Taffer Notes: This chapter is shared between Nicole and John, with Mav coming back to write John and Darrow for me. I love him almost as much as I love Mav.
Cats
By the time they'd reached the Daily Revive, Nicole had picked up a trail. Ghosts, naturally. Four of them. She'd collected them one by one until they'd formed a small swarm, which dove around corners and up over roofs and arches as they tumbled around each other in a constant display of something distinctly playful. Something careless.
Harmless.
And while they'd followed her, always at a distance, she'd succumbed to anxiety.
Not any less or any more than she'd been doing ever since — you know, that — but the subjects were different this time around. Rather than being consumed by thoughts of how she was a walking dead person, she'd worried about things a lot less... apocalyptical.
It'd started simple. With a: Are they even going to accept my application, quietly whispered from a muddle corner of her mind.
Wait, I need to apply? she'd asked back at herself. Shocked and frantic and fanning the flames and whatnot. How?
And what if they already found someone? the same anxious whisper had said, ignoring her question.
I suppose I can pretend I'm just here to buy some coffee then.
She'd nodded to herself. A good plan, that.
Yes, but— what if they accept you and then it turns out you forgot how to make coffee?
Ultimately, that was the thought that immobilised her. Effectively, too. Right in front of the door, no less, her hands shoved into her pockets and eyes probably all glazed over.
"You know, we can come back another time," Ghost offered, quietly.
Nicole inhaled sharply. "No. No, it's fine. I can do this. I got this." Her eyes flicked up to the sign over the door and then busied themselves skipping down to two tables with chairs arranged outside. The furniture looked brittle, to say the least.
"Of course you can," he said with an almost chirping sort of undertone, "and of course you do."
"Alright. Here I go." Steeling herself against the ordinary, Nicole pushed the door open, the soft chime of its bell scattering the Ghosts that'd followed her and her nerves along with them.
When John had first come in, the Daily Revive had been surprisingly still — for a second or two. Darrow floated annoyingly close to his head, but he tried to ignore it as he approached the counter, flowers in hand. Chrysanthemums, to be precise. They were a big hit around here, especially the yellow kind.
A door in the back somewhere creaked open, and Darrow quietly took to hovering a little farther up in preparation for— yeah, there she was.
Instantly, before any sign of the owners had appeared, a totally massive cat made of at least ninety percent fluff practically flew right up onto the counter without a single sound, like she was just a shadow. Daintily, she padded forward into petting range, and John promptly surrendered one hand to scratch her cheek.
"Hi, Muffin," John said as the cat gently started to purr, surrendering to said cheek scratches and all but falling into his hand. "Say hi, Darrow."
Darrow let off some odd, moody hum that wasn't a hi at all. Rude as ever.
"Y'know you kind of deserve all the times she's bapped you," John said, stroking Muffin's fuzzy chin until she lay with the top of her head flat against the counter in some joyful daze.
"I wonder how you would feel if someone knocked you in the head at each meeting," Darrow sniped.
John made a thoughtful face and shrugged one shoulder. "If she was super cute? I dunno, there'd be several factors involved."
Darrow allowed a short pause. "I don't need to know these things about you."
Next came the familiar face of Ariel Winters, always recognizable from her long, thick, brown braid – and the fact that she was the shorter of the two ladies here. Not that her height made her any less intimidating. Hell, she'd even scared Darrow a few times, which was more than a little hard to do in a controlled environment.
A smile wore a few more creases into her aged face, and she sauntered on over behind the counter. John promptly presented the flowers, cocking his head ever so slightly and putting on a smile.
"You don't have to slay me every time you walk through the door," said Ariel, taking the flowers and giving them a long sniff.
That only dialed up John's smile more. "I'm just glad I still got it."
"Face like yours, it won't ever go away."
"Please don't encourage it," Darrow muttered, insofar as Ghosts could mutter.
"Hello to you too, Darrow," Ariel added. Then she leaned around John in that way she did when she occasionally chided him for being 'too' tall or 'too' broad-shouldered, as if she really meant it, and eyed the door.
"Getting a premonition?" John asked, lowering his voice to not break the moment.
The moment turned true, because the next second, a familiar ball of anxiety – and he wasn't thinking about Ghost – came through the door. The ball of anxiety that John felt uniquely bad for, though he felt absolutely certain she'd hate him if he ever actually admitted that. From the way Ghost acted, she didn't seem to be too big on pity, really. Or talking to anyone.
Then again, maybe he was just projecting…
Yeah. Probably projecting. Luckily for him, he had at least learned how to pretend to be okay.
"I told you she'd come back," John said with another smile, still half leaning on the counter. Despite not actually looking at him, John could feel Darrow roll his eye. Maybe he should've thought ahead of time and grounded him before thinking Nicole might show up.
Speaking of Nicole, though, she froze up and stood there, staring, like an unsocialized cat. In an effort to theoretically offer her a friendly hand, John leaned forward over the counter toward Ariel – who leaned forward to meet him halfway.
"Either that or she's following me," John added, knowing Nicole could still hear him.
Ariel scoffed and shook her head, giving him a light slap on the arm. She smiled, though. At least it worked on somebody.
With a quiet snort, John pushed himself off the counter and straightened up, turning to face Nicole instead. He tried on a different smile then, a more friendly one. What could he possibly do to get her to lighten up? No puns intended. Relax, maybe, was the better word.
Because she scowled after that – not that he was buying it at all, it looked absolutely theatrical – and said, "I am not."
John let his smile fall into an equally as forced frown. "Aw," he pouted.
That got a response: Nicole went red all over. John couldn't help but let his eyebrows scoot up just a hint as she shoved her shoulders up all defensively and padded into the room almost as quietly as Muffin had flown up onto the countertop. Speaking of Muffin, the cat nuzzled at his nearest arm for more attention, so John absently reached around to start petting her.
"I know you have the capability to be professional," Darrow narrated from closer to his head again. "What I don't understand is why you only exercise it when it's strictly necessary."
John put on a smile again, not quite as cheerful as the one before, but he was trying for Nicole's sake. He showed his palms and stepped away from the counter, gesturing Nicole toward it in a way he hoped was inviting. Just to make sure, he bowed his head a little while he was at it, keeping his distance. He wasn't one to crowd anyone, much less her – especially considering he hated being crowded, himself, to this day.
"Ariel," he said, any wryness gone, "this is Nicole."
"Nice to meet you," said Ariel, who glanced Nicole up and down. "I've heard so little about you," she added, throwing John a look. John smiled innocently.
"I don't like spoilers." He, in turn, glanced at Darrow. "You like spoilers?"
"I always read spoilers," Darrow replied flatly. "So do you, half the time."
Fun police.
"Nicole," John added, "Ariel Winters."
That finally got Nicole to give Ariel a more significant look, and she gave an arguably lame nod. Or, at least, Darrow probably thought it was lame – along with her quiet "hi" – but John found himself feeling sorry for her again. And he decided instantly not to let it show.
"And," John added, lifting a hand to gently rub his fingers together – that instantly got Muffin on her feet again, coming to give his hand a nuzzle, "this is Muffin. She's very friendly, don't worry. And soft and gentle. She's like a therapy cat."
"If she didn't love chasing Ghosts so, I'd wonder if she even had claws at all," Ariel put in.
Nicole seemed to be processing that as Ghost – her Ghost – came whisking over to hover high above Nicole's head, watching the cat. That got John to watch him, which—
"Now I suppose the Winters have three cats," Darrow narrated, deadpan.
Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean…
"Ghost," John said, trying to turn the attention away from squarely and solely on Nicole, "that a new shell? New… new-ish?"
"Oh," Ghost piped up, shell flaring out proudly. "Yes! I'm glad you noticed."
So easy to flatter this guy. It was adorable.
"I like the, ah," John gestured with one hand, "tape. That… presumably you don't actually need anymore."
If Ghosts could blush. "Umm…"
Again John smiled. "It's a fashion statement."
"It's handsome," said Ariel.
"See? Exactly, that. Handsome."
Darrow, of course, gave another dry addition: "It's pointless." After a short pause, he hummed and then decided, "Except maybe to help something spot you that shouldn't."
"Darrow…" John started, almost through his teeth, because he wanted things to be nice here—
Thankfully, a timely interruption came out of the back next: a woman a bit taller than Ariel, with short but striking hair, grey with – currently – streaks of red. Currently, John thought, because those streaks of color changed fairly often.
"Right on time," John said, and Ariel right out grinned.
"Nicole," she said, turning to motion the other woman forward, "this is Samantha, my partner in crime. Sam, this is John's New Light."
John went a little stiff and side-eyed Nicole as she promptly turned red again, and John licked his lips.
"They're sweethearts," he said, voice a little lower, eyes still on her. "Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die."
Nicole, at least, gave him a look. That was as much acknowledgment as he got for now.
"I hate that saying," Darrow said.
"You hate everything, Darrow."
"No, I don't. I just hate most things that you say, Shephard."
"I know you're too asinine to admit how much you appreciate me, but dial it back right now—"
"Boys," Samantha cut in with an amused smile, "is now a bad time to say 'get a room?'"
"It would be approximately the fifteenth time you or Ariel have told us that," Darrow said, sounding exhausted. He made an odd buzzing noise, almost like someone sniffing in mild or even good-natured contempt – if such a thought made sense. "And it doesn't even apply to Ghosts…"
John just grinned. Except then he noticed Nicole had a brief flash of looking deeply uncomfortable, then he promptly felt oddly like shit and ended up ducking his head.
"So, Nicole, I…" he started – only to get interrupted. Again.
"Shephard," Darrow barked.
John took a deep breath and turned to face Darrow, eyes narrowed under a furrowed brow. "Yes, Darrow?" he said in a sweet but not actually sweet at all tone.
"Well don't get mad at me, I'm just the messenger. Shaxx wants you. Something something that awful Crucible where you freak me the hell out banging your head against other Guardians because you don't know how else to deal with trauma."
John set his jaw hard. Yeah, so Darrow didn't like the Crucible at all, but really? In front of Nicole?
Nicole, though, gave her own Ghost a look and asked very, very quietly, "Crucible?"
"Don't worry about that," John almost blurted, before Ghost could say anything, because the last thing he wanted Nicole getting exposed to was that. She might even beat Darrow for intensity of dislike.
Ghost's shell flared in a way John found absolutely ominous, because he seemed excited, and some leaden worry dropped heavy into John's stomach that Nicole might learn what the Crucible was pretty soon.
Still, he put on another smile. "Sorry," he said, also giving Ariel and Samantha a glance, "guess I gotta run."
"I'd hate to deprive Shaxx of his favorite Titan," said Ariel.
"Take care, John," added Samantha, because they were good at finishing each other's thoughts like that.
Offering another smile and a nod, John fired a quick two-fingered salute off his forehead for the lot of them. "See you around."
With that, John turned and stalked back out the door, Darrow trailing along at his shoulder. John threw one last look behind him at Nicole and the others as he left, something in him shriveling that he didn't get to hang around and… maybe at least try to make things a little easier. But maybe he only made them worse. He did have a talent for that sometimes.
"And as for you," John said, "you're grounded as hell."
"Oh please," Darrow scoffed. "I don't understand the fascination. Let her find some menial, tedious, cog-in-the-machine job at the Tower and let's move on. We have plenty of bigger things to worry about."
He couldn't help but sigh. "Yeah, well… maybe I get tired of worrying about 'bigger' things all the time."
"Oh, great. You aren't doing this to me, are you?"
"What?"
"Caring about her."
John stopped and wheeled to face him. "I care about plenty of people, Darrow. And, ya know, you could stand to learn from that."
Darrow stared hard at him for a moment. Then his eye seemed to dim a notch or two and he glanced at the floor instead.
"I care about you," was his only answer. "Isn't that enough?"
And somehow, just like that, the asshole made John feel like… well, he was the asshole instead. So he licked his lips again, turned, and ducked his head low.
"Be nicer to Nicole, okay?" he halfway muttered.
"I'll make an attempt," Darrow answered in his own sort of mutter.
That was the best he would get for now, probably. So, for now, John kept walking in silence – and now that he wasn't trying to show Nicole around, he did his best to avoid any crowds. Instead, he went quietly, through back allies and narrow pathways. He knew this place all too well.
Sure, he might've compared Nicole to an unsocialized cat, but, if anything, maybe he was the alley cat still – even after all this time and all these heroics – trying to feel like he had a home.
"Now hide me from Shaxx," Darrow almost ordered, breaking the precious stillness. "He's so loud."
John almost grinned.
The door clicked shut, the bell giving another chime, and Nicole stood around feeling like a kite with its lead snapped: Abandoned to the winds.
This is the worst.
"It might be hard to believe, but we don't bite," Ariel Winters said as she walked around the counter, scooping up— what'd it been… Muffin? —on the way. The cat was big enough to halfway hide the woman behind golden brown fur flecked with generous black tufts. "And neither does John," she added with a bright smile once she'd reached Nicole.
Oh, so she was hiding her terror that well?
Nicole, on her part, only managed to blink dumbly. Especially when Ariel lifted the massive bundle of fluff and deposited in her arms. Gosh, she was heavy. But warm. A comforting, warm weight. One that steadily purred against her chest as Nicole held on to her, her fingers and chin easily vanishing into the masses of soft fur. Not that she had to do a lot of holding. Muffin on her part quickly dug her claws into her clothes after only a moment of hanging in her arms and pulled herself up to lay across her shoulder.
RRrrRRrrRRrr, she went. Like she'd swallowed a motor. Her tail swished. Once.
"Oh, don't know," Samantha put in from the back. "Under the right circumstance you'd hope he might?"
Ariel hummed thoughtfully in response.
Muffin's tail went swish again, giving Nicole something to focus on. Something that wasn't the anxiety chewing up her insides. A distraction so effective, she nearly missed Ariel's and Samantha's rather important exchange.
"Good, looks like Muffin likes you," Ariel said. "What do you think, Sam?"
"Hey, works for me."
Nicole spooled her thoughts back in. Sorted them away from swishing cat tails, loud purring, and that one wayward one that'd zeroed in on the biting. Right on time, too, what with how both women were giving her meaningful looks. Ariel from right in front of her, her arms folded, and Samantha from the back still, a cup in her hands which was getting an idle polish with a rag.
"You're hired," they said. Together. And perfectly in sync.
"Uh—" Nicole shifted on her feet. "I am? You don't need me to— I don't know— turn in an application?"
"With what on it?" Samantha asked, her tone teasing but kind. She put the cup down and slung the rag around her arm. "Recently risen, but have coffee-brewing in my bones?"
Oh. Right. She'd forgot.
"I, ah," Nicole took a deep breath (which promptly resulted in her getting a nose full of cat hair). "Ta."
The women exchanged looks. Samantha's smile blossomed and she clapped her hands together. Softly though. Not the sort of CLAP that'd have made Nicole jump. "And our first Irish Guardian. Can you believe it?"
"Scottish," Ariel corrected. She looked a wee proud when Nicole nodded lamely to acknowledge her being not Irish at all. "That Hunter kid who brought us the waffle iron was Irish. You know, the one with the heart shapes?"
"Ah! Yes, I remember him. Such an eager kid, hope he's been careful out there." Samantha abandoned the back of the café to join them in the no-man's land of Nicole's confusion and ever-lasting dread. "So, Nicole, when'd you like to start?"
Muffin's purring paused briefly, and Nicole divided her attention between turning her head a little to eyeball the cat, and cooking up an answer that didn't sound too desperate.
"I don't exactly have anything lined up," she admitted. "Whenever you need me to?"
"How about now?" Samantha asked.
Nicole nodded more on reflex than anything. Ghost had caught her eye as he shimmied closer to her, his shell twitching in a display of curiosity as he got closer and closer and closer, his slowly blinking eye set on Muffin.
"Perfect," Ariel said and waved her forward before indicating the shop with a sweep of her arm. "Let's get you orientated then."
"And you might want to be carefu—" Samantha started, albeit a little too late.
With only a hint of a warning, her ear flicking back, Muffin's paw shot out and batted Ghost right over a fin.
He spun out under the swat with a Aaha trailing him before bouncing back up wiggling backwards, out of reach of another swat. Nicole failed at keeping a grin down and earned herself a theoretical scowl given weight by a slanted fin.
Nicole let the cat down after that. Which wasn't as easy as it might sound — between the hooks for claws and all the weight. But down she went anyway and padded right off, weaving between Ariel's feet before moving on to butt heads with Samantha's ankles.
"What was it we're hiring her for again?" Samantha asked while stepping around the slinky cat and turning to lead the way to the back of the café.
Ariel shrugged. "I don't know. John didn't exactly say."
He hadn't what now? Nicole exchanged a look with Ghost, who shrugged his fins to say Iunno. So when the Winters gestured for her to follow, Nicole only did once she'd dug out the well-worn piece of paper.
She unfolded it, stared at it, and wondered how it'd never occurred to her that it'd been odd how the note was handwritten and looked like it'd been scribbled in a hurry. She looked up at the Winters' backs. And not in a script she'd credit to either of the ladies. Frowning, Nicole pocketed the note and kept walking, trailing not only her Ghost, but a whole lot of confusion.