He hasn't said anything since that night. It's been a couple of days, and you've been too caught up in, well, being a Strider to sit down and have a decent conversation with Dane. Really, the case has been that Bro and Sis have alternatively dragged you out of the house to show you around. Mostly it was to get in touch with some of the gig runners at the clubs on the strip. You weren't interested in talking shop with some of the club owners, but their venues seemed like they drew a lot of traffic. It was a tug-of-war between your sensible side and your utter lack to give a fuck. Bro and Sis kept trying though. They figured that, since you're eighteen now, you'd want to get a jump on your musical career.
So... What was Dane going to do?
"C'mon, Dave. Get off your ass," Sis says as she walks past the couch you're laying on. She's pulling on a jacket and looking down at you.
"Actually—"
"Actually," cuts Bro's voice as he appears in the recliner off to the right of the couch. He's checking out his nails with a smirk on his face. "I'm taking the tyke out this time around. Why don't you sit around and get old for a bit?"
"What'd you say?" Sis snaps, spinning around to look towards your brother.
"Actually," you start again, sitting up. "I'm kicking it with Dane today, whenever he gets back."
The older two look down to you, and you look back and forth between the pair.
"Where are you two going?" Bro and Sis ask in perfect harmony.
Eerie. You shrug and relax against the couch, throwing your arms over the back. "His house, his rules. He's gonna show me the ropes, and I'm just tagging along like a cat fixated."
Bro snorts. "He's gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere."
"I know I would," Sis adds on as she jumps over the couch, throwing an arm over your shoulders. "There are wolves out there, kiddo. Be safe."
She rubs her knuckles against the crown of your head. You roll your eyes and try to shrink away from the "affectionate" gesture. The front door opens a few moments later, and Dane steps into the living room. "Let's go," is all he says and who are you to waste time?
"I'm outta here," you say as you vanish out of her grasp. You reappear in front of Dane, smoothing down your hair.
He smirks. "Looking good."
"Shut up and get out," you say, reaching for the door.
As you two are making your way out, Sis calls after you two:
"Bring back some Cheetos!"
"Fat chance!" Dane yells back. You close the door behind you both.
"So where are we going?" you ask walking down the sidewalk.
"Down to the strip. Gonna show you where I've been working for the past seven years."
"You work?" You throw back with a scoff. "Those dainty little fingers don't look like they've ever seen a good day's work." You roll back your sleeve and reach your right hand out to him. "Check out a real man's hand."
He takes your arm just below the wrist and pulls you closer to make you lose your balance. Dick. He smirks and adjusts his shades with his free hand. You can see his orange hues searching over the callouses on your fingers and the small bruise on the right side of your wrist. There were scars on your fingers, barely visible now, but you got each of those little fuckers from dealing with vinyl records, their packaging and just from running some tracks. He lets you go without a word, but you're still peering at the side of his face. You want a reaction out of him. Can't let the banter go dead like a fish out of water.
"You look like you got fucked up by an elf," Dane says, face flat. Perfect poker face actually.
The observation causes you to choke on a laugh. You sidestep awkwardly and hunch forward, chuckling. That's ridiculous.
"That's really fucking stupid!" you throw back. You throw a good punch to his shoulder, and he raises his right hand up to rub over the spot. The stoic expression doesn't fall. Very good. "What kind of expression is that: 'fucked up by an elf.'"
"It is what it is, bro. Looks like someone was playing tiddlywinks over your fingers, man. Nice little scrapes you got there." He points his thumb towards your hand, and you look down instinctively. "DJ'ing's gonna be good to you, Dave."
"Yeah? You think so?" You can't stop a cocky little smirk from forming on your face.
He glances over towards you and pushes you by the face. You chuckle, why not.
"Yeah, I think so." He smirks and looks away, staring at the buildings on the Boulevard. He raises his left hand, lazily quirking his hand for you to follow as he drifts off to the right. "C'mon. We're almost there."