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Post by tessa on May 30, 2010 20:05:19 GMT -5
[/b]She croaked, and took it anyway (though she had likely had enough water for the day). She sipped it slowly, not wanting to seem rude or ungrateful. Then her thirst grew. And it grew until she guzzled the glass down and swallowed painfully. She felt it slither past her throat and sooth her chest and lungs. Color burst into her cheeks and eyes. Xara brought the glass from her lips, and gazed coldly at Max, after setting it down with a ear grating, glass against glass 'clink'. "Have you eaten?" she asked in a clipped, business like manner. He needed food just as much as she. Her eyes wandered to the wall and she checked the clock. Lord. It had been a long, long time since she'd gotten off work. Almost right hours. She clenched her jaw tightly and turned back to Max. He'd been with her this whole time. Did that mean anything? She thought not, but then again Xara never had the knack for puzzles. She glared at him levelly. "You should eat, too." then added, "I don't mind. You got me here safely, you saved my life. Rummage all you want, I've got nothing to hide, and nothing valuable." she smiled, forcibly removing that bitter undertone. "Soup is probably good for me right now, but if you want something more...substantial, there is Macaroni and Cheese in the fridge. I made it last night... not that boxed stuff, the real stuff. Lots of cheese..." she smiled again. "There's also plates in the cupboards, and fresh produce in the fridge..." she was still not capable of creating whole sentences, but at least she was well minded enough to shut up when she knew she wasn't making any sense. [/blockquote][/size][/ul]
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Post by max on May 31, 2010 6:10:47 GMT -5
To Max’s relief, Xara drank the whole glass of water. He was well aware of the negative effects of dehydration, even if it was mild. The last thing Xara needed was fatigue and a headache. He was still stumbling over his words when the girl suddenly slammed her glass down hard on the coffee table, causing him to jump slightly. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and his mouth opened slightly as if he meant to speak. Xara got there first.
”Have you eaten?”
Her demand made him even more confused. Why was she asking him that? He hadn’t really thought to take care of himself, except to dry his jeans. Here he was, standing half naked in front of her, starving and exhausted. Vivid as his hazel eyes were, they were dull with fatigue. Yet he hadn’t paid a lot of attention to his own discomforts. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was hungry until she had asked that question. “Well, I...no, but I’m fine,” he said quickly. His eyes followed her gaze towards the clock. In his tiredness, Max had no idea what time he had been at the docks, but he was sure he had been with Xara for hours. It was early morning and Max had assignments due. They could wait, but he felt a small stab of anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He had a lecture at 9am which he could not afford to miss. He fought the feeling off; he had been to lectures with less sleep, and he would deal with it stubbornly, the way he always did. He has, after all, a MacRurach, his Scottish father would say; MacRurachs were tough.
Max shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as Xara spoke. It stopped him fidgeting and looking unsure of himself. He hated looking as though he was uncomfortable or shy of a situation; it embarrassed him. How many times had a girl apparently found him attractive and he hadn’t known what to say? He wasn’t even a social misfit, for he made friends easily enough; it was just an unfortunate fact that Max had low self esteem. He nodded and smiled weakly at Xara’s words. He thought about telling her again that he was fine, but he wasn’t sure if she would see that as rude and ungrateful. “Thanks. And I’m sure what you own is valuable to you, even if it doesn’t have monetary value to someone else,” he added, trying to make her feel better with a lame comment.
The macaroni and cheese was just where Xara had said it was: in the fridge. The kettle had since stopped boiling, so Max mixed her soup first and bought it out to her. “Here,” he said. “Um, I’ll be back.” It didn’t take long to put the macaroni onto a plate and toss it into the microwave. He left it cooking for two minutes and returned to Xara. “It smells great. My mom used to make macaroni and cheese. She used to make her own pasta, though...some recipe from Sicily passed down over generations in her family. The pasta, not the cheese part; that she learned in America. She doesn’t do it anymore; no time.” He had no idea why he was telling her about his mom, but it was too late; he had already said it. What if her mom’s dead or something? Tactless, he worried. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. To cover his restlessness, Max went back to the kitchen without another word. He placed the food onto a plate and ate a mouthful. He leaned on the kitchen counter, looking down at Xara. “It tastes amazing,” he said.
It was obvious that Max wasn’t able to relax; he left the rest of his meal to cool down, then went back into the lounge room to retrieve his clothes. “I’m just gonna...do you mind if I dry these?” he asked, holding up the dryer, his coat and his shirt. He didn’t really want her seeing too much of the scratches on his chest, and he felt a bit self conscious in general. The dryer almost flew out of his hand in his hurry to switch it on, and he blushed, cursed, then turned his back on Xara so he could dry his clothes without seeing her laugh or glare at him or whatever she was gonna do. “So...you feel better?” he asked as he held his shirt up and began to dry it. “Just let me know if you want me to leave. I just don’t wanna go before I know you feel alright.” She seemed well enough to scowl at me, he thought, suddenly a little amused by her behaviour. He was glad he was facing the fireplace, because she would have seen the smile on his face.
[/color] ((OOC: Haha Max is so awkward sometimes yet confident at other times. Let me know if you have any plot ideas Um I assume that ‘right hours’ was a typo for ‘eight hours’? I hope so cause I assumed so ))
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Post by tessa on May 31, 2010 21:38:10 GMT -5
[/b] she explained with a nonchalant wave of her hand, "I'm just lucky it turned out OK. Usually I am a total spazz when it comes to cooking. Like one time I tried to make cookies and I balled them up and put them on the sheet and stuck them in the oven, like normal. But when the timer went off I went to get them and realized... I hadn't turned the oven on." she stopped herself after 'on' and felt a blush rise in her cheeks. How embarrassing. Why would she say that about herself? If she were him she'd be seriously questioning the macaroni and cheese by this point. However, he hadn't died yet and neither had she, and that was enough for Xara to consider herself a masterful chef. She averted her eyes and fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, trying to keep him from seeing her blush and looked out the window instead. It seemed to be that the storm was giving way to the breaking morning, but the rain clouds were a bit more reluctant to leave. She suspected that they would stick around until at least mid morning, early afternoon. She was no weather reporter, though, so her guesses were indeed just guesses. The woman brushed a piece of hair out her eyes again. This silly hair, she thought distractedly, I should just cut it all off! Xara pulled the blanket up to her sternum and under her chin as Max walked into the living room. She tried not to look too much but couldn't help but to notice how un-covered he was from the waist up. She did not blush this time, and instead pointedly looked around the living room instead of at him. "Oh of course you can dry them..." she trailed off, watching him as and wondering if she should tell him that she had a washer and dryer in the closet next to the linens down the hall. She craned her neck to look down the long hallway, and decided against it, reasoning that she would feel like she was making him to laundry and that he seemed to be in total control of the situation anyway. Well, except for when he almost dropped the dryer. She said and did nothing when he did, except for hide a smirk. She cleared her throat, "Yes... I feel much better, thank you." and her lips pursed together in thought. She was infamous for not thinking before speaking. It often got her in trouble or made it look like she was some sort of massive bitch, which she wasn't. "You should leave now." she said suddenly, and a little too forcibly for her liking. She cringed inwardly. "I mean," she corrected swiftly, "You're probably exhausted..." she blushed again. Truth be told she didn't want him to go. But he had to. And she was the one to make him. "I am better now, you don't need to worry about me..."
She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply. Idiot idiot idiot idiot... "Please go..." she whispered softly, looking down at her hands. [/blockquote][/size][/ul]
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Post by max on May 31, 2010 22:38:14 GMT -5
Given permission, Max smiled and nodded, switching the hair dryer on again. He held his shirt up first, well aware that she had a laundry dryer, but too polite to ask to use it. “Well, I’m glad you feel better,” he said, turning the shirt around and drying one last wet patch. He set the appliance down and pulled his shirt on over his head, relieved that he was looking somewhat more presentable. Not that Max paid a lot of attention to fashion. He picked his coat up next, noting that it was almost dry anyway. He idly dried it nonetheless, almost missing Xara’s words completely.
The sudden realisation that she was asking him to leave made him frown slightly. He was glad she did not see his reaction, his back still facing her. Her tone of voice had been a little harsh. What did I do wrong? he wondered. He formed a neutral expression on his face with some serious effort as he turned around questioningly, though his eyes probably betrayed his confusion. “Yeah, I guess I should,” he mumbled. “I uh, I have a lecture in a few hours. I guess I am kind of tired. And thanks for the food and the dryer...” Maybe she just meant it in a nice way. Like when she told me to eat kind of forcefully, he thought, noting the redness in her cheeks. Or maybe she was just one of those people who hated admitting that she’d received help from anyone. Max doubted she would ever contact him again. Not that he would ever take back what he had done for her; he was not in the slightest bit the sort of person who would ever ask for anything in return. It was just a pity that he would now lose another opportunity to make a friend who was, like him, a shifter.
His coat was mostly dry now, so Max turned the dryer off and quickly pulled the coat on. He was sure he was just being too sensitive; surely she didn’t hate him. Maybe she just needed some alone time. That was all, just a chance to rest up, but he couldn’t help but feel upset that she didn’t make it clear that she might want to talk to him again. Back to being alone in my world of weirdness, he thought unhappily. Sure, he had friends at college. But they were all human. None of them could experience what he could. Nobody would understand his need to run in animal form, to feel the wind in his fur. “Well...yeah um...I’ll be off then,” he said, putting both hands in the pockets of his coat. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Max was merely being polite, but it seemed she was fine. He ran an uncomfortable hand through his hair at the sudden weirdness between them. “I’ll see you then.”
Max escaped as quickly as he could. Once he was outside the apartment building, he breathed out in relief. “Man, that was weird,” he muttered as he walked into the light rain, his head lowered to stop it hitting his face too much. She kicked me out. Maybe she thought I was gonna ask her for something in return. As if I’d ever... Then again, it had been kind of strange being in her home, and she didn’t even know him. She had every right to be a little wary of him. He was, after all, someone she barely knew.
It was a bit of a hike back to his place, but he finally made it. Max glanced at the clock a little apprehensively; there was time for a small nap and plenty of coffee later. Unfortunately, despite his exhaustion and a nice warm shower, sleep failed him. His mind went over the night’s events repeatedly, making him more and more anxious. It didn’t help that his injured arm stung and ached. What if those men found him again? What if Xara had lied about being okay?
End of Thread
[/color] ((OOC: Shitty end post sorry. :/ ))
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