make for that."

Shand sighs and shrugs, letting his arms hit against his sides. His family is a mess and he knows it. He pities Naemi and Yvaine- anyone who had for whatever reason willingly signed on to be a part of this train wreck and now has to deal with it all. His dad has never openly said that it had anything to do with the reason he and Shand's mom had called it off, but Shand was not born yesterday, and he's met his family. He knows that had to have been a factor.

Its not something he ever tries to talk about or would want to bring up, especially to Naemi. She and Aleric are serious, sure, but they're not married yet, and truthfully, everyone can see how she's probably the best thing to have ever happened to him. Shand doesn't want to rock that boat any or do anything to compromise that. Of course, at the same time, he's not excited at the prospect of having to watch that happen organically, either.

Still, it's probably not as brutal from her side of things anyway. Aleric has always been the neutral brother, the one on everyone's side, the one who just wants everyone to be happy and get along. Before Yvaine had come along, he was pretty much the Yvaine of the family. So if Naemi has any good reason to motivate her to put up with all the drama, thankfully she's found it.

That... doesn't bode too well for Shand's father though. He won't say he hasn't thought about how much better it would be for his dad to have someone. Night after late night at the garage, followed up by long hours at the gym or the martial arts studio. And their apartment, God. Half the time it looks like Dolan doesn't even live there, and the other half of the time, it looks like the garage does today. Like its the sight of a tornado touch down.

But with the way it is between the brothers, Shand can't think of anyone who would put up with him. Yvaine and Naemi are saints, mores than his mother was apparently. There can't be that many saintly women left out there. At least, none that would appeal to his dad.

"I wonder... Yvaine is set on having a family dinner at home, isn't she? Wouldn't it just be so much easier if we like... all went to some restaurant and then put Kvanne and my dad at two totally separate ends of a super long table so they couldn't even really see each other? I don't know, nobody seems to be making this easy."

"Yvaine wants it to be intimate, and a crowded restaurant doesn't really fall under that."

Her eyes wander to where Shand's seem to flick instinctually, to a pair of legs sticking out from under a car. Dolan has yet to acknowledge her since she arrived. It stings a little, it's not as if they don't know each other. God, how long have she and Aleric been dating? Must be a few years by now. Part of her realizes she should just expect this of her boyfriend's twin but, for some reason, she always expects more from him. With how Aleric acts, behaves, treats everyone, she'd like to believe there's some part of that within Dolan.

"Besides, I'm the one that suggested it be at a house."

Somehow, a tiny pebble had found its way into her forest of feathers. When she finds it and flicks it out, she sighs deeply in relief, letting her shoulders slump. It's not as if things like that hurt, they more just bother, pesky things that don't let you forget about them.

Shand shifts his weight which earns him her attention like he clearly wanted. He's staring down at her with an arched eyebrow, obviously in strong disagreement with her decision. Naemi waves him off with one of the wings on her head dismissively.

"If anything does happen, should people fight, it should be behind closed doors so that rumors don't spread and people aren't impacted negatively by it. That's all I was thinking."

He takes a moment to process what she's saying, pouting a bit, still in disagreement, but he's trying to form a counterpoint. As she graciously gives him that time, she looks back over at the cars.

"Hello, Dolan. Nice to pretend to see you again."

Dolan slowly bends his legs up, pulls himself out from under the car. He sits up too fast though and manages to hit his forehead on the chrome bumper, cursing under his breath before he reaches off to the side rolling cart for a hand towel and starts wiping his hands off, still grumbling under his breath a little bit.

"Hey Naemi, nice to hear you two talk about me like I'm not in the room, I enjoy it more and more every time."

There's more teasing that bite in his voice, although the comment isn't totally without some intended condescension. He still manages a small quirk of a smile.

"No trouble in paradise with you and my brother, I trust?"

Shand rolls his eyes and rubs his forehead a little. For as long as Shand can remember, Dolan has been on edge with his own family. There's always something grating to be said, something snarky or something meant to pick a fight and then blame it on someone else. Shand can trace it back a long ways, but it's been like this since before he was born, so he has no definitive answers either.

Still, he turns toward Naemi so his back is facing his dad and mouths an apology to her, shaking his head slightly. It's only a matter of time before the family runs out of patience with him entirely and Yvaine realizes her efforts are better spent elsewhere. It wouldn't make Shand, or any of them, happy, but it can't go on like this forever.

"Uh, the spark plugs for the truck are here. I'm gonna take 'em home and maybe I'll get to it tomorrow after work?"

Shand tries to direct the conversation to something more anesthetic, something safe and neutral and superficial to keep things civil and keep Naemi's feelings from being any more hurt than they probably are already.

"Yeah, sure. I'm just going to Kael's again. Did you figure out dinner for you and Lunath yet?"

"Yuuuup."

Shand gives a little cringe, a half laugh that only Naemi can see. Lunath hasn't decided to divulge to their father yet that he's head over heels in love with Lance, and like a good older brother who just wants to hold it over Lunath's head for as long as possible, Shand is covering for him and playing along.

"Thank you... speaking of dinner."

Dolan finally pulls himself up, taller and taller until he's standing, stretching himself out.

"What's this thing I hear about Yvaine?"

"She's just... been calling you and trying to talk to you for what I am told is quite a while now."

Shand shrugs.

"Your sister-in-law would like you to pick up your phone so she can invite you to family dinner like she's been trying to do for at least a week now."

Naemi nods in Dolan's direction to acknowledge his greeting before popping back up to her feet, stretching her back to prepare for the next delivery run she has.

Dolan scoffs a bit, rolling his eyes at the thought of a dinner party with his family, but Naemi shoots him a stern look. He can roll his eyes at Kvanne, even at Aleric, but Yvaine married into this family, she has not been part of the drama, and thus does not deserve the distaste and attitude. Especially when she's trying to do something nice and thoughtful.

To be fair, Naemi isn't even as much part of this family as Yvaine is. Naemi is just the girlfriend, that's it. Granted, the girlfriend that's been living with Aleric for nearly two years now, but still just the girlfriend. Who is she to say what they should or shouldn't do, what should or shouldn't be done. At the end of the day, her opinion on anything in the Fox family probably matters the least. Which... Hurts a bit, but it's probably helpful to remind herself of that from time to time, keep herself from trying to put her nose where it doesn't belong.

So, instead, she shrugs, trying to be as casual as ever.

"I'm just... Yvaine seems to think this is very important and the very least you could do is go for her sake. She hasn't done anything wrong unless you think caring is a sin."

"Yeah, sure of course."

Dolan nods a little to himself, legitimately considering what Naemi's saying. He knows she doesn't like to insist things or put herself directly in the middle of the family's rampant drama, but truth be told, she's usually one of the few who sees it with a clear perspective, and that's not something that escapes Dolan.

"The reservation is not in the calling Yvaine back, or the making plans, or the showing up. The reservation is in getting there, and having things happen to ruin all the hard work she did. It's not that I don't want to make her happy, I'm not Satan."

Dolan murmurs that last bit to himself, knowing there are plenty of people in the vicinity, in his family, in this city, who are perfectly content to argue otherwise.

"Isn't it just better if she's a little disappointed that it doesn't happen than if she puts all this effort into it and it blows up? I'm just saying I know how this family is. And I don't think it's changing any time soon."

He says it with such an air of finality that Shand blows out a harsh breath that's built up in his cheeks.

"Maybe that whole air-drop idea doesn't sound so bad after all."

He more or less whispers it at Naemi, letting his cheeks puff out with another unreleased sigh. His eyes dart up for a second as the wall clock's hour hand shifts to hit six. Technically they won't close until Dolan decides he wants to leave, but six means it's quitting time for Shand.

He kind of feels bad for Naemi, put in this position like this. He can tell she wants to help, wants to have whatever measure of patience is possible for someone like his dad. After a few seconds of tense silence, Dolan huffs a little.

"I will call her, okay? I promise."

And for all that's said of Dolan, one thing that's true is that he doesn't break his promises. At least, that's what Shand has learned the hard way, every time he was given a rule and promised that if he broke it, Dolan was going to make his life a living hell. Dolan always kept his word then, and he does now.

Naemi stares at Dolan for a long moment, trying to judge his words with his expression, his posture. He seems serious enough that she feels comfortable nodding, turning towards the back door of the garage.

"Alright, you better. Yvaine and I talk, so I'll hear about whatever you do one way or another."

She says the mild thread with a pleasant smile, mock saluting the two of them as she leaves through the door. Wild wind picks up again as her wings beat, hovering her off the ground for a moment before she can dart back up into the sky. To her credit, she didn't bother closing the door. She learned her lesson the hard way that taking off in front of the old garage door is a sure fire way of breaking it in.

Things around the city are starting to settle as the evening colors begin to paint the sky and reflect on the world below. Warm light spills out of storefront windows, some lights flickering off as shops close for the night, others staying bright and true for later hours.

Kael's little martial arts studio is one of said late-night lights. His hands are wrapped tightly in bandages strategically crossing across his palms and over his knuckles, buffering him as his fists collide with an upright punching bag. It sways and bounces back after each hit and sweat drips off his dark tattooed skin.

His students begin to pack up and file out, waving to him which makes him pause for a moment to wave back with a grin. The clock on the wall ticks by and he studies it to figure out that he has a few minutes before his solo student arrives. He takes the time to pull his hair down, long black locks falling over the shaved sides of his head. They're all sweaty and ratty but he combs through them with his fingers enough to pull them back into a neater ponytail, trying to appear more professional.

It's just like this every Thursday. Students leave as the sun sets, one extra student walks right in without a care for operating hours. To be fair, Kael has never turned a student away before, and this student is a bit of a special case. While he is technically a student by way of paying to use the space and spar with Kael, he's not anyone who needs lessons. This is more recreational for him.

Sometimes Kael wonders why Dolan doesn't just build a mini-studio in his own home, save money, but that would be digging into someone else's business and that's something he'd prefer not to do.

It's long after Shand's left that Dolan finally pulls himself out from under the last car. Admittedly, he'd fallen asleep once or twice, taken a few short naps underneath the big hunk of metal, but hey. The older he gets, the more Dolan realizes you gotta take sleep wherever and whenever it feels gracious enough to hit you.

Especially now that he's using up his nights in other ways. None of the exciting, scandalous ways he'd thought his adulthood would be filled with when he was a teenager. Truth be told, he probably needs this more anyway.

He changes out of his greasy garage clothes and into his normal gym clothes, pulling the gym bag out from under the desk in his office. He's pretty thankful the studio is just across the street from the garage, because if it wasn't, he'd get in a workout all its own just walking there.

Even though the blinds are closed now, the lights are still on inside and he can see a vague dark shadow dancing around the punching bag. It makes Dolan smile a little even halfway across the street. He'd always been into physical pastimes. It had annoyed him for long enough that Shand had never seemed to be able to stay still, but after a while he'd realized that his son had, in all probability, inherited that from him.

Since opening the garage, there's not as much moving around as he'd prefer. So to blow off steam and help clear his head, he spends a couple of hours with Kael, the only person in town who can keep up with him. Sometimes it hits Dolan just how gracious Kael is to allow him to come and do what he does.

They'd started with good old fashioned boxing, moved on through various types of martial arts, ju jitsu, which had bored Dolan quickly because it was really just like folding clothes except with the people still inside, and then wrestling. One after the other, and sometimes backtracking when the desire arose. Anything to keep them both engaged and out of breath. Even when it seemed like after a long day of teaching classes, Kael had probably rather been sleeping.

Sometimes Dolan thinks he should let Kael know how grateful he is, but that starts a spiral of how they hell he'd tell him. Face to face over Dolan's dead body. A card in the mail? What a cop out, and something a thirteen year old would send to her crush. He's still playing around with the possibilities in his brain, but he hasn't found a good one yet, which is why after several years, he still hasn't picked anything.

The door is still unlocked when Dolan pushes it open, and from the sterile, aseptic smell of the place, Kael has already cleaned most of the place, all the flat surfaces and padded mats, except for where he is on the far side of the room with the punching bag going at it.

Dolan drops his bag by the desk near the front, unmanned of course at this hour.

"Alright, man. What's on the menu tonight?"

Kael looks up, having to blink his eyes a few times to let them refocus after staring so intently at the punching bag for so long. Of course, he already knows who it is, but he'd still prefer to great his student without blurry vision in the way.

"'Sup Dolan! Well, I was thinking we did wrestling last time so what about some boxing tonight? Use the 'ol punching bag some then I'll get the target gloves and you can punch at my hands. Maybe even some kickboxing if we have time before Dakara comes home."

While he does gladly keep his studio open for Dolan a few times a week, it was always with the understanding that, once Dakara came back from the tattoo parlor, class was over and it was time to finally close. It's just how Kael would prefer it, spending his off time with Dakara every chance he can get. She's important to him and he never wants her to think his business outranks her. Lord knows his father didn't practice that and look how their family turned out.

They aren't even married but even just the thought of Dakara walking back through the door like she does every night makes him giddy like a school girl. He manages to control himself, though. He reaches into a shelf near the bag and pulls out some athletic wrap.

"Get over here so I can wrap your hands up and let's go!"

By this point, Dolan probably knows exactly how to properly wrap his own hands, but Kael's dojo, his rules. And the main rule is the instructor helps with the equipment. It is mostly because he has younger people take his classes and he doesn't want them to do something incorrect that ends up hurting them in the long run, but he doesn't like to break his rules for anyone.

Dolan just rolls his eyes and walks over, holding out one hand for Kael to get to work on.

"... A lot of grease today. Have a ton of cars in the garage or something?"

"Damn, I thought I got it all off."

Dolan takes a second to laugh at himself, holding his hand out with fingers spread so Kael can wrap it. At first he'd been a little put off by Kael doing this for him, but over time he'd come to see it differently. This is Kael's way of making sure everything goes smoothly, this is his professionalism. And as much as Dolan hates having people do things for him, he won't take anyone's professionalism from them.

"There weren't any more than normal, I guess."

He shrugs his shoulders. He'd really just had his hands idly inside car engines more today than normal, zoned out, taking twice as long to do everything because he hadn't been focusing on solving the puzzle. So the day had felt twice as long.

Kael doesn't need to hear any of that, though. Neither of them really use this as a venting session. Verbally, at least. That's the best thing about this. When they vent on nights like this, they do it by hitting or kicking harder.

Once his hands are wrapped up, Dolan takes a few minutes to stretch, and he feels all the tension of the day, notices it consciously for the first time.

"How are things going around here? Classes good? You and Dakara still good?"

It's strange, how everyone knows everyone in this town. Shand had gone to high school with Dakara, they'd had a fling way back in the day and then decided they were much better friends than anything else. From there, Shand had gone to try and work in her tattoo parlor with her once she'd opened it. It had only taken a month or two for Shand to realize he wasn't cut out for the customer service aspect of that particular business. Namely, he'd beaten a customer up for raising his voice in a tense moment.

Since then, Dakara seems to do much better with a much more well-suited staff. But it still makes Dolan smile a little, shake his head, wonder if it's for the best or the worst that everyone in this town in so connected on multiple points like a spider's web. Just waiting to catch someone. As long as it's not him, he's good.

"Oh, yeah, it's great! Yesterday, Dakara made a ton of sandwiches for all my classes. She used to come to them herself but then the parlor grew so much. My youngest students ask about her all the time so this was her way of saying hello, I guess."

Kael smiles to himself softly as he pulls the bag over that he had just been working at, setting it up in front of where Dolan is stretching.

Moving here to Portland had been... Interesting. It's funny because he and his brother didn't really move alone. Their longtime friend Luna had moved first and really hyped the town up and, for a pair of twins looking to move as far from their father as possible, it was all the encouragement they needed. It was much more Rowan's scene than it was Kael's when they first got here, but all of that changed when he met Dakara.

He remembers this small girl with crazy red hair yelling at him from across the street and nearly running through traffic to get to him. She started rambling about tattoos as soon as she got to him, talking about what a great canvas he would be. The poor woman had just finished her apprenticeship with a parlor downtown and was looking for some clients to build her portfolio to start her own parlor, and Kael was a sucker for the story, for her eyes.

Now, here he is with more tattoos than he can count, dating his tattoo artist and loving every second of this Portland life.

"You know, I've been thinking about asking the question. I just... I don't know if that's something she'd be into, marrying me and all. I don't want her to feel like she's stuck, if that makes sense."

As he rambles on to keep conversation, he drags out another bag and sets it up a few feet away from Dolan's for himself, testing the proper distance back to stand by placing his knuckles on the bag and adjusting his stance accordingly.

"Oh, you mean like, the big question?"

It takes Dolan by surprise for a second before he snaps out of it.

"Damn, Kael, that's great. Of course she'd want to. You two are joined at the hip. She's never been happier her whole life."

And like with everything else, it's all true. Dolan is incapable of saying anything to coddle anyone. He's all smiles, smacking Kael on the back in a bit of congratulatory camaraderie, but that topic brings a deep, cold feeling to the core of him.

He still has that old ring somewhere, doesn't he? Tucked away in some box, along with all the other stuff he could never bring himself to get rid of. And suddenly he can see it all like it was yesterday. Picking the thing out himself, telling the jeweler that he was going to have to make some adjustments to it because it wasn't just right, and it had to be perfect. Being sneaky and enlisting her older brother to help him figure out her ring size so it would be perfect, would fit her perfectly when that right moment came.

He'd never been sure of anything more in his life, that the right moment would come. But it never did. There was just...everything opposite of it. A lifetime filled with so many things, a different person he'd made himself into- so many distractions and methods of trying to forget, and he can't ever fully shake it off.

"Besides, man. She's tattooed pretty much your whole body...."

Dolan trails off, raises his eyebrows a bit, changes his tone.

"Mostly your whole body, yes? I think it's for real."

Dolan tightens the velcro of one glove around his wrist, taking a few soft warm-up punches at the punching bag just to get a feel for it. Something tells him this is going to be a "hit extra hard" kind of night.

"I don't know, man... Marriage is a big deal and she's such a free spirit, I'd hate for her to feel tied down, if that makes any sense."

Unlike Dolan, Kael skips out on putting the giant gloves over his wraps, something countless people have told him time and time again is foolish but, well... His hands and wrists are still in tack so what does he care?

He easily picks his rhythm he had before right back up, making the bag sway back and forth at each impact as he rocks his knees to follow the movement. It's a very snake-like predator movement but it works for honing in like a snake would do for hunting so who is he to argue with what nature has perfected?

"Like... I don't know, have you ever loved someone so much that you were terrified to lose them but also terrified of them rejecting you? Even though I know she loves me, I'm still worried. It seems dumb, I'm sure. Big idiot Kael not knowing what he's talking about, but I think I'd go crazy if she said no."

At the thought, he throws another swing, this one harder, faster, making some of the springs in the bag groan as it recoils then snaps back.

The idea of his life without Dakara is probably the only thing in the world to ever keep him up at night, to give him true, terrible nightmares he absolutely cannot shake. They're the thoughts that make him roll over in bed and pull her closer as she's sleeping. He's not the smartest man, not even the most attractive, all he has going for him are his muscles, that's it. Those can't possibly be enough yet she's still here years later. But what if the idea of forever commitment to someone like him scares her away?

Just as the bag tries to get back in place, he snaps at it again, allowing his worries to really power through his fists. He's not actually expecting Dolan to humor him with this topic, talking isn't why they do stuff like this. It's more just thinking out loud. Of course, if Dolan has something to say, Kael is all ears, but he's not going to pressure the other man to speak.

Dolan takes in everything Kael's saying quietly, settling into his own stance and rhythm as he punches at the bag in front of him. It's a slower pattern, almost letting the bag completely settle again before he returns to attack it, his body moving more slowly to compensate for his brain trying to move so fast.

He hadn't meant for all this to come flooding back to him today. But in a lot of other ways... he's been thinking about it, just not as consciously, for days on end now- weeks, hasn't he? Never giving himself a second of wakeful down time so that his brain can push those thoughts to the forefront. He's been effectively ignoring his own thoughts for weeks now. For, of all people, Kael to have shattered that for him.

There's a strange feeling of panic coming over him slowly, a feeling he's not used to. Or at least, hasn't been for years. His punches start getting harder, faster.

"Let me tell you this one thing, man. Don't be so worried about rejection that you end up pushing her away and ruining a perfect thing. Don't second guess yourself. Just do it. I'm telling you."

Dolan's words come out abbreviated by his heavy breaths, grunts here and there from an extra hard swing. He's worked up a bit of a sweat already, and he's sort of thankful this conversation is happening over punching bags because he's not sure how he'd be able to moderate his voice to sound halfway normal and alright on this subject without his chest heaving to help him out.

"Kael. She brings sandwiches in for your classes. She comes straight home every night after she closes her shop up. That doesn't sound to me like someone who's worried about being tied down. It just sounds like she's found what she wants, y'know?"

God, why hadn't anyone been around to tell him any of this all those years ago. Instead of the advice he'd needed to hear, he'd gotten an earful of every other kind of purported wisdom, and the one that had been the loudest and most insistent had won out. An opinion that often keeps him up at night at how wrong it had been.

"So how seriously have you been thinking about this? You got the ring yet? Have you felt out how she'd feel about it, potentially?"