Maven Allen | Multi-Team | Snowboard Coach, Máxime Soulier

At a quarter ‘til, Maven entered one of the gigantic gyms tucked into the backside of the property. There were at least four of them, and they were the same size as the large ice rinks. Some of them were both, with a gym on the upper level and the rink below, but those were primarily utilized for the hockey players and the figure skaters. Others were multi-level covered gymnasiums that seemed as if they could fit ten times the amount of people on all of team USA. It was a miracle they weren’t the first thing anyone noticed upon arriving at the rink, their size and steel color seemed as if it would stick out like a sore thumb. However, they were tucked in the sprawling acreage behind the high-rise apartment complexes that hosted the athletes and various vacationers and other winter sport fanatics, including but not limited to some fanclubs of the more famous athletes. More than once, Maven had seen an unsuspecting teammate be ambushed by a group of fangirls on their way in or out of somewhere. She got more amusement out of it than she could express, and had even considered pretending to be one to screw with the heads of some of her teammates. She would easily do anything for a bit of temporary amusement.

It took some time to figure out which of the factory-sized buildings was the one their coach had told them to meet at in the group text, especially since the letter and number combinations weren’t placed anywhere specific. More than that, where they were sporadically placed on the inside of a door or on a small sign on the sidewalk, they were very subtle and not at all helpful in guiding anyone anywhere. Maven had a great sense of direction in most situations, but this even tested her limits. She was almost surprised to find their snowboard coach and one of the taller, better-looking athletes on the team in the first gym she opened the door to, especially considering the hesitance she had in locating it and deciding to open that specific one. She sighed in relief, a big, beaming smile on her face as she entered. “Thank god,” she called from across the massive building. It had to be the size of an indoor football field. “I could have sworn I was gonna get lost.”

“You and everyone else,” came the response from the man. He was definitely a few years older than her, but still young. His hair was curly and dark and some of it flopped over into his face. Even from across the room, she thought she saw a smirk on his face as he turned to adjust a piece of equipment. She wasn’t even convinced he had any reason to, other than turning to avoid looking at her. His ego was probably too big to appear open, a lot of the guys she’d grown up competing with were like that. No matter how interested in something they were, it was more important to them to look like they weren’t. She was sure this one was no exception.

“I don’t know why,” their coach shot back, “I was very specific in the directions I have.” The guy raised an eyebrow, giving a look behind the coach’s back that embodied exactly what Maven was thinking. She stifled the smirk that easily came in amusement at the man’s loud expression. “Anyway, Maven, it’s good you came early. I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Should I find somewhere to be for a few minutes?”

“You’re fine,” came the older man’s reply. He seemed like the kind of man who was handsome once, but it had all been hidden away beneath layers of wrinkles and the effects of age and sport. Maven had liked him from the moment she met him, he was very direct and no-nonsense, but he cared. He gestured to the dark-haired man. “Maven, have you met Máxime?”

“I have now,” she replied, studying the man for a few moments. He was tall and built. He looked more like a hockey player in her opinion. “Pleased to meet you.”

“As am I,” he replied, giving her a gentle nod. It all went back to her idea about men needing to make it seem like nothing impressed them. She accepted it as a challenge every single time.

“Anyway, it’s nothing bad. I just wanted to let you know that one of the big broadcasting networks is coming here to shoot a video. It’s team tradition for snowboard to send it’s two newest members of the team to the majority of the interviews our presence is requested at because, well, one, nobody really enjoys interviews and media content and everything. Secondly, it’s a good opportunity to introduce new names on the roster. So, if you’re willing, I’d love to get some dates on your calendar. Shooting for that video starts in a few days, so I’m hoping you can clear your schedule.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed, not necessarily happy about it but not willing to complain in front of her new coach and an attractive man she clearly wanted to impress. “You mentioned you’re sending two? Who else is going?”

“Someone from the men’s team, I don’t think the two of you have met yet, unfortunately he wasn’t in much of a mood to stick around for the banquet last night. I was planning to introduce you and discuss this then, but I did ask him to come a few minutes early so the two of you could meet and get acquainted, share contact information, the like. I’m expecting him any minute now…”

Flynn Harper | Nordic Combined | Alia Harper, Josephine McCoy

Flynn let Josephine take a few steps out onto the ice on her own, hands stuffed in the pockets of his black Team New Zealand jacket and eyes glued to his own skates. At no point did his body language suggest that he was intending to actually follow her out there, or that he was going to take any kind of interest in what she was doing. In fact, he almost looked a bit embarrassed for her, as if he was forcefully averting his eyes to avoid drawing attention to whatever she was doing. Not that he even knew what that was, if the fact that he hadn’t looked up once was any indication. Alia screamed at him with her eyes, which were wide and accusatory. She pushed his arm with her clipboard from her place standing just off the ice. “Go,” she chastised, under her breath, just forcefully enough to intimidate him but hardly enough to make a scene or distract the female skater from whatever she was doing. Truthfully, Alia hadn’t been paying much attention either, she was trying to monitor Flynn and ensure that he wouldn’t have a temper tantrum or pass out on the ice right there and then.

Raising his hands defensively, he backed up a few steps on the ice and then turned to get back to skating. A dull ache had started in his head and radiated down to the rest of his body. His mind was cloudy and empty, as if a gray haze had enveloped him. It was hard to think or do anything other than survive off of basic instinct and muscle memory he hadn’t used in years. Three of them, to be exact. Still, the benefit of being a top athlete was that he was still in the best physical shape of his life, skating or not. He was completely conditioned for his actual sport, and the target muscle groups he emphasized in workouts and training were minimally different than those utilized for this sport. The only real difference was his mental game, which he knew would improve with practice. It’d only take a week or two, and he knew he’d be back in top shape for pairs skating, regardless of whether it really meant anything or not. He’d deduced that, even if it was local competition, local competition here was way more competitive than national competition in other places. Some of the actual olympic skaters used the competitions here to practice in the off season, and to work out new partnerships. More than that, he was still here representing his country, and his reputation would be on the line whether it was in this sport or any other. He still had to put the work in if he was going to be her partner, even if he was just assuming a security blanket role until one of the melodramatic female skaters decided they deserved a better partner, or someone sustained an injury. Then he’d be replaced with the next guy down the line, as he knew the skating industry worked. It was so much more cutthroat than skiing in so many ways.

Finally catching up to Josie, Flynn tracked her movements with his own, skating behind her and getting a feel for the way she was skating. His movements were completely steady and rhythmic, as if he held a metronome inside his brain. That had always been the running joke when he was Alia’s practice partner, back in her prime. Everyone wanted to skate with him then, because his natural rhythm held his partner accountable and took them to the next level. On the other hand, the redhead’s movements were completely erratic and inconsistent, and he did nothing to sugarcoat that reality or make it easier for her. He could tell she was tired and probably nervous, but it didn’t matter. If he was going to take time away from his own life to invest in someone else, he expected to receive the effort back. This was a partnership, a mutual investment between the two of them. For better or for worse. Time and time again, he maintained her initial tempo, watching her get too far ahead of him and look back, skating crooked lines across the rink, or skate too slowly, nearly crashing into him. He was skating at a medium tempo, feeling no need to do more than the basics for the first night. He was tired and she was skating like it was her first time on the ice in his jaded opinion.

She got behind the tempo again, so close he could smell the faint citrus scent in her hair. He rolled his eyes, mumbling in a low tone, “too close,” to which she jumped. She seemed like she was falling asleep on her skates, and in some ways, so was he. He was only getting more critical as his mental state deteriorated.

When she flinched, she stumbled slightly, and lost her balance. He put his hands on her waist, preventing her from falling despite his earlier words. Instead of snapping, which would have probably been expected given the amount of times he’d muttered something in a crude tone about her speed, her straightness, or some other minute detail he felt the need to criticize, he just lifted her back on her feet as if she weighed nothing, no judgment in his tone. “You okay?”

“I think that’s good for today, guys. Everyone’s tired, we don’t want to take steps back before we even get started.” Alia had been quiet the entire time they skated, as if she was some unwanted chaperone hiding in the bleachers. She’d been writing things on her clipboard, but she’d never once said anything, positive or negative. When Josie started skating back towards the door, she couldn’t help but notice the shift in Flynn’s demeanor. He was quiet, tuned into the girl’s movements now. He even extended an arm out of instinct once when he was concerned about her balance. That was what she loved most about him. For as critical and perfectionistic as he could be, he would always look out for his partner first. In a way, she wholeheartedly believed that the former traits were also his way of looking out for his partner. They were just rarely received well. She would trust him with any skater, any day. He was simply the best, even if it was hard to tell at this point in time.

"Do you think you can fix me then?" The genuinity in her question made Alia’s heart break a little. She didn’t know the woman’s background or team environment, but it was starting to become obvious that there was more to this situation than met the eye. Like any skater, there were probably layers of psychological damage behind the glamorous facade. She had been there once too.

“Of course I can,” she gave a heartfelt smile, looking the girl straight in the eye. “You both will be out winning locals in no time at all, and that’s a promise.” She exchanged eye contact with Flynn, who was still standing on the rink, arm slung casually over the open gate. He gave a slight nod in agreement, or perhaps more so obedience to the promise Alia had just made. “Go get some rest, we’ll figure out a more concrete schedule tomorrow over coffee or something, alright? You and Flynn can get to know each other better off the ice and we can discuss goals and such. We’ll see you at noon at the lodge? Your coach said you were free?”

Finley Pearson| |Maven, Daniel,, Coach, etc.

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His room was just as he left it. A rather depressing sight. He'd have to clean it sometime soon or he would go mad. Tossing the room key onto the desk, he made his way to the bathroom. Throwing his clothes every which way. Finley stood under the steady stream of water for a while as the bathroom filled with steam. It was a hot minute before he grabbed his body wash and actually started to wash. Today was the annual interviews. He'd been part of them for the past three years. Not exactly his favorite scene. Cameras and all the people poking and prodding and making sure his nose isn't shiny. And then he'd get a call from his mom when she found out about the interview and watches it. How proud she is of her Little Fin. He should probably visit soon. His check should have hit the bank by now. It's been weeks.

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Stepping out. He quickly dried his top half before wrapping the towel around his waist. His feet slapped across the tiles as he crossed to grab his phone to call his coach.

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"Hello? Fin?"

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Finley gave a puff of laughter. "I need a trip back home. Not too long. Just a couple of days. Family affairs." He said family, but family was all fine and dandy. Willa? He needed to talk to her before his ditch became a grave.

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There was a sigh from the other line. Finley could already see his coach shaking their head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine. Be back by Monday. You're also supposed to be at the interviews early. I was told to tell you that you're needed to talk to another newbie. Give them insight or whatever." His coach groaned. There was shuffling in the background and someone mumbling. "I gotta go, remember. You're with the team for the rest of the week."

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Finley grinned. "Yeah. Yeah. You're on maternity leave or whatever. Good husband and whatnot. Just means I have to play nice with the other one."

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The voice on the other end laughed, "Shut up... and be nice." Click.

Finley took a few moments as he finished getting ready to pack his bags and book a flight. If the schedule went as planned, he'd have time to come back and get his bags before leaving for the airport. These interviews and then he was free to go.shoving his cell into his black team joggers and zipped up the athletic jacket that marked him a member of Team USA, he made his way out of his room. Originally he had a visit plan. One every so often so that his bank account could recover from having a separate coach. He even cut out therapy for this budget to maximize his visits. This was going to be a visit where he stayed with his mom and got lucky if he went out at all. Fin scoffed, "The things you do..."

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There was a few hours before he was actually needed at the interviews. So, like any logical person, he set an alarm and crawled into his bed to make up for his two hour nap of a sleep. If he could just get in an hour he'd be fine.

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By the time Fin realized that he had hit snooze seven times, he had to run out the door if he was going to make it close to on-time. The elevator was busy when he reached it so he ran down the stairs and out the door, running across the property and taking all the shortcuts he'd learned over the past few years. He looked at the watch on his hand and nearly started cussing. He was supposed to be there ten minutes ago. Earl would hear about it. 'Didn't I tell you to be early?' He could already hear it now. By the time he busted through the doors and found where he needed to be, he was huffing and puffing and his cheeks took on a rosey tint.

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Someone behind him laughed. A voice he recognized all too well. The dark haired man turned to face his golden counterpart. Daniel stood a few inches taller than him and was the pride and joy of his family. Finley had too many tattoos. Daniel closer the space between them and cuffed him on the shoulder. "Where ya been, Finny? My Mum's been trying to get ahold of Aunt Jean but she's not picking up recently." The golden boy asked, hands on his hips as he looked down at Finley.

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"Mom's got a new number. I'll give it to you later, I'm running late," Finley snapped, glaring at Daniel as he turned back onto his original course.

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"You can't run from us forever, Finley." Daniel muttered, returning to wherever he was actually needed. Finley rolled his eyes. They grew up on opposite sides of the world and yet somehow ended up here together.

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He could already see Máxime talking to the other person. Could feel the look he was about to receive once the other saw he was not only running late, but had completely ditched the banquet last night. Finley tried making up for it with a smile but that was quick to falter when he noticed who else was going to be in the videos so he set his features in a more casual way. The original go to would have been to get the newb hyped. This newb seemed to do all of her own hyping. "Hey, Máxime! Sorry I'm late. Booked a flight and took longer than expected to get everything finalized." Dumb excuse, but better than sleeping. "What's the run-down this year?" Fin asked, crossing his arms, sparing Maven a grin as he nodded in her direction. "Maven," he said by way of recognition.

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"Also. How long are we going to take today?" He turned back to Máxime. "My flight takes off in about three hours." He notified him clear enough he sure hoped that the message got through that he would rather be on that plane now anyways.

Josephine McCoy| | Alia, Flynn, Atticus

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Josephine was more than aware that Flynn had helped her more than a few times throughout the course of their short skate. She had no idea how he could keep up with her mismatched time. She felt herself stumble, bracing to meet the hard ice but was instead gripped at the waist and steadied. "You okay?" She heard. No judgemental tone, but she instinctively tensed and nodded although she felt like a bobble head as they made their way back to his sister. The scene was almost funny as it played in her head. Like, come on. A pro athlete and yet she hadn't preformed this badly since her first years starting her sport of choice. But she tried her best to keep her back straight as Alia said she could fix her.

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It was like a weight had been lifted off of her chest and she stood up straighter with a hesitant smile before she bobbed her head in a nod. "Thank you," she shared a glance between the siblings. Josie made her way to the gate with a quiet "excuse me" before she opened it, plopping down next to her beloved duffel. Grabbing a pen and sticky notes she quickly jotted down her number and handed it to the closest sibling. Leaning over, she put her guards on the blades of her skates before untying them and replacing them with the tennis shoes she brought along with her.

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"Let me know whenever and wherever it is you'd like to meet. I'd prefer not before seven and not after three. If possible," She asked, slinging the strap over her shoulder. "Thank you, guys. But if there's ever a moment... that I'm well rested and of a clear mind that you think this isn't going to work. Please tell me, before you tell my coach. Well, goodnight you guys! Get some rest, alright?" Josie yawned as she made her way for the heavy doors. At this point her bed was practically screaming her name.

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Entering the Cafe, Josephine was hoping it didn't look like she'd woken up just an hour and a half ago, showered, clothed, and then ran out the door. The late night had taken its toll on her and she was not rocking with it in the slightest. On the bright side the heavy scent of coffee and teas brewing overwhelmed her senses in the best way she could imagine. She quickly placed her order for a small chai latte. Moments later it was ready for her to take and find Flynn. When she finally found him, she slid into her seat as quietly as she could, pulling her turtlenecked sweater dress past her knees. The knit cream colored sweater easily sliding over the dark green leggings. Her hair had been quickly brushed and therefore had gone frizzy on her, the one solution she'd found was to pull it all back into a bun that made it look like she had her life together. No makeup because she had to choose between that and dry shampooing her hair and she'd be damned if she, Josephine McCoy, had to go anywhere smelling foul or looking greasy.

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She gave a small smile to the man across the table. "Well, I think we might be getting another snow storm," Josephine said by way of greeting. But it seemed to be the truth, nevertheless. Josephine didn't like the snow. Correction, she didn't like being cold and wet allat the same time. That drove her up a wall and down another. Something her Aunt found to be rather hilarious. "Anyways, thanks for not scheduling it until later. I was rather out of it last night, which I'm sorry about. But thank you for whatever it is you did last night. I know I was all over the place," She looked up at him, tight lipped.

Maven Allen | Multi-Team | Finley Pearson

The weekend had flown by in less time than Maven had expected, especially considering the great amount of work that she’d accomplished in so little time. She never had a single day off from practicing, and the weekend was no exception. Three practices Friday, free rides for all three teams on Saturday, and weekly evaluations on Sunday. She’d barely noticed that Finley wasn’t there for the snowboard evaluations, primarily because she rarely ever saw any of her teammates around other than occasionally at the gym or at breakfast in the hotel lobby before practices. Still, it was rare, and she could count on one hand the number of members of any of her teams she’d ever ridden the elevator with or passed in the halls. She was getting to know them all now, and still, she saw no one as much as she’d seen Finley in the first couple days. Maybe he was avoiding her now. Figures, stupid boys. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them…

Still, as she waited in line at the lift for her evaluation, she couldn’t help but notice the silence. It was tranquil, and if she was being honest, too much so. Though her relationship with Finley was nothing less than controlled insanity, Maven’s background caused her to only be capable of thriving in chaos. She would never admit it, but she needed her usual antics with her teammate to succeed on this team. And something she would equally never admit: she noticed his absence. More than she pretended she did.

The early morning was shrouded in serenity and concentration from the majority of her teammates. It was hard to believe these were the same guys and girls that she’d been partying with until the early morning just days prior. The professional environment she was enveloped in caused Maven to be unusually timid, stuck in her brain and her thoughts rather than outwardly trying to show someone up or make a joke at a teammate’s expense. It shifted her entire focus, and caused her to bomb her evaluation royally. She took a bad fall on her third run that caused her coach to send her in early and get checked out by the medics. She swore she didn’t have a concussion, just a couple scrapes and bruises, but he insisted that she get looked at. Her head was spinning, but she’d never admit it. Her career was just getting started, she couldn’t take an injury this early in the season. If it got worse, she’d deal with it. She didn’t need to. Not yet. Not with an entire season of the greatest success she’d ever known ahead of her.

Still, her coach was concerned enough to call her other coaches and convince them to give her the day off from her other commitments. It was unbearable. She tried to skip the medics, but got a call from her snowboard coach around three in the afternoon informing her that he had called the medic and found out that she’d never gone in. She was promptly sent back out to get screened for a concussion and a sprained wrist. Supposedly, she had mild cases of both. Aspirin and bedrest in a dark room were on tap for the next couple of days. She wouldn’t have it. Still, she agreed to take at minimum the afternoon and try to find something to do that would please her coach and still satisfy her need for productivity. She settled on watching some old tapes of her teammates and her competition and comparing them to her most recent runs to see what she still needed to improve. Then came the four-page, color-coded spreadsheet with the most laborious layout one could ever hope to see. She sent a picture of it to her coach and told him she would be in early the following morning to discuss it. His response was as expected. Maven, didn’t I tell you to rest?

The morning faded to the afternoon, which faded to the evening achingly slowly. She had nothing to read, nothing to do. She was only allowed a small amount of exposure to screens for the next few days if she wanted to get back on the snow in this lifetime, and she couldn’t focus on anything other than the dull ache of her wrist and head and the fact that she had done absolutely nothing. Resting was impossible, even more impossible than thriving in silence. She couldn’t handle any more of this. She contemplated the gym, the pool, and even ringing a few of the infinite phone numbers she’d received in the last few days to see if anyone was awake and willing to entertain her to some capacity.

A knock sounded outside her door, making her jump. Despite her desire for company, she hadn’t reached out to anyone. All kinds of ideas flashed through her mind, and none of them made her feel relatively safe. When she looked at the clock, she realized she’d been staring at the ceiling in the dark for hours. It was the middle of the night, definitely not an hour she’d expect to see someone. In fact, it was almost time for morning workouts to begin. She suddenly leapt up in hopes that it was her coach, and he’d changed his mind about her unsolicited sabbatical. When she opened the door, she found the person she least expected, looking more pitiful than she’d ever seen him. “Did you mean to come up here, or is this some payback-”

His baby blue eyes were downcast, clouded, and far away from where they were. A million miles away. His hair was a mess, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. She could see the faint stitching of his last name on his Team USA sweatshirt, but it was inside out. When she realized how pathetic he appeared, she stopped, mid-sentence, mouth slightly open as if she was frozen mid-sentence. “Finley? Is everything okay?”

The weekend had dragged. To think he had been worried about it not lasting long enough. It was going great. He arrived early the next morning, had a lovely breakfast with his mom. Finley had slept through lunch amd didn't make it to Brian's until nearly seven in the evening. Willa and Harley had yet to arrive, so the guys just hung around Brian's apartment eating the pizza and shooting pool. Instead of the normal couch in the living room, Brian had whack a mole, a pool table, and air hockey in the corner. The model was currently saving up for one of the racing games where you sat in the chair, brakes and acceleration and everything. It was all he could talk about for the evening. When the girls finally arrived, it hadn't gone well for anyone. Very quickly things had gone downhill. First it was mild enough for the others to simply excuse themselves due to the awkwardness of their situation, being in the middle. Then voices were raised until one of them stormed off and left. Needless to say, Finley spent the rest of his weekend at home with his mom. Before he boarded the plane, he sent Willa a message to think about the offer he'd sent her that morning when he woke up, after a very lengthy apology. His hopes were high.

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Leaving midday to return across the sea. It wasn't till late that he arrived. The first thing he did was unload his stuff into his room and grabbed his wallet, key card, and cell phone before heading downstairs to the bar. He drank until the bartender cut him off, tossed his card onto the bar and patiently waited for him to return. Once the card was back in hand, Finley made his way to the elevator and looked at the button choices. His was four but his hand wouldn't stop wobbling around and he pressed the next number up without really realizing it. He stumbled down the hall until he was at a familiar door and he knocked. Knocked again and then looked down. Backwards stitching and socks poking out his crocs only triple.

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The door opened.

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"Did you mean to come up here, or is this some payback- Finley? Is everything okay?" The voice echoed in his head. One he knew. Of course he knew, he knew the door. Finley looked up a bit confused and gave a small laugh as he drank up the sight of Maven, giving her a small smile that couldn't reach his foggy eyes even if he wanted it to.

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"Well, I don't know," he shrugged. "I can't find my room. The elevator buttons wouldn't stop moving away from me so I pushed the wrong one. If you help me to my room I'll buy pizza one day after practice," Finley offered, putting his arm out shakily so he could seal the deal with a handshake. Watching his arm move around like that mad him dizzy so he stopped watching it and turned his attention back on Maven.

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Incomplete

Flynn Harper | Nordic Combined | Josephine McCoy

Josephine wasn’t the only one who found herself at the brink of exhaustion after the week they’d had, not to mention the whirlwind that the last day or two had been alone. He’d left the rink a little after midnight and been back up by a little before five to get a free skate in on his own. Normally the early morning was his time to do with as he pleased, including reading whatever he was obsessing over at the moment, drinking coffee or tea, and watching the sun rise as he meditated or practiced some new mindfulness routine. He didn’t miss the early mornings involved in skating as they took him away from his perfectly crafted routine, but it seemed worthwhile. He was getting paid a lot of money to be Josephine’s partner, whether she knew it or not. He was sure her aunt had likely not discussed the financials with her, considering it may make her feel like he was only partnering with her based off of a substantial bribe. Maybe he was. No, he definitely was. But, it wasn’t worth mentioning to her. It was none of his business.

Still, he found himself rather exhausted, yet, other than the bags under his eyes, it was invisible to anyone who looked at him. He was wearing his team exercise pants and a long-sleeved team shirt under a heavy sweater. He despised the cold, even if it was quite warm in the cafe. Beads of sweat stained his forehead, indicative of the slightest overheating after exposure to the below-freezing temperatures outside. He had nothing out on the table other than a half-emptied cappuccino, his own way of being entirely too private and entirely unwilling to reveal anything about himself to her. He was really only here as a formality, not to be her best friend, or to create a lifelong partnership, or to create any sort of lasting connection. In fact, those were his orders. Both Alia and Josephine’s aunt had instructed him to proceed with extreme caution as far as his new and temporary partner was concerned, to connect with her enough to make her feel safe to recover all of her abilities, but not to get attached. He was somehow supposed to control whether or not she got attached too, to sever ties if she began to get too close to him. He was supposed to be a good enough partner to fix her issues, but not good enough to set the bar at an unattainable level for whoever her next partner was. As far as he was concerned, her emotions and her attachments to anyone, including and especially him, were not his problem. It was only his responsibility to show up to the rink and get her in the air again.

"Well, I think we might be getting another snow storm," she spoke fairly loudly, studying his expression. Her voice was so loud, and annoyingly distinct. She enunciated everything in a way that made him uncomfortable. She slid a mug of her own in, a chai latte by the looks of it. She’d been fidgeting with it since she’d put it down. He tried not to make a face at her restlessness, but simultaneously couldn’t avoid it. The people in his life closest to him always told him his face was too loud. He couldn’t help it, he was far too easy to read.

“Mm, seems like it,” he agreed, taking a sip of his coffee so he wouldn’t have to add anything more. He counted to three, knowing she wouldn’t be comfortable with the silence, and she would quickly jump back in. She did.

"Anyways, thanks for not scheduling it until later. I was rather out of it last night, which I'm sorry about. But thank you for whatever it is you did last night. I know I was all over the place.” She looked at him, and he shrugged. He wasn’t much for words at any time, and especially not in such a naturally peaceful ambience like this. Surely, she’d believe that he hated her, and eventually, perhaps she’d vocalize that. If she did, it’d benefit her. He’d surely tell her the same thing he told everyone: silence should not equal hatred, it only means that there is no word so urgent it should disrupt the god-given peace of the quiet in the universe.

“Not a problem,” he replied casually, glancing up briefly to meet her eyes before returning his focus to meticulously separating the layers of his drink. “I think Alia will be here soon. Is there anything you care to discuss before her arrival?”