She's surprised by how much Worick reads.
Amidst the day-to-day bustle of their many odd jobs, and especially on client days, Alex finds books scattered in the mess of the apartment. All kinds of books: mysteries, histories, romances, and what some would call "real literature," the stuffy kind with fancy phrases, long sentences, and requiring the ability to delve beyond the surface syntax to whatever meaning is trying to find its way up. Always a different book; Alex can't help but wonder where they all come from, and what happens when Worick's done with them.
There aren't many bookshelves. For that matter, there isn't much furniture beside beds, the couch, or the desk. What's there is mostly empty, or being used for other things. In their stark apartment not much is around that doesn't have some use to it. Even the walls are mostly bare, broken by a calendar and a couple of porn posters. The apartment's a place where everything worth taking could be packed up in a small bag, and they could depart without warning. Yet it's home.
So she wonders about the books. Worick hardly gives straight answers about the things that matter; all she has is wondering.
Alex picks one up from the floor, when she's house-sitting the Benriya phone, waiting for calls. It was a textbook, dog-eared, notes scratched messily in the margins. She flips through, reading through some of the pages before the old book smell makes her sneeze.
The next day, a new book had been left on the floor, fallen off the coffee table where Worick must have left it the night before. Oddly, she never saw him crack the book open, but there was a page marked for continuation and she flipped through again, skimming.
Some books she puts down quickly, holding no interest. Others she reads slowly, carefully, taking up her hours. She reads between crackly radio broadcasts, phone calls, and job requests that she can handle without the guys. Every opportunity to leave the building she takes; but Alex begins to look forward to whatever book Worick left behind that day. She can't recall a time she ever had to sit and just read. She wonders if the life before Barry allowed her to have time for that. Thoughts of Barry make her shudder and she tries to shove them away, hands reaching for a bottle of tranquilizers in her pocket.
She clutches her hand in a fist until the urge passes. Better to wait for when she really needs them.
She never sees Nic read; then again, she's hardly ever alone with him for long. He keeps to himself, and she's still so far behind on sign language that talking together, as an actual two-way conversation, is difficult. And what is there to talk about? She has questions, and a general curiosity about him; Nic has other ideas on that. His room downstairs has nothing personal, just like the rest of the apartment. Not a bed, not a night stand; just a table, a couch, and the sink. If she didn't know for a fact that someone lived there, she would have thought it was abandoned.
The phone rings; she picks it up quickly, takes the message, hangs up. Before she decides if the message can wait or not the phone rings again.
By the end of the hour there are three jobs for Benriya for the next day, and Alex is again stuck with nothing to do. She picks up a book, another one she hasn't seen before, and reads.
Worick comes home first, takes a shower, and they talk a bit. She asks after his day, what they were doing tonight. Worick mentions tomorrow's a client day; they talk about her taking one of tomorrow's jobs.
Nic rolls in sometime later, quiet, going down the stairs after just a wave and a quick gesture. She grabs the sign language book, but Worick beats her to it. He's just working out, he says. Alex pouts a moment and then remembers dinner.
This is their evenings, when they aren't working. Alex cooks some nights. Others, its pizza or take-out, and she and Worick just chat. Nic hardly ever comes up.
Tonight, for some reason, he does. It hardly changes anything; he joins them, taking a seat on the couch and munching messily on his food. Worick chuckles and makes a joke about his manners; Nic scowls and gestures something, too fast for Alex to catch. His meaning's clear anyway, and she smiles at Worick's pretend anger.
They break out a few beers, and there's a game of Scrabble underway. She asks Worick where he got the board; a friend of a friend, as it happens. As Nic's pondering his next word Alex hands Worick the phone messages from earlier, and they talk a bit, figuring out the next couple of days. Nic's turn is up, and the night goes on, Worick relaying the discussion.
Midnight, Nic goes down to sleep; Alex arranges herself on the couch, but Worick insists she take the bed that night. She agrees finally, but he stays with her until she falls asleep, speaking softly about nothing. He might have pet her head at some point, calming her, but she thinks she dreamed that.
The next day, just before she leaves, she sees a book and a note. "Whenever you want something different, let me know. -Worick"
She smiles, picks the book up, and takes it with her.
a/n: There is an appalling lack of fic for this series, which is why I posted this. Sorry it's not much.