Finding Quynh PSL

[stillthrillsme]

Joe gives Nicky a tight nod and shoulders the door in, breaking the rusty lock easily. He holds his gun in one hand and his flashlight in the other, quickly directing it around the small, dingy room. There is a mattress there and a few plastic bags full of trash, but no-one. Joe lowers his gun, sighing heavily through his nose.

They've been in Morocco a week, and they can't seem to find Quynh. To his credit, Booker was able to find the place he keeps seeing in dreams pretty accurately, and once Joe and Nicky got there, a few people remembered seeing an Asian woman wander on the beach, looking lost and confused. But since then, nothing.

They've been asking beggars all over the city, interrogating merchants at their market stalls, and even hacked into the local police files to see if they had any information. Nothing. It's like Quynh came out of the water and went up in smoke. Joe turns back to face Nicky and he shakes his head, his shoulders slumping a little. 

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[stillthrillsme]

Joe wakes up with his face mashed into his pillow instead of Nicky's shoulder, as it usually is. He's also on the floor, he notices quickly, curled on top of several pillows and blankets, his shoulders hurting a little. He hasn't slept much on the ground in the past century or so and frankly, does not miss it.

He opens his eyes with a put-upon sigh, getting his bearings. He remembers managing to bring Quynh back to their hotel room the night before, and striving to persuade her not to go up to the roof to sleep. She'd flat out refused the bed so they'd made do by piling up a little nest on the living room carpet instead, hence Joe's current predicament. He rolls onto his back carefully, craning his neck to look at the others. Nicky's awake already (of course he is) and Joe reaches out to take his hand, his eyebrows arched interrogatively. Is everything alright?

[broadswords]

Nicky was particularly fussy over dinner. Yusuf had dutifully given him the takeout menus from the drawer, but the evening had been passed with several disgruntled phone calls from various takeout outlets as he requested to know more about the dishes. Eventually a little Turkish shop had been delighted to provide specifications, and Nicky had decided to enclose a little extra for the who had brought it to their door.

The boxes, practically licked clean, are stacked neatly on the small coffee table, lit by the side from the lamp. Nicky's eyes closed, then opened, watching Quynh. Yusuf's breathing had lulled him, but it had seemed clear after a while that he was meant to stay awake and watch over them both.

He reaches back at once, twining his fingers with Yusuf's. Everything is quite peaceful, and it's a pleasant surprise. He can do nothing about his own area which looks barely slept in, but for this, he will be forgiven, and it can be made up for.

After a grateful squeeze, Nicky shifts, sitting up.

[ironquynh]

The four walls they had brought her into were spacious only for a while; they move around her with care, and while one part of her demands it to be so, the other part struggles to reconcile their earnestness with what she knows herself to be capable of. She is a danger to them, just as much as she is a danger to themselves.

The cuisine of this century is infinitely more robust than that which she is used to, and after centuries of nothing but salt water in her mouth and down her throat, suffocating her... even the containers she can fish out of the giant trash vessels is edible.

Yet Nico insists on causing a scene, which is comforting in its own way. He has always been so particular in certain areas, so amiable in others. The food is begrudgingly delicious, and perhaps it's to stave off any more comfort that will ultimately lead to disappointment that she snarls at them when they try to goad her into the bed.

She spent ages suffocating in the sea, she doesn't need a bed of sinking sheets and pillows and mattresses to smother her while she sleeps. The floor is more than adequate, though the roof would be better, and she concedes to the bedding, but only so that they might lie down quicker.

Quynh had taken up the furthest most edge of the blanket, stoutly glaring at Nico, whose eyes seemed destined to stay open throughout the night. There had not been much sleep to get, and she scowls at them presently, reaching out for each other like that. Habit, surely, and one that's she's certain they take for granted.

How many years had she reached out, and felt nothing?

[stillthrillsme]

Yusuf squeezes back, holding Nicolo's hand in his gently. His eyes briefly roam over Nicky's body and the way his side of their makeshift bed looks barely slept in, his eyebrows arching a little. He knows better than to ask about it, but expect a gentle request for you to take a nap later on, Nicky.

He rolls onto his back carefully, spotting Quynh at the very edge of the blanket, glaring mightily at the both of them. "Good morning," he says for the both of them in old Ligurian, and reaches for Quynh too, meaning to take her hand in his. She can glare all she wants, that's not going to stop Yusuf from extending affection towards her as much as he can. He won't ask how they slept, because he knows. "Breakfast?" he says instead, glancing back towards Nicolo.