wickerpark | [ota] what goes around, comes around

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[ota] what goes around, comes around

Leona Matthews was not a fan of being at work late on a Friday night, especially when her boss was preoccupied with his love affair. And love affair was pretty much the only way to put it when it came to Hadyn Novak's thing with Elisha. They weren't 'together', but come on- she could see the look that crossed Elisha's face when Hadyn's number popped up on caller ID. It was like a damn love struck puppy.

All of which was a moot point at the moment, except that she was organizing Elisha's filesfor his Monday board meetings because he'd decided to skip out to see his player. But all that aside? Now was the time for getting out and away. She rode the lift down and was all but sprinting through the lobby, heels click and clacking against the marble floor before she spotted a silent lurker.

"I'm pretty sure now is the time to leave- because it is dark, and Friday, and all that." She said, smiling at the other person. "Buy you a drink, love?"

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He likes being here, generally. It's better than floating around Cardiff like a ghost, to be sure. It's also better than sitting in Montreal while Helena slowly but surely proved she didn't actually want him around--or getting dragged back to Montreal when she changed her mind.

So here is good. Here is a change for the better.

But here apparently is a place where people ask each other casually to go have a drink. And, a little bit, a place where he loses track of time being focused on listening for the sound above and below the clatter of high heels and pinging of elevators.

Surely a slight lift of the hand is a universal enough sign for 'thanks but not this time.'

Leona was told the silent one was a friend of Addison's, or Addy as he seemed to prefer to be called. However, she still hadn't really gotten a good fix on the guy. For better or worse, though, that didn't stop her from at least trying to be friendly, it was just sort of her style. Or something to that effect at least. "Oh no, are you stuck with the night shift? Pretty sure that's a slow death of boring."

But then again, people like Addison seemed to like things like the night shift.

"Got a name, or do I get to pick one out? I have a few good ones if your curious."

People like them--men and women who had come home with something just a little different in their eyes--tended to like the solitary comfort of night shifts. Beyond that, Cadogan had come to like it for the simple lack of exactly this sort of interruption.

Instinct would, for some time yet, would prompt his fingers toward his neck for the chain he now didn't pull out nearly as often before shifting instead to pull the pre-printed cards from his pocket.

C. Thomas

Getting people on this side of the pond to say 'Cadogan' right had been a losing battle.

Leona had learned to mask most of her accent, if only because the Manc accent was as garbled and grungy as the Scottish accents. People over here had complained for the first few years that they couldn't understand a word she said. Thus she went about the painful process of trying to speak with the insanely dull American accent. Thus far, she'd only managed to somehow sound a bit 'Southern', or so she assumed by the number of 'southern belle' comments she had gotten.

"Thomas. C. Thomas." She smiled a little, tipping her head. "L. Matthews at your service." She said, holding out her hand. "Did you beg for the night shift?"

In this particular case, it was something of a shame. It would have been nice to hear a voice that sounded more like home--always was, since moving so far away from it.

The vaguely American accent didn't do much to stick her name in his brain. Her smile did a little better, and was certainly responded to with a bob of his own head in greeting.

And a slight wrinkling of his nose for her question, accompanied by a noncommittal lift of his shoulders. 'Begging' was a strong word. 'Taking because no one else wanted it' fit better.

"Right, not one for words, I see." Strange, really. Security was supposed to be all about talking big, right? Maybe. Addy didn't really talk to anyone that wasn't in his bubble.

"So....Where are you from?" She say no need, really, to be dashing out the door right this second.

Ah. So they were still talking. That extraneous sort of talking, even, that came generally with attempts at friendship-making.

At least it was a slow hour of the night. At least it didn't take much to glance up now and then as he pulled out his phone to type out his response.

Around Cardiff.

"Wales?" Leona's eyes went wide for a moment, before a smirk crept over her lips and she tipped her head to the side. "Always had a thing for the Welish, even if they don't speak a real language." Her 'American' accent faltered a bit.

Moving to the receptionist desk, she lifted herself up onto the desk and swung her legs gently as she thought about it. "I'm from Manchester." She said, "Sort of miss it there, miss a damn pub that knows what real beer it, that's for sure."

It was refreshing, having the name 'Cardiff' met with the correct country. It was almost enough to twitch up the corner of his lips, to have a more familiar accent cracking through.

It certainly got a brief twitch like a smile to have his mother tongue insulted by some bitch from Manchester. Felt much, much more like home.

What's keeping you here, then?

"Oh, I don't know. Chicago has some right good pizza places. Goes well enough with a stout pint if you can find one." She said, leaning back on her arms as she thought about it. "Some of these Yanks can brew decent lagers too. Not quite like home, but eh."

And really, there wasn't much left for her in Manchester anyway. Well, aside from the beer. "What brings you to this side of the pond?" Eventually she'd get around to asking why he was typing on his phone instead of speaking. Eventually.

It was light and easy, at least. It wasn't a pressing, deep sort of sharing that triggered any clamming up--just the idle socializing other people seemed so fond of.

Work.

His head tilted briefly, wondering if he could get around further questions and deciding to aim for cutting off most.

Was adjusting anyway. Seemed a good time to just adjust entirely.

"Adjusting? From what?" She asked curiously, before realizing it might have been a little too personally. "Sorry, probably something to ask on a second midnight rendezvous, not tonight."

Oh well, it was still something she was curious about- and really. She might as well establish her mouth opened and words came out without her necessarily thinking.

Second? Goodness. Better to cut this line off quicker and sooner than later.

The Service.

And maybe there was enough finality in his brow to keep it at that. Maybe she knew other returned servicemen well enough to know that that was the end of a conversation.

Well, they did work in the same building. It was bound to happen, she thought, that eventually they would run into each other. From time to time.

"Ah. Like Addy and Elisha." She said in a tone that suggested she did actually understand. At least a little. "Even more reason for a night in a quite pub."

At least it was a good response. It went well with her general lack of inquiry as to why he was typing rather than speaking--although that, given the fact they worked in the same building, might also have been a matter of word finally having gotten properly around.

Either way, the bob of his head was entirely agreeable.

Or to take the late shift.

"Oh, but then you won't get to see me as often, and I am the belle of the ball. At least around here. All the ladies dress so business like- so boring. They could really do with some spice in their lives, if you know what I mean."

She grinned, her heels clicking lightly against the wall of the desk as she watched him. "Leona, by the by. My first name is Leona."

For being someone who communicated primarily in signed languages, Cadogan had long since perfected a fairly blank affect. It didn't stop one brow from arching with something like a calm amusement at her assessment of the state of women in their building.

And, well. She probably wouldn't mangle it too badly if she was fond of the Welsh. Cadogan. It's a pleasure.

"Cadogan." She said, a smile on her face as she let the name roll off her tongue the way it should. "I like the sound of that. Cadogan."

It was a better name than Elisha or Lucas at least. "So...when does the night shift end?"

It sounded much more like when his mother said it than it had in a while. Hell, it sounded more like when Helena said it, really.

Odd but not unwelcome.

Be heading out about 4am.

"Well that's no fun. But I suppose...there is a nice little bar that sells morning beers just a couple blocks up." Leona said in a thoughtful tone. "You should be sure to stop by and grab a pint. For a job well done and all."

And good, old fashioned tradition.

He needed a moment of thought before he could type properly in response. It was actually one of the nice things about working with the phone rather than his hands--it built in time to think.

I don't know that public morning beer is the image we want to project.

Private morning drinking, though. That was clearly on the table.

"And what image do we want to project? The 'I'm a bit dull' image?" She smirked, even as she said it though. It wasn't really like she cared too much- she'd just met the guy.

Even if he was sort of cute.

"But to each there own, so long as you celebrate your birthday right."

He couldn't laugh. It was a physical limitation. That didn't mean he wasn't going to let out a wry little huff of breath at that.

Was going to say 'professional.' But, well. For professional curiosity. What qualifies as 'right,' exactly?

"Getting pissed and bloody knackered after a rousing round of some pub golf, or just pub hopping in general." She said with a smirk. Though, belatedly she realized she'd said 'pissed'. That had been an interesting culture collision when she'd first arrived.

This laugh comes out much more properly. It still isn't a sound so much as a rough catch of breath in his throat that puff out with mirth about it, but it's accompanied by a smile.

That's the closest he gets.

Do people do that here? I'd have thought we'd left proper golf behind.

"Not really, but that's what you've got me for. I know how to play a proper game, and I'll kick your arse to boot." She said with a bright smile. "See, things are looking up now, aren't they?"

Maybe.

She came from the same place he did. She'd probably recognize the actual high level of approval in that simple answer.

"Right then, the only thing you need now is my number to my mobile." She said, smiling brightly at him. "Just give it a ring when you need. Or...text." Seeing as he wasn't one for speaking.

Pulling a pen out of her purse she jotted the digits down on a piece of paper she snagged off the security guards' desk.

"Would do you some good, I think."

It was bordering on ridiculousness, really. Sitting at the desk wasn't something that was designed to end in being handed a woman's number.

Not that there was any objection remotely at all.

The phone had to go silent, briefly, so he could punch the number into it once it was scrawled out fully.

Cheers.

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[ota] what goes around, comes around

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