foolishwren | 97. [Action for Goldenrod/Private Text]

97. [Action for Goldenrod/Private Text]

[Locked to Ironhide, Minnie Mouse, Otacon, and Dale Cooper]

I don't know if it'll fix anything at this point, because I said some pretty horrendous things to all of you, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry.

I'll understand if you're still mad. None of you need to reply to this.

[Action for Goldenrod]

_{[It's probably not surprising that there's been radio silence from Heather on the 'Gear for awhile, considering... well, everything. Even if she hadn't had her 'Gear confiscated as part of the 'grounding', she hadn't exactly been in a chatty mood.]

[But even if she's bound to the city, she's not bound to the hotel room, and considering that she's sort of in the doghouse at the moment, she's not too interested in staying cooped up with the people who are rightfully upset with her.]

[So she can be found wandering the streets of Goldenrod City with Cujo padding along at her side, window-shopping or occasionally lounging on a bench-- minus the firepowers that blew the metaphorical Diglett-hole into a volcanic mountain a few weeks ago, but unfortunately still with the unattractive aftereffects of the whole ordeal: smoky black hair, patches of scorched-looking skin, and a permanent burnt-toast smell following her around.]}

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_{[She lets out a weak chuckle, herself. Because yeah, uh, she still feels really bad about it.]}

If it makes any difference, I was... really hoping you'd just lend me one and ask questions later.

_{[She'd been desperate.]

[She leans back after taking a deep swig of the soda.]}

... Anyway, I won't do it again. Lesson learned...

Y'know, maybe I would've if you hadn't looked like you were about to set an entire city on fire -- and we both know that wasn't impossible in your condition back then.

[Which is to say he was worried she could get hurt or worse on her little escapade and-- does Heather even realize how he would feel if something happened to her and he had helped her in that?]

... That's good.

[Really good. It calms him down a great deal, knowing that she won't be disappearing like that again...]

Not that you could. [Well, doesn't that last line sound overly smug...] None of my birds will be taking ya anywhere without my personal consent anymore.

_{[She does, but she'd rather her friends feel bad than get caught in the crossfire of a feud that goes back two lifetimes. ... Or find out about her past like that...]}

Pretty sure they won't even let me TOUCH them anymore.

_{[That's said wryly.]}

... Anyway, it was personal.

I know I was being a shithole but I do stand by what I said before.

It's not something I wanted any of you to see.

Ever.

[And Crow would much rather get caught in whatever crap that was than let one of his friends get hurt, of course.]

Good point.

[Especially after he bitched Hurricane out in front of them for taking off with Heather. Not that it was the bird's fault, but Crow completely lost his temper at the time. So yes, chances are all of them will stay as far away from her as only possible.]

Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you fine the first time.

[Back when you were yelling at him over the 'Gear. He's not deaf, after all.]

... Did you at least solve your problem?

_{[The neverending cycle of friendship drama, at its finest.]

[Heather puffs out a slight sigh. As though she hadn't felt bad enough over it all, it had been pretty hard to listen to Crow yell at his Pokemon. It really hadn't been the Pidgeot's fault, after all.]

[At first she doesn't answer-- it's something she does sometimes, when she can't readily think of an answer, and sometimes it almost looks like she's IGNORING the other party. But she's not, and that becomes apparent when she replies a moment or so later.]}

... No.

[My Little Johto: Friendship is Suffering.

No, it hadn't been, which is why, having calmed down a bit, Crow apologized to the bird and decided not to ground him. He's not heartless, after all.

Heather's response is met with more silence on his end. The duelist was sort of hoping she'd say "yes" and they could consider the case closed once and for all, but apparently, no such luck. Now that he thinks about it, given her behavior since they'd caught up with her, the answer to his question was probably obvious...

Crow scratches the back of his head, staring at the ground.]

... At least you gave it a shot.

... Heh. Guess that's one way of looking at it...

_{[She reaches up to scrub some of the hair out of her face, resting the cool exterior of the soda can against her face as she does so.]

[She hadn't solved anything at all. Maybe-- MAYBE-- in lieu of killing her, some of what she'd SAID had gotten through to Claudia. But then again, she'd sort of thought it had last time, too... and then Claudia had come back more steady in her convictions than ever.]}

... I guess there's no real way I could have made it any WORSE than it already was...

[Crow doesn't answer for a moment, though not because he's trying to come up with the ways Heather could have made it worse (even if he could probably think of at least 10 examples) -- instead, he takes a moment to reflect upon something that's been bothering him since their talk (or perhaps "argument" would fit better) over the network, along with some other thing he heard from different people in the past few weeks.

"Perhaps the fire does bring her some memories..."

"They always manage to get in our lives someway."

That person.

This problem.

They.

It.

People with no faces, situations with no context -- all of that leaves Crow completely and utterly lost. It kind of frustrates him, doubly so that not knowing what's going on means he can't help a friend, as it has already been proved not too long ago. He wouldn't, of course, want to try to force Heather to confess her whole past to him or anything -- something like that has never crossed his mind -- but if you look at the greater picture, then...]

... Hey.

[Crow turns to face her now, his voice quiet and calm -- perhaps unusually so -- but still bearing faint traces of fatigue.]

Remember how you've once told me I don't talk too much 'bout myself? Come to think of it, you don't, either. I mean--

[His tone changes completely: it's much more lively and light-hearted now, but rather hasty, judging by the speed with which he spits out the next few sentences.]

I've known you for what, a year and a half? Probably longer than that. And I don't even know when your birthday is! Or what your favorite food is. Or favorite color. Or hobby. Or--

[He finally makes a pause to breathe, though it comes off more like another sigh.]

... anything, really.

_{[She looks up at that, surprised and a little disarmed by the observation. She's almost ready to open her mouth and deny it (it's a... habit she's fallen into lately, for obvious reasons), but ... well, he's right. He's very right.]

[So instead she rubs her head, a rueful frown crossing her face.]}

... Yeah. I'm.... I'm sorry, Crow.

You're right, I don't.

It's just... something I got used to and never really started doing again. ... Force of habit, you know?

_{[Biting the inside of her cheek, she sets the soda down again and scuffs one boot heel in the dust on the sidewalk.]}

Back home, Dad and I never let people get too close to us. Hell, you've probably noticed he's not exactly the biggest social butterfly around... I've been here longer than him, but...

_{[She looks back over to Crow, expression apologetic.]}

It's... not because I don't care about you, or anything.

[Apology isn't what he's after, but as he's about to mention that, the comment about Harry actually makes him chuckle a little.]

He kinda isn't!

[He's been blaming it more on the generation gap or whatever, but apparently there's more to it than that...

Crow shakes his head with a small smile. He may not know everything (or even half of it) about her, but he does know her well enough to be able to tell whether she does or does not care about someone, and despite the recent events, he's pretty sure he doesn't fall under the latter category.]

Nah, I know that's not it. And I don't blame ya, just--

[He gives her a sheepish grin.]

Guess it's never too late to learn something 'bout each other, right? 'Kay, I'll start!

[Setting his soda aside as well, Crow clears his throat and settles himself more comfortably on the bench.]

The name's Crow Hogan, twenty years old, and I come from Satellite, now part of Neo Domino City, one of the biggest cities in Japan. I'm a duelist and I run a small delivery business, Blackbird Delivery, both there and here in Johto. In my spare time -- assuming I have any, that is -- I like dueling and riding D-Wheel and visiting Martha's orphanage. Favorite food is fried rice and daifuku, but man, I can't stand sushi if they paid me for it. Favorite color's black and... uh...

[That's probably much more random trivia about himself that he's ever told anyone, especially all at once, and he seems to have run out of steam now, as he's scratching his cheek, trying to think of something else to say.]

... Dunno, guess that's 'bout it. Oh, yeah, I'm a Signer, too, but that part you know already.

[And the duelists ends his little introduction with a nod.]

_{[Well, the generation gap is a factor as well, but ... well, Harry's always been the quiet type. A lot more than his daughter.]

[But any more awkward apologizing is headed off by the fact that Crow launches into self-description, breaking the ice. At first Heather looks a little surprised, but then she settles in to listening, a slow smile quirking up the sides of her mouth.]}

... You don't like sushi? Man, not that I'm super into it, but that shit's good.

Anyway, uh...

_{[Coughing slightly and spreading her palms, she shrugs her shoulders a little bit.]}

My name's Cheryl Mason-- Heather to everyone but Dad. Born in Maine, U.S. of A. I lived in Portland 'till I was about four, then we moved to Bangor. I graduated high school a few months before I came here. Did odd jobs throughout most of that. Waitressing, kid-sitting, did part-time in an autoshop for a bit...

Uh... I guess I don't really have hobbies here, but back home, I liked reading, craft... stuff, hanging out at the mall... video games sometimes...

I like sweet stuff... cookies and ice cream and shit. Like fruits, too.

And the color orange.

Edited 2012-08-28 05:35 (UTC)

[The difference between father and daughter in that aspect is hard to miss.

The duelist makes a face at the mention of sushi, though, and wrinkles his nose a bit.]

Eh, it's raw fish with some seaweed. Big deal. And it costs way more than its worth, so-- nah, I ain't a fan.

[Then Crow goes quiet and listens to her part. His eyes widen in surprise when she states her name -- he's never expected her to say anything other than 'Heather', after all -- but he simply nods and doesn't say anything until she's finished.]

... Cheryl's a nice name. But so 's Heather.

[And with that, he beams happily at her.]

See? Much better already!

Heh, yeah, I guess it is...

_{[Noting the surprise, she laughs a little bit, plucking at the strap of her shirt absent-mindedly.]}

Yeah, I know, big difference between 'em, right? ... When I got here, I wasn't sure what the hell was going on or who was behind it, so... I just started going by the alias. After awhile it seemed too weird to start asking people to call me 'Cheryl', so...

--Seriously? Wow. Guess that makes sense...

[It's an idea Crow himself would have never come up with, but there again, he's never been the kind who would try to avoid being identified, not even when breaking the law.]

... Want me to switch over to Cheryl, then? Or should I stick to Heather?

_{[Heather's had staying hidden drilled into her head for years... although to be fair, it had been an alias assumed for hiding FROM criminals rather than hiding from the law.]

[She shakes her head a little, still smiling.]}

Nah.

Dad's the only one who's called me Cheryl for years n'years, before I ever came here. I kinda like having it that way, to be honest.

[Well, the law side tends to be more dangerous than most criminals back where Crow comes from...]

Fair enough. Heather it is, then!

[Now that the confusion is gone from his face, it's replaced by a soft smile.]

... So, I guess it's safe to say you're really back now.

_{[Very true... Heather might not have much faith in the police in her world, but at least they don't BRAND MARKS INTO TEENAGERS' FACES FOR THEIR CRIMES.]}

... Yeah, I guess I am...

... Thanks, too, for... y'know. Sayin' some stuff about yourself.

You're right, I didn't really know much about you, either.

[And they're probably not secretly an Ancient Conspiracy trying to summon a god to destroy the world as we know it and make it a better place, either, I MEAN COME ON SUCH THINGS DON'T HAPPEN HAHA.]

Well, I guess anyone would like to know more 'bout the great Crow the Bullet-sama! And you get to hear everything from no one else but myself. Lucky, eh?

[After a small pause, he picks his drink back up and shrugs a bit.]

... So if you've got any questions, you can ask, too.

_{[YEAH THOSE NEVER HAPPEN AT ALL]

[EVER]

[REALLY]

[With the corners of her mouth quirked up in mingled amusement and fondness, Heather shrugs her own shoulders, leaning back a little to look up at the sky thoughtfully.]}

Hm.

I guess I can probably come up with a few.

... You a natural carrot-top?

_{[She says this with a smirk, looking back over to him. COME ON CROW THAT SHADE OF ORANGE CANNOT BE NATURAL.]}

[SERIOUSLY

WHAT A JOKE

Clearly, Heather is about to ask some deep, existential question-- yes, just like that one. Crow gives her a playful punch of the shoulder, but the smile never leaves his face.]

Yep. One hundred percent natural.

[He turns to her with a smirk on his own.]

What, you jealous?

_{[HO HO HO.]

[She rocks to the side, grinning-- she expected a response more or less like that.]}

Maybe a little.

Anything's better than this, after all.

_{[She plucks at the scorched black hair she's been left with from the 'disease', ironically returning her back to HER natural color. Except that no amount of blond dye will be able to get rid of this for awhile.]}

Even if it does make you look like a crayon.

[Maybe that's why children like him so much.]

Dunno 'bout you, but I'd take being a crayon over a burned toast any day.

[... Which is a pretty terrible joke, all things considered, but hey, he has no way of knowing...]

_{[IT IS, BUT HE DOESN'T KNOW, she'll let it go.]}

Me too, believe me.

If you ask me, you look better as a blonde, anyway.

[But now that he thinks about other options...]

... Though maybe we can get you some better color. Blue? Green? ... Pink?

[~~Maybe he'll actually put dye in your shampoo this time~~]

Don't worry, I'm with you there. Never liked the black-cat look.

_{[Leaning back against the bench, she considers the options.]}

Hm... always did wanna try something crazy. ... Dad never let me before.

_{[His reasoning had been that it would draw too much attention to her. At the time, of course, being an attention-craving teenager, that had sounded fine to her. Now she knew why her father had tried so hard to keep her as low-profile as possible, of course...]

[But now there was no reason to stay under-cover...]}

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97. [Action for Goldenrod/Private Text]

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