DANCE YOUR HEART OUT

Dolan leans back against the booth seat, arms crossed over his chest, a look on his face somewhere between doubt and curiosity and disappointment. For so many years he'd been counting on the fact that she'd at least gone on and been happy. That she'd gotten out of this town and enjoyed something. It feels like a personal blow, almost, that all his self-assurances had turned out to be wrong. He wants to make up for it somehow, but how is he supposed to do that?

He starts to launch into another question, letting the curiosity take the lead, but he stops, shakes his head slightly at himself. The topic at hand is a delicate one still, no matter how much he wants to pretend it isn't, throw it all under the rug. And things are going so decently. He doesn't want to ruin it all now.

"Well I️, uh. I'm glad you're back. Still can't believe you've been across the street from me for months and no one's said anything. Business going well for you over there?"

"Business? Oh, yeah, I have a lot of students, most of them regulars, some stop by for a class here and there. It's good, really-"

"Except wasn't that your retirement plan? Look a little young to be tapping into that dream."

There's a wave of emotion so strong she can't identify it. Her stomach turns at the sound of the voice, at recognizing it, like a sweat is building up immediately on her neck and she wants to empty her stomach of food that isn't even in it. There's panic and dread, fear, a million bad memories packed into a few quick seconds. Yet, on top of it all, she can't even say she's shocked. Surprise is not a single drop in the wave.

Trita slowly turns to look over her shoulder, to look at the gold eyes she knows are waiting there for her.

"Kynton. Didn't know you were visiting Portland."

She keeps her tone even as the man in the booth behind her leans over the backrest, up on his knees so he can invade the space of their table.

"You never answered my calls, Rabbit."

"I changed my number. Hope you weren't leaving inappropriate voicemails for the new owner."

"Awh, but you know I was."

"You're lucky the police aren't on your ass for stalker-like tendencies. Wouldn't be the first time."

For some ungodly reason, he takes the acknowledgment as an invitation to join them, slipping out of his seat and walked around, plopping right down in the empty space beside Trita. They're literally rubbing elbows, shoulders... Nothing has made her skin crawl more.

"Here you two go- Oh. Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize there was another person you were waiting on?"

The waitress quickly sets down the food order, turning to Kynton to take his order next. The way the soup ripples in front of her and the sight of her own reflection does nothing to help the sudden unease in her stomach. It especially doesn't help when she catches Kynton's reflection, sees his eyes glance between the bowl and her face.

Trita pushes the bowl away from her some, flicking the spoon on the table beside it so it flips away as well.

"So, what's going on here? Am I interrupting a date? No, wait, don't tell me-"

Kynton sits back once the waitress is gone, studying Dolan with narrowed eyes and a crooked smile. He doesn't need to study the other man, he already knows who this is, he's just toying with the situation like a bored cat.

"You're Dolan Fox, aren't you? Damn, Rabbit, catching up with a high school fling?"

Her eyes dart to the side, glaring at him, a frown set deeply on her lips.

"For starters, I told you not to call me that. Secondly, Dolan isn't an old 'fling' or whatever. Don't be so openly rude. I mean, I expect it of you but you could at least put on a show while in public."

By the time she finishes, she lets her curiosity get the better of her, looking over to Dolan to judge his reaction. He seems confused at best, irritated at worse. Great, add some guilt on top of the rest of the emotions. Guilt and embarrassment and shame and everything else, why not.

"Dolan, this is Kynton Domani, my old manager from when I was touring."

"Manager? Is that what you're telling people?"

Kynton scoffs, shaking his head at her before turning and making direct eye contact with Dolan as if baiting some sort of challenge.

"I was her dance partner when she first started traveling around the US. Then when she bumped up to the international scene, I shifted to be her manager. And boyfriend."

A sigh escapes her before she can control it. Cazmi and Jurrien were right, this was a terrible idea, and they couldn't have known just how terrible it was.

The only expression change on Dolan's face is the slight flick of one eyebrow up, then immediately back down, controlled. Well of course he'd known Trita hadn't been alone all that time. He'd told her back at the garage that day, albeit accidentally, he'd kept up with her. And when he'd seen that she'd picked up a new dance partner, of course he'd been jealous at first. It had been a hard and tight spiral for him, but he'd picked himself up out of it and made himself come around to just wanting the best for her, and Trita had never been one to prefer dancing alone.

But this guy in front of him, he doesn't fit the profile Dolan would have put together for what was best for Trita. Hell, for what was best, or good, or even decent for anybody. And something in his stomach flips, wondering how in the world someone like this had taken his place. His mind starts wandering, crashing in some places, things he's thought were certainties before suddenly coming into question. If this guy is the one Trita had moved on with, she must think even less of Dolan.

None of it reads on his face though, a blessing and a curse he's had his whole life. He simply stares back at this Kynton fellow who looks like he's on the edge of his seat with toying and teasing and just being a general irritant. Not much different than all those kids in school that he and Trita had just been talking about. Dolan leans forward and sips through his straw, then sits back again slowly.

"And apparently now... stalker?"

His eyes shift to rest prominently on the proximity between Kynton and Trita, how uncomfortable it's clearly making her. Part of him wants to come across the table at this creep and throw a few punches just like that day he'd first met her. But another part of him, the logical part that's begging him to stay calm and thinking clearly, reminds him that he's not really a part of her life anymore. He doesn't have clearance or permission to intervene or assert himself. Like she said, he's not really even an old fling. But God, it doesn't keep waves of anger from rolling up inside him.

"If you two have business to get to, maybe business hours would be better for that? Or..."

He shifts his eyes to Trita again, looking for some sign, some communication of, well, anything. If she wants him to physically throw the guy out of their booth, or if she even maybe wants Dolan to beat it. The nervousness from before is back, but this time it's eating at him because he doesn't know what to expect. That familiar face across from him that he remembers being able to read like a book, to anticipate her every thought, now just feels... thousands of miles away, as if she'd never come back home, as if they'd never come here together tonight.

"Business hours are all hours in showbiz. You wouldn't know that, would you?"

Kynton's eyes narrow further, his smirk growing, enjoying this more than anyone else at the table.

"Kynton, please."

Trita nearly hisses, rolling her shoulders more as a way to work herself up to look at him, her gaze cold and stern. It sends a jolt through her spin, has her sitting up rigid and straight, but she keeps herself calm and collected despite wanting to both punch Kynton and get up from this table, run back home in the rain.

"Oh, right. It was that sort of mindset that made you quit, wasn't it? Couldn't handle the pressure. That didn't mean you had to run away from me, though."

"I didn't quit because I couldn't handle it, you asshole."

If there was anyone anywhere that could handle that sort of intense schedule, the constant moving, it was her. She was... She was meant for that life, she knew that even from an early age. Nonstop dancing, hopping from one place to another, she could do that and wanted to do that. Granted, yes, she had hoped for some downtime thrown in there to actually enjoy the benefits of that lifestyle but Kynton had other plans in that regard.

But. How is she supposed to say she quit because of Kynton? What will that sound like to Dolan? Weak, pathetic, a stab in the back? Left one man for a dream that another man made her quit, when all Dolan wanted was for her to stay back from it, with him. Maybe that would have been better in hindsight.

"No? Huh. Still, didn't mean you had to go running off. Then again, it seems you're good at just up and leaving for your own reasons. Isn't that right, Dolan?"

Is he calling her selfish?

But... Is he really wrong, especially when he words it like that, directs it at the only other person she can think of that would agree with him, has been on the receiving end of that selfishness?

Hesitantly, she looks back at Dolan, chewing on her lip for a moment as she tries to read him. There's nothing, just that cool face, slight twitches of his eyebrow. Of course, what was she expecting? Not only has she gotten rusty at reading him, he's also better as closing himself off from her. It's a defensive measure after everything that's happened.

Still, why should she sit here and have to take this? She took this shit from Kynton from years and finally got out, why should she take it now?

"I left to chase a dream. Dolan and I... Had different goals back then, there's nothing wrong with that. I didn't leave him because he was a manipulative little fuck."

"Oh, language. God, you can be so rude in public sometimes."

Kynton sighs, shrugging his shoulders, looking back over at Dolan for another mock "bonding" moment, another "am I right?" question hanging in the air. It makes her blood start to boil some that he's treating her like this but also trying to get Dolan of all people on his side.

Dolan is digging into the rough wood of the underside of the table, nails scratching at it nervously, but he keeps his eyes on Trita, watching every moment, how she jerks away when Kynton tries to press too close to her. She's clearly uncomfortable, and these two clearly have a bad history. Dolan knows what he wants to do about it. But he's not sure what's right for him to do about it, here in a public establishment.

"Did you... really just follow Trita into this restaurant to push your way into the booth beside her and insult her? I️ don't know, that... seems a little infantile. Coming from someone who's made it big and been overseas and everything. As you've pointed out though, not my area of expertise."

He lets that sit in the air for a moment before clearing his throat as if with one sound he can wipe the slate clean and give himself more motivation to handle this in a decent way.

"You wanna get out of here?"

Dolan pulls out his wallet to leave some money on the table, ignoring Kynton's presence altogether and trying to make eye contact with Trita, even though she seems to keep avoiding it.

"I️ didn't realize this place was going to be so... distasteful, or else we could've gone somewhere else entirely."

"That sounds great."

Trita nods, slipping every word out through her grit teeth. Kynton feigns surprise at their sudden departure, but he doesn't move, just stays where he is satisfied, even going so far as to reach other and take Trita's unfinished Coke, sipping away at it.

A long beat ticks by, both Dolan and Trita glaring at Kynton from different angles, waiting for the appropriate action to take place on its own.

"What?"

He looks at them both with mock innocence, the kind that has her questioning why she ever thought he'd be a decent person for even a second.

"Move."

Trita nearly growls it out at him, but he isn't threatened, just takes his time slipping out of the booth so Trita can tear out of it like the building is on fire, only pausing to quickly throw cash on the table as a tip. Then she's out of there faster than she feels like she's ever moved in her life, pacing on the sidewalk under the overhang, moving back and forth with furious steps, and she can hear Kynton chuckle inside as he sees her through the glass doors.

"Go to hell."

She flips him off as she mouths the threat.

Dolan slips out the door behind her as she takes off, and he has to stretch his gait a bit just to make sure the door doesn't hit him swinging closed.

She's clearly rattled, preoccupied, but to be fair, so is he now. He unlocks the car and waits until she looks back to slip into the driver's seat, waiting alone in the car for a moment before she joins him. His hands feel frozen almost, so he sits with them on the wheel while he thinks, keys still useless in his lap.

He'd wanted this to be a good night. Catching up, erasing some of the awkwardness between them, maybe even rekindling something-

No. Don't start with that. Don't go down that road that has clearly been blocked off for you from the start. Don't hurt yourself more by continuing your mental fantasy.

He huffs out a deep breath and turns the key in the ignition, letting the car rumble to life and looking out of his window more than towards Trita. They'd run out of the restaurant before eating, before really even talking. Normally, he would just suggest a different place and they'd pick right up somewhere else, no harm done.

But something in his gut is churning now. Something he doesn't even have a name for. It had been nervous excitement on the way here, a feeling that, although not pleasant, had still be welcomed because it meant something good was on the way. But this. This is dread and despair and the feeling of something being crushed deep inside him. Something old and brittle that had somehow survived this long in total deprivation, but now won't last out the rest of the night.

The encounter had maybe solidified a few things for him that he'd been naively denying. The fact that he and Trita are different people now with different lives and goals and foundations, even. He'd been hung up on her so long- his entire life. To now just realize maybe she'd moved on a long time ago and he'd been left playing in the ashes this whole time. Pathetic.

He back outs of the parking lot, not even bothering to turn to check behind him this time, relying just on the rearview mirror. For the first few minutes of unyielding straight stretches of road, there's silence.

"He's a gem, huh?"

There's more bitterness in Dolan's voice than he means to be there, and he winces to himself and shakes his head almost as soon as the words have left his mouth.

"I'm sorry. I️ didn't mean to.... get in the middle of anything, or... You know. I️ can just take you home if you want."

"He's an asshole that I thought I had finally kicked out of my life but here we are."

She finds herself still huffing, arms folding across her chest, gaze locked out the window. This isn't Dolan's fault, none of it is, she's the one that rebounded to Kynton of all people. What a mistake. What a mistake she's going to have to live with for the rest of her life.

But. Of course... She never would have been with Kynton if Dolan had just come with her, if they would have traveled together like they had been planning ever since their first couples' competition back in high school. The goal he had made her believed they shared for so long, if only he had stuck to it.

No, now isn't the time for that. Now isn't the time for thinking like that, those were the types of things she thought back when Kynton first started to show her true colors and she was a pitiful mess crying on the floor over her life. Things she had to force herself to let go over if she ever wanted to pick herself up and move on from the vicious cycle rather than be a perpetual victim.

"I'm. I'm sorry. I don't know why he's like that, I don't know why he's here, or why he interrupted our dinner. He just. Is. Kinda ruined the night, didn't he? I guess I should've figured he'd follow me around."

He owns my personal rights and brand. She thinks to herself about how, technically, she's an asset to Kynton... He has a right to keep tabs on an asset. But it doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel fair. When is life ever fair, though?

"I guess we can just head back. I'm sorry this happened."

"Uh, no. No, you're fine. It's just."

Dolan's thumbs get to nervously tapping at the steering wheel again and he's staring at stop signs and storefronts that he knows by heart, that he's passed his whole life, as if he's studying them for the first time, just to keep his focus on something concrete besides her face.

"I'm sorry. I️ guess it was just... that I️... sorry."

[I️]That I️ apparently made some bad assumptions? That I️ caught you at a bad time? That I️ ruined both our lives and I'm too proud and scared to say anything about it, or even to bring it up all these years later? I'm sorry I️ didn't punch that asshole in the face for you like he deserved? I'm sorry I️ didn't protect you?[/I]

He's sorry for a million things that stream through his mind one after the other, but not a single one crosses his lips. He clears his throat again, gives another labored exhale, eyes fixed straight in front of him. God, what a mess. He'd been rehearsing this moment in his head for years, wishing, praying for this second chance. All of that for what, to blow it? To let it all slip back into his dreams at night and out of his grasp? He'd be surprised if she ever wanted to speak to him again after this.

On top of everything, he feels so small. So insignificant. He doesn't fit into her world anymore, he knows nothing of her life or what she's made her name doing or what that's entailed. He was supposed to, though, wasn't that always the plan? Back before he'd gotten in a fight with his brother and decided he had something to prove, and it had all gone sideways from there.

He pulls up in front of the studio sooner than he'd expected to, autopilot taking over as his brain mulled over things he didn't want to. The car screeches a little as he lays hard on the breaks.

"Guess those aren't finished either, huh."

He mumbles it to himself, still hesitant to look over at her despite her hand on the door pull.

He sounds like he has more to say. There's something thats been on the tip of his tongue all night but it never slips despite how close it is to the edge.

It has Trita's heart swelling then crashing over and over again. Maybe he'll say he missed her only to realize how pathetic that sounds on her part, how that's not possible anymore. He's planted his roots here, married, had a family, divorced, a successful garage. Maybe those, minus the divorce, were his dreams before they ever met and she just shoved her goals onto him... The same way she forced him to take up dancing with her.

She really did this to herself, didn't she?

"I. Thanks for tonight. I'm sorry my crazy ex had to ruin it."

Trita tries to sound pleasant, not hurt, not defeated, not anything she's felt in the past hour or so. Her hand already on the handle, all she has to do is push and the car door is open, she's out on the sidewalk in the rain yet again.

Something feels off about leaving it here, as off as it used to feel when they'd turn there backs after a petty fight in high school but more drastic. More impactful. More like the last fight they ever had. She can't stand the thought of leaving it as raw as back then. They live across the street, the least they can be is amicable towards each other.

Leaning over, she looks back in the car at him, tapping her finger on the roof as she tries to think of something to say so this doesn't end so poorly.

"I'll. I'll see you next week? About the motorcycle?"

She nearly leaves it at the first question but that feels too hopeful, too openly desperate and "please take me back" for her liking. The motorcycle is a tidy excuse to see each other for business and to not put him in an awkward position to try to figure out how to turn her down.

He mumbles some sort of response that both makes her happens and stings all at the same time. It was a yes, but it wasn't a very excited yes. Maybe all they can be is professional associates now, but she'll have to content herself with that. By the time she's at the studio's door, Dolan is driving away in the direction she assumes his home is, leaving her alone, just her and the empty dance studio.

It's another dreary day in Portland, rain and fog and intermittent bouts of bitter chill. Sabina pulls the faux fur collar of her coat closer around her neck and settles into the warmth of it a little more, the sly smile never leaving her face. For an older woman, she still has quite a bit of mischief on her face, a twinkle in her eye, a general look about her that says she's up to something and will only be sharing what on a need to know basis.

She steps around the hood of her ancient looking Cadillac, every bit of it shined and buffed and kept as though it was pulled off the lot only moments before. Truth be told, she looks like she could have stepped off the lot herself, bundled up in an opulent looking coat, driving scarf wrapped loosely around her head to shield from the rain, heels clacking on the pavement, elegant and chic even at her age.

She steps daintily up to the front door of the studio, looking out of place and a bit out of time on the Portland sidewalk, but she clearly doesn't notice or doesn't care, or both. That crooked grin never leaves her face as she reaches out to knock once, twice, precisely, and then folds her arm back beneath her layers of fur.

"Oh, Trita, darling?"

She calls in a sing-song voice when her raps at the door aren't immediately answered.

The knocks on the studio door catch her off-guard as she sits on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinets, staring blankly ahead at the open pantry door. She's been here for about an hour now, the rest of her family gone to enjoy their Sunday doing who knows what who knows where. Leaving her alone, again.

All the food looks appetizing and revolting at the same time so, in all honesty, she happy there's some sort of distraction from her thoughts and spiraling. But. The knocks on the studio door were faint and the voice that was calling was no louder than a casual talking tone. Whoever it is knows her, knows how good her hearing is and doesn't feel the need to demand attention in the way one probably should considering the living space is on a separate floor from the studio.

With a sigh, she pushes herself up to her feet, straightening out her hoodie and shorts, before making her way down the steps. By the time she's on the dance floor, she can see out the glass door, see a elegant... Dramatic figure standing waiting. The woman notices her too, smiling and waving through the glass.

It's the smile that tells her exactly who it is. Trita fights herself, keeps her eyes from growing too wide and from storming over to the front door in a frenzy, forcing controlled steps and her usual calm expression.

"Sabina Fox. I didn't think I'd see you again."

Trita opens the door, motioning for Sabina to step into the studio out of the fog and rain. The fur on her coat is damp but she doesn't seem to mind, her eyes wandering all around the studio, taking it in.

God, what does this look like? Her grandson's... Son's? Now that she thinks about it, she never really knew the relationship between Sabina and Dolan. Whatever it is, how sad and pathetic does it look that the woman who broke her son-of -some-sort's heart is now back in Portland with this tiny studio? Probably makes her feel damn good about Dolan's choice back in high school.

Actually. Why is she here all of a sudden? There's really only one reason she can think of.

"I. If you heard about dinner on Friday, I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting Kynton to just show up. I doubt it'll ever happen again, don't worry."

"Oh, dear, I️ have no idea what you're talking about."

Sabina waves Trita off as she moves to walk around the studio, studying it and familiarizing herself with it as if Trita had invited her to do so.

Something on her face says that she does indeed know exactly what Trita is talking about, but her coy grin doesn't fade at all.

"What a lovely place you have here. Oh, this natural lighting. I️ imagine it's pure ecstasy to dance right here in a big patch of sunlight when it does come around. Well. If I️ was a few good years younger, I️ might have to pop round more often to try it out for myself."

She winks over at Trita, turning now from the huge row of windows to face the other woman, taking in Trita's somewhat defensive posture and her casual lounging clothing. Suddenly, the grin flattens out to a forced frown.

"Oh, no no no. Darling, that will never do. Run back upstairs and throw on something else, something... well, I️ trust your judgment, you were always a smart dresser, knew how to draw attention to just all the right places. Go on now and change and meet me back down here. Brush your hair, too, that might be nice."

Sabina nods as if that's the start and the end of it, turning back to continue her visual exploration of the room, her shoes clicking slowly against the smooth wooden floor.

"....Um. Hello?"

Trita walks around Sabina, right to the other woman's front so that she has to face her, can't just turn around and go on about her aloof day. Demanding attention like this, of the head of the family she's done so much wrong to, is probably not smart, but who is Sabina to walk in here making vague commands?

"Change for what? Last I checked, I didn't have any plans today other than staying in. I don't need to change."

Though, she does have to give it to her, the invasive way Sabina enters a place, her immediate air of belonging and confidence, can knock a lesser person right off their feet. Make someone with less experience reel and just do as the woman says.

Unfortunately for Sabina, Trita has experience with her. Years of it. And it appears she hasn't changed enough in the long gap of time for Trita to feel rusty and caught up in the sweep of the woman's fur jacket. Trita wants answers, she doesn't agree blindly. Not anymore.

"What are you planning?"

Sabina rolls her eyes a little, something about the expression still good natured in the light of her pleasant and all-knowing grin.

"Oh dear, we're going to dinner of course. Don't be silly."

She nods again, as if that's all the explanation she has to give. But when the blank look on Trita's face isn't alleviated, Sabina sighs, still smiling, reaching out to pat Trita's face sweetly in a way that somehow manages to not come across as condescending, but as affectionate and proper.

"Don't try to tell me you actually have anything edible up in that apartment of yours. I'm offering you some decent home cooking."

There's a glitter of something more knowing than should be possible in Sabina's eyes, but she keeps grinning up at the taller woman from under long lashes, her eyes squinted a little, but not enough to dull the bright blue shine.

"Now we always did get along quite well, Miss Airin, so I️'m sure we won't mar our track record now. So why don't you run along upstairs and take a few minutes to get ready, and I'll go warm up the engine, hmm?"

Unfortunately, or fortunately, the woman isn't wrong. Sabina and Trita have always gotten along wonderfully. Even back in high school when Trita was more rebellious, thought she had something to prove, the two of them got along. It's almost impossible to explain, there was just always some sort of odd understanding between them.

Sabina was a woman with years of experience under her belt that still supported all of Trita's young dreams and spunk, so Sabina had earned Trita's respect in turn. When Dolan would tick her off, she'd go rant to Sabina about it and not once did it ever feel wrong or weird to do so. The woman would smile and listen, nod and agree to some of the points she was making. About her own family. While she's mischevious, she's always honest.

... Damn. She's really about to go get dinner with this woman, isn't she?

Trita sighs, folding her arms, trying to appear to be putting up more of a fight than she really is.

"Alright, I'll go get dressed, but the only fur I'm wearing is on my ears and tail, so I hope you're not expecting me to look like you by the time I come down. Just wait here."

Just for good measure, she makes a good show of scrunching her nose at Sabina's jacket before turning and disappearing up the steps back to the apartment.

Wait. Did Sabina say something about dressing herself to draw attention to the right parts? What... What exactly is this dinner? What is Sabina expecting? And what an oddly creepy thing to say to someone out of the blue for a vague event.

But, she's not about to dwell on it too long, so Trita does her best to throw something together: A tight long-sleeve black turtle neck with shoulder cutouts tucked into skinny burnt orange jeans which are then also tucked into tight suede knee-high black boots. The heels of her shoes click on the studio floor announcing her presence, earning Sabina's attention. The woman looks pleased with the outfit, looking it over as Trita gets to the studio door, grabbing her rain jacket off the nearby stand.

"I hope wherever we're going doesn't have a dress code. I got rid of a lot of my evening dresses a long time ago."

Opening the door, she follows Sabina out into the rain towards the old well-kept car.

"Don't worry darling, you know I️ wouldn't steer you wrong. You look lovely."

Inside the car, Sabina pulls her driving scarf down from her head over her long hair, still smooth and thick despite her age, a deep black color so dark it's almost blue peppered with thick streaks of silver-gray. Everyone always says how well she's aged, how beautiful she still is, what amazing genes she has. Truthfully, no one really knows how old she is. But apparently young enough to keep her fingers in everyone else's business.

She putters the old car down the street, moving it far more slowly than she has to, ignoring the line of traffic that forms behind her, throwing a pleasant and almost enjoyment-filled smiled up in her rearview mirror here and there.

Once they leave Main Street, it's like Sabina learns how to drive for real all at once, gunning it to the point that Trita holds onto the seat for dear life.

"It is quite good to see you again, dear. Quite good. I'm rather proud of you, you know. You've done well. And you still have a good head on your shoulders, unlike a lot of women nowadays. I️ always knew you were a good one, Trita Airin. A good one."

She reaches over and pats Trita's knee a little abruptly, smiling through the windshield, knowing full well how she's coming across as a babbling old lady. And not caring in the least.

After a short ride, they pull down a narrow street and into a quaint little suburban neighborhood, houses all in a row, lawns neatly manicured. Near the end of the culdesac, Sabina parks her car in a line of parked cars right outside one house that seems to be more busy than all the others, cars up the driveway and out on the street.

"Here, be a dear and carry this for me?"

Sabina produces a covered dish from seemingly nowhere and lays it right in Trita's lap before turning and getting out, gesturing for Trita to follow her to the house as if she's on some sort of a time crunch.

A good one? Did... Did no one tell Sabina about how she and Dolan ended? Does this woman think they're still dating or something?

Trita gathers the dish up in her arms and climbs out of the car, looking at how Sabina is already halfway up the drive. That's when she spots a car that looks... Familiar. Somehow. But it's hard to tell in the dark. There's really no time to hang back and think on it too long, if she does then she'll be left out alone in the rain and Sabina's rate.

A few several long strides, Trita catches up with Sabina, having to take a few deep breaths as they walk side by side up to the front door.

"Where are we? I didn't realize you were bringing me to some sort of party, you could've warned me."

Her frown only lasts for a short moment before the front door opens, bathing them both in warm light and the sound of a full house. A small woman with giant deer-like antlers stands before them in a soft pink dress, her long hair neatly curled, nearly touching the ground, hovering just a couple of inches above her hooves. There's a sweet expression on her face, a genuine look that Trita isn't used to.

"Oh, Sabina! I didn't think you could make it, it's such a drive for you. I'm so glad you're here."

Trita steps back as this new woman eagerly hugs Sabina, hanging back awkwardly, trying to figure out where the hell she is and how she got here. After the greeting, she is finally noticed, the host's eyes widening in genuine surprise over the new face.

"Oh, and you brought a guest! Oh, that's so exciting! I was hoping more people would bring a plus one but they didn't. Hello, I'm Yvaine Fox. It's nice to meet you!"

Fox.

Yvaine Fox.

Trita can feel her blood run cold for a moment. Why hadn't she seen this coming? Of course, Sabina would bring her to a family event. She was just hoping it was anything but that, maybe some dinner with a group of old people, playing poker, gossiping about all the young kids in the neighborhood. Anything but this.

Sabina has to gently touch her elbow to get her mind working properly again, working out a response, picking her facade back up from the wet ground the dropped it in.

"Hello, I'm Trita Airin. I'm a. Good. Friend. Of Sabina. I hope I'm not crashing anything."

She cuts her eyes to Sabina sharply as she punctuates her wording.

"Of course not! The more the merrier. I love having a full house. Please come in, you can hang your coats here."

The deer is fluttering all about, really working her hostess role and obviously living for it. Yvaine waits patiently for them then leads them into the connected living and dining room. Much to Trita's dismay, she recognizes nearly every face she sees that looks back at her.

"Everyone, Sabina made it! Oh, and she brought her friend Trita with her."

Yvaine sounds like she's about to bubble over with joy, rushing back to the kitchen off to the side as a timer goes off, unaware of the situation she just left in the room behind her.

There's a quiet din of multiple conversations that nearly cuts out entirely when Yvaine introduces their newest guests. In the dining room standing around the table, Kvanne and Aleric look over. Aleric's face lights up and he goes immediately to say something, something welcoming by the looks of it, but Kvanne grabs his arm and yanks a little, coercing him back into silence with the force but also by the stern and displeased look on Kvanne's face.

In the corner of the living room, there's a small group huddled together that isn't really conversing, they more look like they're hiding from things. Jurrien and Lunath are sitting the closest together on the couch, and Shand is perched behind them on the arm of the couch, sniffing into a glass of something. His face seems to run a little pale when he sees her, unsure of what she's doing here, afraid that his secret dance classes will be discovered.

Jurrien springs out of the chair and throws his arms open wide, rushing to wrap Trita in a big hug despite the covered dish still in her arms. When he leans in, he whispers right into her ear.

"Oh God I'm so glad you're here. Thank you. I️ was going to die before."

He pulls away smiling just as widely, but the desperation in his voice betrays how badly he doesn't want to be here, as if someone's twisting his arm or threatening him into staying.

Then, out of the kitchen comes Dolan and Naemi. He's in motion when he sees her, and walks straight into the chair at the head of the table in shock, jolting it and making all the place settings clatter as he stares toward the two of them still standing right at the door, blank look on his face.

"Uh. Grandma."

Dolan nearly hisses it, his jaw so tight his mouth barely moves. His eyes flick in a paranoid way over at Kvanne, who looks like he's grinding his teeth inside his closed mouth.

"My dear sweet boys!"

Sabina throws her arms up and nudges Lunath, who gets caught midway into helping Sabina take off her coat, which engulfs Lunath in fur as she pulls herself away from it and goes into the kitchen to plant a kiss on Kvanne's cheek and to ruffle Aleric's hair.

"You. Brought Trita."

Dolan makes himself smile, a strange looking forced expression that immediately outs him as being the one in the family who's not good at pretending.

"Yes, dear, I️ did. Someone had to, but I'm used to getting these things done myself."

She stands on tippy toes and halfway pulls Dolan down so she can kiss him on the cheek too, and he gives her the same nearly creepy looking forced smile, his eyes wide and unsure and awkward, deer in the headlights.

"Trita! It's so good to see you!"

Aleric sets his cup down on the table and moves toward her, taking the dish out of her hands.

"Trita brought that! Doesn't it smell delicious? Her own recipe."

Sabina crows it out loudly for all to hear, and Aleric doesn't leave enough time for Trita to protest before shepherding her into the kitchen with him right around a still dumbfounded Dolan.

"God, I️ haven't seen you in forever. What are the chances?"

It's. Odd. Because as much as she doesn't want to be here, to see these people, there are a few faces she is reminded that she genuinely missed. Mostly Aleric's, if she's being honest. Sure, she was dating Dolan, but the two of them got along really well. Always had. Aleric covered for her more times than she can count and, in turn, she found herself getting him out of... Different tight spots. The kind that Aleric had no business being in and had no clue how to get out of.

Then Jurrien, too. She sees him every day but never has she been more grateful to see him than in this moment. She must have repressed the memory that he was a Fox or something when she finally realized what was going on, where Sabina had brought her. He's a breath of fresh air right now.

"Jurrien, thank God. I had no idea this is where you've been. I thought you were out with Caz."

He follows after her as Aleric drags her into the kitchen with this dish that is, supposedly, hers. She won't fight Sabina on this, it'll probably just make things worse.

"And, Aleric, I haven't seen you since I moved away. How are you? Staying out of trouble finally? You better not still be single after all that work I did in high school trying to find you a girlfriend."

Trita teases him lightly, watching as he walks over to Yvaine, asking her where to put the dish. Uncovering it reveals it to be some sort of multi-layered fruity dessert that makes Yvaine gasp excitedly.

"Oh, this is beautiful! I love it! We'll have to trade recipes later."

The deer is beaming at her in a way that makes her feel welcomed yet... Isolated at the same time. It's a pleasantry she feels like she doesn't deserve. Yvaine just seems to be the only one here unaware of the fact.

Naemi peers into the kitchen, watch the four people interact, watching Aleric's familiarity with this woman. Her eyes then turn to Dolan, still nearly doubled over the chair he ran into. Some things start clicking together for her given the context clues.

"This woman... Is she being- Does she happen to be that woman from your high school? The one you dated?"

It's not meant as a jab against Dolan in any way, Naemi simply wants to make sure she's got the facts straight. Aleric has mentioned his old best friend a few times and she's caught hushed whispers of the family gossiping about Dolan and what happened. The way Dolan looks back at her only confirms it.

She nods some, straightening her white blouse, shrugging her shoulders, sipping her wine as if just knowing some drama is about to unfold. He clearly doesn't like her demeanor but she ignores him, averting her eyes from his scowl. She's used to it by now.

"Do not say a word. Please just pretend you don't know anything."

Dolan whispers it out through clenched teeth, half trying to be discreet and half trying to get over running into the chair. Without Aleric still in the dining room as a buffer, Kvanne marches right over to Dolan, even though they're still within earshot of the kitchen.

"Did you put her up to that."

His voice is stern and condescending, like a father's would be, chiding Dolan for some imagined wrongdoing, blaming him for Sabina's decisions.

"You know she does what she wants, like I️ could have made her do anything."

There's a bitting tone to each of their voices that, thankfully, is still low and controlled. But there's a promise of something more heated to each of their voices that hints at the fact that they've both been down this road before. To the point that the path is well worn and practiced. From his perch on the sofa arm, Shand starts rubbing his face hard.

"Why haven't we taken out a restraining order on the both of them, for the both of them."

Lunath pushes his glasses up, sipping on his soda, trying to make himself look smaller but also clearly uncomfortable with the tangible tension in the room.

"Why of all people would she bring her though. Hm? Do you have an answer for that? This is supposed to be a nice, calm dinner. Yvaine put a lot of work into this."

Every word out of Kvanne's mouth is accusatory, and Dolan thinks he can see a vein pop out in his neck.

"Calm the fuck down, the only one being anything other than calm and nice right now is you. Go pop a valium, God."

Dolan makes a partially disgusted face, lip curled a little at Kvanne, both distaste and rebellion, before he brushes by him, shoulders hitting, to go into the living room.

"That lovely angel out there happens to be in love with me."

Aleric is keeping the conversation going in the kitchen in the meantime, beaming and nodding out where Naemi is still standing near an addled Kvanne.

"Don't make any jokes though, I've heard them all already. She's out of my league, I️'m way out of my depth, all of it."

He turns around to find the wooden cabinet and then knocks on it.

"Don't say it, don't jinx it. We're going strong. Although."

Aleric looks up at the ceiling, some sort of deep though coming over him, before he moves in a little closer to Trita, his voice lower and quieter.

"You know how you used to, well, you know. Give me tips and stuff. I️ could maybe use a few more of those. Like, after dinner or whatever. Like if you want to write some stuff down for me, or-"

"Ewww. This damn family. You heterosexuals are shameless. Is nothing sacred."

Jurrien rolls his eyes, but with a coy smile on his face as he dips his finger into a dish that Yvaine tries to discourage him from.

"Oh, Jurrien, dear, please-"

Yvane catches Jurrien before his finger hits the dish, the two of them making a strong moment of eye contact, Yvaine trying her absolute best to scowl at him. Not that it lasts long, not with how much she loves that boy like her own son.

"Alright, just a taste. I'll pretend I didn't see."

A sigh escapes through her nose, a soft patient smile finding its way to her face as she turns to look back at the pot on the stove in front of her, letting him do as he pleases. Just as she always does.

Trita looks back and forth between Aleric and Naemi, still standing in the dining room, looking both lost and caught-up on the situation all at the same time.

"She has a cute accent, that's for sure. Can't really place it, though."

Her ears are tilted towards the other woman, listening to her as she tries to carry on a casual conversation with Kvanne. To no avail, the other man is stiff and cold, not really giving her anything to go off of. It makes sense, Kvanne hated her the most, despised everything Trita was even before everything blew up. The only odd thing is he looks more put off by her being here than Dolan. One would think it should be the other way around.

Beyond that, Naemi is a picture of gold. Trita knows she was just teasing Aleric about being single, but she hadn't expected him to do quite that well. In high school, Trita thought she would always be the one better off, but now here she is single and here Aleric is with some foreign winged model. Time sure does do some things.

Still, what he says makes her frown, look back at him with a pout, poking his chest hard with one of her fingers.

"I don't want to hear that kind of talk. I didn't teach you how to put yourself down. What is this out of my league stuff? I thought you learned more from me than that."

The two take a long moment, Aleric staring in general surprise, trying to judge if she's actually upset with him. Trita takes a page out of Yvaine's book and decides to put on a patient smile of her own, shaking her head at him.

"Alright, alright. I'll help you with your girl problems. Again. You really haven't changed."

Naemi sees that conversation with Kvanne is going absolutely nowhere so she decides to follow Dolan into the living room, picking an open chair so her wings don't hit anyone trying to enjoy the couch.

It's a bit of a funny sight, the father and two sons, all three huddled in on themselves, keeping away from everything, barely talking. Who would have thought being anti-social was genetic?

"Ah, so, Lunath, I haven't seen you in a while. You're never at the garage when I have to drop something off and the bookshop hasn't had any new orders lately. I'm starting to think you aren't wanting to be seeing me lately?"

Rather than sit silent and tense, she decides to converse with Lunath who has always been friendly towards her. Anything to keep conversation actually rolling and get this night moving faster.

A little bell chimes in the kitchen, something that makes Yvaine jump in surprise and excitement all at the same time.

"Oh! Jurrien, please take those two dishes and put them on the table. Thank you."

She kisses his cheek as she walks by him, standing at the kitchen island so she can see into all the rooms people are in.

"It's time for dinner! Let's all move to the table now."

Sabina is the first to answer the call, leading the way for everyone else to slowly, hesitantly, follow all into the same room.

Dolan visibly stiffens at the call to dinner, realizing that yes, this has been working towards dinner this whole time, but now that means something else entirely. He can’t keep finding a different corner to hole up in whenever Trita comes into the room, hiding from her and all his feelings that he doesn’t know what to do with or how to acknowledge. Much less from the rest of his family, who seems intent on only making this harder for him.

Lunath follows Naemi off to the dining room, assuring her that he still likes her. Shand turns to go but Dolan catches his arm, a wordless but desperate look coming over his face. Shand cocks and eyebrow at him and shakes him off dramatically, very obviously judging him as he follows the others into the dining room.

Dolan sees the moment Sabina swoops in, pulling out chairs in front of certain people, engineering the place settings to her satisfaction. That’s when Dolan gets up and nearly runs to the table to try and sit-

Sabina plops down at the head of the table opposite Kvanne, leaving just the seat directly across from Trita and only two seats down from Kvanne’s side of the table open for him. She smiles sweetly up at him through her squinted eyes, that innocent and grandmotherly look on her face that Dolan has always been able to see right through. That woman has always been a schemer and a mastermind. He’s not sure he’s ever been on the receiving end of it, though.

He slips into the chair and keeps his eyes down at first, not able to stop his mind from running through if he’d bothered to comb his hair, if his shirt is wrinkled, if he looks like a wreck. Because she certainly doesn’t.

Kvanne stands once everyone is seated and puts on his plastic smile, addressing everyone while pointedly keeping eye contact from Trita.

“Thanks to everyone for finally making this happen, Yvaine and I️ are so happy to have you. We’re just going to do the whole pass the dish thing, clockwise. Yvaine’s written any allergy information on those notecards by the dishes, so. Take note.”

He nods and sits back down, starting the dishes off and passing them, letting the family settle into more conversation as they do so.

Aleric, next to Trita, launches into an immediate explanation of how he and Naemi met, turning to her on his other side to help him remember all the best details when he forgets.

“Honestly, okay, I️ hope this isn’t awkward, but every time we pass an old corvette like the one you two used to go around in, I️’d yell, sexmobile! And she was so lost, so I️ had to let her in on that story. So Naemi practically knows you already.”

Aleric is chattering along like no topic is off limits for dinner conversation. Dolan is just staring at his brother, making loud clanging noises with the helpings on his plate at every turn, trying to startle Aleric out of being so forward and inappropriate. All the whole Kvanne’s jaw is grinding harder and harder and he hasn’t even complimented Yvaine on the food yet. Dolan knows this is going nowhere good.

Sabina munches happily at the other head of the table, hopping her head from side to side as if she’s in her own little world.

“Hey, did you know Dolan still has that car? He keeps it in this storage facility waaaaaay outside of town. I️ caught him going there once and he just sits in it. This one time he just fell asleep in it.”

Aleric is barely paying attention to his utensils, almost slinging bits of mashed potato behind him as he speaks.

Kvanne chokes on his water, audibly.

“You told me you sold that old piece of junk.”

His eyes bore into Dolan’s forehead now and Dolan rolls his eyes, huffs. Seriously considers reaching across the table and taking Naemi’s wine and just throwing the whole glass back.

“Oh gosh. Did I️ tell you that? Guess I’m not a Boy Scout after all. What a shock, I️’d imagine.”

The flat tone of Dolan’s voice really seems to do it, and Kvanne takes the deepest breath his lungs seems capable of. Yvaine reaches out to pat his hand, her eyes wide and a little nervous.

“I️ told you. Dolan. That it was best to move on. That no good could come of keeping it. You needed the money.”

“Yeah, I️ needed a lot of things, but you never seemed concerned with the majority of those, so.”

Sabina is leaning in now, fork down, elbows on the table, chin rested in her palm and her eyes bright, like she’s watching some ultra compelling soap opera and loving every second of it.

Aleric has since slowed down, eyes darting from one brother to the other, the weight of his accidental slip dawning on him slowly.

Trita chokes on a bite of her food for a moment, just long enough where she can feel Aleric's hand on her back but she waves him off. She had already taken a few bites of the food on her plate which is more than enough, no need for more, so no need for concern, she just sets her utensils down, sipping on her water.

Every now and then she allows herself to look up from her plate, look around the table, see all the reactions going on, trying to find distraction and thus comfort in noticing small things like how Shand has Dolan's nose, or how Sabina's hair color seems to have passed on to most of the family. Save for Aleric, who, oddly, matches Naemi's gold aesthetic.

Naemi, on the other hand, angles herself more towards Aleric, slightly away from Kvanne, trying to scoot her chair from the waves of heated anger that are rolling off of him.

"Ali, maybe it is best to not be talking about the old days, hm?"

She mentions it gently, talking to him in a hushed tone as she holds his hand under the table. He grips it back for dear life, terrified by the situation he's just unintentionally created, or rather escalated.

"Y-Yes, Naemi is right. Let's move on and talk about something else?"

Yvaine very timidly speaks up, looking frantically between Dolan and Kvanne, mostly focusing on her husband. She reaches for a bowl of rolls, near them, taking one and breaking it in half, setting one part on her plate and holding the other up for him.

"Try this? It's that recipe you like so much but I tweaked it some, make it more whole wheat like you prefer."

Try as she may, Kvanne doesn't seem interested in this domestic conversation, keeping his eyes on his brother, his jaw clenched, brow knit. The sight makes Trita's stomach churn. He's definitely looked at her that way before, but back in high school she didn't care. She had Dolan and that was all that mattered, his brother could jump off a cliff.

No, okay, no she never wanted Kvanne to die, but she never did understand why he used to hate her so much and that bothered her. It makes more sense now, all things considered.

Trita picks her napkin up off her lap and puts it on the table beside her plate, looking down the table at Sabina.

"I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry I came to your family dinner, I'll just leave."

By the time she's turning to direct her apology to Yvaine, the deer's eyes are wide and every so slightly glassy.

"No! Please stay, this isn't your fault, I like having you here."

Clearly she either can't read the situation or is choosing not to. Trita feels as if maybe it's both, maybe she wants so badly for this dinner to work out that she's blinded to the tension and the obvious cause of it.

Kvanne and Dolan stay focused on each other despite all the family’s best efforts to deescalate the fight brewing. Only Aleric seems to have the right use, scooting his chair back as far as he can while still remaining at the table, eyes wide, stiff and with his hand on his knife at the ready, as if somehow this will come to him needing to use it.

“And for your information, that car isn’t and never was a piece of junk. Its valuable, and you more than anyone should know that’s what I️ do. I️ fix up valuable cars, just the way you told me I️ should, just like Ive done everything else in life, always taking your advice, always trying not to rock the boat-“

Kvanne’s deep chest laugh cuts Dolan off, and theres a mean spirited sound to it.

“Not rocking the boat? How do you figure that? Please, I’d love to hear your line of reasoning. What defense can you give for that clearly false statement?”

“Don’t break out all that lawyer shit on me, Kvanne, fuck you. You think you can just go around telling everyone what’s best and shove them into the boxes you make for them so you can always be the one in charge. Fuck that.”

The table erupts into a bit of a hushed warning at Dolan for breaking out language like that at the table, while Shand sits back in his chair hard, audibly sighing, flagging Yvaine down for the bowl of rolls as if he’s just resigned to all of this happening, he might as well enjoy the food if nothing else.

“How dare you talk like that at my table, around my family-“

“Dad, please, as if you haven’t cursed at me sitting right at this table.”

Jurrien rolls his eyes, males pointed eye contact with Kvanne. Dolan just uses it as ammunition, gesturing back at Jurrien as if to agree with him and throw it back in Kvanne’s face.

“Well we can all stop cursing now, that might be a good place to start-“

Aleric jumps a little when Kvanne’s booming voice cuts him off, louder than it’s been before. This time he stands with the scrape of his chair against the floor, throws his arm up, pointing right at Trita.

“You know what, I️ wasn’t going to say anything. I️ was going to be civil since I’m the only one in this family who seems to know how to do so anymore. But what the hell. You want to know why there’s been so much cursing around this table? Around my table? Why my family can’t seem to sit down and have a nice meal ever, to save any of our lives? Her. She’s the one making it so easy for my son to just flit in and out of some casual sexual relationship while not holding down any kind of steady or respectable job. She’s the reason you and I️ can’t even be in the same room together, she has had you blinded and tied up in the past for so many years, Dolan, it is that damn woman-“

Nobody sees it coming when Dolan slides his chair back, knocking it clean over, plants a knee right down into Shand’s dinner plate, and grabs Kvanne’s shirt collar in his white-knuckled fist, clocking him across the face twice before anyone can do anything about it.

But once it’s happened, there’s no going back. There’s noise from everywhere, people yelling and pushing back from the table, glasses getting knocked off the table and shattered, Dolan and Kvanne still yelling at each other through all the ruckus, each one with a balled fist trying to get the upper hand.