Bleeding Drama

nobara_icon.png ricky_icon.png zan_icon.png

Where: Pearlies Diner

When: September 26, 2012; Afternoon

What: What happens when one insists that something is more than it really is

It's a bit too late to be lunch time. Probably a bit early for dinner. But Pearlies still sees patrons in the hours between meal rushes. Especially at this time of day, with the college age crowd in their jeans and t-shirts, of which Zan fits into.

The mayor's youngest son has a booth to himself, though his presence may imply that he's waiting for someone. And though a glass half drained of Coke sits on the table beside a mostly eaten burger, his attention seems to be stretched between a couple of notebooks. Unsurprisingly, there's writing in both, though one is fractionally more legible than the other, and rough sketches accompany the more legible of the two.

Ricky rubs at her nose as she stumbles into the diner. Yes, stumble. It's been a LOOONG day of ferrying people where they want to go, and she was working the early hours in the first place anyway. "Arglebarglebargle." Well, that's what it sounds like as she 'flops' onto a seat of her own, and mutters something at the waitress. Of course, what she ACTUALLY said in her scratchy voice was 'I need some coffee. Lots of coffe. And hash browns." Luckily, the waitress is fluent in many languages. For example: Mumbling, tired, grumpy taxi driver.

A diner is a diner, but then there are Diners. Where incidents happen and people meet for god knows what, and the coffee is either really good, or really bad. The former, in this case, thankfully. The next person in the door fits in with that college crowd as well, though with a mote of age to it. He hasn't been in school for a while now, but Nobara seems to have the mannerisms to make him similar. Not to mention the grey skinny jeans, purple converse, and a plaid shirt in various shades of black and lavender on white. See? Fitting in with those hipster college kids with floppy hair and obnoxious tastes in Instagram subject matter. As he comes in, one of the first people he sees is Ricky- yet for everyone's apparent well being, all he does is give her a wink before moving on. For now.

"This seat taken?" Nobara sways into view, leaning on the other side of Zan's booth, looking down at the table and its notes and half-eaten meal.

Zan's eyes lift when the door opens to allow Ricky in. He might recognize her to some degree, but not enough of consequence. His gaze returns to the pages opened to him again, a breath pulled in and then slowly let out again. One hand rakes through his hair until his forehead rests on his palm while the other adds lines to one of the sketches.

Again his gaze ticks toward the door when it opens, though this time it's Nobara. Even less regard is given to the Agent, and all efforts are put on finishing his work. At least, until that Agent approaches his table. "Yes," he answers, though clearly it's not taken at the moment. He transfers a couple more notes from one page to another, then finally looks up at the man again.

Ricky gets her coffee and her hash browns in time to see Nobara enter. When he winks, she frowns and settles back into her seat, swiveling it so she can examine the man. Probably trying to figure out why he winked. Doe she know him? Maybe. Did she just get clocked? Well… it's possible she supposes. Then again, this is Vegas, so… not such a big deal. Grumpy taxi drivers enjoy coffee, though, so she pours some of it down her throat.

Long sleeves in Nevada seems to work out when everything is air-conditioned even during the cooler months, it seems like; Nobara nonetheless rolls up his sleeves, and rather than sit down opposite of Zan like he was going to- that seat is taken!- slides in beside the mayor's son on his side. Well. He listened? And to his own credit, it feels less like he is making moves, and more like a buddy flopping down beside him. Also to his credit, he keeps his hands to himself, visibly folded on the table. no funny business.

"I owe you one, you know. Maybe more than one. I couldn't decide how many."

The flat look Zan directs at Nobara when he sits down might not be far off from one he'd give a buddy encroaching on personal space. If that buddy didn't have a whole lot of trust directed at him. Experience has taught him to err on the side of caution, however, and no vocal protest follows. He slides over, work and all, to make room for the Agent.

"Think we're pretty much even," he goes on to respond, finishing the line of notes in his book. "All things considered. Besides. Pretty much bad form for the mayor's son to just gawk and watch while a guy is nearly murdered in front of him."

Ricky has been rather casually eavesdropping on Nobara and Zan since they sat together. The natural curiosity of someone who is tired, bored, and in general not finding anything else interesting going on because their phone only has sudoku on it. When talk of 'gawking' and 'murder' is spoken, she actually chokes a little on her coffee.

"You could have let someone else handle it. But you did. Mayor's boy or not, you were there first. Says a lot more 'bout you than your family does, I'd say." Raleigh and Paul were close behind, of course, but it was Zan that was close enough to get nicked by an elbow move as Nobara tried to get away. That is pretty close. If the older of the two hears Ricky's moment of lost composure, he doesn't comment. Perhaps he is used to incredulity.

"It was potassium chloride, by the way. Part of the death row cocktail. Any more I'd have been slabbed." Nobody wants that. He's too pretty to be any good dead. Nobara's hands wring in place, one set of fingers massaging almost healed, bruisy knuckles. His mouth takes a downturn, sobered when he looks over to Zan again; the expression itself seems out of place on the agent, insofar as every time Zan sees him, Nobara is a beacon of bubbliness.

Zan glances over his shoulder, hearing Ricky get all choked up. In contrast to the cab driver's reaction, he only shrugs vaguely. Such topics seem almost common place, or maybe it's all scripted. Nobara can, after all, see that the mayor's son is working on what are likely storyboards.

"Could have," he agrees, "but didn't. Not the first time I've had a moment of stupidity and rushed in to play hero. Stopped a bank robbery that way." In a sense, it's true if outlandish. "Seriously, though. No big deal."

"Big deal to me. I'm the one that was dyin'." The Japanese man lifts his hands, and mimes dusting them off. "Tell you what. I'm going to see if this can go the right direction this time. Since we're apparently so even…" He lifts from the seat, only to fall into the other one. It wasn't taken yet, so he'll keep it warm for whoever is coming. He lifts his browline expectantly, eyes suddenly bright again.

"Zan Caldecott, I'm Nobara Minawa." One hand flicks out in an offer to the other young man, something of desperation in the gesture itself, and something more hopeful in his voice.

A sidelong glance ticks toward the Agent when the seat on Zan's side is vacated. His brows raise when Nobara only goes far enough to slide into the bench opposite him, mild incredulity that transforms into subtle distrust. "Nice to meet you," he responds, carefully. But he doesn't shake hands, because they've already met.

"Oh come on now. Fine. I'll take what I can get." Nobara changes his mind midway into it, holding up his palms in surrender. "I'm not your favorite guy, I know." All things considered, he's lucky Zan hasn't shoved him out of the booth by now. Lucky duck.

"Don't look at me like that, either- I know you don't really trust us-" Us, pointedly. "-but at this point I'd like you to know me as me, not some… right hand goon." So, reintroductions are the least he can try. "I've been told to lay off you officially, but you can guess how well I listen. Like I said though- I'm not here for them anyway."

"I do a lot of stuff for'em, and they practically own my family, but I still have free will."

"Not trusting you or your little gang of do gooders is a bit of an understatement," Zan points out. "Considering the way your friends operate, keeping people locked up, lying, knowing things you all shouldn't." He keeps his voice casual, despite all that. "And you want to go on all, no hard feelings'?" He's not buying it.

His notebooks are closed and gathered together, his pack fished out from beneath the table. "Look, Nobara, after what you and your friends did to my girlfriend, and me, it's going to take a lot more than just an introduction to garner any kind of social understanding between us."

His notebooks are stuffed into his pack as he speaks, and when he's done he stands and slings the strap over his shoulder. "You're lucky I get along so well with Tilly and Amelia," Zan goes on before starting away from his booth and toward Ricky's table. "Cab-girl, you still working?" So, he must have recognized her a bit more than he first let on.

The girl looks up from her food at this point and raises her coffee cup to Zan,"Sure thing sir. Just let me gulp down the rest of this coffee, and we'll get you on the road again, toot suite." She does gulp her coffee down with a wince. It's kind of vile. But she SEEMS fine anyway.

"I didn't do anything to her, and you know that. We could have just left you both there, and we didn't. I've seen worse happen." And they didn't. Just like Zan didn't leave him there, dying on the sidewalk, and let someone else do the dirty work. Nobara stands up behind him as he starts away, mood souring like curdling milk, hands slipping into his pockets as he comes up beside Zan, dark eyes sharp. "None of it was me, Zan. Why the hell do you hate me so much? If you can even answer that without involving someone or something else…"

At least one person is eyeballing the two young men, even if they can't hear what's going on. It serves to make the older get close enough to carry on at a private volume.

"It's such a thankless job, me risking my life every day so guys like you can keep on keeping on. Thankless job I never asked for. You don't know me, and you won't even try." It's Nobara's turn to be incredulous, distrustful, suddenly.

"I came here to thank you, yeah, and if you would have let me continue, I was about to apologize for the way we've treated you. They weren't going to, but I was. I still want to." Zan is kind of being a pretentious prick, in his eyes, but there it is. "Can't take shit back, no. I can still apologize for messing up your life, even if you don't wanna hear it from me."

It's a slow and measured breath that Zan takes when Nobara continues, stifling his own ire. Or trying. He doesn't interrupt the Agent, despite a lip twitching once or twice like he might. He even allows for a beat to pass before he speaks up again, casting an apologetic look toward Ricky first.

"You want me to trust you," he begins finally, leveling a look on the older man. "Then give me a reason to. You want to get to know one another and be best buds, then don't come in here throwing your whiny self-pity at me like it's my fault you're in a crap job."

Ricky frowns a little bit. She's… extremely confused by this alright. But she's actually backing towards the door now to go get the car started, because this looks like it could turn ugly. She does however, whisper to Zan on the way to the car,"Harsh breakup dude. I feel for you. Ex can't quite get the picture?"

"Whining? I am not whining. I, am complaining. I could give you whining. I'd rather have self-pity than nothing at all. I've seen that. Ain't pretty, and I'm only human." Nobara crosses his arms as the cabbie girl makes some headway for her vehicle, and Zan is undoubtedly going to follow her. Nobara doesn't, at first- though he appears out the door of the diner a moment later, before they've gone, but after Ricky's- ah- commentary. So he hasn't heard it.

"And what, praytell, is a reason to?" Woods aren't ending yet. Soon. One hopes. There's a black and purple Hayabusa that wasn't there when Zan went in, and by the way the agent hovers nearer to it, the owner is obvious. The helmet clipped on the back has a pattern of wild roses over the side. If it wasn't obvious before, it is when he picks it back up in his hands, fishing gloves from inside of it. Not the best biker gear, no- which means he must be more confident than practical. Of course.

"There never was a picture," Zan mutters in response, "and he'd have better luck with my brother." He follows Ricky, neither pausing nor glancing back while Nobara calls after him. It isn't until the Agent is outside that he responds again. "You are whining," he replies over his shoulder. The glance he gives Nobara precedes a shaking of his head.

"I don't know," comes the answer to the Agent's question. "Maybe Tilly can help you with that. Or maybe you can start by not giving everyone the impression that you've got some unfortunate infatuation with me and can't take no for an answer." Little harsh, but he's stated once already that he's got a girlfriend. His hands jam into his pockets and he turns to wait for the cab to appear.

Ricky call back to the Agent, meanwhile,"Listen! Take your dignity and go home! I'm sure if you give him some space, things will CALM DOWN." She nods slowly to Zan,"Aaaah, just an amorous guy who won't take no for an answer. I totally understand. Get it all the time." She really, really doesn't. Girl's never been on an actual date in her life. "Where to, friend…" Already she's hopping into the cab, though, not waiting for an answer, and revving the engine a bit before pulling up… in that same batshit insane driving manner she generally ALWAYS has.

Good thing he couldn't hear that second part, or Zan might be having some- ah- trouble with his brother, no doubt. Nobara tugs on his gloves in the meanwhile, and the jacket draped across the back. He can't help but laugh when Zan mentions that misconception, and the cabbie pipes up too.

"Calm, yeah. Calm." The agent murmurs to himself, lips forming the words. "I'm a needy bitch, I can live with that." Nobara scoffs after Zan just before pulling the helmet on. Maybe loneliness is ah- part of the needy problem. He's got Tilly? Barely. As for getting on his bike, it's a quick set of movements, and he is pulling up beside the cab just as it comes around, Zan between them.

"See you 'round, Fly-Boy." With that, the agent flicks his visor down, revs his engine, and coasts off to the main road.

"Sure you do," Zan mutters in response to Ricky. Like he needs relationship advice from a cab driver. He just shakes his head at Nobara, and waits until the bike is well down the road before he climbs into the cab.

Once he's closed the door, his head tilts back against the headrest and he looks at the roof of the car. "Sorry. Ricky, right? You know where the mayor's house is?" He rattles off the address anyway, in case she doesn't.

Ricky nods. Not because she knows a lot about the mayor, exactly. More because she's picked up more than a few fares there. "Sorry for what? It's not like I'm not on the clock. Never apologize for making a person do their job and never expect 'em to apologize for doin' it. It's what my pa always used to tell me. So how'd you get wrapped up in THAT drama."

"That you had to be witness to the drama," Zan says. He scrubs his hands against his face then sits up properly. For that drama, he doesn't answer immediately. Maybe he's considering how to relate it without it sounding like something out of one of his movies. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he decides after a beat. "But what you saw back there began when I jumped a guy who jabbed a needle into him and tried to kill him."

Ricky frowns at that. She only wishes she didn't have the ability to believe such strange things. But her life, combined with just plain being a cab driver? She's seen much worse. Much much worse. "Sooo… what… some guy was trying to go all serial killer on his ass? Jeeze you got a lot of drama, boy. You sure you don't wanna go to a bar instead? Or a cat house? Got a lot of customers who ask to drive to this one, the Cherry Patch Ranch, they seem to give it good reviews, might help you unwind."

"No, I'm good," Zan answers shaking his head. Drama, and what he's related has just been in the last couple of weeks. Such lengthier run-ins with trouble reflects in his expression while he glances out the window. "Just need to go by my parents' house, grab the rest of my script notes, then going back to my girlfriend's place." A short pause follows and he looks back at Ricky. "Thanks, though. And yeah, guy got stabbed with a needle that had some drug in it, and I apparently don't have the sense of a goat to stay out of trouble."

She shrugs, apparently unconcerned,"Eh… Well, he seems kind of like the neady type. Maybe he needs someone to take care of him. Find him a nice pretty boy or something to take care of him, and I bet he'll be steady as pie. But… don't keep people who bleed drama in your life." Ricky picks up her radio, meanwhile,"Want me to radio ahead for a car for her, or is she already there?"

"So lame." Zan folds his arms across his chest and looks out the window again. "Well, whatever. I'll higher a body guard, get a restraining order. Something." His gaze ticks toward Ricky, brows arching upward a little. "What? No, she'll meet me at her place. Thanks, though."

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