The War for Hell's Kitchen
Of Meat and Maple Syrup
By: Brenli

Nema Page was exhausted.

She stifled a yawn as she organized papers and books, setting some on the nearest window sill, when she heard the singing. "Fill, oh, fill the pirate glass, and to make us more than merry, let the pirate bumper pass!"

What the Hell...? But the singing sent a smile across her lips, and she approached the not-quite-in-tune singing. "You know I'm still here, right?" She called out and congratulated herself on not bursting out in laughter.

Before she could reach the door to the lobby of the offices of Nelson and Murdock, it swung open, and Setsuna stood there with his face carefully serious. "... Could you... Could you hear me, just now?"

His reaction had her smile growing into a big grin, and she couldn't remember the last time she really grinned. "... Nope!"

As she returned to her work, Setsuna bantered back, "The correct answer is, 'Yes, and you sound amazing!'"

Nema snorted out a little scoff. "Well, of the two lies, I took the lesser!"

Setsuna chuckled merrily. "I thought you went home. What are you still doing here?"

"Uh..." Her hand briefly covered her mouth. "I... I could ask you the same...!"

"Yes, but I am a partner at a prestigious law firm with very important documents needing to be documented so we can start generating some revenue, while you are-" He paused when her chocolate brown eyes, so dark against the paleness of the rest of herself, turned up from two pages of files and stared at him. "... also very integral in your own special, manager-"

She set the files down and stood up straight, one hand planted against her hip as she stared with wide, too-expectant eyes.

Setsuna sighed, which had Nema laughing. It was impossible to really be angry with Setsuna. He was too... wholesome, too happy.

"I dug myself in too deep and I can't climb out." Setsuna admitted, openly wearing his shame.

"You need a hand with that?"

"Please!"

"Oooooh...! Not gonna happen!" Oh, she'd missed bantering like this, like she used to do with...

"Seriously, what are you still doing here?" Setsuna tried again, albeit casually.

"I have work to do!" Nema's lashes fell over her eyes as she grabbed that same stack of files.

He tended to be silly, but she wasn't quite fooling him. "What work? We don't have any clients, yet."

"Well your shit's not gonna unpack itself...!" She was quick to retort, though teasingly so.

"This box of vital import will be here in the morning...!" Setsuna stepped in and grabbed the box sitting on her desk. "You should be out having a life, doing poppers and flapper dancing!"

"Flapper dancing?" She laughed.

"I don't know what kids do, these days!"

"We're the same age, Setsuna."

"So you're saying I shouldn't be here, either?" Setsuna's mock-serious face still had her snickering. "Fair enough...! But I'm awkward and unfashionable. Those things don't seem to apply to you."

Oh, if only he knew that her fashionable, not-awkward self was a pretty new development, in the grand scheme of things. He moved over to sit at the edge of her desk, his face so open, so sincere it made memories flood her. Old ones, that gave way to new ones, tracing the dark line of her life from Vermont to New York. "I just don't feel like going home..." She was honest, though in doing so she immediately missed the teasing they shared. "... Okay?"

Setsuna nodded, the look in his eyes softening in understanding. "Well... we can't stay here. Not enough money to keep the lights on past midnight." His suit-covered shoulders lifted in a shrug. "So let's hop a few bars, not think about it."

He didn't press, and Nema felt the gratitude swell within her chest. "Yes, big fan of the not thinking...!" That was the whole point in leaving Vermont. To not have to think... And even if more darkness greeted her, she didn't want to think of that, either.

Setsuna's hands clapped together in a single sound of approval. "You will fit right in, here!"

For his sake, she actually hoped not. It implied that everyone here had something to run away from... But she sighed the thought away as she grabbed her purse. "Should we call Uriel?"

"Sure, yeah! Let's see what he's up to."

But he didn't pick up, not even when Setsuna tried again as they strode into the little bar Nema got to hear all about, in transit. He nonetheless left a message as they stepped inside and were immediately hit with jukebox rock music and stale air.

"Uriel, it's me again...! Where are you? I'm introducing Nema to Josie's, and I have high hopes it's gonna go terribly." He pointed at someone in recognition, and it was hard for Nema to picture the teddy-bear-like Setsuna associating with the kind of burly, tattooed folk that looked like they took up regular residence, here. "Climb off whoever you're on and get down here!"

"You... saved the best for last, huh?" It certainly seemed like it. Their time spent drinking and hopping went from places that looked more like bistros into a steady devolution to... this... place. It felt like the kind of places she dipped into on the journey from Vermont to Hell's Kitchen. The people felt like the kind of people that would be napping in their semi trucks at the rest stops she collapsed at...

But Setsuna's face glowed with a kind of pride. Alcoholic pride, sure, but still pride. "Oh yeah, this place is a shithole, but it's our shithole...!" As they sat at the bar, he reached right over to grab a couple of glasses. "The city's tried to shut it down half a dozen times, but I helped Josie with the liens, and as a result, we get to drink for free!"

Nema looked over at the bartender Setsuna shifted his focus toward; a woman in a plaid flannel button down with the sleeves ripped off, over a Harley Davidson shirt. Her eyeshadow formed thick blocks of a single wash of color over her lids, her brows were penciled in dark, and her permed hair looked frizzy from the humidity caused by too many bodies in a tiny bar. "You absolutely do not get to drink for free." She nonetheless slid the bottle of whiskey toward them.

Setsuna caught it with a grin. "Let's agree to disagree!"

And Josie let him have the moment with a great big roll of her eyes, which had Nema smiling as she thanked him for pouring her glass.

"Cheers!" They tapped glasses for the hundredth time that night, or at least it felt like a hundred. Nema wasn't keeping count.

She coughed when she took in the alcohol, the burn making her groan. She would've expected the bartender to judge her for it, but when she looked over, Josie's smile was amused and kind. "You could do so much better, love." She commented.

"Thank you, Josie," Setsuna shot back, "but this is my employee, for your information, and we are not on a date!" His tone suddenly shifted toward mock-seriousness. "Are we on a date?"

The banter made Nema's cough continue, but only because she was laughing. "Definitely not!" No offense to him; he was handsome and he was sweet. But he was so much like her brother; she couldn't shake the correlation if she tried.

"Okay, good, because I was starting to worry you might be in love with me!" When Nema lifted her drink with a snort of a scoff, he drunkenly waved his hands about and continued to tease her. "What other explanation could there be? You hang around my office all day."

No, no wait, the night had gone so well so far. She didn't want the conversation swinging this way, even if it was in good spirits. "I'm your secretary, Setsuna."

But he wasn't having it, his drunk-blush blooming red on his face as it scrunched in scrutiny, shaking his head. "You refuse to leave! You're always at your desk."

"I'm a good secretary!"

"No...! You gaze at me lovingly when you think I'm not looking."

Nema nearly spat out the mouthful of whiskey she'd sipped. It was a miracle she didn't choke from her laughter.

"What, you might...! How would I know? I'm not looking!" His tone switched again, to a mock-dejected pleading. "Just let me live in it."

They laughed, and they drank, and they tried calling Uriel again. By the time the bottle was drained they'd left three voicemails for him. Or was it four? Who knew, who cared?

"So you wanna talk about it?"

Nema was too drunk to continue the long-running game of denial. "Let's leave it alone."

"Yeah, no problem." But as she lingered on the last couple of sips in her glass, he admitted with a slur, "Okay, technically, 'leave it alone' is not my strong suit, but-"

"I can't..."

The words had come out like the alcohol helped them slip free, and she hadn't expected it. Clearly, neither had he, from the way his slightly-scrunched teasing face loosened into surprised seriousness.

"Um..." She couldn't look at him. Only the tiny bit of whiskey left in her glass. "I can't get Daniel's blood out of the carpet." When she dared to meet his eyes, it was like confessing to a crime, even though she knew she was innocent. Even though he knew it, too. "It's like somebody spilled a wine bottle and it just won't come..."

Setsuna's nod was small, tentative... but not afraid to hear these things.

"And a man broke into my apartment and tried to kill me. He dented the wall where he bashed my head in." She looked back down at her glass when Setsuna's gaze left her. It was easier to confess when she didn't have to look him in the eye... "If that guy in the mask hadn't been there..." Nema didn't say the rest. Only sighed and desperately tried to claim every remaining drop in her glass.

"My cousin does drywall. I'll call him first thing in the morning." He offered as she drank.

But she shook her head. "It's not the apartment, Setsuna."

He nodded. "I know..." His voice was soft and frank.

"I don't see the city, anymore..." And admitting it made her issue a heartbroken sigh. That wasn't what Hell's Kitchen was supposed to become. That was a feeling for the mountains of Vermont, not here... never here. "All I see are its... dark corners. I look around this room and all that I see are threats." A childhood habit she wanted so badly to break.

Setsuna was drunk but he was attentive, listening with a concerned face, pausing like he needed to be sure she'd said all she wanted to say... and it was only then when he gently scoffed. "This room? These guys are harmless...!" He turned and gestured to a man with a shaved head, shooting pool. "Look, that's Tom Belkin. He's the Road Captain in the Kitchen Hellions, and he organizes the food drive every Thanksgiving." He pointed again. Another man, with a very darkly inked sleeve of tattoos. "That's Rob Donohue. His wife Mira?" His smile grew into a glowing... proud grin, like he loved these people, like they were family. "She works at the dry cleaner around the corner from our office." Another man, graying, with the remnants of what must have been an amazing mullet, back when mullets were trendy. "That's Clint Peterson. He... Okay, he is a criminal." The honesty had Nema laughing, which had him laughing, too. "He's done time for larceny and distribution, but he's turning it around...! And we are so close to getting his kids into Saint Agnes Daycare. Saint Agnes...!"

Even with her remaining reservations, Setsuna managed to make them melt down, and she nodded her acknowledgment. "Okay... okay."

Setsuna drunkenly shrugged his shoulders. "You don't wanna go home? You don't wanna go home. We can stay out all night...!" He reached for the empty bottle, poured... or attempted to pour, shaking it when nothing came out. "Oh, shit..."

Nema laughed all the harder when Josie immediately slid another bottle to Setsuna, clearly knowing him too well. "So what about you?"

"Mmm?" Setsuna mumbled as he absently opened up the new bottle.

Nema rested her chin her hands. "You're trying to make this feel like an episode of Cheers."

He suddenly guffawed and warbled, "Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name...!"

She giggled and swatted his shoulder. "What's your story? You told me Tom's and Rob's and Clint's. What's yours?"

"Little old me?" He scoffed as he poured their glasses. Nema had to guide his hand so he didn't spill on the bar. "I'm the real bad seed, here...! My Mom wanted me to be a butcher."

"A what?" Nema blinked and laughed.

"It's true!"

"I can't imagine that at all..."

Setsuna smiled widely. "Don't tell my Mom that; it'll break her heart. I said, 'No, Mom, I want to be a lawyer!' I don't remember what I said next."

Nema gently hummed as their glasses clinked yet again. "Come on, she must be proud of you, now. A lawyer is a good step above being a butcher..."

"Ah, but this is a family business. Yeah, logic says being a lawyer is a step above being a butcher, but when you have this thing, that your whole family is involved in... I mean. I grew up around this; my Mom and I used to help my Dad out with selling and... I still have all this bizarre information in my head. I have Japanese auctioneering terms firmly locked in here!" He tapped his head. "I'll never use them again because I don't need to argue with Japanese grandpas over their bluefin tuna, but it's in there, because it's this very involved, family thing. They always expected I'd be involved forever. You know what I mean?"

And Nema did... albeit, not the same way. Not with hunks of meat and Japanese auctioneering terms, but with the blue glow of radioactive cobalt, and chemical warning stickers. Yeah, when a father had a job to do but loved his family so much he'd do whatever it took to keep them near... yeah. It meant being involved. It meant the expectation of being involved forever.

But Setsuna was so drunk he carried on with describing the destiny he'd avoided. "I could be carving my own corned beef...! Making my own pickles...! Have a little shop of my own..."

"You sound like you have regrets." Nema commented quietly, trying to lock away all she was trying to keep behind herself.

"Regrets? Nah. This is what I want... If we could only get some money in the equation. Equipment! A water cooler...!"

Nema leaned down, crossing her arms on the counter and resting her chin on them. "Yeah, we're gonna need the hydration for sure, if we keep this up...!"

"I'll bring a jug for us to share. So what about you?"

"Hmm?" Her doe eyes swiveled up at him.

Setsuna grinned. "Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your-"

"Oh my God!" She buried her laugh in her crossed arms. "You know my name!"

"Aw, come on, come on...!"

Nema shut her eyes and indulged him... but only the slightest bit, a sliver in the hidden ocean of herself. "I'm just a small-town mountain girl from Vermont; there's nothing exciting, there."

"I don't know; I heard Vermont makes some damn good maple syrup...!"

Among other things... "Yeah... the syrup is great."