Terms of Engagement

[Patrick]

9/10/19

There was some creepy guy dressed in nondescript gray scale military duds watching the Kabuki Street Community School from across the street. He was chain-smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes and had a great beast of a red-maned dog sitting placidly at his feet, which he largely ignored in favor of checking the time on his phone every twenty seconds, as if that would somehow make the numbers change faster.

He didn’t have long to wait. A young woman with ram’s horns curling out of her dark hair walked out about a minute after the lunch bell, speaking with a young student nearly a head shorter than her — in Greek. After repeating a few syllables, the teacher waved her off, giving only a cursory glance for traffic on her way to the man with the dog. Vehicles tended not to move quickly down Kabuki Street, packed as it was with foot traffic.

Between glances at his phone, he'd been watching the door and saw Mallory almost as soon as she'd exited the building. He straightened up from his lean against a lamp post and flicked his cigarette into the drain, not wanting to contaminate the woman's august attire.

“You’re lucky the shinsengumi recognizes you,” she greeted her brother, shifting her black leather bag as she bent carefully to rub his dog’s muzzle. “You look like a creep.” She shot a grin up at him.

Patrick looked her over as she greeted Red, and then him by way of calling him a creep. A sliver of amusement creased his mouth. "And you look... very nice, actually. Shit, at what point did we morph into somewhat respectable adults?"

“Search me. I decided to get into the civilized sport of hitting people — and somehow that led me to this place.” She looked over her shoulder at the school in question, then adjusted her skirt and blazer as she straightened. “Noodles? What do you think, Red? Tabetai desu ka?”

Patrick exhaled a short laugh as the dog lifted his head, pressing his cheek and muzzle against his waist. Yes, he was that big, and still growing too! The pilot smoothed a palm over the dog's furry head, ruffling his ears. "He's always hungry. I think his appetite rivals Penny's. You should hear how much I spend on dog food."

He started walking, touching a hand to Mallory's shoulder as she fell into step beside him, giving a light squeeze. This was also hello. Besides, he wasn't big on hugs. Red trotted dutifully at his side. "Take me to the best noodle place you know. Somewhere with fish." Because, of course, he didn't eat other meats.

She quirked a smile at the squeeze, steering them through the crowd to a place called the Unlucky Egg, with a cracked egg leaking yolk painted onto the sign. “Somewhere without students.”

"Already sick of the precious angles?" he teased. Yes, angles instead of angels.

Mallory smirked. “Bungee Maximum — that designer I was telling you about, the one who killed her boss? — lives over a place a couple blocks from here. Which means most of the students are too scared to go. They’ve got soba with tuna, and I can get some boiled chicken for Red,” she offered, “since he’s got such an appetite. When the hell did he get this big? He’s almost as big as Kirby.”

"I don't know, man. It's like I woke up one day and discovered a small horse in my living room instead of a dog. I knew he'd get big, but fuck me, this is excessive." In response, Red just opened his maw in a doggy grin, tongue lolling out the one side as he panted happily.

After the short walk to the Unlucky Egg, Patrick ended up with steaming plate of spicy yakisoba and a triple portion of chilli baby octopus, which he intended to share with Red. They were both beginning to settle in at a tall table, but Patrick kept fidgeting, and finally asked, "I'm sure you'd rather relax right now, but can we eat and walk? I just can't sit still right now; too much on my mind. My brain is in overdrive."

Mallory was in the process of shoveling noodles into her mouth when he asked. She peeked at him as she slurped them up, then nodded. “Sure. Somewhere less crowded?”

When he nodded, she got up and began leading them down one of the narrow side streets — not south towards Three Foxes, but north towards Little Korea. The alley was like a little canyon, not dark and dank but with plants and little gardens cluttering the fire escapes, and laundry lines strung from wall to wall. Some people (though not many) stood outside on the landings, smoking, gossiping, playing mahjong, doing chores...

Mallory was quiet, letting Patrick speak his mind when he was good and ready, deftly perching her noodles in one hand and maneuvering her chopsticks with the other. She’d gotten good at this.

He didn't say anything for several minutes, and was grateful his sister didn't prod or pester him into sharing what was on his mind. The more quiet avenue and its refreshing, homely atmosphere and their sedate stroll did wonders to help him sort through the jumble of thoughts crowding and jostling around in his brain space. Every now and again, between thoughtful bites, he'd pinch an octopus between his chopsticks and drop it down to the dog who gobbled it up without the slightest hitch in stride.

Eventually, he put the consumption of his meal on pause and drew in what was supposed to be a settling breath, but the anxiety of the confession still locked behind his teeth made his heart thunder in his chest. He exhaled all at once and then tried again.

"I'm gonna ask Penny to marry me."

Mallory dropped what was left of her noodles, and the plastic bowl had only a moment to clatter around before she was throwing her arms around him, accidentally giving his chest a poke with one horn as she squeezed him. She was quiet for a moment as she composed herself, a near mirror image of her brother at Tanabata last year.

He'd been expecting that and had already mentally prepared to be tackled. What he hadn't anticipated was the rush of assurance that flooded his chest, bolstering his confidence and reinforcing the belief that this was the best decision he'd ever come to. So much of what he'd planned to ask her had to do with his anxiety, but a lot of it melted away in the face of her obvious enthusiasm.

“Sorry,” she breathed as she pulled back from his shoulder, trusting herself to look at him now, and to speak again. “Good. Good, I’m really glad... Argh!” She let out a laugh as she stepped back, and a few creative swears of wonder in what sounded like Greek. After that, she seemed more composed — though still beaming.

Patrick blushed, of course, running a hand over the back of his head when she drew away from the hug, smiling shyly. There wasn't any need for him to ask that she keep this a secret, he knew she wouldn't tell a soul, so he skipped over that to answer what he figured would be her next question.

"Not... not, like, this week or anything. But soon, I think." Never mind that soon was relative. "I want it to be perfect and romantic for her because she deserves a fairytale, only I'm shit with romance--so I'm still working out the details."

“Trust this first and foremost,” was Mallory’s first piece of sisterly advice, as she tapped a finger against his heart. “I had plans that were supposed to start months after Tanabata, but I threw them all out the window that night because my heart told me it was right. That said...”

She shifted now to scoop up the bowl (which Red had helpfully emptied of any leftover noodles or broth) and pitch it in a nearby trashcan. “Think about what’s important to you two. The significant moments. You can create a lot of meaning with just a few little pieces.”

"My heart is useless," he insisted. "It's trying like hell to escape my chest right now. If it doesn't break through my rib cage, it might climb out through my throat and take my stomach along with it." He gave a light, pathetic laugh at his own expense. "How can something feel so right and terrifying at the same time?"

“It’s the worst, isn’t it,” a bit more of a grin, though she sounded sympathetic. “Let’s see... somewhere on land,” recalling Penny’s aversion to water, “with nature around... We both know you hate crowds, so — make it a trip somewhere. Privacy, and a chance to make it a conversation. It isn’t what I did, but,” she smiled softly and shook her head, “I’m not you.”

"We're definitely not into being public spectacles, that's for sure." Patrick inhaled another mouthful of noodles, then thought to offer the bowl to Mallory. They could share! He'd accidentally brought about the ruin of her own lunch after all. Red helped. After swallowing, he added, "She likes Autumn. I want the trees to be all different colors. That's what I keep picturing in my head when I think about it."

“The mountains near the onsen are nice,” she mused at the mention of autumn. “Eri owns land out there, and the rengou-kai does in general... I bet there’s a few cabins you could rent.”

Patrick shrugged. "Honestly, my biggest issue is whether or not to spring for a ring before popping the question, or waiting to let her pick one herself after the fact, that way I know she likes it. Or, like, what if she doesn't even want a ring? She already wears a bunch of them for her spellwork."

Mallory took his chopsticks and asked, “Can you show me a couple pictures where she’s wearing her rings?” Then she helped herself to a couple mouthfuls of noodles.

He passed the bowl over to dig his phone out of his pocket, conjuring mountain scenery in his mind's eye as he scrolled through his photo album to find a picture of Penny that clearly showed her rings. If Mallory was watching, most of them were of the wizard's face, or of the two of them together smiling at the camera, and in several of them they were kissing. Yes, Patrick was that kind of man, because it was obvious he was the one taking every snapshot.

Eventually he found a couple that suited his current needs and tipped the screen more fully in Mallory's direction, slowly flipping between all three. "I could always flat out ask her what she wants, but that takes the surprise out of everything."

“Copper and copper alloys...” she observed thoughtfully. “You know, she was named Lady of Copper at Beltane... and Tsukuyomi was born from a white copper mirror. And maybe red for the stone, like her cloak? She’s pretty in red,” Mal mused, and surrendered the bowl and chopsticks.

"She's pretty in everything," he fawned.

When Mal was done looking at the photos, he stowed his phone away to free his hands up for the bowl and to resume eating. Like Penny and Red, he was a black hole for any and all food. "I was thinking," he began, still chewing on a bite of noodles, "maybe a gem mined from an asteroid or a comet. Something celestial. And colored, like you suggested. A little nontraditional."

Mallory put out a hand against his shoulder to stop him, frowning, and asked him, “When was the last time you had a drink?”

It was easy enough to draw him to a halt, and he turned to eye her a little suspiciously. Dark brows quirked, chopsticks laden with noodles hovering halfway to his mouth. "Uhh. This weekend, I think." After another moment searching his memory, he nodded. "Saturday, probably around midnight. I remember because I took Penny home with me not long after." And then he shoved the noodles into his mouth to keep from embarrassing himself.

There was a sly little curl of a smile, though she didn’t ask about that. She did ask, however, “And valiantly fought off a headache on the way home?”

A flush was creeping its way up his throat, but he squinted at her then. "Yeeeah," he answered cautiously. "Why?"

She just laughed, not quite answering his question with, “Temperance. Temperance will help you find your stone.” She smiled as she adjusted the strap of her bag, turning them left down an outer street of Little Korea to begin looping their way back to the school. “I really like that ship. She always seems to know when she’s got a role to play.”

For a long moment he just stared at her. And then a sense of peace lodged itself in his chest, calming the steady kickdrum of his heart. This is why he came to his sister for advice. It wasn't just that he loved and trusted her, but he believed in her ability to know things. All at once it was settled; he would would find a ring--or at least a stone--and it would involve the use of his ship. Accepting this fact, his face broke out in a wide, rare smile.

"Thanks. I mean it; I needed this."

“And now you have it.” As if these things were simply meant to be. As they resumed their stroll, beginning the lazy path back to the school, “You know, a really grateful brother would teach my afternoon class for me.”

A goblin was dashing down the sidewalk at a full sprint, juggling and trying to keep hold of a mess of tangled and unravelling scotch tape rolls. Riho was a few yards behind running full speed as well and waving about a weighted club.

"Get back here with that!" Riho shouted angrily, but the goblin only cackled frantically and put on an extra burst of speed- running so fast that it's legs were nearly outrunning its torso. The two slowed only slightly to veer into one of the narrower side alleys, Riho scrambling and nimbly recovering her balance to pursue.

Mallory staggered to a halt as the habu and a goblin thief sprinted across their path. The pause only lasted for a moment; after a bright burst of laughter, she was off again.

Red looked ready to pursue the goblin, all puffed up and serious, nose pointed toward the alley Riho had chased the thing down. Patrick thought to help as well, but relaxed when Mallory's laugh burst the bubble of tension. A click of his tongue drew the dog back to his side and they both continued along with the witch back toward the school.

"Hey now. I'm grateful! You be grateful I'm working on getting you another sister," he teased.

That drew another laugh from Mallory, looping her arm through Trick’s companionably as they made their way back.

[Patrick]

10/5/19

Temperance shuttered.

Patrick stumbled forward into the stow-away sink in his cabin. The razor slipped in his fingers, sliding across his chin at an angle and nicking the skin on one side of his jaw. A bright spot of blood bloomed from the tiny cut. He growled under his breath, dropping the razor in the sink to grab the hand towel that had slipped to the floor. By the time he got it up to his face, the bead of blood had grown so heavy it had dripped halfway down his throat, leaving a crimson trail.

He frowned at his reflection. Things like this didn’t send him into a tailspin anymore, but the smell would always turn his stomach. After wetting the towel, he wiped his face and moved over to the comm, flattening the button with his palm. The line clicked.

“Ro! What are you doing to my ship?” he asked flatly.

Caroline’s airy voice came through the speaker right next to his ear. “It’s this rock’s artificial grav fucking with ours. Plus,” she continued sourly, “they made me hand over control of our guidance systems to dock. Not my fault they’re a bunch of butterfingers.”

He sighed. “Should I be expecting anymore disturbances?”

“Nope!” she chirped. “Locked and loaded in berth H-45, already flanked by a couple other birds. Debarkation procedures initiated. Ready when you are, Cap.”

Patrick didn’t bother responding. He grumbled to himself and returned to the sink, checking his cut in the mirror. Just a small thing that sprang to life every time he poked it. He stopped harassing the wound and quickly finished shaving what little facial hair he had. It wasn’t very much, to be honest, but if he didn’t keep on top of it he’d end up looking less than put together, and in his world, appearances were everything. He’d rather look too young than like someone shady who couldn’t be trusted to get a shipment from point A to point B without trouble.

When he was finished, he dug around in his med kit for some DXT. It was a useful thing for him to have on hand given his weakness for blood, though it cost him an arm and a leg to keep stocked. A one ounce tube of Desixetine cost him nearly as much as it did to pay his rent.

Maybe he couldn’t perform magic like Penny or his sister, but he could reap the benefits of modern science and all its wonderful advancements. He dabbed a tiny dot of the clear, odorless gel on his cut; that was all it took to instantly close the blood vessels. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about it while they were out conducting business.

Imagining the day ahead of him sent a small thrill through his body. It wasn’t so much the work that had him excited, but the prospect of stumbling across the only thing that was ever truly on his mind these days. Ever since his conversation with Mallory about engagement rings, and how Temperance would help him find one, Patrick had spent more days in the black than he did at home.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t choose to be away from Penny like this unless he needed to be, but Patrick was a man on a mission. Her ring was out there, somewhere, and he wanted to find it sooner rather than later, beyond eager to take that leap with the Wizard into the next phase of life.

Caroline met him in the cargo bay. Oz was there, too, going through a list of their supplies. They were one man short this run; Conrad and his wife, Oceane, were off celebrating their first wedding anniversary a little early on a secluded island off the coast of the Southern Sea. Oceane had wanted to go as soon as possible--her baby belly was just starting to show and she ‘didn’t want to look fat in a bikini in front of a million people, thanks’.

How could Patrick deny his best friend some time off for such an occasion? Besides, the last few runs they’d been on had been lengthy, roving searches more focused on Fate than actual paying jobs, a fact Caroline complained about loudly and often.

Before they left this time, however, Caroline had forced Patrick promise they’d do more than rock hop mindlessly, which was why their flight plan only allowed a five hour docking window here at Fortuna Station, a mining settlement on a minor planet in the Borealis belt. Their ultimate destination was a port hub on Erebus where they could easily pick up a quick, neat job and be back in Rhydin by the beginning of the week.

“Thanks for humoring me,” Patrick said.

Caroline feigned annoyance and rolled a slender shoulder. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Bite me, Richie.”

“You’re in a good mood today,” he commented blithely.

Oz glanced up from his clipboard. “She’s just cranky no one’s trying to convince her to settle down with them.”

If looks could kill, Caroline’s gaze would have killed Oz dead. She was fairly terrifying when she wanted to be. Patrick’s gaze passed between them. It was much safer to stay out of their arguments, which were many and often.

“Settle down,” Caroline repeated, scoffing. “Who wants that? As if I’d ever give up my wings for a life of being barefoot in a kitchen.”

Oz rolled his eyes and returned to the checklist, pointedly ignoring her. Patrick cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject.

“Are you staying to hold down the fort?” he asked Oz.

The other man licked a grease-stained finger and flipped to another page on the clipboard. “I think so, yeah.” He squinted at something on the page, then flipped to the next. “They’ve got a decent supply store here, but I think we’ll be able to get this stuff cheaper on Erebus. I’ll get us fueled up, though. Juice is expensive no matter where we go.”

“Don’t I know it,” Patrick muttered.

“You two going to be long?”

“Shouldn’t be,” Caroline replied. She flipped her long, dark plait behind her shoulder. “There are only two really nice jewelry banks here. I checked.” Of course she had, Patrick thought.

“Long enough for me to finish? There’s something of a queue. We’ve got enough in the tanks for the next leg, but I’d rather get it out of the way now.”

“Yes, go ahead,” Patrick told him. “I’m not in a rush. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for.” The only clue he’d been given was Temperance, and it wasn’t much help.

There was always the chance Mallory could have meant lower case temperance, but didn’t Fate like to play on words, twist things? He has a ship actually named Temperance. Capital T. That’s where Patrick was putting his chips. All in. So far in he’d lost track of time (or even what day it was) and had accidentally forgotten about Penny’s birthday the week before. It was terrible of him. Moreso because he hadn’t been able to give an adequate excuse, not without ruining what he wanted to be a surprise.

“Yo, you’re gonna have to take that off.”

Patrick turned to find Caroline pointing at his sidearm. He frowned at her. “What? Why?”

“No firearms here,” she said. “Only security’s allowed to carry.”

He glossed his fingers over the grip thoughtfully. It wasn’t a secret he didn’t care to be without a weapon, not anymore. Not after what happened in the Arena. These days he was always armed in one way or another, often several times over.

“It’s a gem mining colony. What do you expect?” Caroline tossed her hair again, a sure sign she was getting annoyed. “Do you want to get robbed by some whackjob after making an expensive purchase?”

“I’d like to see them try,” Patrick said coolly.

Caroline rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, come on. Put that away so we can go.”

--