By the end of the first movement, the girl's audience were well acquainted with her subject matter: two strangers, a man and a woman. Two damned souls in a desolate and dusty, lifeless present. A woman raised in a town where the only solace from the harshness of life was the alcohol she provided and a man that found himself in this place, drawn here, and finding solace from desolation in the simple act of existing the presence of this woman. This woman, whose existence bordered on something maternal, a provider of comfort to the lost. A damned soul that allowed these other damned souls to feel a little less insane.

But why?, the girl's audience found themselves asking by the end of the first movement. What exactly made this woman into who she was? How exactly had she become a matron, however inadvertently, to these lost and lonely souls, seeking out anything and everything they could to defer them from the truth of their lives? Was she a saint for this, or little better than a false prophet--willingly giving the people their time and space and opportunities to never seek the betterment of their lives? Many members of the audience doted on this question for some time.

And then, there was the man. His friends, the conflict, and all the references to that of a lost and wayward history, all comforts for him as much as they were pains. The girl's audience questioned the nature of the conflict, the nature of his scars, and the nature of his person. What kind of man was one that saw no qualms in acts of senseless chaos? A good man, a bad man, or just another damned soul?

What path to ruin had these people taken to lead them here, to the end of the world, to the very image of desolation? When the girl's audience finally came to terms with her deafness--that in spite of it all, her voice was something of angelic beauty--they could finally ask themselves these questions. They'd heard the entrance of the damned, and with eyes transfixed, they watched the girl on the stage with minds for little more than the story she had for them.

A piano refrain marked the end of the first movement. It was short and sweet, a melodic reference to the very first draft of this piece. When it concluded, the deaf songstress parted her lips to sing once more . . .

The small apartment smelled wondrous. With a mentor like Keeper though, what would make anyone think that Kali couldn’t cook? In fact, she was an excellent cook, just never really felt much a need for just herself.

Upon the small stove top was a massive pot filled with all sorts of local vegetables, and stew beef. And while most people from other parts would find this meal best eaten hot, around these parts, they ate it cold. Allowing it to cool after it all simmered together, tossing it in with pasta.

While the stew bubbled away on the stove, she was once again in her room cursing the disorganization of it all. “Ya know, I can clean this hole if you’d like a softer place to sleep.” She hollered from her room. She was certain she had offered before, having usually slept on the sofa anyways, it wasn’t really a big deal to her.

She popped out from the doorway and went straight to the kitchen. Within a few minutes, she came out with two tall glasses of black iced tea, lightly sweetened. She handed a glass toward Recheov with a smile. “Yours is a bit stronger then mine.” She winked a bit, having tossed a few shots of whisky in his.

She sank down on the sofa beside him and with a loud sigh, laid her head back. “So, whatcha wanna do now?” She took a sip of her tea, eyeballing him. “If you like, I can check your bandages tonight.” It was on the tip of her tongue, well....many things really. Such as...who was that person in the market? And, do you have to go anytime soon?.....but she didn’t ask. Maybe she didn’t wanna know. She knew she didn’t want him to leave anytime soon, but who was she to tell him that? A stranger? She bit down on her lower lip and forced a half hearted smile.

Once they returned to Kali's place, Recheov was quiet again--something that was beginning to become "usual." He spoke, of course; he could talk quite a lot if he wanted to, but this whole time, it seemed he only spoke when someone else--someone such as Kali--spoke first.

He hadn't undressed himself like one might have expected. He planned on getting a shower that night, though, and lounging around in a towel after the fact seemed like a pretty decent idea. That was the future, though; Recheov was mostly a man of the present, and in the present, Kali had a cup of tea for him.

"Heh, thanks," Recheov said as he lifted the glass some.

Alcohol was also a usual by now, but that was no different for Recheov. An entire forty-eight hour span of time had passed, and the only drinks he had were alcoholic. He'd no qualms, but he didn't experience much of an effect anymore. Just a numb sort of feeling . . . and that was all. It beat the alternative, though. His other option was to approach this mess of a path with a clear and level head, and he just didn't think he could do that. Calm numbness just had to suffice for him. That could only be topped by less than a handful of other things--feelings, activities, and all the like. A good brawl would be nice, for example. He might feel a little at home.

Recheov took a sip at his tea. It probably could have used a few more shots of whiskey, but that was all right. It was strong enough as is.

But it all led to the question: now what?

"Dunno, really," he shrugged his shoulders, before turning and making way for Kali's couch. Once he settled down into it and felt comfortable again, he continued: "Gonna get a shower in a bi', prolly. Wouldn' moin' a bandage change after. Wot 'bou' you? Wot's on your pla'e for the evenin'?"

She shrugged as she sipped on her own tea. The cool sweetness was more then refreshing. “I suppose a bath later, changing your bandages, and food.” She didn’t plan on anything major. Relaxing around was something she didn’t do often, usually she was on the go from the time she got up, to the time she fell asleep on the sofa. This was a nice change.

“Your tea alright?” She smiled and slid over closer to him. She didn’t mind the thought of changing his bandages, he was well built for as skinny as he was. She felt a blush steal her features as she quickly looked away. “I hope doing much of nothing is alright with you. I don’t get that luxury very often, it’s kinda nice.”

She took another sip of her tea, clearing her throat a little. “It’s even nicer to have someone to share it with.” She nudged him lightly, playfully...offering him a wink.

The heat had already taken command of the day. The small apartment was smoldering hot, yet Kali was sweating very little. The heat was never really anything she minded, having always lived in it, but she wondered if bothered him. “Handling the heat ok?” She didn’t want him overheating and falling over. Not to mention with his consumption of liquor, and lack of water......

Water, water--as helpful as that could be in this brand of environment, Recheov wasn't at all concerned about it. Honestly, he hated water. Whiskeys and tequilas and all those juicy liquors, that's where it was at. He could drink those all day and night. It probably wasn't good for him, but Recheov scarcely thought about what was good for himself and what was not. At most, he could be concerned about the well being of those he was with, but he could give a damn less about his own well being. If it got bad, he'd just deal with it in.

So far so good, though.

"Heh . . ." Recheov sipped at his tea, "oI'm foine, don't worry, babe. oI've 'ad much worse 'eat in my loife. All's I need sometoime's is a good soak in wa'er, an' oI'm all good again. Though, come to think of it . . ."

Recheov trailed off. For several seconds, he sat in silence, simply stroking his chin in thought. He felt the stubble of a five o'clock shadow (although hard to notice, really; every hair on his body was dirty blond), and felt a little too intellectual doing that.

"We coul' always save water together, y'know," Recheov remarked as a joke, at least regarding baths. He was fully prepared for Kali to get the joke and smack him.

It wouldn't be uncalled for, after all.

She looked up at him as his words trailed off. Lost in thought perhaps? She took another long gulp of her own team and watched him as he stroked his chin. He was hansom, ruggedly so; not the kinda of pretty boy woman swooned over.

As his next words rolled off his tongue, she choked slightly on her tea, dribbling a bit down her chin. She sat up reaching to wipe it from her face, and froze for a moment thinking about that situation. She could very easily lie, joke around about it with him, but she knew thoughts much the same had crossed her mind. And they were thoughts, the time he was silent proved that much to her.

A wry smile eased over her face as she turned to him, wiping the tea finally from her face. She placed her glass on the floor in front of the sofa and crawled up on his lap. Playfully, in the seductive sense, she ran her nose over his cheek, and as she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m not sure you could fit in that tight space.” Her smile grew as she choked back a giggle...”With me...” She finally finished.

With that said, mind you, the thought was pleasing to her, though she wouldn’t admit it straight out, she slid off his lap back to his side, scooping up her tea and lounging back as if nothing had ever happened. "Your thoughts?"

Well, that was certainly a surprise. A very pleasant surprise. At first confused when Kali crawled up to sit in his lap, Recheov quickly readjusted his strategy, though he didn't put his hands on her hips like he'd have liked. Damn would he have liked to do that, too. This woman was great. Provided she was throwing herself at him, Recheov would probably never run out of things to do with her.

But it all could've just been playful. He gave her a smirk and leaned back when she slid off of him. It was probably all in jest--but hell, what if it wasn't?

Recheov had never punched a gift horse in the mouth before. Didn't plan on starting anytime soon, either. Wait, that's not it. He'd never kicked a woman out of bed for eating crackers, either. In fact, he invited crackers to be present during times of love. . . ma . . . king . . . That's not right, either. He'd never kicked a woman in the mouth before? Okay, that's definitely not right. There was that one chick, and . . .

Never in his life had Recheov turned down a beautiful lady sitting in his lap. Better.

"Just 'cause two bodies are close don't make 'em uncomfortable," Recheov replied with his telltale smirk still across his lips.

She leaned against him drinking her tea, letting his words linger in the silence that surrounded them. Leaning her head backward onto his chest, the same smile showed up to him. “I don’t recall mentioning anything about bein uncomfortable.” She raised a brow as she sat back up, taking her now empty glass into the kitchen.

Without a word passed, she moved past him and into her room. Only a minute, perhaps two passed, and she reemerged with something in her arms, clothes perhaps. With a glance over her shoulder, the bathroom door would close, partially.

The steam from the bath would capture the faint scent of lavender from the oil she dripped into the stream of flowing water. Eagerly, she peeled her clothes from her body and tossed them into a woven basket in the corner of the room. Wasting no time, she eased herself down into the bubbles that seemed to consume her ebony flesh as if they were her lover.

With a deep inhale her eyes slid shut and her head lay against the cool rim of the tub. Dipping down even lower, she reached the handle with her foot and turned the water off. Lazily her head rolled to the side as her arms stretched along the sides of the bath. This was the best way, in her opinion to start a night...

It all seemed like such an invitation to join her, and Recheov wasn't one to turn down a beautiful woman when this sort of business was offered. Once Kali had her clothes and was in the bathroom, Recheov got up and off of the couch. He lingered near the bathroom door for awhile, a couple of minutes after Kali was all nice and soaking in the bath.

Incidentally, Recheov couldn't be smooth even when he wanted to. He was rough and rugged in almost every way, and hitting on women was no different. Pursuing a woman was no different, either. He was blunt. Too blunt, maybe. It reduced his chances for success rather drastically--though it wasn't like he gave a damn or anything. At worst, he was rejected, and it wasn't like it was going to hurt his pride or make him feel too terribly awkward or anything. Back in the day, he'd just move on, hit on someone else, and maybe succeed that time.

This time was different, though. There was a fair chance that he'd have no "next time." If he went out in the desert again, wandering like he'd do if he weren't in Kali's care, and he probably wouldn't be if she got pissed off and kicked him the hell out of her apartment.

So . . . he knocked. It was all he could do. The only passive-aggressive pursuit he could think of. For safety's sake, he needed to know if he should press the door open or not. He just felt like he needed a stop sign or nothing, enough to say if it was go time on the usual "charm" or not . . .

So the fox had some manners, knocking on the hen house door as it were. Silently she giggled to herself. It as cute really, perhaps even more smooth then he would give himself credit for. So now the question remains - what harm could come in allowing him to enter? True she was nude, though consumed in bubbles. Perhaps he needed something? She knew she was lying to herself, but hey, things happen, right?

“It’s open.” She sang aloud, her normal bubbly self. They were two adults, she didn’t need to make excuses, yet she found herself doing so, and again, she smiled wide at her own thoughts. How silly she was behaving, and only she knew of it. Still, her belly felt fluttery. A feeling she could honestly say she had never had before, a feeling she could get used to though she told herself not to.

Her eyes were locked on the door, wondering if he would actually enter fully into the room. She made no movement, no more sound, just waited, and wondered. While she had no real expectations she was curious as to how bold he may be. She had never really dated, had a few male friends here and there, but other then that, well...Kali was just Kali.

Offtopic: Oh God I accidentally closed this tab a week or two ago and completely forgot about this thread. I am so sorry.

When Kali told him the door was open, Recheov stood up straight and cracked his back. He considered tossing off his clothes, hopefully to make life a bit easier in a minute or two, but he refrained--for whatever reason. Truth be told, Recheov didn't even know. Still, he stood outside of the door for a solid few more seconds, just waiting to see if Kali was going to say she was joking. When she didn't, it officially became go time.

Still clothed, he pushed the door open and walked in. He thought only a second later to actually shut it behind him, in case someone like Keep or whatever were to come up here. It'd suck to be caught like that.

"Well 'ello there . . ." Recheov remarked with a half-grin.

Weird. He wasn't as confident as he used to be. His confidence was starting to come back, slowly but surely, but it was nothing like he used to be. Then again, he used to be a womanizer, too. Over-confidence maybe wasn't the best thing in the world? He didn't look back on it with much care, though, so that couldn't be it. It definitely had to be something else. Maybe the place. The heat of this damn desert could drag anyone down.

On topic to your offtopic: You so better be. >=/




She looked toward the door, wondering if he was going to actually come inside. Indeed he did, and looking rather nervous, but Kalis' eyes followed the door that he shoved closed behind him. Looking at him in time for his greeting, she smiled. “Well hi. Is anything the matter?”

She lay leaned back in the tub, resting her head against the edge. Bubbles covered the more intimate parts of her body, save for her arms, upper chest, and her one leg that was propped up on the end of the tub. Her well-tanned arms lay around the sides of the massive bath while she simply stared up at him with a half-cocked smile upon her lips.

She really didn’t know what to say in this situation, never being in it before and nervously she started popping the tiny bubbles near where her fingertips dangled. That was, until she realized what she was actually doing, and then she quickly looked away, clearing her throat, and again, tossed a glance to him, waiting for.......whatever...

He may have had a look of mild nervousness, but the truth of the matter was that for Recheov, something just didn't feel right. He should've been a lot more enthusiastic at this point. That wasn't to say that Kali was not an attractive woman. Truth be told, she was downright gorgeous. Common sense should have kicked in and he should've been unclothed right than instant. It happened with other women. Get them to a situation like this and just have at it. Back then, it was all just so easy to run with. But here, Recheov found himself hesitating. He'd long since shoved his hands into his pockets and looked past Kali, into the bathwater itself.

Recheov felt a twinge somewhere, elsewhere within the reaches of his mind. He half shut his eyes as if he were about to say something important.

"Come to think of it," Recheov half turned to the door, "Ya prolly shouldn't be bathin' with strays. Y'never know wot koinda flees they moigh' carry."

With that, Recheov freed a hand from his pocket, pulled the door open a bit, and pulled it closed behind him, making sure it latched. He left the washroom with but a single thought:

Goddamn I need a drink.

She parted her lips to speak to him, but nothing came out. In fact, nothing even came to mind. Although she looked at him (obviously quite differently then he looked at himself), she allowed a sigh of relief to escape those parted lips as the door closed behind him.

She hadn’t realized it before now, but her body was tensed from head to toe. Relaxing, she slid down into the water, submerging herself entirely.

After taking her time and completing her bath, she finally opened the bathroom door. Shorts and a tank was all she had on, but that was just her way. She moved past him without a word, embaressed maybe a little, but after all, what kinda woman was she? She disappeared into the kitchen, and after a couple minutes, and the sound of rattling glass, she returned to the living room with a tall glass in hand.

“Here.” The smell of whisky could not be denied. “Are you hungry yet?” She played it all off rather well. It was like..he hadn’t even entered the bathroom in her mind. She knew what kinda woman she was. Taking a seat on the sofa, she looked up at him. “You know, you are welcome to stay here just as long as you like.” She nodded toward the empty space beside her. All was well in her mind. “I enjoy your company.”

Recheov was still standing by the time Kali was out of the bath. He was near the sofa and had his arms over his chest in thought. Thought of what, even he didn't fully understand. All he knew was that he was about ready to head down to the bar and get a drink when Kali provided him one. It was a bit surprising and took him out of his momentary lapse in awareness, but it was a good kind of surprise. He nodded to her in appreciation, though didn't quite say anything just yet. Truth be told, he felt a bit awkward from the strangeness of their little encounter.

It was . . . weird. Thinking on it, Recheov couldn't remember a time when he felt awkward around a woman, either. For any reason, really . . .

Her offer, Recheov barely gave much thought to. He seemed to nod to it, but didn't react much (initially) to either her invitation for him to sit or her invitation for him to stay. Recheov instead stared at his short glass and the whiskey swirling about the ice. He swirled the whiskey and ice with subtle wrist movements for nearly a whole minute before he at last responded to her.

"I 'preciate it; really do," he replied, his tone low and earnest, "Don't think oI can, though. oI'd really 'ate to bring you that sorta trouble."