Work was short on Friday. The AH team recorded a few episodes of Versus and a Things To Do, and afterward Geoff went to a meeting. Ray and Michael laughed about a few videos and vines they found online while Gavin edited. Ryan continued working on whatever weird program he was creating, and Jack took time to set up some new wooden stand he made specifically for his Assassin's Creed games. As the people in the small office began to take lunch breaks, Ray grabbed a few precious moments of sleep before anyone noticed.
He woke up an hour later with Barbra putting tiny ponytails in his hair. She had successfully tied seven or eight, and Ray, in his still-drowsy state, was baffled by her ability to style his hair despite it's short length. He shooed her away, pulling the bands from his hair and shooting them at her.
"Stop!" She squeaked, dashing out of the office. Ray jumped up, pursuing the blonde. He was met with two rubber bands to the face as soon as he opened the office door; Barbra and Arryn laughed, readying more ties.
Ray shot two bands at the girls, who ran farther into the building. The three of them had a snipe-off in between rooms, Ray hiding where his attackers couldn't get clear shots at him.
The Puerto Rican felt around for any extra hair bands. Finding none, a rush overcame him when a single band came whiz zing dangerously close to his nose. Grinning, he threw his hand out towards his opponents.
He heard a yelp. Immediately bristling, Ray leapt from his hiding place, adrenaline racing through his blood. Had he thrown anything? In nights recent, Ray found the control over pure energy blasts had grown stronger. Did he fire a ball of energy? Had he hurt someone?
He looked to see a rose at the ladies' feet. Sighing with relief, he watched Barbra bend to pick it up.
"Did you just throw a rose at me, Ray?"
Quickly conjuring a small bouquet behind his back, Ray hollered "JUST ROSE," tossing the ruby-red flowers at Arryn and Barbra. The two of them laughed, scolding him for wasting plants.
He laughed as well, but uneasily. Had anyone seen him pull the roses out of thin air? Turning around, he felt his body itch to flee despite there being nobody present. "Joel?" He chirped, quickly turning back to the two girls.
"What about him?" Barbra was sitting cross-legged, attempting to make a flower crown from the roses.
"Know where he is?"
"Oh," Arryn chirruped, "He was in a conference room during lunch. He might be in the kitchen now."
Ray thanked her, then turned and hurried to the building's kitchen area. Every so often, a petal appeared in the air near the young man, swirling and settling as he rushed by.
Joel stood in the doorway of an open refrigerator, contemplating what bottle of beer to choose, when Ray skidded in. The older man looked up, mildly surprised.
"Sup Joel," Ray breathed, glad to escape from Barbra and Arryn's presence.
"Hey," Joel smiled, turning back to the cooler, "You here for the drinks or the freebase?"
Ray snickered, the stress-induced tension in his bones easing. Joel was a great guy; someone Ray didn't talk to often, but when he did, he was always entertained. "I'll pass for now. Next time," he straightened his glasses.
The older man finally settled on a vintage-looking bottle, bending the cap off with a nearby opener. "Did you need anything, or just here to chat?" He leaned against the counter, bottle held lazily in his left hand. Ray mentally scrabbled about, trying to remember his question.
"Oh," he responded quickly, "You're gonna go hang with everyone at Geoff's after work, right?"
Joel nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "Need a ride?"
"Yup. That too much trouble?"
"Not at all," Joel assured, walking towards the doorway Ray stood near, "My car's in the back lot. We can- You can let me know when you're off work, yeah?" His speech skipped slightly, something not uncommon in the man's way of communication.
Agreeing to find Joel after work, Ray thanked him. Joel replied by pushing the younger man's glasses off his ears.
The day passed in a blur of recording, editing, and laughing. Ray focused on breathing, relaxing. The evening would be fun, he was sure, but that nagging fear of something going wrong tugged at his shoulders, rippled down his spine.
Work slowed and people began to leave the facility. Ray shot a text to his ride, letting him know he was going out to the lot. Throwing his wallet and phone into his backpack, the lad made his way out to the parking lot just as Joel turned around the corner.
Waving, Joel unlocked his car. Ray climbed into the passenger's seat, again greeting and thanking Joel for the ride to the Ramsey's. "Sorry I suck and I can't drive myself," he grumbled, half to himself. Joel hid a smile, telling Ray it was perfectly fine.
The car rolled from it's station on the black pavement and out onto the road. The two made small talk, asking about work involvement, upcoming projects, friends and family. The conversation rolled into a calm silence, Ray watching the sky change from blue to orange hues as the sun descended. He checked the clock; almost six.
"Did you want to see if anything is on the radio?" Joel asked lightly, staring at the road before him.
Ray shrugged, reaching for the dial.
Contact.
Images fluttered behind his eyes, overtaking his vision in a sea of red-tinged darkness. His consciousness lapsed, replaced with waking dreams, memories yet to be lived.
Shadows swirled, the shape of a familiar being. It stepped into a small room, turned a knob. A car. Another figure came into focus, sitting beside it's counterpart. It put it's hand on the radio, and garbled sound resonated in Ray's brain. A cooing came from one figure; both seemed to laugh.
His mind began to reject the imposed reality, tearing holes in the vision. He felt faraway, his body too strung out to breathe without the physical attatchment to initiative...
"Ray!"
His eyes flicked open. He was trembling ever so slightly, resting limp against the cushions of the passenger seat; he back of his neck uncomfortably warm, sticky sweat beginning to form on his skin. Joel stared at him with worry in his gaze, the car pulled to a stop on the side of the road.
"Are you alright?"
Ray inhaled through his nose, his chest hiccuping the breath as he tried to calm himself, to wake from the haze he had been tossed into. Questions buzzed in his skull, his attention yo-yoing from the external reactions around him and the internal turmoil he suddenly faced.
Memories resurfaced.
The first few weeks.
He had made contact with a young woman at a grocery store cash register when she handed him his change. Her nails had flicked across his palm, and he immediately knew her stories, her secrets.
Allison G. Maren. Twenty-three. Slightly racist. Irritable, self-obsessed. Dating a young man, feels she is worth more than what he gives her, planning to break it off.
Ray had stumbled out of the store, his forehead in his hands. There was no pain, simply constant knowledge. A faucet that was impossible to turn off. Behind his eyes, the ghost flitted in the shadows. Ray returned home, feeling feverish and uncomfortable.
After a night's sleep and a day of focus, the young man found the borders of his power and how to manipulate it. After time, he would find himself in busy malls or crowded bus stops, brushing past people, intrigued by their stories.
"Psychometry (n.): The supposed ability to discover facts about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them," his phone defined, when Ray's curiosity urged him to learn more about his newfound skill.
"Ray!"
Wakefulness settled in. Ray turned his head toward Joel.
"Ray, Jesus Christ, what's wrong?"
"...I fell asleep."
"Ray." Joel turned off the car, turning his body to face the younger man. His every motion was stiff and mature, concerned. Fear begin to seep into Ray's bloodstream.
"There's something wrong, going on with you, it doesn't take a genius to tell. Everyone is worried, you haven't been yourself," Joel shook his head slightly, a nervous tic from a neurotic man.
"I'm fine, I really am, I dozed off. It's okay Joel," Ray reassured, looking away, "I'm okay."
Joel sighed. Turning the key to the ignition, the car rumbled back to life. "I'm taking you home," he announced.
"Joel-"
"Ray, you were out fucking cold."
"Joel, you'll be late-"
"Doesn't matter."
Silence, not nearly as comfortable as before. Ray dared not touch the dial to the radio. Angry, embarrassed, distraught, afraid, confused, he realized he wanted sleep and nothing more.
He glanced at the older man.
There was a youth Joel always had in his features, specifically his eyes. In his dark eyes. A cunning and mischievous youth that made him stutter while talking and grin at his own humor. A youth that created him, defined him.
In that moment, there was no youth. There was only empathetic tiredness.
"Joel."
Blinking.
"I'm okay."
Looking over.
"I'm just going through a part of my life where I have to make some real decisions," Ray stared forward, "and it's pretty fucking scary sometimes."
Blinking again. Hands loosening their pressure on the steering wheel ever so slightly. Joel bit his lip.
"Everything's scary, when you think too hard."
"I'm assuming that's why you never use your fucking brain for anything."
"Bingo."
Ray smiled.