Afterglow and General Tso

September 12, 2014: Melody and Kwabena spend a day together, a time where they become quite honest with each other. Warning: plenty of mushy crap ahead.

Melody's Brownstone - New York City



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Mood Music:

Somewhere along the middle of the night, Melody had managed to slip away from Kwabena to gather a bundle of fresh sheets and blankets to use for their sleep. When Kwabena went to relieve himself in the bathroom, cause people do that sometimes in the middle of the night, she had quickly made the bed even though the pain dull-roared, but she put on a happy face and was satisfied for the most part that she had a blanket to snuggle with. And a Shift. One without the other felt a bit pointless.

Sleep was on again, as they spent most of the day in bed, thick curtains blotted out the light just like she liked it, and though bare, she threw the blankets off in favor for natural air to cool her temperature. And then she was cold again, snuggling next to Kwabena to steal heat.. and hot.. moving away.. it was endless.. restless, and by the time the night fell the overall temperature of the city chilled enough for her to rest comfortably throughout most of the evening.

But it wouldn't last too long, for awareness was upon her. Something within her head snapped, which drew her eyes slowly open, her eyes darting around the room as she began to wheeze and gasp for a bit of air. It was like she was choking. She was panicked enough to wake him, her arms flailing and grasping the sheets and possibly Shift himself, her legs kicking as she bolted up to her feet to stagger towards the bathroom, hand over her mouth and nose with breath held just in time to make it past the threshold.

She couldn't control the strength in which she slammed the door, but it was loud enough to cause the frame to crack near the bottom, followed by the tiniest of clicks to lock the door behind her.


It had been a long, comfortable sleep. Kwabena hadn't seemed bothered at all by Melody's comings and goings, holding her when and came close, letting her go when she needed to cool down, occasionally smiling, occasionally kissing her between moments of lucidity, occasionally murmuring half-slept sweet nothings.

It isn't until this moment when he finally awakens fully, and turns to look at her. "Whu… Mel?" He sits upright, and probably could have stopped her if he needed to, but he knew exactly what she needed. At least, he believed he knew what she needed. However, when she slams the bathroom door like that, he frowns.

The Ghanaian pads naked,across the way, and presses a hand against the door. "Mel?" he asks. "You alright in dere?"


Once in the sanctity of the bathroom, she leans over the sink just in time for a coughing fit to produce itself, Being upon her back, that slow trickle of a nose bleed actually nearly choked her, the end result was a few globs of blood hacked and spit into the drain. She tried to keep the mess minimal, reaching for whatever towel or napkin that was near to hold against her nose, her eyes darting towards the door as she spits out theremainder to call out in a slightly high pitched tone. "I'm fine!"

It was almost like she was younger, attempting to hide the fact that she threw up what resembled ground coffee beans and random nosebleeds from her parents. They knew something was wrong, but found out a little too late all because of her. And this time, it would be the same.

She reaches over with her toe to try to flush the toilet, staggering a little until she got a good reach, pushing the handle down with the tip of her big toe so that it seemed as if she were just using the bathroom the entire time. The faucets were next, water gathered with her free hand to splash around the sink to do a quick clean up, the towel (cause.. hey, why not) that was grabbed and held against her nose looked at, and winced. "Are you hungry?" She calls out. "I know the omelete is pretty bad right now, but I have a couple of packs of Ramen Noodles.. chicken.. beef.."

There was no sense in cleaning the bloodied towel, it was tossed in the hamper before she gathered a bit of water to clean her face. She looked like hell, but there was at least a tiny bit of glow she had from the night/day before.


Outside the door, Kwabena remains none the wiser. He grins and moves away, headed back for the bed, the tangle of sheets, the pillows. He leaves the uniform and his clothing where they are and flops down. "Fuck dat," he calls back. "I know a Chinese place. Delivah's heah.What do you want? Say Genahral Tso and I'm breaking up with you!"

He reaches at last for his jeans, fishing out the smart phone, A quick google search and he's got the number called up, and is dialing. "Yes, hello, I want to make an ordah fah delivahry."

Kwabena hops up of the bed then, and begins padding barefoot toward the stairs. "Hey, be right back!" he calls to that bathroom door, and goes downstairs to rummage through the fridge, giving the restaurant Melody's address while his upper body is hunched down to look through the fridge.


She cracked the door just a little, then calls out.. "General Tso's." Then closes the door right back. The heart wants what the heart wants! If it's G.T's then she was going to have it. With everything cleaned up and put away and well hidden, she opens the door only to find him gone, completely blotting out whatever he had said. Maybe he decided against the chinese food in favor for a home cooked meal? Eh! Either way, she was there and alone, no random nose bleeds plauging her, she was still in pain, but it was managable enough for her to move as she wanted.

She moves to his side of the bed now then sits down, leaning over to grab the pair of his pants that he left and begins to dig through his pockets. She was the nosy sort and didn't care two ways about it, cause whatever she found wasn't interesting enough for her to read. Pants folded and set aside, she next grabs his 'super suit'. She didn't know what to call it, plus the memory of Samuel Jackson asking for his super suit came to mind.

Holding it out, she has to wrinkle her nose. Not because it smelled bad but.. it.. actually was small. Like a child could wear it. "The hell?" Thankfully, it was still pried open so that she could flip it around and stick her feet inside, stretching it along her bare legs and standing to tug and pull so that it'll fit in all of the right places. "Hah.. it's not even stretched out.." She muses to herself. Kwabena was obviously taller and larger than her, but the suit fit her lower half lovingly, and as if it were brand new.

She tugs, twists, pulls.. stretches, forces her way into the rest of the suit, she even fixes her tata's before she seals it shut around them. There was no sense in feeling uncomfortable if you're going to be modeling peoples things.. right? Yet.. she didn't feel squished. It was weird, she didn't feel anything at all. It felt like she was still naked and hadn't went through the trouble of getting into the suit at all. "This.. is goddamned cool.."

Revelation. Melody talks to herself a lot.


"Yes, and Kung Pao Beef, level 9. And…" Kwabena winces. "General Tso."

There isn't much in those jeans. Some bills, a beat up old zippo, a prepaid debit card without a name upon it. Most of Kwabena's other belongings were in the leather jacket downstairs, or in the bag he'd takenfrom his motorcycle. He travels light, considering his tendency to lose things.

The suit itself is unique, indeed! It molds to Melody's frame expertly, the fabric feeling much lighter and smoother than, say, a spandex suit might feel. It also doesn't appear as thin; one might even be mistaken to believe it to be armored. There are no zippers, either. Where it came apart at the seams for removal, it goes on the same way, leaving those seams almost invisible.

When he comes around the corner, Kwabena's got his cell phone, toe sodas, a pack of smokes and the gloves to his uniform in hand. "So, it'll be—" he starts, but when he sees Melody wearing his uniform, his eyes go a bit wide. She was a fairly attractive gal to begin with, but the jeans, boots, and t-shirt combo she had been wearing didn't accentuate her frame, not like this. The way the suit fits her? Well. Kwabena's internal dialogue is fairly simple. Daaaaamn!

"Fifteen minutes. Damn." He makes a mock whistle, and pads across the floor toward her. The smokes are dropped on the floor, the cell phone tosses onto the bed, the sodas switched to one hand, the gloves to another. "Does it look dat sexy on me?" he asks, smirking mercilessly as he looks up and down, clearly enjoying what he sees.

"Here." The gloves are tossed Melody's way. "You want to feel de real deal? Mask up." Indeed, the suit's hood and mask are connected at the neck, flopping down behind her shoulders. A few simple tugs, and the gloves will 'seal' themselves to the wrist, the hood over her head, leaving only her mouth, nose and chin exposed. The eye-pieces prevent anyone from seeing in, but they do not impede the wearer's visual ability in any way.


She was feeling herself, making sure no pockets of air or anything were left to make her feel or look bulky. This was one of the times where she had wished that she had a standing mirror so that she could look at herself and admire the suit. Her hair, which was once pulled up during sleep, was taken out of its binds to let fall around her shoulders, then thick of it swooped to one side as she smooths the suit down along her middle. She was losing weight. In a way, that was not good.

Hearing him approach, she turns around and strikes one of those nonchalant poses, hands behind her back, rocking back and forth upon the balls of her feet, her smile all too grand as she watches him and.. gives a nod. It does indeed look that sexy on him. He.. as she would tell Selina.. was fookin' ripped.

Of course for her, it was a lot different. She did not have the perfect body, but she certainly wasn't a skinny minny. Curves where there needed to be curves were there, and a decent backside which was a testament to her heritage, though now a days, anyone could have a decent bottom that could be purchased at the beauty store. (True story.)

She takes the gloves, sliding them onto her hands with a wiggle of her fingers, then reaches back to tug the hood over her head. "Oh my god.." She mutters to herself. "Wait.. am I.. am I.. wait.." She pulls the hood up a little, then back down, then up, then down again, her grin growing wider. "Holy crap I'm looking through the suit. Holy crap bajeezus persnickles this is awesome!"

This.. just this silly little thing made her happy. Putting on someone elses clothes, pretending to be .. not her. She bounced a little bit in place, arms lifting and dropping to test the mobility, even squatting before dancing just a little because.. repeat.. this was persnickling awesome!


With a bright and toothy smile, Kwabena stands back and watches. Her reaction draws a bout of honest laughter, and he reaches down to snatch up his cell phone. He intentionally un mutes the phone, so that when he starts snapping photos of her, the device makes that little shutter sound, time and time again. "Oh yeah," he quips. "Dis is Time Magazine material. Front covah, with a full centahfold." Now, at that joke, he half expects her to come over and swat at him. He's even putting up a 'fookin ripped' arm in mock defense. "You want one?" he asks. "I got a spare at home, bright ass baby blue, with little mahkings to make de tits and ass stand out bettah." Yeah, he's clearly joking. Which doesn't mean that he couldn't get his hands on one for Melody to wear, but… nah. Let's save that for a time when he's pissed her off and flowers just won't be enough.

The photos are delivered in bulk via SMS to Melody's phone. Then, he drops the phone onto the bed again, and closes the distance. The naked Ghanaian wraps his arms around her, pulling her close. "Oh my," he mutters drily. "I've just been saved by a heroine in gunmetal gray, and she's sexy as fuck. Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll kiss me." His silver eyes purely dance with mirth.


The first shutter sound was met with a little bit of surprise. "Hey.." But, screw it. She kept posing. She was full on voguing now, creating various poses that super heroes would do, fists upon her hips looking to the sky! A hand over her eye to shield the sun as she looks afar! Elbow propped upon her risen knee! She even gives him a good shot of her butt sticking out with her hand pressed against her lips as she 'appears' innocent. Oops!

She calms herself now, hands going back to feeling along her middle, a breath soon expelled as she tries to fight that worn out feeling she was getting. "Nah. I don't need a spare. I mean I would -love- to have one, but I usually don't.. do anything special." Which was true, she just sits behind the computer. She -almost- looks sad admitting that, but that was until he pulls her close, her head leaning against his chest as she hugs him about his waist.

"Well good Sir.." Melody starts, dropping the arms that held onto him to push against him lightly. With hopes, he'd sit his tall tale back onto the bed so she could join him. "I don't know about a kiss.. if I kiss you, you'll get attached, and then you'll start attempting to get into trouble so I could -repeatedly- rescue you.. and then when I refuse, you're going to go all bad and turn all villain on me and stuff. And we certainly can't have that.." She was all teases now.


There is no fight! Kwabena allows himself to be pushed down, dropping onto the mattress with a dramatic flop and a little, "Oof!" Legs swing out of the way so that she's got room to sit, cuddle, or lie back as he does, arms going behind his back for some extra support, feet crossing in a relaxed manner. "Oh I get into plenty of troubah myself, I don't need to be making any more." The phone is briefly taken, Spotify opened, and a playlist cued. Janis Joplin immediately begins crooning out the first verse from 'Piece of my Heart'. When Melody finally joins him, he leans over to put either hand upon her face. "But… it's just like in de movies," he says, before kissing her. It's a long, meaningful kiss; the kind one gives after the morning and day they have had.

Once lips have parted, Kwabena brings one hand up to her upper cheek, where the uniform covers her face. A glimmer of playfulness flashes through his eyes, while the hand transforms into black smoke. Wherever that smoke touches the mask, it also transforms, revealing her eyes, her hair, her neck, until the hand reforms upon the small of her back, grasping the hood. He looks Melody into her eyes, softening a bit. "I wouldn't say you don't do anything special," he whispers.


She chose to lie back, just so that she could be face to face with him, and so that she could move whenever she felt the need to do so without protest. "Well, no. Not of the bad sort. You really should stop killing people, you know? Though.. I kind of.." She has to think about what she saw the first night she's seen him. She honestly think a guy killed himself attempting to headbutt Kwabena.. but.. maybe it was her overactive imagination. "I don't know. I take that back." Cause there really are some fucked up people in the world.

The long kiss was eagerly returned, which causes her to shift even closer to him so that her shoulder rested just above his own, her fingers lightly dancing upon the top of his head, soothing him with long, rounded tip nails designed to scratch the scalp to put one to sleep. The broken kiss draws her attention to his hand, which soon disappears before her in such a way that makes her smile, and she watches, studying him again, even touching a finger to the suit to see if the fabric would pass through her fingers like air.

"You're like magic." She idly comments, wonder in her gaze. "That's special, I can't do that.. your opinion is biased though.. and it doesn't matter." She was teasing of course.

But it does spring to mind a thought: "Kwabena. Teach me how to fight. Then I can come with you and you won't be so alone out there. I could have your back, and make sure that you're safe." The hood was soon pulled away, her expression serious.


For a very long moment, Kwabena simply looks at Melody. He soaks in the way she touches him, the way she moves, the words that she speaks. Some of it brings comfort; the words about killing people, a touch of darkness. There is regret, of a sort, for he's killed more than she could possibly know. Some of it was out of revenge, some of it, justice. There were even some that were sanctioned, such as the operation SHIELD had hired him on for. But, instead of speaking of it, he lies quietly there and listens.

"It's not, dough," he answers honestly. "It's… just science. I have a gene you don't have. Peopah who suffah Downs Syndrome have a gene you and I don't have. It's really dat simple. We're de ones, people, who complicate it. Politicians, cops, journalists, bloggahs, dey complicate it." His fingers draw trails along her uniform-clad neck, down her shoulders, along her arms. "It wasn't always so easy, eidah. Dere… dere was a time, in Cincinnati, when I was boxing with Jimmy 18. Just some friendly sparring, you know? I went solid; supah solid, without even realizing it. He was eating out of a tube fah six months, and it was all an accident."

He looks at her with a long, serious expression. Yes, he could teach her how to fight. She should know how to fight, especially if this… this thing turns into something more than a one night stand. The internal struggle is written across his face. Kwabena has never been one for relationships; his line of work just doesn't put up with it too well. He's a mercenary. Selective of what jobs he takes, sure; prone to avoid getting entangled in situations where people he judges as innocent will be hurt, sure. But collateral damage tends to follow him around like a little lost puppy, a very angry, destructive puppy. He wants Melody to stay with him, but if she does… it's a simple fact. She's gonna need to know how to fight.

"Say you walk into a room," he murmurs softly. "Dere ah five guys standing around a bomb. Nuclear. It's gonna go off. Cops don't know about it, and by de time dey get dere, it's ovah. You're gonna do what evah you can to make sure dat bomb doesn't goes off, and if some mothah fuckah dies in the process, it's de risk dey took. You take a knee shot? De bastahd might set it off. You take a head shot? Blow his brains out? It ain't pretty, but guess what… dat bomb isn't going off." He sighs deeply. "You know what I've seen, Mel? Dese drug dealers, dese traffickers, dey lock 'em up for six months, maybe some few years, den dey go back to it. You know why? Because you can make six figures, tax free, slinging dope in de hood, which is an easy job. You put some effaht into it, you can make millions. Or, you can to flip burgers for minimum wage. So, when I'm surrounded by a bunch of thugs who have it out fah blood, you know dey can't kill me. I'm blessed. Dere bullets will go right through me. But if one of dem walks away with no teeth, if one of dem walks away with a busted face and has to tell his friends how Joey de Crack Dealah bit de dust? If it scares 'em straight, takes anodah handful of dope dealers off de street? I'm okay with dat. You know why? Because it's de language of de street."

He's justifying murder. So do police officers. 'He was black and wearing a hoodie at 3am.' 'He had a switchblade, I had no choice but to fill his chest with lead.' If Melody is going to choose to stay with him, she at least deserves to know who he is, what he stands for.

"Anyone can learn how to fight, Mel," he says. "First… we need to get you fixed." There's an unspoken question in his eyes, for she's yet to explain the brilliant colors that appeared under her skin. And yet, she claims to be nothing special? Something isn't adding up, and it shows in his eyes.


The quietness in that moment made her afraid. Afraid of the rejection that she has a feeling will come. All in all, Melody started to see herself as a burden, constantly needing rescued, always needing help, never being able to stand up for herself when itcounts. It was nearly a mistake in asking, so to avoid him having to suffer with the way her expression changes, she lays her head down upon his chest to listen, and learn a few things about Kwabena along the way.

Like the fact that he could turn himself into smoke and solid, she didn't know what else he could be, but that was something that she could ask about later. Story time!

"Well I know all of this Kwabena. Child molesters sometimes get off with a slap on the wrist and a name on the websites when they should be dead. I mean.. look at that they did to me, and who knows what else with this stuff that they have out there. I think they need to die. At least.. that's why I took back my stance on not killing people. It just.. has to happen I guess for the right reasons." Lord knows, she's a murderer by proxy. "I don't know anything about the street though, I think that's why we're way out here and not where most of the others are. My mom and dad wanted a better life, they came out here to get it."

She grows silent at the mention of her needing to be fixed, then rolls away from him to lay upon her back. "I don't know if I can be fixed. Like.." She tries her best to explain, but that itself would turn out to be another long winded story about herself that she didn't care to give. She hated talking about herself, it was nothing to do with Kwabena. "I was young when I got sick. Leiukemia. I hid it though, the nosebleeds, the bruises, everything. I made them think that I was lazy even though I knew that something was really wrong. But when I finally told my parents it was too late, I was terminal, like, right there on deaths door. But, long story short, my dad gave me shot after shot of nanites over the years to prolong my life until he.." She even makes the quotation marks with her fingers. ".."perfected it" and I was able to walk out of the hospital as healthy as the day I was born. But, side effects, benefits, whatever. After those guys gave me that drug.. they're malfunctioning. They're supposed to keep the cancer dormant, sort of like heal it and eat the cells whenever one crops up. But when I do an internal scan, it seems like they're duplicating and killing themselves over and over again, fighting each other, and slowly shutting itselves down.. til.." She huffs loudly.

"Nevermind on learning to fight. The only way we could probably fix this is to get my dad to do it, then I'll probably be shipped off to some lab to stay there for the rest of my days because he'll think I'm some sort of crack whore who didn't care about staying alive. The other option is to just.. let them die in my system and me right along with it.. or.. go bald from chemo and probably lose my teeth this time.." Man, she could rant. The last line did kind of make her giggle just a little.


"Yeah," agrees Kwabena. "But who gets to dahtermine de 'right reason'?" It's a question he asks himself, in solitude, in the dark places. It's not something he's ever admitted to anyone, but it shows that he's not as cold as some people may have come to expect. He may ask that question every time he squeezes the proverbial trigger, but he's still one who will squeeze that trigger, and live with the consequences.

The Ghanaian turns to face Melody, listening to her story. It's clear he's not the only one opening up so deeply, which is a welcomed relief. He's not one to bear his soul so easily, and the fact that she does the same begins to engender his hard-earned trust. Hands reach out to take hers, toying quietly with fingers sheathed in his own gloves until their fingers are fully intertwined, and that doesn't prevent him from gently caressing the back of her hands with his thumbs.

"Or… we can find someone who's expertise is nanotechnology." His voice comes without a touch of fear, as if he's quite confident that there's some way to fix what's wrong. Her talk about her father, though, that draws a dark expression across his brow, lips frowning, eyes squinting just so. "You know I won't let dat happen," he says. "Dere isn't a lab on dis planet dat could keep me out." He's right, too. If he wasn't strong enough to break down those doors, well… he knows people.

Fingers tighten their grip, not too much, but enough to show Melody that he does, indeed, have her back. He thensmirks just a bit, trying to bring some light into the dark subject matter. "Dey make some damn fine looking wigs, you know." The mirth in his eyes suggests he's joking. Clearly, Kwabena doesn't expect that it will ever get to that point.


"No one." Melody admits easily, realizing that she does so. "No.. no.. the person who has to do it gets to, I think." This question troubles her, more than she cares to admit. "I think if I had to save a life, I would. All of this good and evil stuff is subjective to me." Which is probably why she does what she does to begin with. She doesn't look at him directly, her gaze shifting off towards the side to stare at the wall as she thinks about her predicament, a little smile, but a sad one was given. "I already tried, I put the word out for some help, and I check whenever I can, no word yet. But.. I know someone out there can do it, it just can't lead back home." Her hand reaches out to lightly stroke his cheek, finally turning to face him and scooting over just enough to be partially beneath him.

"They actually do. I wonder what I'd look like if I'm blonde. Or.. maybe a red head. I love red hair. Or I could go blue, I know they have some really awesome black and blue wigs.." She leans up to kiss beneath his chin briefly, following the trail down towards his neck to place light little bites upon his skin. "Probably won't be able to do this anymore.." She murmurs in between her nibbling.


It's a heavy conversation, and one Kwabena isn't likely to continue having. She knows he's killed… she may not know to what degree, but it's enough. She's still here, which is a plus in his book. Far more important to Kwabena now, is Melody's predicament.

When she scoots a bit beneath him, he wraps naked arms around her. He can't help but find himself a bit aroused, given how the uniform essentially makes her look naked. Even more so, going so far as to accentuate her curves while she lays against him. He's clearly at a disadvantage here.

"Tell me how to find dis pahson," he offers. "I can promise you, Mel, it won't lead back home." Buried within the words, there comes a tone he also rarely shows… and it can be best described as begging. He tries to conceal it with a smile, and makes a quiet sound of appreciation at her nibbles. "Red would work nicely on you," he agrees. "But I'm a bit pahtial to blue and black."


Melody didn't catch the tone in his voice, she was busy thinking, and more importantly, busy teasing. It's a fine art to it all, a certain pace that sets the tone for what would happen later. It could go really, really well, or very wrong, usually with Mels? It goes wrong!

She stops her nibbling to lean her head aside to look into his silver, a look of thought crossing her features as lips purse tightly. "You don't really. Someone that skilled, or that eager to help finds you." Shecarefully scoots away now, pushing herself up with shaky arms and a slight grunt as if she were elderly, hand placed against her chest to idly rub away the inner pain as she looks at him with tears in her eyes.

"It's just.. when that person finds you, how do you know that you can trust them with what's in your body? Like.. what if and if it's worth it all?" She wanted to get up, to pace the floor to think of all her options, another part of her sees all of this as karma for the work she's done so far. "Kwabena. Let's do something dumb. Not today.. or tomorrow, maybe in like.. a week or so. No. When all of this is over, lets do something really childish and completely stupid. Like, rob a corner store and take only little debbies or release the animals from a pet store into a forest or something. No. Lets find each other a pair of dogs that we can go jogging with or.. something.. I'm hu-hungry."


"Melody." Kwabena rises, still unashamed in his nakedness, and takes her by the shoulders. "Listen to me, because right now, you got a lot of things going on. Rough things, shit nobody should need to go through. I'm healthy, I'm clean, I got resources and I'm mobile." He squeezes her shoulders comfortingly. "And you got me." He smiles. "S'all gonna be good."

Almost on cue, the buzzer rings. "Chinese!" he blurts out, and heads for the door, almost forgetting to snatch up his clothes. He doubles back, laughing, and goes hopping along while tugging jeans over his legs.


What did everything he say had to do with her wanted a dog-gone dog? Melody frowns at this, but puts on a smile as she fights back the terrible trembling that's in her gut. "I know, it will." It's official, everything was going to -be- okay. One day at a time, and all of that motivational hoopla. She had to shrug at this in an 'oh well' manner, it was then left to the birds.

She jerks as the buzzer rings, her hands immediately planting upon the bed so that she could stand but.. he was up and.. "Wait.. you!" Yup, he figured it out. Answering the door ass naked in a proper neighborhood will get the cops called, especially someone as threatening looking as him.

"I'll be down in a minute, okay?" She calls after him, standing to try to figure out the proper way to tug off the supersuit. This may get ugly…


"Don't worry about it, just let me back in when I knock!"

A few moments later, there comes a knock on the door. There stands Kwabena, shirtless and barefoot, wearing only jeans, a brown bag filled with delicious Chinese food in hand. "Special delivery," he quips.


By the time he comes back, everything is a slight mess. You see, when anyone is set to change clothes, especially ladies, they go through the entire closet and toss out what they don't like only to clean it up, albeit reluctantly later. Clean jeans were all over the floor, a few skirts, a fewt-shirts and a bunch of socks that were laid out to try to find the matching one. Even though Kwabena wasn't gone for that long, she moves fast when it comes to assembling something next to normal.

The knock happened though, and she opens, half dressed with a t-shirt that she'd usually wear that read 'Ninja's made me do it', and a pair of black socks to cover her bare feet. As she stares at him, she asks the all too important question, people were killed for answering this one improperly.

"You didn't bring up any bowls to eat out of?"


When the door opens, Kwabena smiles. She's taken off his uniform successfully, and gone casual. It means she is comfortable, and that comforts him. "No," he starts. "BUT. I managed to score some empty containers from de drivah." He closes the door behind him and makes for the bedroom.

Once there, Kwabena promptly begins getting all of the food ready. There are forks and chopsticks. Kwabena chooses chopsticks. The sodas he'd snatched up earlier are opened, one offered to Melody.

"Something crazy," he says, agreeing with what she'd said earlier. "Like going to Paris. Or Prague." He grins and notes, "Prague is especially awesome, let me tell you."


Melody forgoes the pants in favor of food, figuring that it was something that she'd pick up later. "Good.." She says, though it does make her give him a weird look cause.. she does have dishes, dammit! Once she flops downupon the bed, she takes up a fork, her head tilting at the mention of Prague and a brow raises considerably. "Isn't it cold there? But.. I'll go ahead and go, there isn't any time like the present. At least when all of this stuff is over.."

She reaches out to take the soda, no hesitation when it comes to cracking that sucker open to take a few quick sips. She was quiet however, her mind wandering back towards the conversation of how all of this had gotten started. "That night, when my friend rescued me. There was something there. My memory is a little bit foggy but, it kind of ate those men. Not the ones that kidnapped me but.. the men that the men came with. And it turned into a bunch of eyeballs I think."


Its settled, then. Prague. A reward for making it through everything intact.

He digs in as well, taking down his Kung Pao Chicken in massive, hungered chunks. He only slows when Melody brings up those terrible monsters. He knows them. Not well, fortunately, but well enough.

"I'm not sure," he admits. "But, an acquaintance of mine. Mob boss, formah hitman named Estacado. He seems to have some levah of control ovah dem. He's helping me hunt down Dackleman. Got his own reasons to do so, so, I figure… enemy of my enemy is mah friend, right?"


General Tso's. It was a treat, especially eaten with a scoop of shrimpfried rise doused lightly in soy sauce and a bit of sweet and sour. Melody had fine tastes, she believes, and took that moment of silence to reach for his phone to turn it on. And, for her end, that was all she did, for it was laid within her lap, the screen soon shuffling through a few options on the net, random flashes of internet searches being brought up, mild research.

Though upon hearing that the.. demon thingy… actually had a person to control it, her nose wrinkles, the food was soon set aside in favor of a soda to drink instead of eating the slightly reddish chicken that reminded her of a heart being torn out of it's chest. So much for chinese. "That's.. in.. we.. ugh. Nevermind." Her lips smack quietly, occasionally looking down towards his phone, "I mean.. how? He.. just.." She wasn't good with words obviously. Cause that night was just all fucked up. "Nevermind.. again…"


A few more stick-fulls of Kung Pao Chicken get shuffled into Kwabena's mouth, though he pauses when the phone starts to, well, work on it's own. He looks from it to Melody's eyes, curiously, and has the good manners to swallow before asking, "Dat you, doing dat?" Of course it is, but… he must ask!

The Ghanaian's face scrunches up slightly at her reaction. "Really, I don't know." He recalls when he and Jackie took down Dackleman's trafficking operation in the Bronx, and squints his eyes in memory of the cops who showed up. Whatone of them said. "Some… ancient evil." He shakes his head, food set aside as well in favor of his soda. "I try not to put much stock in dese things. Just be cahful around him. Long as you're on his side, you got littah to worry about with his, uh… with his 'friends'." How else does one describe a Darkling? "So, you know. Stay on his side."

Noticing that she's lost her appetite, Kwabena boxes up the rest of the Chinese, and sets it aside. "Come on," he says, reaching to tug at her and pull her gently down onto the bed with him. "Let it go fah a while. Rest up. We'll go looking fah yah friend soon. But for now?" He pulls her close, wrapping his arms and legs about her in a cocoon of comfort before pressing his lips to her forehead for a long moment. "Rest."

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