Welcome to Gaia! ::

Blip on his phone and he was busy, lost in his work, in a journal, working on something. Strange little seed that continued to confound him profoundly. How now that he was feeling better - that the fold or flu or illness that had struck him low and stupid had blown over into little more than occasional sniffles and a pervasive headache that was likely only his work - because children caused those - because high schoolers caused those in excessive quantities. As did dealing with parents and dealing with staff and dealing with -- everything related to all things.

Checked the text later -- after -- realized that time had passed and stared befuddled for how many minutes had ticked by between one thing and the next. There was something warm that settled for seeing that she had texted him. That she had been considerate enough to reach out....

Thought to reply --




Hit the green flag that denoted sending things out. Marveled at himself for how that must have sounded, and immediately tried again to seem less trite because tone could not be transferred in text.



and he also wanted to know when she'd be home, and hated that he was worried enough to want to know that sort of thing. Even with her arm healed and the tale all told and the façade completed three thousand steps through so that none in the public with eyes would question how she went from cast to 'healed' in moments rather than months.....

He wanted to know.

He also thought it might be odd if -- and didn't cleaning require scrubbing? At least one good arm if not two, and her arms were fine of course so he'd not want to make it seem as though they weren't

It required a third text.



There..sighed and felt better for it. Stared at a clock, rubbed at his eyes. Thought '********'. Decided he would be a nice person for five more minutes and that scrubbing a wall with Sonia was far better than dealing with --- paperwork ad nauseum.

He was indeed procrastinating to some degree. Wouldn't admit as much in writing where it would be immutable truth, would be etched forever in digital stone that -- yes - even he sometimes burnt out from doing his due diligence. Procrastinated..

Small smile that graced his features as he realized that she had considered him enough to remind him of things - so easily misplaced when he was busy. A quick search under cupboards and behind disposal pipes produced the latex gloves in question, and he got a few pairs of those tucked away properly in an errant shopping bag before checking he had everything to leave with.

Keys, wallet, phone - house locked down and porchlights left on.

Hummed to himself as he thumbed over the idea of replying in kind -- or if he should surprise her with what he got. Simple could mean so many things....

Could be light, could be...

Settled on the idea of handheld and easily cleaned up after. No point in adding more trash than necessary to a project centered around mess removal as a whole.

Time ticked as the shadows grew and sun dipped in increments - hedged lower to setting while still casting that pre-evening rays bright enough to do work by. A few hours maybe..more or less..Reed kept poor track of it between the months of -- Halloween and everything that fell after. Felt the change in seasons and decrease in the joyous workload of his hobbies.

Let his mind prattled on as he waited in lines --- procured burritos of various fillings, because who knew...did she like chicken..or beef..or..enchiladas seemed like too much and a terrible idea to get from any fast food establishment. So burritos...

Beef, chicken, California style? Whatever that meant.

Shot one more text as he pulled up and idled before her workplace. A simple little 'here - out front' -- had lost enough track that he wasn't sure if he was late, or early, or just on time enough?

Dry click of a door closing items tucked into the crux of his arm, hanging off of hefty plastic bag off the crook of an elbow as he scrolled errantly on his phone and awaited a reply -- or appearance.

Peace-meal and dinner in one, held up on offer as Sonia approached with such - verve - the relief for that. To have interactions nearly void of guilt. The false castings wrapped round her arm only a twinge of a reminder. Feelings that fell somewhere between a laugh and a sigh - it seemed that the snapped bone, long gone, was truly a miracle giver - especially if she was working afterhours to clean up her work without pain.

"It's not nearly such a burden to be doing..this.." small twist of his lips into something like a smile, appreciation in the face of her genuine gratitude. How he could've told her it was simply enough to have an escape from *life*. A switch from one tedious task into another -- viewed less tedious for its newness. Especially since there would be two completing it, rather than one going at it alone.

All the times and ways he wished for a teachers aid...except for how he knew without a doubt he'd hate that very thing.

"Actually, it'll be nice to take a break 'outside'. Even if it's, what, scraping off paint? Mmh, maybe you should put up a sign out-front, remind people that you have a school full of sword wielders inside." Reed shrugged, and wondered who would be so bold. Not that Graffiti was too uncommon a thing this far into working the city...it was still a little strange though...

Might've mattered, maybe, though Reed wasn't entirely sure. Smiled for the soft surprise of her laughter, easily traded thing. He thought it would be appreciated, a no holds fencing ring - a sign that said 'safe neighborhood' - and '******** you we carry swords here'.

Though that was likely just him being silly about all of it. It was, after all, a fine arts practice site for children. Not a no holds barred training ground or tournament space for...ah...and maybe he'd participated in one to many of their agencies adventures that he was comparing the relative safety of civilian reality to--the very much, not, of their magical war swathed side hustle.

"Are you certain they didn't enroll their children here *specifically* to ensure they knew how to commit some act of violence? Not even a little bit. Tip it with foam and a sweeping flourish - it's still a sword, Sonia." Her question left him completive, and then, to nod. He hadn't actually investigated her workplace...

No, that was entirely the wrong way to think about it. He hadn't been shown her workplace, hadn't enough interest before to actually go in and see it. It might've been nice, like visiting her home had been - and not the front door - but the whole of it. "Inside would be nice, it's probably smart to eat this before it congeals...or comes to life."

“Considering that it’s a feeder school straight into rank and fodder. Ah, still though, maybe it’s the boarding aspect of it? It often feels as though many of our students are only there because the CEO has a good name and standing in the community—“ the rest? Orphans, delinquents, desperate parents looking for reprieve.

To shape their future youth in quasi-militaristic ways.

“—I've never really put much thought into it though.” And Reed shook the idea of doing such free, because if he did actually consider it? Well, he might feel -- something? He wasn't sure that it mattered. Found it a breath of fresh air - even - that there Sonia was teaching swords for fun and games, for pleasure. A solid juxtaposition to everything that lay just beyond the well curated walls of her studio - and the clean streets beyond it.

Ah, what would be clean once they got to scrubbing, at least.

The smell of pine wax and squeak of wood took him back, made him wonder how ever he had survived Gym class - a little weed who would've rather then buried in a book on botany than have committed himself to any kind of exercise. It looked well used, it looked loved.

Most importantly? Sonia looked proud of it. That was something to note, the faith she had in her students for having decent people supporting them. Lingering hope in humanity, unity, kindness.

Admirable qualities.

"Water is more than fine. You have a lovely studio Sonia, I'm not surprised you enjoy it here." especially in the afterhours of quiet, but only someone truly devoted would've stayed to take on work -- while still 'technically in a cast'. Reed laid out their keepings, created a little mock picnic to splay out over cheap brown napkins and paper wrapping. An array of cupped sauces, though he knew nothing of how to tell tomatillo from verde from rojo from -- extra spicy? What was a picante to a salsa? Were they the same.

He'd have to remind himself to request more family dinners with Sonia's mother in her home. Maybe something over the holidays....maybe...

All of that seemed so far ahead of them. Empty future that spanned into possibilities and branches he couldn't begin to imagine, and so it was better not to try.

"Do they give you large class sizes? Or are these more privatized lessons? Large groups build comradery -- but the amount of teenagers they give us to work with. It's a point of both pride and prickle to ask for a teacher aid, for anything, really, but that's just me wanting to do it all right up until I can't." candid honesty as he rooted through an overlarge plastic sack for his own ends.

Hearing Sonia speak, it felt like peeling back a curtain to peek briefly into an important part of her world. Something she cared about, deeply, to the point where she gave lengths of time -- more than home or office -- it was where she kept a part of her heart maybe? Her core? All that fiery drive and comeback, and the way she poured it into her students; in a lesser moment he would've felt lacking, while he chewed through too much wrap and thin spread of spices, sour cream, and beans. Instead? Reed found himself proud, he couldn't begrudge her the thing that made her glad, and the fact that her pupils came out with some actual skills? Even if only for the sake of show -- it was still a skill, nonetheless, one even Reed found useful.

"A full time class, however split, it sounds like you keep busy. The fact that you trust any single one of them with sticks, while I can barely trust one out of ten with a spiral-bound notebook and pen?" tossed his tone towards the sea of impressed, and hung it all on a smile. He was impressed - she was impressive - and he'd take the compliment for what it was, even if he'd never, ever, e v e r - teach a single PE class at Romanos. He'd rather eat the dictionary without any sauce.

If the chatter became idle, and amicable as time wore on, if reed stopped counting the minutes until the inevitable cleanup began? Enough to enjoy the brief luncheon and forget that work lay out the other end of it -- well -- he let it show across the eased lines on his face and lax demeanor throughout.

"Maybe someday, if ever he does retire? He could pass it on to you, seems you've the tolerance for teaching children swords." the lightest tease, though he did mean it - that he wanted her to have something well beyond the Negaverses hold, private and all her own, as much as anything could be in this world.

"Now, this wall..." scraps of paper wadded into the bulk of a grease smeared bag, he liberally scrubbed their surface, and his hands, with napkins leftover. "..lets see to getting it done before we lose the light."

Reed leaned against the brick wall behind him, looked poignantly, as if he was searching for the mysterious stains and messes that should've been tacked on and need of scrubbing, the proclaimed graffiti that supposedly just up and walked away.

His raised brow softened right along with his smile, the lightest bit of tease as he relaxed with cleaning gear in hand. "What I see? Is a miracle. It's Destiny, Sonia, and I'm not about to looking for missing gift horses only to get kicked in the mouth by them." if the trouble wasn't going to bother them, if the graffiti was gone? Reed sure as hell wasn't going to go looking for it, wherever it'd gone, if ever it'd really been there in the first place...

"You know what though, if you really just wanted to spend time with me, doing things you like? All you needed to do was ask. It can even be something fun next time, we're friends after all! I can make time to just -- ah -- hang with you?" because her note of aggravated panic begged that he tease, whether he believed her or not, he had to play it up, to chuck a dry sponge in her direction as he backed away from the dingy dumpster and dirty brick.