letters

who: roy and arden
where: arden's house
when: early morning

Roy was standing where he'd promised, bright and early. He'd been there for a while, even, since he'd not wanted to be late, and it wasn't often that he managed to make plans with anyone. Beyond that, he wanted to be able to help Arden, so he wasn't going to be wasting time, or anything. He'd rather be there, see what he could do, figure things out, then...yeah he didn't know. Get out before her dad got home and did something regrettable. He didn't imagine going to jail was a good plan for him.

So, he was there, leaning against the side of a building, watching the night slowly become brighter a little at a time.

Normally Arden was blatant about her unconcern for skipping school. She flaunted it even, boldly defying everything girls her age were supposed to be doing with some mischief or hell-raising in the park, or on the streets, or in some place where children were told explicitly not to be. But where she never was when playing hooky was at home. And she definitely didn't bring older kids there to break into the desk that just walking too close to did something to her father that could paralyze Arden with the fear that sank sharp teeth into her heart and made it hurt to breath. So as she approached the Apollo she wasn't pushing her presence down the sidewalk with her usual bravado. Instead her gait was a bit schizophrenic between hurried steps and forcing a casual stride, her eyes and neck constantly scanning and twisting this way and that as if she expected somebody to follow her. The fact it was so early in the morning didn't help either, even though waking up had not been a problem for once -- it had been impossible to get to sleep.

When she saw that Roy had showed she felt both that willful determination rally and her heart sink down to her stomach at the sight. And for the last quarter of the block Arden's gait slowed and her feet dragged to that of a death march and her face looked considerably glum and anxious about what loomed ahead. But that willfulness was still there; even if not in her expression, it kept pushing her dragging feet forward instead of letting her turn back as the feeling that this was a very bad idea grew stronger. As Arden finally stopped before Roy, she greeted him not with a typical grin or glare but with her shoulders hunching and neck retreated slightly like a turtle trying to slip back into its shell. "Hey," she mumbled listlessly, her mouth then returning to a passive line. Arden looked less Arden Rose Elwaine: EC's little Pandora's Box and Human Hellfire and just... a kid. And right now just a child, really, looking very much uncomfortable with whatever was looming ahead.

Roy, when he saw her, was struck again with the idea that something was really wrong here. She just...didn't really do the sorts of things she was doing. Arden was, for all intents and purposes, a dynamic sort of girl, and this didn't look right. She even sounded all kinds of off. "Hey." he greeted in return. "You ready?" And he was actually sort of waiting for her to tell him no, she wasn't, really, and wasn't going to be. Because she sure as hell didn't look it. She looked ready to run away more than she looked ready to do this.

Most of Arden did want to turn away. Very much. But the wilfulness behind her dragging feet got her head to nod, if reluctantly, at the question. "I'm ready," she mumbled. Then, as an afterthought, with hands flexing nervously, she tried for some haughtiness with forcing her chin to jut in the air and her mouth into a set line. "Let's go." It really wasn't on the same level as her usual demanding tone, though it tried to be. Arden wasn't nearly the force to reckoned with that she normally was, but she wasn't tucking her tail between legs and running.

Pushing off of the wall, Roy nodded. "Alright. Lead on." he said, and he picked up the small tool kit he'd put together, with things he'd likely need. Hopefully this would be just in and out. In, out, her father knowing nothing about it--that was the best outcome. Of course, he didn't know what the best outcome would be for Arden herself, on the letters front.

Again Arden nodded, still a bit preoccupied and lacking some force in it. "This way," she directed, and lead him back down the direction she had came. Normally she would've been spouting off words about any and all topic under the sun (well, under the gloomy gray clouds), declaring her (dis)approval with authoritative force whether Roy and the surrounding vicinity cared for it or not. But right now she was too preoccupied to say anything, or even think about the fact that she wasn't saying anything. Her hands were shoved in her pockets, and her eyes bounced between glancing down at the ground furtively scanning the area. While her steps had alternated between hurrying and forcing a normal pace heading towards the Apollo, they only took on a 'casual death march' at best now.

He didn't push her to talk. Right now, he figured she had a hell of a lot on her plate, and so he wasn't going to up and try to make that worse, or better, or anything, because he didn't know how to really go about any of that. While he'd like to make it better, he simply didn't know what to say. His part in this, his role to play was just finding out what was in her dad's desk. From there, maybe he'd have some stroke of brilliance, some idea that could help her, but until then? roy couldn't think of a single thing that was appropriate to say. So, he let her have her silence, and just walked along, waiting to get to her house so they could start this.

It was only when they reached her house that Arden realized the entire trip had occurred in silence. And she frowned rather hard, a slight bit of anger rising up at herself, for doing that. As a volatile child the age she was, she wasn't blessed with an outstanding sense of self-awareness. But she was aware enough to notice how very out of character the long silence had been, and that it was just as bad as crying for telling people that something was wrong. That she was weak, or something. She crossed her arms, fingertips digging into her skin through her mittens and coat, and kind of glared at the ground for a moment in a way that looked unfortunately close to the verge of angry tears. But it stayed only a verge, and Arden bolted up the stoop to the small townhouse. It wasn't the richest part of town, but it certainly wasn't poor. If anything, it might have been one of the few areas of the city considered middle class, albeit on the slightly lower end of the scale. "This is it," she declared, just before unlocking the door. The bit of anger within herself staving off the fear from her tone, but she still didn't sound particularly proud or thrilled about it. "Wait here," Arden instructed, motioning for him to stay before turning the knob and pushing the door open. She was gone for a bit, calling to see if anyone was home and carefully checking just to make sure. When she was done she appeared back again before the door way. "You can come in now," she cleared.

Roy waited, vaguely glancing around, but trying not to look too obvious about that. Nothing drew suspicion faster than skulking around, looking like you were trying not to be noticed. But he didn't argue with her, either. Instead, he waited, and when she said he could come in, he did so, shutting the door behind himself. "Where's the desk?" he asked. Getting straight to everything seemed like the best way to handle things, both so they didn't get caught, and to rush through it so Arden could deal with whatever she needed to deal with. Dragging it out wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Over there," Arden pointed, closing the door. She stepped across the very small foyer through the archway she had pointed to that lead into the living room. The room itself, despite the comfortable looking worn couch and large sitting chair, looked barren. It had all the furniture desired in a living room, but was scarce in personal touches that made a living room looked lived in. There weren't any family photos, for one thing. Just about all of the pictures had been of the whole family. Arden couldn't pinpoint when exactly they disappeared, only that she remembered walking into the room one day and finally realized what had felt missing and she didn't know how long it had been like that. For the other, everything in the room was immaculate. For anyone who knew the force of Arden's personality, they would seem impossible that any home she came from could manage to stay pristine for a second. But this one very, very much was. In one corner, on the other side of a couch that separated the sitting area from the rest of the room, the desk was visible. Arden didn't lead Roy any further, instead waiting for him to head towards it first before she would follow. Although she knew that, even with her father certainly not home, she wouldn't only make it as far as the couch before she let Roy continue the rest of the way on his own.

Roy headed over, having no invisible barriers of his own to worry about. So, he just headed over, then dropped down behind the desk, pushing the chair out of the way to examine the drawers. He tested them, to find which one was locked, then nodded a little to himself, and he set his tool kit down, turned on the desk lamp, and then laid down beneath it, to look up at the bottom of the desk. "This won't take that long." he told her, after a quick assessment.

Arden tried very hard, and failed a bit, at trying not to fidget as she stood by the couch. Then she caught on that trying to stand still didn't work, and she decided to do something to keep herself busy instead. Only keeping busy would be easier said than done, because there was nothing to clean or arrange in the room and a pull she couldn't discern wouldn't let her try to venture out of the sight of the desk for long. And it was only because she was trying to find something to do, that had her moving but not being too far away from the desk, that she finally thought to ask, "D'you want water or somethin'? Or casserole? We have some. You can have some too if you want," she offered, fingers trailing back and forth incessantly on the armrest fabric. "But it's got a lot of broccoli," Arden warned glumly, as if there were a danger of the broccoli biting Roy back if he tried to eat it.

Roy smiled a little to himself. "No, I'm fine, Arden. Thanks, though." he told her. He was still determined to get this done as fast as possible, and that would be much more doable if he didn't stop to eat or drink anything. Not that it was going to take that long--it wasn't like the desk was top of the line or anything, and it was a matter of taking a pannel or two off, and then removing drawers beneath the one that was locked, before getting to that one.

Inside an hour, he had it opening up, and he stood, rolling his head on his neck to crack it. "...here, Arden." he said, stepping back, so she could look. He was just there to provide her a way to get what she needed, it wasn't his business to look, as far as he was concerned. Though to him? That looked like a hell of a lot of envolopes with ladies' handwriting on them.

Arden, having rubbed her hand raw against the fabric of the armrest, had to satisfy her fidgeting through other means. Cleaning was out, not that Arden would ever willing clean no matter how bored, and so she had taken it upon herself to grab a glass of water. Then, because sipping the glass couldn't occupy all of her fidgeting-ness, she went back to the kitchen and grabbed another glass of water and then -- after brief hesitation -- tiptoed up and leaned against a counter to reach a box of crackers from the cabinet shelf. Arden brought the crackers and water back to the living and, standing next to the couch again, watched Roy for a long moment before taking an extra step or two forward and putting the glass and crackers down. And the rest of the time was spent in a similar manner, with an ansty Arden watching Roy at work before having to go off, fiddle with something, and returning shortly after to begin the process again. When he had finished, she had managed halfway through a new box of crackers, had bonked herself twice with a baseball in a game of self-catch, and had actually managed to scooch up another two feet or so past the couch barrier (though she definitely didn't get too close).

When he opened it up and called her over Arden, not yet getting up, immediately stilled and glanced over -- which wasn't such a great idea, seeing as how the baseball was still in the air and gravity still applied. The thud! of the ball against her collarbone wasn't pleasant, but it finally got her standing up. "What's it got?" she mumbled, rubbing at her shoulder and eying Roy then the open drawer warily. But Arden only needed to take one more step before she saw the envelopes. Lots, and lots of envelopes. She stopped again, entire body frozen on the spot, an unreadable stillness in her expression as she fixed her eyes onto the drawer.

"Couldn't say, it's your place to look." Roy said. Plus, he couldn't read them, so it wasn't like he could tell if they were addressed to her or not. Just that they existed, and it looked pretty damn suspicious, all things told.

Arden didn't say anything. She didn't need to get too close to recognize the handwriting, or to make out 'Arden' scattered variously amongst the papers. For a moment, standing just in front of the open drawer, she didn't move. She didn't know what to think, or do, the whole point of this was to prove there weren't any letters! And yet, now, here there were. Then, as if a switch had been suddenly turned on, her hands lashed out to grab a pile of some letters and frantically rifle through them. Her eyes frantically skimmed through them, unable to stand still and read through one, not yet able to comprehend the contents of one before she jumped madly to another. They were letters. They were from her mother. And she couldn't understand why they were there or had been written by a mom who proved she didn't care and... it didn't make any sense -- none of it made any sense!

Roy watched, sort of holding back a wince as she did so. And since she was kind of crumpling things, it was going to be even more obvious that someone had handled the letters. She seemed so frantic, though, that he wasn't sure what to do, and he stood back awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck. "...you okay, Arden? Are they from her?" he asked.

[tbc]