Where: Rylie's Townhouse
When: October 8, 2012; Evening
What: Rylie's lunchtime mishap is a foreboding coincidence to Zan's club-going experience.
No fancy supper tonight, though evidence lingers in promise of something more time consuming on the menu. Burgers and shakes were actually picked up on the way over. The bag with its tempting grease resting on the counter beside the twin styrofoam cups with their cool treats, dinner for two in its usual spot awaiting Rylie's return home.
And in his usual spot, at least while his nose is stuck in a book or attention glued to the ongoing film project, Zan is on the couch. It's given that he's been working on one of the two normal subjects, though it can't have been too long since he'd let himself into the house. The food is still pleasantly hot. So it should be no surprise that he's got a textbook open and resting on the arm of the couch, a notebook balanced on one half of the book. Except that where the books are open, his eyes are closed, and the literature is sandwiched beneath an arm and his head.
Rylie isn't too noisy unlocking the door, although she's got her hands full. It's when she's inside and has to kick the door shut behind her that her entrance goes unmissable. She moves to the dining room to drop her stuff in a chair before she comes back out to notice Zan there. Studying, or one of it's many alternative definitions.
She appears behind the couch, arms folded on the back as she looks over at him. "Must be a gripping book. You're buried in it."
While the sound of the door opening might go unnoticed while fingers of dozing tug Zan away from consciousness, they retreat at the sound of the door closing. He squints toward it, really at the floor just over the edge of his book, but listens to the sounds of arrival while his mind plays catch up to the sudden awareness.
"Terribly enthralling," he replies as he sits upright. He scrubs his face with his hands, then tilts his head to look up at her. "Hey."
"Hey," Rylie says with a smile, but she leans down to press a kiss to his lips, too. "Good morning," she adds with a crooked smile. Straightening up, she pulls off her jacket that was great for work, but way too hot for Vegas weather otherwise. "I'm guessing you've got a little time for a break to eat. I'm starving."
Zan smiles and leans into the kiss just a little. The smile edges into a grin for a second, and he shakes his head, murmuring, "Morning." He takes a second to close his book, folding the notebook inside, and set it aside, then stands and offers a hand out to her. "I am actually ahead for once. And I brought burgers and shakes."
Taking his hand, Rylie looks beyond him to all the work, then back to him. "This is what being ahead looks like? Doesn't that mean life's been too boring lately, if you've been able to catch up?" There's a glance toward the kitchen, because the promise of burgers is a sweet one. "It's like you read my mind."
"It's not boring," Zan counters as he leads her around the couch. "Just means I've been skipping out on sleep to make time for more important things." He dips his head slightly to place a kiss to her cheek, then starts toward the kitchen. "Thought you'd like burgers today. Tomorrow it'll be something fancy and just as tasty. How was work?"
"I'll say you have," Rylie says in a less-than-subtle innuendo. But she comes with him to the kitchen, to come peek into the bag before pulling out a burger. Grease and all.
"I love it," she says, as far as the meal choice, and before she can answer anything else, she takes a large bite. Possibly to give herself time to think about how to answer, as there's a bit of a troubled look on her face for a passing moment. Passing, because she turns to reach for her shake.
It puts a little color to Zan's ears, but her first reply doesn't remove his grin. He half sits on the edge of the counter while she claims first dibs on the food, and takes a burger for himself when she's chosen hers. But he doesn't miss the minute change of expression.
"Rylie," he presses gently and after a few seconds have passed without explanation. "What's wrong?"
It takes her a moment, but she sets the shake down again and looks over at him. "Something happened. Today." It may even have made her lose her appetite, since the burger gets set down, too. "I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but it just seems like… my ability isn't working anymore."
She really tries to deliver it calmly, matter-of-factly. She may have rehearsed it on the way home, just to be able to nail the delivery. And the fact that she manages it speaks pretty well of her acting chops. But she has to look down, to straighten her shirt even though it doesn't need it, but she seems to think it demands her focus just now.
His own burger is set aside as she explains, and while her shirt might need some attention, Zan wraps his arms around her. Acting or not, he can relate to the feeling of loss and how unnerving being without one's ability can be.
For a moment he just holds her, offering comfort without any words. He tightens his arms around her a little, then relaxes enough to lean back without dropping his arms. However he kisses the top of her head before he does. "When," he asks first. "How'd you find out it wasn't working?"
Rylie's stiff when he puts his arms around her, which probably isn't a great sign. Apparently she hadn't planned on his reaction much when she played this all out in her mind.
"I'm not sure when. I'm… well, I have a suspicion, but I'm not sure. And uh… I don't feel it. You know? Buzzing around. It isn't there. So I tried to tap into it during one of your dad's meetings," which probably wasn't a great idea, "and it just wasn't there. Not a hint."
"Okay," Zan says slowly. His brows furrow, and after another beat he lets his arms drop away and sinks back to his quasi-perch on the counter. He's quiet again, like he's not entirely sure what to ask or do next. His gaze reaches to some inconsequential point on the floor behind where she stands.
"Did you eat anything, or drink anything that tasted unusual," he resumes. "Take something for a headache? Usually it's just temporary."
At first, she answers with a shake of her head, back and forth firmly, like she's gone over her day herself over and over to try to work it out already. A growing pit in her stomach makes it hard for her to accept the idea that it might be temporary, but she does nod vaguely to the notion.
"It's going to sound strange," she says, pausing to clear her throat some, "But I think… I mean, there was this waitress and it felt… weird when I touched her arm. I know it's crazy, but I know those sorts of sensations. Tingles. I work in tingles, it's how my ability works. Well, usually works."
The description is enough to draw Zan's gaze up. That worried crease along his brow deepens. "Felt tingly," he echoes. "Left you feeling slightly off? Like you'd been drinking?" His arms fold over his chest and straightens as though he might start pacing. Too much coincidence in the world for the little things to be overlooked.
"What'd she look like," he asks, almost wary as the question is posed.
Rylie leans back at that description, and she looks up at him. Her expression is a bit odd, something between feeling vindicated and not liking it very much at all. "I don't really remember. She'd just dropped a pitcher of ice cold water on me and your dad, everything was a little hectic at the time. But I know where she works. And have a great excuse for paying her a visit."
There's just a moment's pause before she adds, "Have you tried flying lately, Zan?"
"Tim and I were hanging out at a club," Zan recounts, meeting her gaze and showing more fear in his own than he's outwardly letting on. "A guy and his girlfriend were arguing; he shoved her into our table and she grabbed our arms to keep from falling…" The rest probably fits into place, the tingly, not-right feeling.
"No." He looks aside and frowns, trying to recall the last time he'd been flying. "No, not since…" He looks at her again, reluctant to try.
Letting out a sigh, Rylie leans back against the counter, possibly a little defeated. But she reaches over to rub Zan's arm gently, not pressuring him to give it a go. Might as well live in hope.
"We'll just have to play PI and go see what we can find out about this girl. And maybe see if she's playing Loki over there or if she needs help herself. Did I say something a moment ago about life being boring…?"
Zan raises a hand to catch hers, just for a moment. He gives her hand a small squeeze, then releases it. Whatever hope there might be to have, it doesn't rest in coincidences. "Let's hope it's all an accident," he says as he looks toward the ceiling,
For a minute he just stands there, staring upward as if he were waiting for rain. A minute longer brings even less. No telling glow surrounding him, though it wouldn't have been obvious to him. No lift off from the floor. While he might have suspected, realizing is all together different. His gaze lowers, and eventually angles toward Rylie again.
"I think it is. Or else she's very crafty." Rylie glances over at him, and while it might take a moment for her to realize what he's doing, by the time he looks her way again, it's her turn to put her arms around him. "We'll get it all ironed out, Zan. It'll be back to normal before you can snap the Star Spangled Banner."
"Yeah," Zan agrees, even if he doesn't sound entirely confident. He lets out a slow breath, then folds his arms around her again. "We've come out on top of everything else," he continues, a moment later and maybe a little nearer to normal. "This'll be no different. We'll find the girl behind this, get our abilities back… Guess I get to break out the suit again, so we can do some spying."
"Definitely going to need the suit," Rylie says. And maybe because he's closer to normal, she is sure to add an appreciative crook to her smile there. "But for now, I say we eat and put off homework. Staying over tonight?" It's an invitation, but a little more than the casual way she puts it. Even if her power wasn't much in the way of defense or offense, it was always a comfort to have it in the back of her mind.
"I have a hat to go with my suit," Zan says. "Think you'll like it." He tips his head at her invitation, and rests his cheek against her temple. "Of course," he answers, tightening his hold around her for a second or two. He drops an arm away to grab the food again, his and hers, with the intent to carry to the couch for them to eat.
