#ft. maya

[laceyyu]

@mxyacho; maya's house

A lot had happened in the past 48 hours. Too much for Alex to even begin processing. It was still difficult to believe they had made it out alive and relatively unharmed after their trip to the ranch, much less that Andy was alive. Renee had confirmed that his ribs weren’t broken, only badly bruised, and had deemed the stitches on his chest done at the ranch good enough to keep. No use wasting their already dwindling medical supplies. The only thing he could do was get fresh reusable bandages for his chest every so often and wait. There was no reason to keep him in the infirmary, though part of him was unsure if he should use his injuries as an excuse to stay with Andy. The thought of sleeping in his own bed was too tempting, however. The three of them had been able to talk for a while, and each sibling needed their own time alone to process everything. As much as Alex loved his siblings, he needed some time away from his family for a bit.

After taking a shower and changing into blessedly fresh clothes, Alex went downstairs to look for Cass after he heard nothing from her bedroom. He heard her before he saw her. Peeking into the living room, he sighed as he saw his sister’s crumpled form tucked into Sol’s as her muffled cries carried throughout the room. Definitely not something to interrupt. He backed away from the living room and wrote a note that he was going to Maya’s for a bit and not to worry about him. While he wanted some time away from the house, he also didn’t want to be alone, and Maya had been his closest friend so far in Redwood. They both understood what it was like being brand new in town and feeling the need to be closed-off due to heartbreak. He just needed to be with someone who wasn’t going through life-altering event after life-altering event. 

The sun was beginning to set as he walked to Maya’s home, trying to begin to process everything that had happened. It wasn’t until he arrived at her door that a pit of anxiety formed in his stomach. Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. It was late, after all, and it wasn’t like she had invited him. He could tell her that he was back in one piece, and let her decide to let him in or not. There. Maybe that would make him less pathetic.

Knocking on the door, he waited for her to open it. Finally the door opened. Alex couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was every time he saw her. “Hey,” he greeted softly. “I just, uh, wanted to tell you that we made it back.”

[javidleon]

LOCATION — Harper's Home.

WHO — Maya ( @mayxlee )

After being in Providence Peak for months now, having run into two separate members of the Lee family in person, it was no surprise that word had spread amongst the rest of them that Javi had moved from New York — a fact that he was sure Maya must have originally been hiding from her mother, if the jovial text he received on his personal phone earlier that morning from the woman was anything to go by. Before he'd seen Lainey outside of the Jade Palace, he was so sure that every single person even associated with Maya hated his guts. In some ways, he was afraid that they would. Actually talking to her made him realize that wasn't the case, somehow. Being invited to a family dinner by his almost-mother-in-law definitely drove that point home.

When he first received the message, he wasn't too keen on responding. Because hell, he'd been ignoring every single card sent from Harper since he and Maya split, what's one more text to mark as read and move on from? However, over the course of the following few hours, he found his mind circling back to the idea. Circling back to the why, and the how, and where he and Maya had left things the last time that they spoke. It was like a little thorn, poking at the back of his brain, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to rid himself of it unless he showed up. Thus, he found himself around the dinner table at Harper's home. Supposedly an invitation had been sent to all of the children, but so far, Javi was the only one to arrive. He blamed his father's stupid rules about punctuality, engrained in him since childhood. Even though he found the situation a lot less awkward than he had initially been expecting, he still sat up a little straighter as he heard the click of the front door. Hopeful that it was Lainey — still, rather than Maya's brother — his eyes glanced to the entrance of the room, only to find it was none other than Maya herself. ( @mayxlee )

[chilliesh]

Hi adolin... long time no see...

Inprnt | redbubble

Details!!

[jawbrkrs]

their friendship took a lot of twist and turns. dips, that caused feelings to rise he had tried suppressing for so long. " being a mind reader would make this a lot easier. " a tease, knowing he would just have to come out with it sooner or later. " i want you. I mean i know im not crazy here... I know you feel it too. " or at least he hoped.

     That hadn't been something she'd expected her friend to say. Well, she hadn't expected anything, but was surprised nonetheless. Just friends. Just. Maya's thoughts spun on that a little while. "What do you want then?" A smirk took shape, ever the smartass, even with the fluttered in her stomach. "For me to become a mind reader?"

[starboundsingularities]

what if i told you i actually made more of these

[bishonenspit]

Rashanu [ラシャーヌ!] Colour Illustrations (from 1981-1986) - Mineo Maya Art Exhibition Official Visual Book

[elifalvey]

If Elijah had a quarter for every time that Maya found him exhausted in the middle of the hiking trail, he would have two. He really needed to learn to stop overestimating his abilities — especially when hiking in particular wasn't something that he partook in often — but he probably never would, and wouldn't be surprised if later down the line they'd run into each other in similar fashion again. "Honestly, I'm starting to think that it is," Elijah laughed, lifting his baseball cap from his head and smoothing back the loose curls from his forehead before putting it back on. His hands went to his hips, exhausted and trying to catch his breath. "I'm alright, though, yeah. Helps that it's not a million degrees out so I'm not in danger of a heat stroke this time," he joked. "What about you? And the pup, of course. It's been a minute, hasn't it?"

( @mayxlee )

location: a random hiking trail

character: @elifalvey​​ & maya.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think this is becoming a habit for you," Maya half-joked, greeting the tall male. Random hikes were her favorite, and with her dog accompanying her in almost all of them, the brunette never felt lonely, not worrying about what could possibly go wrong. With work keeping her busy the past couple of days, this was the best way to detox her mind from all the stress and worries and allow Benji to run in nature and enjoy her time. Oddly enough, Elijah wasn't a face she often ran into. "How are you? Enjoying yourself?"

[alphafvcked]

closed for @knotfcked !

"ohh, there she is. how's our new little pack slut doing this morning? all rested up?" with lydia waking up, maya smiles down at her sleepy face as she casually straddles her chest on the bed. honestly, she's held back by not waking lydia up with the heavy heft of alpha cock slapping her face, stuffing into her slack mouth, but she knows lydia's still getting her bearings in her new life. still, maya's intent is not exactly innocent—if lydia glanced down between her own breasts, she'd see the fat bulge of maya's dick barely contained in her boxers. clearly, werewolves were not immune to a healthy affliction of morning wood.

"i sure hope she is," victoria says with a laugh, arms crossing as she arrives at the doorway. "we haven't even knotted her ass yet. going to be a busy day—but i bet she's excited for it, isn't she?"

[shcrtsweets]

@everdawn liked for our muses to make out something cute

josh looked down at maya with a soft expression on his face, leaning forward just a little so his mouth was by her ear. “i really want to kiss you, but everyone’s right outside that door.” he looked to the door in question as he said it before pulling back a little - settling for grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “i hope it’s okay that i admitted that. it’s not too much, is it?” a pause. “i don’t ever want to be too much for you.”

[laceyyu]

You're not looking for a new relationship, but are you open to hooking up with more women than Maya?

Ha!

Short answer - Probably not, but never say never?

Long answer - Sex makes things messy emotionally. I already dislike feeling like I'm bringing Maya into my shit as it is. Then there's the fact that hooking up with two people at the same time (well, not at the same time, you get what I mean) is foreign to me. Believe it or not, I'm not trying to make everything messier for me. I don't know if there's anyone else in town I feel close/comfortable enough with to consider hooking up, anyway.

Is there someone in particular asking, or....?

@mxyacho

[gaymars97]

Huhhhhh you know what fuck it Maya art/doodle dump

Feat. Some Tief Maya doodles, Kriby psyren (dont ask 💀), pissed off cataclysm skill tree Maya (listen i just think this skill tree is neat okay…), a BAU drawing, a simple Maya doodle and a thing i thought i’d do where i compare how i used to draw her vs now. Looking back tru my old drawings for this brought so many memories… but anyways she… 💜

[thefandomcassandra]

hallowed be thy unknown Ch9: Tokusatsu Haunting 5: Gillyflower and Hemlock

"I keep telling you that you don't have to apologize. You were doing your job." Cody's mom tried to get Maya to stand up from her deep, flat bow. It didn't matter. She still felt awful. Cody had cried because of her, had been put on the spot, had to admit to seeing something terrible. Even if he said it was okay, even if he smiled at her, it didn't matter.

"Still, I—"

"Miss Fey," Maya raised her head, the woman's soft tone almost startling, "Cody is fine. You did what you had to, within the constraints of the system. And it was upsetting, but we both knew that going in. The way you pivoted to yes or no questions helped. Cody wanted to thank you himself but he fell asleep pretty quickly afterwards." In her arms, her son nuzzled himself closer to her chest.

Unsure she could speak without apologizing again, choked with emotions she didn't have the right words for, Maya just nodded.

Cody's mom smiled at her, warm and comforting. "So long as you keep doing what you're doing, you'll be fine."

She choked out a thick, "I'll try."

It's all she can do at this point. She's already fought so hard; why would she stop?

"Hey, Maya? Look at the kid." Maya did what Nick suggested, subtly glancing over at Cody curled up in his mom's arms. "See how he's sleeping?" He paused, giving her enough time to process what he said before continuing on. "He might have cried, but he felt safe enough to sleep. You didn't mess it up. He trusted you with that last piece of evidence and he's alright."

Cody sighed and nuzzled deeper into his mother's hold.

(How did it feel, to be held like that? Was it warm? Comforting? Was it simply because she was his mother, or would any trusted adult have elicited the same measure of trust? The bitter taste of jealousy coated the back of her throat.)

They had one day left. One day for investigation. One day for court. One last day to prove her client innocent.

The pressure felt awful but—

"I have to go talk to my client." Maya said to Cody's mom. She tried to keep her voice low as to not disturb Cody.

"Good luck."

"Like I said: I'll try." It was, after all, all she could do. Promising any more would be tempting fate. But she could try, at the very least.

Will Powers wasn't too far away. One of the bailiffs was standing with him, unwilling to let him be unsupervised but not ready to take him back to the detention center. When he saw Maya, he moved to stand up but winced and sat back down. The bailiff stiffened but didn't move to do anything.

"At least they didn't assume he was trying to leave." At least there was that.

She wasn't sure she could handle him being charged with attempted escape from custody on top of the murder charge. She might cry.

"Is he okay?" He was worried about Cody. That was...that was sweet, actually.

"He's asleep." Will Powers' shoulders slumped and he leaned back, tension bleeding out of him.

"That's good."

"Yeah..." What to say, what to say?

Will Powers broke the silence of his own accord, twisting a napkin between his fingers as he spoke. "Hammer really— he really did all that?"

"Yeah..." Nick sighed. Maya echoed him.

"There's evidence proving he did, yes."

"Why?" His voice wobbled and cracked. Maya felt really really bad for him. "I don't think I've done anything to make him upset. I - he was one of my favorite actors as a teen! The Samurai films were part of why I got into acting, even, yknow, looking like this." He gestured at his face and build with the hand gripping the twisted-up napkin. "I know I'm not the best in the world but we were— we didn't have issues insofar as I knew."

What could she even say? "I...don't know. All I can do— all we can do is speculate. And that won't help our case."

Will Powers took a deep breath in and exhaled, slow and loud, a terrified sheep masquerading as a big bad wolf. "Yeah...it probably won't help."

"Before they take you back to the detention center, I had a couple questions for you." Business face on, Maya straightened the hem of her jacket, tugged at her sleeves, and pulled her notebook out of her pocket, uncapping her current favorite pen so she could write down anything said. "Do you think you have the energy?"

"For you? Of course." Warmth bloomed in Maya's chest but she kept it down, kept her face as professionally still as she could, even if she wanted to cry. "Ask away."

"You said Vasquez-san saved Global, or at least helped the studio out of a bad position?" Maya flipped through her notebook to find where she'd written down that information. "She supposedly came in and, quote, 'fixed things up', unquote. Can you clarify that in any way?"

"Well...," Will Powers' mouth wrenched into a knot to mirror the napkin he was messing with, "I...hm."

"Unwilling or incapable?" Nick wondered. "He was singing her praises yesterday, as was everyone. What changed?"

"Any information is helpful," she coaxed, "no matter how small."

"The problem is that all I know about Global Studio's issues at the time is hearsay and rumor. I don't want to go about spreading stuff like that."

"Valid concern."

"Anything said to me is said with a certain degree of confidence. I'm not going to sell your information to the press, I promise." It'd be a bad look, after all. Would make her no better than Grossberg or Redd White.

That seemed, at least to Maya, to alleviate some of Will Powers' discomfort. He eased up on his napkin and gave it a moment's more thought. "Like I said yesterday: she made Global into what it is now. They were...I think it was a money thing or maybe a scandal thing? I don't know specifics, but maybe Ms. Oldbag does?"

"We do have to give her the apology gionbō," Nick pointed out.

They did have to give her the apology gionbō. That was true. "I'll ask her about it when I have the chance. Don't worry," Maya hurriedly assured Will Powers, "your name won't come up."

He relaxed, shoulders slumping. "Thanks."

"And you're sure Jack Hammer didn't have any reason to frame you specifically?" She didn't like prodding this wound but she needed some clarity on the matter. "Not even a perceived slight?"

"He wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but he was being exploited. Unless he had a problem with me I was unaware of, then I have no idea why he might've tried to frame me for murder." That was the most firm Maya had ever heard Will Powers sound. No words had ever come out of his mouth with more conviction.

He truly didn't know, nor could he fathom a reason for his co-star to go out of his way to drug him and try and frame him for a crime—likely a murder attempt.

"Thanks. I'll come see you in the detention center if anything else comes up, okay?" Then, as an afterthought, "Also, do you have a favorite fruit?"

Will Powers blinked at her. "Huh?"

"I've brought apples and mikan oranges but I figure I should ask you directly. Any fruit you like? Peaches? Apricot? Persimmon?" When he didn't answer, Maya clarified, "Breakfast tomorrow."

"Oh!" She felt embarrassed that she hadn't communicated that thought well enough but at least he picked up what she was putting down. "Um, the mikan were nice. I don't really have a preference or any allergies. Whatever you have is good."

Hm. "Then I'll surprise you!" Maya grinned at him as she tucked her notebook back into her pocket. "See you later Powers-san!"

"Uh, Ms. Maya?" She stopped and watched Will Powers carefully. "Thank you. Again."

Nick snorted. "How many times are you two going to do this?" He rolled over mid-air and watched them with a wide smile.

"Thank you for choosing me as your lawyer. With your reputation, you could have easily had anyone but you picked me."

"You offered. And—" He fought with his thoughts for a brief moment, trying to order his words before he spoke. It was obvious, written across his face. No wonder he was a suit actor. "I do this job, acting and all, because of kids like you and Cody. Knowing that I'm helping people..."

Maya faintly smiled. "I get that."

He smiled back. "So, uh, yeah, thank you."

"No worries!" So long as she kept moving, she wouldn't think too deeply about it. She could maintain the kind lie of a selfless young girl, even if it was for someone else's benefit.

Be like Mia. —— Oldbag let them pass without so much as a word, although Maya did hand over her apology gionbō—packaged nicely with a handwritten card that read 'Sorry for falsely accusing you!'—and received a dry harrumph from the older woman in return. Still, it seemed like whatever bad blood they might've fostered between them was quickly fading with time and effort, which was good. Maya wasn't in the business of making enemies of old women, especially old women who were just doing their job.

The first place on their checklist was the Employee Lounge. Due to dropping the bombshell regarding the sleeping pills, it was very likely that whatever police force was at Global would be mostly concentrated there and at Studio Two. If they were lucky, their favorite cop would be in the Employee Lounge.

"Hey! Be careful around that, pal!" They were lucky.

Maya turned away from where she was examining one of the abandoned plates and gave Gumshoe a wide, only somewhat insincere smile. "Sorry for all the extra work, Gumshoe!"

His shoulders slumped and he let out a sharp sigh. "Oh, it's you. I was worried it was that security lady again."

Nick's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "Again?"

"Again?" Maya echoed. "She seemed pretty set on staying at her post when I passed her."

"Yeah, well you weren't beatin' her off with a broom, were you?" He shifted from one foot to the other, casting his gaze across the entire Employee Lounge. "But that's beside the point, ain't it?"

"Yeah." Maya looked at the various plates then back at Gumshoe. "Don't they have lab guys for this kind of thing? How many hats are you even wearing?"

"As many as needed, pal." Gumshoe turned back towards the tables and began to count them, ticking down fingers. "To be entirely honest: we should send all this back to the lab to be tested but, coz of all the hullabaloo about whether or not the vic was gonna' commit a crime or not, Mister Edgeworth sent me here with a home kit."

"I'd bet the precinct was a mess."

Maya glanced at Nick, then back to Gumshoe. "Any luck?" Luck. Like she didn't already figure one of the plates would test positive.

Like she didn't need one of the plates to test positive.

"Nuthin' so far but I'm about done. Got two more left." Gumshoe pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and unscrewed the cap, using the eyedropper in the cap to dribble fluid on the plate. "Let's see if this is the lucky plate." A few moments passed. Gumshoe's shoulders began to slump. Then a magenta stain began to flower on the plate where the liquid solution had touched. Nick and Gumshoe both whooped in delight. "There we go!"

"That's a positive?"

"Yeah." Gumshoe pulled out an instant camera from an inner pocket and snapped a quick photo of the plate, then one of the table it was on in relation to the dressing room and the exit. "This'll be in evidence tomorrow. Gotta' get the photos properly processed for use."

"Judging by how bright the solution changed, he was dosed dosed." Maya frowned up at Nick, silently asking him to clarify what he meant. "Powers is a big guy so it'd take a lot to knock him out, right? The brighter the solution turns, the more concentrated it is. Hammer—or whoever drugged him—wanted him unconscious, and for a long time at that. He's lucky he didn't overdose."

Maya didn't ask if 'he' meant Jack Hammer or Will Powers. She didn't want to know. "Did the fingerprinting turn up anything?"

"Hammer's. You were right." He didn't sound happy about it.

"Causing problems in the precinct?"

"A little bit," he admitted. "Half the force and folks workin' on this case think we should drop the charges on Powers. The other half wants to double down."

"I wonder what Edgeworth thinks." Maybe Nick didn't think she could hear him. Maybe he wanted her to ask in his stead.

Maya chose to believe it was the latter. "And Prosecutor Edgeworth?"

"Mister Edgeworth is..." For a moment Gumshoe's expression cycled rapidly, as if he was unsure of how to feel about the matter. Frankly, Maya didn't blame him, but her own biases aside, it must be frustrating to see your coworker and-or boss whom you respected get put through the wringer. Even if he deserved it. "This case was already really hard on him. Personal, like the one with Mister Redd White was, only different."

"Because he's a huge fan?" She tried to alleviate the tension with a joke. It had the opposite effect.

"No. It's more...the longer this goes on, the more pressure he's feelin' from his mentor and the higher-ups." Gumshoe scratched the back of his neck, fiddling with something inside his pocket.

"Lana?"

"No! Miss Chief Lana isn't the problem! It's more..." Again, he trailed off. Again, he seemed unable to put his thoughts into words. "Point bein': he's doin' his best and it's startin' to wear on him."

"Well I hope it eases up once this is all over." When I win, she doesn't say, but the implication is there.

"Me too, pal." Gumshoe sighed again. "He just...he was doin' his best durin' questionin'. As much as that kid clammed up until his mom scolded him, Mister Edgeworth never once got snippy with him. Was real kind and soft. I've never seen him like that before."

Maya could feel Nick's smug grin from over her shoulder. "I'd pay money to see that."

Gumshoe was unamused. "He's not a monster, y'know?"

"I know." She didn't have to like him though. "But I'm entitled to my opinion, aren't I?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "I even get where you're coming from but—"

But?

Gumshoe sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. "Just be careful, okay?"

"You're around. It's not that hard to be careful when the place is swarming with cops, is it?" Behind her, Nick coughed, wet and loud. "It's not like I'm looking for trouble."

"Speakin' of lookin' for trouble: your friend is in the dressin' room." Gumshoe gestured towards it with one hand. "The, uh, mousy one. Miss Nichols?"

Oh? "Thanks for the heads-up Gumshoe! I'll go talk to her now." She started to make her way to the dressing room when Gumshoe grabbed her by the elbow, letting go when he felt her stiffen in fear. "Hm?"

"Are you alright?" His sincerity was blinding.

Maya pasted on a smile to hide her exhaustion. "Yeah. I'm doing alright."

"Even after...all that?" Cody in the courtroom. Cody crying. How visible her pain and discomfort had been.

"Yep!"

"You know— you know it's okay to not be okay, right?"

Maya's smile tightened. "Of course."

He didn't look like he believed her. "...if you say so."

Maya fled the room.

Penny was so busy re-making the cot that she didn't hear Maya enter. It wasn't until Maya cleared her throat, startling Penny so badly she un-tucked the sheet, that she even seemed to recognize she wasn't alone.

Maya held up a lunchbox with a handful of gionbō disasters in it. "Delivery."

"You're my savior." Penny snatched the lunchbox and cracked it open, shoving a lumpy wagashi in her mouth and humming in pure delight. "S'good."

"Glad they taste better than they look." Maya laughed at her as she shoved a second gionbō disaster in her mouth, then a third.

"She's cleaning up. Does Global think they're made?" Nick hovered over the piles of folded costumes and crew shirts, blatantly choosing to not talk about how Maya was doing.

She felt grateful that he was being tactful and irritated he felt she was so fragile as to need to tiptoe around. "So what do the bigwigs have you doing today?"

Penny swallowed hard and grimaced. "Mostly just tidying up anything that isn't a crime scene. It's all...well it's a bit dead in the water now."

"Huh?"

"I mean: it's over? They can't finish the show with the main villain dead, let alone a scandal of this proportion. So they're quietly packing everything up, editing the footage we have, and throwing together the script for a PSA or an apology or whatever."

"They're canceling the Steel Samurai?!"

"You expected them to keep going after this?" Nick sounded incredulous but Maya wasn't done.

"With the publicity from the trial, wouldn't it make more sense to capitalize on that?"

Penny snorted. "You'd think, but apparently word on the grapevine is that this was a long time coming. Global Studios was trying to cut away from the children's programming for a while now. This scandal means they can sever the Steel Samurai without any of the backlash they'd get if they tried something like this after the season finale."

"And what's the buzz on the forums? Surely some part of this must've leaked to the fans?" It was a little pathetic but— for Global Studios to cut a show that was as popular as the Steel Samurai, and just because it was a children's show? It felt like a betrayal.

Penny just leaned back and popped another gionbō in her mouth. "No such luck. Global's got a tight lock on info about this and most people are busy talking about the trial." She swallowed and continued, "Good job, by the way."

"Thanks, but—"

"It's more like...I don't know, maybe this is wishful thinking or whatever, but I think they're just...maybe it's better this way?"

"Better?!"

Penny shrugged. "Kids will find other heroes to look up to. The Steel Samurai had a long run and they'll probably milk stage plays for all the money they can. Items will become collector's editions, fanfiction will flourish, and theories will run rampant, but it's not like the show dying is the end of the world."

"Maybe not to you or I or any of the adults who are into it but—" The way Cody had looked at Will Powers. The Path to Glory in her pocket. The soft way Will Powers had talked about wanting to make children happy. Maya stared at Penny, aghast. "It might not be the end of the world but there are people out there who need the Steel Samurai!"

"Need is a strong word," Nick noted.

Maya ignored him as Penny spoke up in agreement. "I know that and you know that, but—"

"You're unofficially the online PR, aren't you? The person who does forums and the like?" Penny nodded. "So why not leak that info? If Global is thinking of cutting children's programming due to the trial and the scandal it's bringing then why not make a bigger scandal?"

Penny frowned at her. "What, leak confidential information about Global's inner workings to rile up the fanbase?"

"If Global is already planning on downsizing, considering how sparse the crew is now, it's not like they can afford to fire you." That was a stretch, even by Maya's courtroom standards. "If the fans raise enough of a stink, maybe Global will walk back the decision?"

"Maya—" Nick's warning fell on deaf ears. He sighed, resigned, and leaned back in the air to wait out their fervor.

"It can't hurt, can it?"

Penny chewed on a gionbō as she thought. Then, swallowing, she nodded. "Worst case scenario, they fire me."

"Worst case scenario, they sue her," Nick corrected.

As Maya was the only one who could hear him, she simply elected to ignore him. He didn't understand like Penny did. He didn't know why it mattered so much to keep the show alive. He didn't get what about the Steel Samurai was so appealing and important that they'd both fight tooth and nail to keep it running.

Satisfied, Maya looked around at the dressing room one more time. "Hey, Penny?" A thought had just occurred to her.

"Hm?"

"Do you know why they were paying Jack Hammer so little?"

That, at least, seemed to be something Nick himself was interested in. "Yeah. That is odd. Why was a senior actor in the Studio being stiffed and overworked so badly?"

Penny fiddled with her zipper, one of her bandaids catching in the teeth and peeling away more. "It's all rumors but...well, it probably has to do with five years ago."

"Five years ago?" Maya scrambled to attention and pulled out her notebook and pen, quickly jotting down what Penny was saying. "What happened?"

"I don't know all the details—Oldbag probably would since she was around then—but rumor has it that Mr. Jack killed someone. Or someone died on set and it was Mr. Jack's fault? Either or." She stopped fiddling with her zipper to peel away the loose bandaid on her finger and quickly reapplied it, covering up a nasty looking blister. The motion was practiced and fluid, the wrapper shoved in her vest pocket as she smoothed the edge down with her thumb. "You'd have to ask Oldbag but apparently Vazquez had a hand in keeping whatever happened under wraps."

"Wonder if that's why she's got so much power around here..."

"So Dee Vasquez helped cover up whatever that scandal with Jack Hammer was?" Maya quickly jotted down that thought as she asked it.

Penny shrugged. "All I'm going on are rumors online and those among the general staff. Nobody would really know but Mr. Jack, Oldbag, and Vasquez. Mr. Jack isn't around, Vasquez probably won't talk, so your best bet is—"

"Here's hoping the gionbō helped smooth things over." That was going to be an...unpleasant conversation, to say the least.

Penny grimaced apologetically. "Yeah, uh, sorry."

"No problem. Part and parcel of the job. I just, uh, hope you don't get in too much trouble with the whole operation fan poll or whatever."

"Operation fan poll?"

Maya blushed. "It's the best I could come up with under short notice! Title pending, I guess. Picky..." Nick cackled as he rolled about in the air. She didn't need both of them making fun of her.

Penny, at least, had the decency to look somewhat apologetic. "It's a good placeholder title."

"Mean to me." That got a laugh out of Penny and Nick both. She felt a little lighter. It felt easier to laugh when she wasn't faking it.

"I'll keep you updated, alright?" Penny shoved another gionbō in her mouth, waving her phone at Maya.

"And I'll let you know if anything goes horribly wrong or whatever, so long as it doesn't break confidentiality." Maya tucked her notebook back in her sash, pen in her breast pocket, and nodded at Penny. "See you."

"Bye. Don't work too hard, okay?"

"No promises."

"Fair enough." —— Oldbag was eating one of the gionbō when Maya and Nick managed to find her again. She was sitting in her little office building, daintily making sure she didn't smudge her lipstick as she snacked. There was an air of somberness about her that made the guard station feel like a funeral home. Maya couldn't blame her, however. She seemed to sincerely care about Jack Hammer and his murder seemed to genuinely effect her negatively.

Maya carefully approached her as if she was a dangerous animal, making sure to stand in her line of sight and moving slowly. "Hello?"

Oldbag's gaze flicked from the middle distance to lock on to Maya. Her lips pursed but she didn't speak aloud, just inclined her head as if she was giving her permission to speak.

"Sorry to bother you during your grieving period but this should be the last time." And she sincerely was sorry. The way the old security guard had asked for a way to go pay Jack Hammer respects wasn't fake. She was actually upset by his death and Maya didn't want to disrespect or devalue her sorrow and pain.

"Go ahead, girlie." She pulled another gionbō from the box and ate it, teeth bared, tearing through the gyūhi, leaving a splatter of powdered sugar dusted on her lips. "It's not like I can stop you anyway."

"She very well could, if she wanted." Nick's addition was soft, less for her and more for himself. He, too, almost seemed afraid that Oldbag could hear him and would go off on a tangent the second that she felt fit enough to. "But man..."

Yeah. "Did you get to pay your respects?" That was less out of a need for information and more out of respect for the old woman. "At Studio One, I mean."

"Sure did." Somehow a taciturn Oldbag was scarier than a blustery Oldbag. "Went during the trial too. Prayed that his killer would be found and jailed."

"She isn't insisting it's Powers," Nick noted. "That's something."

It was something. "I'm glad you had a chance to do that. It's good for you; getting a chance to grieve while it's fresh."

Oldbag nodded again, humming in agreement. "Cut to the chase."

Fair enough. "I had a couple questions regarding the day of the murder and also something that Penny said."

"That girl again?" She snorted, the sound a gun shot scattering birds in the woods. "She needs to learn to keep her mouth shut. She won't keep this job if she doesn't learn that sooner rather than later."

"Pot, kettle."

Maya fought back a smile. "She only mentioned because I was asking around and one thing led to another."

"My point stands," Oldbag sniffed. "You can't go blabbing to any Tom, Dick, or Harry asking about. Even if they are your friend or whatever." She ate another gionbō in heavy silence. Chewed. Swallowed. Spoke again. "What did she say?"

"She said that about five years ago someone died on set?"

Oldbag stiffened, eyes widening in surprise and horror. Then they narrowed. "Yeah? What of it?"

"Penny implied that Jack Hammer was the one who was at fault." More or less.

Oldbag didn't take kindly to that insinuation. "My Hammer would never!" Her sudden increase in volume—after so long with her being somber and quiet—startled both Maya and Nick. The former jumped, heart hammering in her ears; the latter spun about midair, his scarf forming a fluid spiral of blood-red. "I thought you of all people would understand that talking ill of the recently deceased is uncouth and probably will get you cursed! Or did you think you had a free pass because you're trying to prove that idiot Powers innocent? Honestly!" Thankfully she shoved another gionbō in her mouth, shutting herself up. As she angrily chewed on the wagashi, Maya tried her best to reign in her nerves.

"Well at least we know she's not that put-off."

Yay. Maya inhaled, held, then exhaled. "I'm not saying this out of any kind of malice."

"Proof!" Maya blinked at Oldbag. The woman reiterated her demand. "Show me proof, lawyer girlie! Isn't that your job? What proof do you have that my Hammer was even capable of murder!"

"Well..." Nick didn't even need to finish the thought. Maya already knew what would do the trick.

"The sleeping pills." When Oldbag stared at her, silent and judgemental, Maya elaborated. "There was a bottle of over the counter sleeping pills I found in the Employee Lounge. My case today was based on the belief that Will Powers was drugged and Jack Hammer stole the Steel Samurai costume to frame him for one thing or another."

"Mere supposition, isn't it?!"

"The police just finished fingerprinting the bottle and Jack Hammer was the last person to touch them."

"My Hammer just had problems sleeping!" Oldbag pushed back.

"They also finished testing the plates in the Employee Lounge," Maya countered, "and one of the plates tested positive for a large concentration of the pills. Jack Hammer drugged one of the plates. You can't deny that."

"I—" Oldbag's shoulders slumped. All the fight left her. Suddenly she seemed as though she was feeling the true weight of her age pressing down on her. "Hmph. Alright."

It was an admission of defeat, but not for Oldbag. She just seemed...exhausted. Like she had spent so much of the past few days holding on to a thread and it had finally snapped, leaving her slack and immobile. Maya felt bad for her.

"Alright..." Olbag repeated, softer than before. "Yeah."

"Oldbag-san—" A sharp glare from the old woman reminded Maya she had demanded the honorifics be done away with. "Oldbag—" she corrected.

"No need to pity me, girlie. I'm not so fragile as to fall apart like this." Oldbag cut her off. "I know Hammer wasn't a completely innocent man. I'm not a fool."

"I never said you were." Maya's comment earned her a dry glare. She fell quiet, sheepishly hunching beneath Oldbag's ire.

"Hammer was...hm..." She sighed and began again. "Five years ago— five years ago, a man died on set here. It was one of the action films. A muckraking tabloid photographer skulking about managed to catch it on camera and Global panicked. They couldn't afford for this to leak. It would ruin them."

"A scandal like that—an actor or someone else dying on set due to workplace safety issues or negligence—is a bad look, even if Global wasn't suffering financial issues back then."

"Penny said Dee Vasquez helped smooth things over?"

"Yeah, that's how it got sold to everyone else." Oldbag scoffed. "But the fact of the matter is that Vasquez has ties to organized crime. She had the poor photographer silenced, the negatives seized, and Global figured it was better to have her around than not."

Maya stopped writing down what Oldbag was saying and stared at her. Was she serious? "Organized crime?"

That got her a scoffing laugh from the security guard. "Mobsters. Mafioso. Yakuza. It all depends on what part of Los Tokyo her connections are from. Could be anyone. My money is on one of the local big names. You don't get that far up the ladder that fast without good connections."

"Holy..." Nick didn't even finish his thought, the word trailing off like the ends of his scarf.

"And Dee Vasquez just..."

"Threatened and strong-armed her way into getting her hands on every piece of evidence documenting that incident but one."

"One?" She couldn't mean—

Oldbag reached into her uniform's breast pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, offering it to Maya. Maya took it and unfolded it, revealing what it was that Oldbag had held on to for five whole years.

A black and white photograph of the supposed incident, heavily creased and worn from years of being folded. It was of the trailer in Studio Two, three people trapped in time, stuck in the horror of whatever had happened. Jack Hammer—younger than when he died, certainly less harrowed—in a polo shirt and holding a tennis racket, looking down in horror from the trailer stairs. Impaled on the cast iron fence was someone in dark colored, ninja-like body armor. Behind the deceased was a younger Dee Vasquez, gloved hands clasped over her mouth as she cried.

"Holy shit."

Maya could barely breathe. No wonder the Studio Two trailer felt like Studio One. Someone had died there.

"Hammer didn't mean to." Oldbag's quiet admission broke the silence, a skipping stone through a glass house. "Even back then, Global had been struggling. Nowadays it's better; as much as I hate to admit it, the Steel Samurai brought in a good amount of revenue, but it used to be worse. I wasn't there for the incident itself but I heard..."

"She was a fan of Hammer," Nick breathed, "so why wouldn't she want to eliminate any trace of this incident? But she kept it...?"

"Why did you keep this?" It wasn't meant to be judgemental. She genuinely just wanted to understand.

(Coffee mugs she bought for Mia used for her own purposes on a daily basis. An altar at home and an altar at the office, both set with care, color prints in dark wood frames set before offerings and apologies. Sheets that smelled like cigarette smoke and her sister's perfume. Pressing a finger to a bruise and knowing the pain means it was real, once upon a time.)

Oldbag maintained steady eye-contact with Maya, unbroken and judgement-free. 'You're spiritual...aren't you girlie?' She had asked. Maya had said yes but even then, she had been unaware of what Oldbag had been truly asking. Spiritual in practice, spiritual in penance, spiritual in existence.

"I don't want to talk about that." Fair enough.

"Do you know what happened? Who - who is this?" Maya brushed her fingers over the dead man. She couldn't tell—they were wearing a mask—but judging by their build they were probably a stunt actor. Or, no, Global didn't even use stunt actors now. Why would they have way back then? This was an actor; someone who was no longer with the studio or the living.

"Manuel Salcedo." It wasn't a name Maya recognized. Thankfully, Oldbag explained. "He was a suit actor for the villain parts in a majority of the Samurai films. Uncredited, of course, because Global likes to hold their bottom line."

"This was a Samurai film?"

Oldbag jerked her head in a sharp nod. "Never got any further after this happened. All the film was burned, all the staff working then were paid off, and most of them don't work for Global at all these days." Something wistful—or pained, the two emotions pressed against one another like the pages in a book—painted her expression. "They were filming an action scene. Not even the climax. Salcedo was fighting with Hammer when he fell off-balance and tipped over the handrail. It was bad luck..."

"The chance of him falling like that, on a fence spike at an angle that could kill him is...astronomically small."

"Do you think Dee Vasquez blamed Jack Hammer?" It wasn't something Maya meant to ask aloud and yet Oldbag didn't seem to hold it against her. In fact, it seemed as though she seemed amused that Maya's mind went there.

"I'll bet she did. I won't say I don't blame her—I do. You don't keep someone around treat someone like dirt for five years just to punish them for an awful accident but Vasquez..."

Nick sighed. "That's why he was paid almost nothing and overworked."

"She was blackmailing him."

"Got it in one." Oldbag exhaled heavily, her nose flaring. "You can have that, by the by."

"Huh?"

"The photo." She stared at Maya like she was speaking a foreign language. "Holding on to it now is— it's just painful. I should let go. You'll make better use of it than I will. It's the only copy left."

"I'll— I'll do my best." Maya folded the photo back into fourths and tucked it into her sash. "Thank you."

"I wonder if I could've gotten farther in life if I was half as ambitious as you." Oldbag plucked another gionbō from the box. "Too late for that."

"For what it's worth, I think you've done well for yourself." It might've been a bit of a platitude but she meant it. "I can't imagine holding the same position for as long as you have."

"I used to dream of being a star." A wry, thin smile pressed her lips into a crooked red line. "Too little too late now. Who would have me."

"There's no harm in trying."

She let out a sharp bark of laugher. "Never let go of that sunny spirit, girlie. Least you can do to make it up to me."

"Thank you." What else could she say? What else was there to say? "I...hope you're alright when all of this is over."

Oldbag took a bite of gionbō, gyūhi tearing between her teeth and leaving a smear of anzu across her canines, and waved her hand dismissively. "Worry about yourself more."

"I'll do my best." Maya turned back to the gate leading to the studio lots and started her trek to Studio Two. She had a crime scene to investigate.

Nick floated alongside her in relative silence for a moment but she could feel him holding back. They both were.

What Oldbag had admitted to, what she had just divulged was— this could ruin Global Studios, even if it saved their client.

"Dee Vasquez was blackmailing Jack Hammer." That was a fact, even if the only proof they had was the picture just given to them.

"So why is he dead?" Nick asked. "He was too valuable to let go. Famous, good at his job, and she, what, kills him?"

"We've called it an anti-motive before, but it really is, isn't it?" Maya pulled her notebook out and found where she'd scribbled down possible motives or reasons Jack Hammer had been killed. "If he was making Global money, there's no reason to - to—"

Nick saved her. He pulled the words from her mouth and gave them form so she didn't have to taste them on the way out. "You don't slaughter the golden goose if you want to keep the eggs it lays." His distaste was audible and she shared it. It connected them, a thin thread of confusion and revulsion.

"What was Jack Hammer doing? He'd spent years under Dee Vasquez's thumb, had years for that resentment to grow but..." But why now? Why try to frame Will Powers?

"Maybe because it had been years?"

"Everyone on-site that day knew the meeting was happening, didn't they?" Nick nodded so Maya continued. "He was heading to Studio Two, where the executives were. Did they know when the meeting ended? Or did it not matter?"

"You think he was trying to kill Vasquez?"

Maya met Nick's blank eyes and nodded. "Or he planned on hurting her. With the Samurai Spear broken, especially along the shaft, the chances of it being a good thrusting weapon is reduced. Bludgeoning perhaps? But that means..."

As always, he recognized her logic. "The Spear was used to obfuscate the actual cause of death. They plugged the hole."

"Wasn't there an incinerator there?"

"You think they burned the costume?"

"It would be the only reason Prosecutor Edgeworth and Gumshoe haven't found it yet." It was a point of contention for the men. They seemed genuinely frustrated that the missing costume hadn't reappeared yet. Maya understood, of course, but its absence said more than its presence ever would. "Burn the blood-soaked clothes, dress the body in his own suit, move it..."

Maya ran nose-first into someone. A startled squeak escaped her as she reeled and attempted to try and reorient herself so she could apologize. Before she could, however, she caught sight of Nick in the corner of her vision. His eyes were wide and panicked, mask pulled over his nose, pale and sweaty.

Something was horribly wrong if Nick was this unsettled.

Turning back to whoever she had run into, Maya realized exactly what the problem was.

A large man with a sprawling series of tattoos across his face sneered down at her, golden teeth glittering in the sunlight. "Ay, Lady Vasquez has been looking for you."

"H-has she?" Maya tried to keep her calm but—

'You don't get that far up the ladder that fast without good connections.' Oldbag had said. Maya was face-to-face with proof of that.

Danger, her brain screamed. Danger. This is dangerous. Run. Flee.

Her legs wouldn't listen. "And why hasn't Vasquez-san sent me a message personally?"

The man in front of her laughed. He threw his head back and howled in amusement. Then he whistled through his teeth, a sharp rising arrow of noise. "That's why we're here."

We. Maya watched as two other men stepped from the woods on either side of the path. While all of them were dressed differently—a far cry from movies' representation of organized crime—they shared similarities in the colors they wore and the sheer danger they radiated. She was pinned in on all sides.

"So you're my escort?"

The man shrugged at her. "Escort, messenger, bodyguard. Take your pick, ay?"

As if sensing that she was weighing her options and trying to find an exit from this trap, one of the other men simply lifted up his shirt to flash the grip of a pistol. All the fight left her in that moment.

Maya met Nick's eyes. 'Promise me you're going to be smarter about this one.' He had begged her when she started this case. 'I can't help if the problem is physical.'

And here she was...

Maya swallowed and tilted her chin up so she was looking at the man in front of her. "Lead the way."

"Smart girl." As a unit, the three men pinned Maya between them and started walking towards Studio Two.

So Dee Vasquez was here. They had assumed, of course, but the fact that she sent her 'connections' to come 'escort' her meant...

Did Dee Vasquez think Maya knew something dangerous? Was that why she was going to silence her? Make her disappear?

(Who would tend the altar? Who would offer Mia's spirit food and incense? Who would keep the office clean? Who would keep Nick company?)

She couldn't think like that because...

Well...it'd be hard to escape that mire the longer she stood in the mud.

Dee Vasquez stood on the porch of the Studio Two trailer, the smoke from her cigarette curling fingers toward the sky. The orange-red ember cast harsh shadows on her face, the warm color washing out her neutral tones. Her dark eyes watched as Maya was marched up the stairs.

"Found the little girl walking the main path." The man up front said to Dee Vasquez.

She just inclined her head. "Bring her in." Taciturn as ever.

Nick, silent as the grave, followed them into the trailer.

Once inside, Maya stood stock-still, waiting for whatever demands Dee Vasquez might have of her. The memory of the gun one of the men had kept her locked in place out of sheer terror. She'd never seen or heard a gun fired outside of TV or movies but she didn't need to.

It was a threat, and an effective one at that.

"Surely there are better ways to get my attention, Vasquez-san."

"Maya." Nick's hissed warning was followed by a raspy coughing fit. Maya tuned him out to the best of her ability.

She wasn't trying to be rude—the opposite, in fact—but she was trying to waste time in the hopes that somebody would realize she wasn't out and about.

"Did you take her phone?" Dee Vasquez didn't even deign to answer Maya. Instead she turned to one of the men, who shrugged at her. "Did she send out an SOS or anything of the like?"

The man said something in a language Maya didn't speak—Spanish, if she had to make a guess—and Dee Vasquez clucked her tongue in irritation. She snapped out something in the same language and the man who was at the head of their group walked towards Maya, who flinched.

"Hold still, little girl." She did as she was told and the man pulled her phone out of her pocket—alongside her notebook—and handed them to Dee Vasquez to peruse.

Maya stood in terrified silence as Dee Vasquez flipped through her notes; the heady smell of her cigarette choking any protests Maya might have had before they reached her tongue. Nick coughed into his elbow, sweating so much his mask was translucent, blood splatter visible from the inside.

When Dee Vasquez spoke again, it was finally addressed to Maya. "You have the photo."

Maya refused to answer her.

Dee Vasquez sighed a ribbon of smoke and disappointment. "Do not be stubborn. I have read your notes. I have seen you in court. You have figured something out, something dangerous. Allow me to correct that."

"Why?"

Dee Vasquez raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"You were blackmailing him. Jack Hammer, I mean. Why? It was an accident."

The laugh Dee Vasquez let out was unkind. It was smoky—as was most of her—and sharp, like a saw blade dragging back and forth across the back of Maya's neck. Ha ha ha. Perfect, practiced, and painful. "Is that what you think?" The mirth in her voice was violence. She wasn't actually all that kind, all her already sparse geniality a well-kept mask for anyone that wasn't on her payroll.

Maya no longer warranted such a petty cover-up.

Some of the spring-tight wound energy Maya was feeling loosened in her confusion. "H-huh?"

"That it was an accident." She snapped the word like a whip. Maya flinched. "That Hammer did not mean to hurt Manuel, let alone kill him."

"W-well, I mean—" Even Oldbag had expressed doubt that the incident was wholly accidental, and she was stubborn enough to make the Founder cry. "Surely he couldn't have—"

"Tell me, little lawyer," Dee Vasquez cut Maya off, taking a long drag before she continued speaking, "would a wholly innocent man allow me to squeeze him dry for five whole years?" Her smile was bared fangs, a flash of sharp white between parted maroon lips. "Think about it."

So she did.

Jack Hammer was the victim here, but he planned to do something and frame Will Powers for it. By that logic, it wasn't too hard to extrapolate that he had done awful things like this in the past.

Manuel Salcedo fell on a garden fence and choked to death on his own blood, a perforated lung ending his life before his time.

Jack Hammer pushed him.

"Still—"

"The photograph." Dee Vasquez didn't let her speak. "I know you have it."

"What makes you think—?"

"Do not play me for a fool, little lawyer." Maya flinched as Dee Vasquez cut her off with razor sharp sounds. "I read your notes but even if I had not...well, the old woman only kept her position because I could not get it off of her."

Maya could feel the photo pressed against her stomach, glad she stored things in her sash as much as she did her pockets. It burned bright, a secret she needed to keep safe. "You wanted it that badly?"

"Why would I not?" The question seemed almost nonsensical to her. "I had already taken and destroyed the negatives. This was the last remaining memory of that wretched day."

Something about the way she said that felt...personal. "You knew Manuel Salcedo?"

Whatever vulnerability Maya had caught a glimpse of was shuttered off in an instant. Cold, calm, collected, Dee Vasquez exhaled threads of scented smoke from between bared fangs. "If I did, it hardly matters to your case, does it?"

"On the contrary; as you saw, I have reasonable proof that Jack Hammer's death is directly tied to that incident." Maybe it was hubris, maybe it was frustration, but Maya's fear curdled and turned to bravado that sung through her veins. "Am I not entitled to questioning you? Your alibi is now under review due to Jack Hammer likely being killed in this lot."

"You sure are a brave one." Maya stared as Dee Vasquez stepped closer and closer to her, the clicking of her heels a countdown to...something bad. "Are you unaware of the position you are in?"

She swallowed. "No. I'm - I'm well aware."

"Surely that old woman spun a sad story for you. Poor Hammer, abused and exploited by the big bad Vasquez, and her the sole owner of a photo proving that her precious star is just as corrupt as his blackmailer." Dee Vasquez waved her hand gently about, painting the air in ember-bright sparks and silken smoke as she spoke. "But did she tell you that she chased that photographer down and physically beat the photograph out of them? That, had she done her job that day, there would be no such evidence to begin with?"

Maya remained silent. Dee Vasquez's smile sharpened mirthlessly.

"Of course she did not. Why would she? She is no different than myself in that respect: we are both private people. But you have violated my privacy and I aim to fix that mistake." She held out a gloved hand. "The photograph. I will not ask again."

The men shifted, ever-so-slightly, and Nick bristled. His edges wavered, coughs exploding out of his mouth, mask stained crimson with long-spilled blood. His distress fed back into Maya, a recursive loop of panic, and she fought every part of her that demanded she go down with her opponent's throat caught in her teeth.

She shouldn't go down at all.

She just...had to...buy time.

"What are you going to do with it?" She already knew the answer.

"Do you need to ask?" Even Dee Vasquez was aware of how blatant a stall that was. "Do not play this game with me. I do not have the patience. I am a very busy woman and my time is not cheap."

"Humor me?"

"I will not." She jerked her head at one of the men—the one who seemed to only speak Spanish—and said something to him in Spanish. Or, no, not said, commanded. She commanded him, the intent crossing the language barrier, tightening the choke collar around Maya's own neck.

The man stepped forward and began to search her again. Pocket after pocket turned out, the man stripped her of her jacket. Maya's face burned even as the blood left her body in sheer terror. Indignation and fear mixed like oil and water, a single spark away from a violent blaze. Then the man began to prod at her pants pockets, rough fingers grasping at her rolls of flesh, unkind and uncaring.

"Do you really think you'll get away with this?" There, the spark, the sputtering countertop fire, splattering bright liquid fire across the room. "Do you really think the police will—"

"Bold, that you would assume I am afraid of the police." Dee Vasquez replied from where she stood. Statuesque, uncaring, she viewed Maya's shame through half-lidded eyes lined with smokey eyeshadow.

"Sure, you might not be, but they will catch you." The man's fingers pried between her foot and her shoes, checking for a piece of paper hidden flat in the shadow of herself.

"With what evidence?"

Maya's jaw snapped shut so hard her teeth rattled. The man searching her moved up from her shoes towards her legs. His fingers lingered, less predatory and more practiced, in places she could have hidden things. Eventually he would likely remove her sash and then—

"There are no cameras here. The photograph showing you passing through the gate has no proof of my men wandering the woods. All the police would know is that a young woman wandered off the beaten path and disappeared." She idly looked down her nose at Maya as she spoke, as if she wasn't even worth considering. "You are not the first person to disappear at Global Studios and you would not be the last."

"Maya—!" Nick's strangled coughing gave way to him crying out, her name a warning as much as a plea.

His shout startled her enough that she jostled the man patting her down. Her sash came loose and the picture fell out, fluttering slowly down. The world narrowed to a pinprick, time oozing through the bottleneck, and Maya made a split-second decision.

She jumped forward, snatched the photo off of the ground and clutched it to her chest as she tried to make a break for it.

One of the men blocked her way. Another grabbed her by the hair. The third pulled his gun out.

Maya shrieked in pain.

(In the space between life and death, Nick's agonized screaming echoed with violent coughing and retching. Only Maya could hear his past overtake his present. Only Maya could see the edges of his body rip and tear, spinning out into ethereal strands of Twilight, smoke tethering him between the two realms like a poorly strung puppet.)

"Are you stupid?" Dee Vasquez's lip curled. She didn't raise her voice—she didn't need to, after all—but her words papered over the sounds of Maya struggling against her 'connections'. "What could you have accomplished, running like that?"

"Let me go!" Fear was a jackrabbit kicking feet against her heart and throat, pulse a waterfall beneath her skin.

"I do not take joy in this."

"Let me go!"

"This is for the good of Global Studios, after all."

"Let me go!"

Like a gunshot, the door flew open. Standing in the blinding light, backlit like an avenging angel, Gumshoe leveled his own firearm at the man with the gun. "Hands where I can see them!"

The man with the gun whipped the muzzle towards Gumshoe and fired once. The noise left Maya reeling but so was the man who had been holding her. His grip on her hair loosened and she wrenched herself free, scrambling on the ground on all fours as she fled for the door. Gumshoe's inaudible demands faded into indecipherable noise as she threw herself over the stairs and ran into the woods, passing several other policemen as they rushed to their coworker's aid, guns at the ready.

It wasn't until she could see the security office—sans Oldbag, who had probably gone to get more cops when the gunfire started—that she stopped running and tried to just breathe.

In. Hold. Out.

(The gun was leveled at her. The man had a fistful of her hair. Dee Vasquez watched on, unbothered or perhaps even bored.)

In. Hold. Out.

(Nick writhed and was unmade by his emotions. His coughs splattered blood inside his mask but he called her name. Her name. Maya. Maya. Maya.)

In. Hold. Out.

"Maya?"

(The photograph burned her skin as she tried to curl up around it. What had she been thinking? What was her plan? She could have died! Nobody would find her; nobody would care. Nobody would—)

"Maya!" She whipped to face whoever was calling her name and found Nick inches away from her, his spectral hands cupped around her face as if he was holding her head. "Maya. Are you okay?"

Was she okay? Was she—?

Her hands were shaking. She didn't have her jacket. Her cheeks still flushed from the indignation of being patted down. Her stomach roiled with nausea and panic. She could hear her pulse. She might've twisted her ankle because it hurt. Her hands were shaking.

Maya couldn't find it in herself to speak so she shook her head. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She stifled the sobs, the wrenching shudders still shaking every inch of her.

The cold October air bit into the salt-scrubbed raw patches of her face. She scraped her palms on the wood of the trailer stairs.

She was not okay.

Nick settled to the ground and pressed his cold form against hers. Even if he couldn't touch her, he wanted to comfort her. Hold her. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

(The warm smell of coffee and cigarettes and incense. A curtain of mahogany hair obscured her vision. The sound of her sister's voice rumbling through both of their bodies as they lay pressed together on the futon.)

She missed her sister.

"Mia—" The word came out like a whine, the sound of a kicked animal or a baby. She felt small and alone. She wanted comfort.

Nick, incorporeal as he might be, pressed closer to her. "Shh. It's okay. I know."

He did, but it wasn't the same.

Maya slumped down against the outside of the security booth and curled up, head on her knees. Nick settled alongside her, offering the only comfort he could—his presence—as she wept.

She missed her big sister so much.

"Hey, Maya?" She wasn't sure how much time had passed but she felt sticky and gross, worn out from crying and brittle around the edges, when she heard Gumshoe's soft, concerned voice call for her. She lifted her head from her knees and tilted her chin up so she could see him better.

Gumshoe wasn't hurt—thank the Founder, because she would never forgive herself if he had gotten hurt on her behalf—but he looked worried. Was he worried for her? Or was he worried because of what had happened? Surely a shootout with a criminal organization would complicate the case, especially for the police.

"...sorry..."

"For what?!" Noticing how she flinched, he lowered his voice. "You got nuthin' to apologize for, pal. That was bad all around."

"I made things harder..."

"Maya." Gumshoe and Nick called her name in unison, both equally stern. Gumshoe continued, "Complicatin' the case isn't your fault. If Miss Vasquez was runnin' with the Rivales, then this was always gonna' be an issue. You gettin' caught like that, patted down and humiliated, that ain't on you. That's not your fault."

"But—"

"This just means she can't dodge the subpoena. We got her in custody for half a dozen things now. Prosecutor Edgeworth will see she's taken to court for Power's case but she's gonna' also get indicted on other stuff too." Gumshoe spoke slow, low, comforting. He was being careful and it was all for her. "You weren't hurt and that's the important part for me."

Maya scrubbed at her face. "Sorry I got caught like that."

"Maya." Now he sounded frustrated. "You shouldn't've gone pokin' about like you did but—"

You couldn't have known she had criminal ties? You were unaware that she was willing to kill to keep her secrets? But she was well aware of that and yet she still—

He handed her her jacket back, notebook and phone wrapped in the lavender cloth. "It's not like any of us could've predicted that, pal."

A laugh escaped her at last, mildly hysterical even if it left her lightheaded with relief. "I guess..."

"Maya." The way Nick said her name—mochi-thick with pity, slathered in honey regret—stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth.

"Just— you gotta' be careful."

"I don't plan on making a habit of being held at gunpoint." Her bite was forced, dull by comparison to Dee Vasquez's violent edge, but it did the trick. Gumshoe's posture loosened a bit, shoulders relaxing.

"Nobody ever does."

"Well I'll take extra precaution next time." A lie, but a kind one. She was full of those lately. "Hey Gumshoe?"

"Yeah?"

How to phrase this? There was no reason to keep things from the police now. Not after they'd rescued her. Prosecutor Edgeworth be damned, she wanted this woman in jail. "I think Dee Vasquez might've been the one."

All his false cheer—facepaint put on for her benefit, a bright splatter of color in a monochrome world—washed away in an instant, leaving behind a somber police detective. "Yeah. So did Mister Edgeworth. It's why he wanted us to keep an eye on the place. He was workin' on the paperwork to get her on the stand but now—"

"She can't refuse."

"Yeah."

"Good." Maya was spiteful. This was something she didn't take much care in hiding. She didn't give a shit if the object of her ire knew or not. In fact, she wanted them to know. Getting Dee Vasquez on the stand would be tasty but getting her convicted?

"Will you - are you gonna' be okay tomorrow?" Gumshoe picked at his bandage.

Maya heaved herself to her feet with a groan and pulled her jacket back on, finding comfort in the weight of her notebook and phone. "Yeah. I'll be fine. I just...need to sleep this off."

"We're gonna' need your statement about the Rivales we picked up and Vasquez though, pal." He looked apologetic.

"Now?" Gumshoe nodded and Maya flashed him a comforting smile. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

"You got it."

The phantom sensation of the man snatching her hair, of fingers exploring her body to find anything she hid, sent shivers up her spine but she would prevail. She'd be fine.

She would be fine.

(Walking behind her the whole time, Nick stifled coughs into his elbow, the blood long-gone from his face mask.)

[littledecth]

DIAS ATRÁS, ELA ESTAVA PERDIDA SOBRE O QUE FAZER - se trancou no próprio quarto, & não tinha energia para fazer nada além de engolir os remédios a seco. agora, se comportava como uma pessoa funcional novamente , mas a ilusão permanecia no fundo de sua mente , a arrastando para baixo , sibilando : ' deixe ir deste pretenso de felicidade ' , sussurrando : ' sabemos que está miserável ' . ela não ouvia, ou melhor - fingia não ouvir. estava tentando seu melhor, manter todos contentes, despreocupados, mesmo que a noite ficasse acordada se virando na cama, pensando sobre coisas que morreram e que muito pouco , ficavam mortas.

tinha se perdido nos próprios pensamentos, e quando voltou ao momento, estava encarando uma face que antes não estava ali.  por sorte , foi rápida em reconhece-la. ❛ maya, oi. ❜ disse rapidamente, tentando salvar-se de constrangimento, mesmo que fosse impossível que ela não tivesse sentido seus olhos vidrados em si.  ❛ eu 'tava, ❜ fez um gesto com as mãos ao redor da cabeça.  ❛ 'tava longe, desculpa. ❜ tomou um gole de sua bebida, ainda surpresa com o gosto doce de frutas que perfeitamente agradava seu paladar.  ❛ você 'tá bem ? não conversamos em décadas. ❜ ou talvez, alguns dias - ela tinha perdido noção do tempo enquanto presa a própria cama.  ❛ vai ir em alguma atração da ala vermelha ? ❜

@mayafitzg

[philtstone]

Aditha/nandini jacket

AFTER A MILLION YEARS I FINIALLY FINISHED THIS set in this verse and a prequel to the silly asides in this fic. a mix of book and movie canon as usual! for those who responded to my wip poll im sorry i ignored literally all of your votes and instead worked on "in which vandiyadevan is trapped in the toilet" but it ended up working out for everyone (me and the 2 mutuals reading this) so whos laughing NOW anyway apologies in advance for any cultural errors or general incoherency; its one in the morning and maya is in a different time zone. i had to google things! also none of this is serious. enjoy!

Evening is cooler than Nandini expected.

After the tumultuous heat of Poonghuzhali’s van, and the station, and the day, and the week — well, she did not anticipate shivering in the dark outside this dormitory. The leather motorcycle jacket she so pointedly wore in the blistering sun now, a week later, lies untouched beside her. They have had three stare-offs in the last twenty minutes, she and the jacket. She cannot bring herself to put it on; the idea leaves a queer feeling in her belly that she doesn’t care to examine. 

The dormitory itself is a relatively humble one, considering the wealth of its former occupant’s family. More a boy’s hostel than the kind of lodging the Cholas might secure for their most beloved child. Arunmozhi seems completely unbothered by the state of it. He grins widely at the orange toned walls, scuffed, and the low doors, slamming open and shut at intervals (though less now, so late into the night), and the general ruckus of the boys who greet them. They were all but cheering in welcome of their former dorm mate and his mismatched band of traveling companions, needing a place to avoid the authorities and – impossibly – his Uncles’ and her fathers’ spies, last minute. There was a lot of hugging that went around, at any rate. It’s not quite an elder siblingish relationship, Nandini thinks, though she is absurdly then struck by the question of whether the benign, chummy, kindly way Arunmozhi interacts with the younger boys is patterned after the way his own — that is to say, he has an older br — oooh.

Nandini does not want to think about it.

Just as well, because she’s many other, marginally less useless things to think of.

She is thinking of these things quite obsessively, in matter of fact. Scientific observation would suggest a verge on neuroticism. So it goes in Nandini’s head: oh, Lord, My Mother. She is Here. I’ve met Her. She is Alive after all, and so Beautiful, and so Fucking Weird. 

(The capitalizations are quite manifest in her own thoughts). 

If anyone else were to say the last she’d box them, but God it is true, and Nandini is nearly brought to happy tears by the realness of her mother’s strangeness. Her mother is exactly the same height as she. Her ears are not pierced. She favours her left leg, while Nandini favours neither, but when she walks she sways her hips in much the same way Nandini does when she is not thinking about it. She has hair which is nearly the same length and weight and texture, and it curls around the ears such that it must tickle – Nandini has much experience with this. Her mother’s fingers taper off as hers do; the nail beds are the same; her mother’s chin dimples against her neck in a way Nandini has always felt insecure about in herself. They have a mole in the same spot on their arm; Nandini’s left toe has a bunion near identical to the left toe of her mother; the bottom row of her mother’s teeth lay the same; her mother’s breasts are not very small, but not overly large either, and sit in the same position Nandini's do; her cheeks possess vestiges of the same roundness; her elbow wrinkles in the same way; her eyebrows are a bit unkempt in the middle, like Nandini’s were when she was a child and could not be bothered with their upkeep.

How strange it is! To see your own face so clearly in another. The slope of her nose — the curve of her mouth — the way her hair falls. Nandini wonders if this is what she will look like when she is old. She wonders if she is what her mother looked like when she was young. Surely the answer is yes. They are now inseparable in her mind, she and her mother, and it is overwhelming. She does not even need a father anymore; he has been axed from the equation. She has a mother. She knows her mother! 

And when she saw her mother for the first time, cheerfully led out of the very mundane, uninspired Thanjai local jail, her mother knew her. Nandini had stood, transfixed, as Mandakini had touched her gently on the cheek, just so, and began to cry quiet little tears that slipped down her cheeks like they were the simplest thing in the world for her to give, to feel, to shed.

Nandini has always hated crying. Real crying, anyway; she is an expert fake crier, as anyone successful in the world of Tamil soaps must be. But real crying is snotty and uncontrollable and undignified. 

Nandini thinks (she has been thinking all evening – it is really getting to be bad for her health) that is what makes her mother at once so unfamiliar, too.

There is so much tenderness in her face. Even without words (Nandini is so very good with words, honeyed and poisoned and flat and querulous, even, rarely, honest) her mother tells the world of her love. For her daughter (who craves it so badly); for Arunmozhi (who despite Nandini’s earliest assumptions seems to know he must earn it, however freely it is given); for simply living, it seems. Nandini cannot understand this last part. Life has been on whole pretty miserable, for her mother. What right does it have to her love? 

Nandini does not think she could ever love like that. 

She’s seated and steeped in these ruminations on the topmost step of the dusty concrete facing the dormitory courtyard; behind her must be the toilets, for there is a light on inside one of them, and in front of her is a small garden decorated with scraggly trees which housed the mango-stealing monkey who had earlier been tormenting the dorm’s inhabitants, and a little walking path. Earlier, in the dark, she saw Arunmozhi and her mother (her mother!) start off on a little walk along the path. She supposes it does make sense; they have not seen each other in a while, and he has explained to her how Mandakini saved him from that lake, and that rickshaw, and also his own slippery bathtub once in this very same dorm. They’re old pals: Nandini knew this going into the venture. He knows sign language and everything, and can communicate with her far better than Nandini can. So it makes sense that they must now catch each other up – she on why the police inspector was bribed to arrest her (this is still a little muddy) and he on his future career plans (vague) and current family business rescue plans (hairbrained and relying too much on the goodwill of Nandini herself, if she’s being honest). But watching them go, arm in arm, signing animatedly at one another left a strange ache in her heart. That was a while ago. Bits of the yard are illuminated by the light from one or two dorm windows, but on whole, it is past curfew, and therefore dark; Nandini is more or less alone with her thoughts and also the noise from the city beyond the wall. 

Being alone, she has spent the last thirty seconds staring sightlessly at some invisible point in front of her, eyes the size of saucers, spiraling.

“Erm – ahem.”

Nandini startles so badly her bangle-clad wrist nearly knocks into her own nose.

Aditha Karikalan has never been particularly tall. When they were teenagers there was a brief month where she had an inch on him. Right now, however, he stands above her such that she has to look up, and once more notice the fact that he does carry himself with a kind of dignified height. Which Nandini appreciates. Or did appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. The last week has been quite a lot of everything. He wears a loose linen button down in a bright orange pattern open over a t-shirt, and a simple dhoti clumsily tied (she remembers the rare time he wore one in school, when they weren’t wearing their uniforms, she had helped him tie it), and sandals, and his wrists are sporting a nice fancy watch but they’re also covered in enough bead bracelets that, paired with his hair – unruly and wild and long as ever – he really does look far more the part of children’s camp counselor than first son of any kind of business mogul-cum-politician. 

Which Nandini appreciates. Or could appreciate. Or – well, she is not sure. A week ago, she would have very deliberately said, well, and what does a camp counselor make, anyway – I want to be a Bollywood actress, and glared him down out of spite. 

The last week really has been a lot of everything.

Anyway; she stares at him. Amidst her up-til-now very private spiraling.

Her mother her mother her mother her mother oh she is so known but so unknown oh they cannot love the same oh perhaps Nandini cannot love at all oh that must mean that must mean must it mean? that she, Nandini, well could she be broken is that what her mother sees surely she sees –

“I just – well. There’s the – the restroom is right there. So I’d come to …” And here Aditha stops his terribly uncomfortable and verging on comical awkward explanation, tilts his head – some immaterial spark of understanding happening in his sharp lovely eyes – and says, in an abortedly gruff tone that does very little to prevent what happens next,  “Nandini … are you – alright?”

Nandini, rather unexpectedly, begins blubbering. Loudly.

Her face crumples in on itself. Her shoulders hunch inward. Her nose gets snotty and her throat clogs up. And in general, she makes a very pathetic sort of hiccupy wailing noise, which she had not planned for.

“Shit,” says Aditha above her, after a moment of stunned silence. “Fuck, okay – Nandini? Well, you shouldn’t cry – come on, pull it together. The toilets are right there, look, someone’s even using them. Uh – well – alright, alright. It’s alright.”

None of his stammered, asinine condolences register much in Nandini’s ears. She is just very overwhelmed. It is only after a moment of her crying, sat on her rump outside the men’s toilets, that the stiff, chilly awkwardness of the night air changes, and there is a person quite suddenly beside her, and then not just beside her at all, but holding her – his arms carefully wrapped around her shoulders, his warm chest a perfect distance from her cheek, his large hands flattening clumsily over her back. Their knees bump together, and it isn’t very graceful at all – she refuses to move, so he must lean over ungainingly, and is probably quite uncomfortable doing it. 

Nandini cries into Aditha’s shoulder for five or ten minutes. He only pats her back stupidly once, at the start, and by the end of it, it is a proper embrace, and they are even rocking back and forth just a little.

It’s nice.

Presently, Nandini’s tears slow, and she registers the position she is in more properly. Whole-bodily, in fact. She had not expected that her body’s memory would slip back into this embrace so easily, and the realization is disquieting. She does not move, and Aditha does not move – she wonders if he is having the same panicked, wary thoughts – and so they sit in a stupid little impasse, hugging, for another two minutes. 

It’s getting to the point where she is noticing his cologne, so Nandini decides it is high time to pull herself together; she sits up, wiping at the snot on her face, and pretends her stomach is not in knots. A lopsided roll of toilet paper materializes in front of her nose. Oh – Aditha is holding it. She eyes it like a ticking bomb. It’s a bit squashed, like it was in his pocket. He must have brought it with him, earlier, which means he really did mean to use the bathroom, which means he hadn’t actually sought her out – 

Had he? He’s still holding her, sort of, and Nandini is terribly disoriented to realize that it is not an abhorrent sort of feeling, as she has very deliberately imagined it would be in the past, when hosting her more elaborate and vindictive daydreams in which she supposed they might reunite, not because she missed him badly but because she nursed ongoing fantasies of holy vengeance; all of those ended with her dumping a bucket of slop over his head. Instead, she has stopped feeling a decent measure of her earlier anxiety, and is breathing more normally now, and the rapidity of her thoughts have veered away from the breakneck pace of before. 

That could just be the crying. Her brother used to say that a tender weeping was good for one’s spirit. 

Nandini’s lip wobbles again; she misses Nambi, and is overwhelmed with a trickling feeling of shame – hadn’t she just left him, for so many months, and ignored all his overly-formal emails? 

The idea of emails makes her remember she has not sent a mildly threatening missive (subject line: I Know You Know Something About Mandakini Nolastname) from her ghost account to Sundura Chola in a while, and then that makes her think, well, it’s pointless now – her stalwart ally Arnunmozhi won’t have any reason to give her gently reproachful looks re: her long term haunting of his invalid father anymore – she’s found her mother – and then she is re-visited, very strongly, at once, by the dual reality of oh God her mother and oh God, Aditha is holding me.

Fuck, she needs to blow her nose.

“Here,” comes Aditha’s low voice, as though he’s read her mind. Which of course he hasn’t. But still. He tears off a piece of the toilet paper for her. Nandini trembles, and does not know whether she ought to lean in closer, or pull away entirely. She can feel his heartbeat against her shoulder, and while Nandini does not have a lot of experience with the biological sciences, it is beating rather more quickly than the average human heart ought to be.

“Oh,” she says, taking the tissue on autopilot. She dabs at her face, which must surely be smeared in kajol by now, and then her nose, which is probably ugly and red.

Good thing it’s so late at night.

After she’s done, because there doesn’t seem anything better to do – the alternative is getting up and fleeing, and Nandini is not a coward – she turns and stares at him.

Aditha clears his throat and scuffs one foot into the dirt at their feet, but he doesn’t look away. He’s grown a beard. She noticed this first thing last week. He never had one before.

“It’s just,” Nandini says, again on autopilot, “-- my mother.”

Ah, her mother. Poonghuzhali had demonstrated a very rare bout of tearful emotion and Arunmozhi his by now expected kindly friendship; Vandiyadevan had slipped her extra clementines after his grocery run and even Kundavai had been looking at her more gently than usual all afternoon. 

Until now, Aditha had been avoiding her. At her words his expression flickers, oddly, a shade of genuine concern colouring his face, before settling into something not quite effortless in its knowing but careful and gentle. She’d forgotten that he could look at her like that. It’s different now, just a little bit. The Look from before was more boyish, and the look now has a kind of sadness to it that makes it feel more real. Maybe it’s the beard. Unease fills her chest again, tenses up her hands. What must he be thinking? Why did he go about all day avoiding her? Alright, so she has also been avoiding him – all week now, to be sure – but – but –

“It must be really strange,” he says suddenly. His voice is deeper than before but not by much. She has not noticed this until right now, because they are sitting so closely and he is speaking quite softly. “Finding – finding someone who is so like you, all of a sudden.”

Whatever was on the verge of backflipping in the pit of Nandini’s stomach sours. Her chin trembles; she looks away. “I suppose.”

“Can’t really prepare for it, I guess.”

She sniffs. “I’ve been looking for months,” she says, more pointedly than perhaps she means. Looking does not equal preparation; the person she was in that Sri Lankan library was not entirely well, let alone prepared. Nandini is woman enough to acknowledge this. To herself, anyway. 

“It’s – it’s funny really,” he continues, deliberately gruff again, but not with the awkwardness of before; it’s more sincere now, roughened with honesty, yet in a way that is entirely oblivious to Nandini’s chin wobbles, “I can’t really understand what she’s saying half the time,” he rubs at his knee with one free hand, “but you know what I’ll tell you – I don’t think – well, I’ve never seen anyone with the same sort of sweetness in their face.” 

“As what,” croaks Nandini.

He looks at her strangely. Nightlife honks and buzzes past the dorm walls, cocooning them. “As you,” he says, like she is being stupid.

Nandini flushes deep from within. No – he must be lying. Hadn’t he called her a poisonous witch just last week? 

She supposes he must have meant that, but she knows Aditha well, and she knows when he is lying, even now – she has come to know, through many a painful altercation (the witch thing, and also she has threatened to kill him a few times) – and she resolves that whatever he meant last week, right now, he is also being honest. She feels somewhat dizzy. The urge to bolt is real. He, too, is looking a bit terrified, like maybe he did not exactly plan to say that in so many words, or maybe he had but now that it is out in the open he’s realizing it sounds a lot more – a lot more – than anticipated. 

“Have you really watched my show?” Nandini blurts out, more loudly than she means to. 

If Aditha’s eyes were wide already, they widen even further in alarm. This was a tidbit Vandiyadevan gave away two days ago; she thinks Aditha has still not forgiven him. He stammers,

“It was the only thing on TV,” with very little bravado. But then, before Nandini’s chest can deflate, as though shaking himself he says, more resolutely, “well, what was I supposed to do? That one scene of yours went viral on Twitter and the aunties at camp – who know very little about acting, may I add – just repeated what they read, blah blah blah like twittering little quails, but I am an educated person, Nandini, and a role model for children, and I have to investigate my news for myself –”

“Thank you for the tissue,” Nandini interrupts, because if she keeps her mouth occupied, then maybe that will quell its urge to spread into a large smile – maybe even emit a hysteric giggle or two – as if it’s forgotten that she only went into dead-end television acting in the first place because of the Veera Pandiyan scandal –

How much of that was really Aditha’s fault, though?

Nandini’s heart thumps rapidly. Now she’s really being crazy. Think of your mother again, girl. Go back to blubbering or something. Aditha blinks at her a few times. The light is pretty dim (they are lit from behind), but just enough that she can see the flush on his neck and ears. Have they been this close the whole time? 

“You – you were shivering when I got here,” he manages, instead of answering. “It’s kind of cold, isn’t it?”

Nandini is not shivering now. In fact, the place where his arm is still held against her back is so warm she thinks she could doze off in contentment just leaned up against him, if not for the fact that her stomach is doing gymnastics beneath the crop of her top. She nods anyway.

“I will be fine.”

“You should wear your jacket,” he says, roughly.

Nandini blinks. “Oh – no, I can’t. That’s yours.”

She isn’t looking for a reaction, per se; the words just sort of come out. She can very well see the bob of his throat, though, and the slight inhale he takes – his chest moves against her shoulder – before he says,

“Come on, Nandu, it was a gift.”

Nandini is overcome by a very strong urge to scream. Or swoon. If she had ever had reasons for wanting to kill him, she’s forgotten them just now. In fact it is very easy to forget the existence of everything around them – her lingering fragility about her mother, or the fact that they are right out in the wide open air, and there’s the real possibility that Kundavai of all bloody people will interrupt them. All these are things entirely immaterial, because unbidden her hand has moved up to press gently against Aditha’s chest, and she can clearly feel the rough pad of his thumb against the bare skin of her back, and they really are sitting so very close – a puff of his breath brushes against her cheek – and her heart goes thump thump thump thump so loudly she can’t really hear anything else.

His eyes have dropped to her mouth. “Nandini, love …” he starts, in a murmured, involuntary whisper.

Nandini tilts her head so very slightly closer …

Bang! 

If it is possible for two people to jump a foot apart while still being seated, Nandini and Aditha achieve this. Behind them, in the spilling light of the open bathroom door, lounges the person of Vandiyadevan, who is doing a very bad job at putting on suave and chill airs. Faintly, there is the sound of a toilet flushing behind him.

“No one could have guessed how badly this door sticks, eh?” he says loudly, holding up a roll of paper not unsimilar to Aditha’s. He tries and fails to adjust his footing, stumbling sideways a little into the door frame and then giving them both the finger guns. “Well! Beautiful night. Don’t mind me, carry on!”

“Vandiyadevan,” Aditha’s voice filters into her ears distantly, like it is coming from very far away. “How – long … have you been in there?”

“I was using the facilities! What, can’t a man take a piss after a long day’s honest espionage –? Ayyo! Wait, no, I promise I’m leaving!”

“That’s not the – we weren’t doing anything –!” Nandini hears Aditha splutter out in a strangled yell.

Which is just as well, too, because by the time he has turned back around, she is already gone, bangles clinking as she flees, scrambled away to hide behind the dark corner of the building’s edge, where stands frozen and with her eyes squeezed shut, while her errant, traitorous heart tries its damndest to beat right out of her chest.

[thclastlight]

FOR: @thedcrkroom (maya) LOCATION: the summer solstice

The anxiety that had lodged itself beneath her sternum the moment the ominous text had came through had not gone away since that day, but it seemed to swell as June 20th inched closer and closer. Now here, Adeline wished that she could appreciate it, the music, the fire. She wished that she could feel some relief to see such a lively little event, but all she felt was pure dread. "Do you think it's rude?" She found herself asking, bag clutched to her chest as if someone was threatening to rip it out of her hands. She felt like a child, lost in a grocery store. But the last person she wanted to find her washer mother. "To leave... only ten minutes after arriving?"

[distanttraceofbeauty]

Maya + Her two very large body guards