Night's Omen

This was what she got. She'd heard that this place had awesome food, she'd come here to try some of it, had concluded that all the people she'd talked to were right and it was awesome, had listened to some fun music played by various pretty people, spent a few happy hours sipping at a coke (no ice) and lusting after that one guy playing the guitar or bass or whatever and that other guy playing the keyboard... and now it was getting late, she had to get home, and it was raining. More than just raining, actually - which was JUST her luck. Had it been sprinkling or something than maybe she could have forced herself to go out into it - she took showers, after all, and that wouldn't have been so much different. But no, it was pouring - positively dumping - rain.

This wouldn't be like a shower, it would be more like going swimming with your clothes on.

The girl stood in the doorway, peering out into the, her mouth twisted VERY unhappily as she tried to figure out SOME way to get home now. Could she afford a cab? No. Even if she somehow managed to grab one without going out there into the deluge, could she make it from this door to the door of the car? Maybe not.

Crap. Crap crap crap crap. Darci realized that she was muttering this outloud and moaned, turning to lean against the wall next to the door.

"Gosh, why is it always me?"

At the recommendation of one thoughtful patron of the Hellcat’s Hollow, Fairfax had decided to occupy one of his --regrettably frequent-- free nights with a visit to the Mojo Lounge. Both the food and music had come highly acclaimed, and the latter, of course, he was particularly interested in. Live music was always a treat (there was plenty to be found on the very streets of New York, at any rate), and God knew it was far more affordable than the sort of performance he was more disposed to attend (as of yet, he didn’t feel as though he could afford a ticket to the Met or anything that remotely resembled a Broadway production).

It cropped up to be a rather enjoyable evening: there was no question of his appreciating the jazzy flavour of the band, having a tendency to jazz up even the more classical pieces he tackled on the keyboard, and he had long since discovered that all and every type of cuisine was superior to anything that had its origins in the British Isles-- the Cajun dish he ordered was no exception. The Mojo Lounge certainly set a different stage than the Hollow, the atmosphere and noise-level leaving him a little wary and even more reticent than usual, but he encountered nothing that would prevent him from coming back at a later time. Intermittently, he thought wryly to himself as he threaded his way to the exit. His budget didn’t really allow for  much outside of occasional grocery shopping or mooching food from the Hollow while he was working. The music might be worth it, though...

Fax grimaced as he stepped across the threshold, grinding to a halt underneath the awning. The rain was coming down in sheets. Someone else hunkered under the awning, leaning by the door and gazing dejectedly out at the torrent. Thank goodness I grabbed this, he thought fervently as he pulled out a particular accoutrement and forced it open. It didn’t comply without a bit of a struggle, though --the bloody thing stuck-- and when he finally opened the brolly with flourish, he almost walloped the girl beside him with his elbow. He exclaimed a muffled apology, backing away in a hurry. That could have been unspeakably embarrassing! She was even quite pretty, he couldn’t fail to notice. Tall and pretty. His age, by the look of it. Looking...stranded.

He hesitated, natural shyness retarding his actions. However, he was too well-bred to ignore her plight, assuming such a plight existed. It wouldn’t hurt to check...if it turned out he was wrong, he could easily make a hasty escape out into the rain. Holding his open umbrella out to the side, he cleared his throat. “I, er...are you waiting for a ride? Or do you need an escort to your car? I couldn’t help but notice,” he added modestly, “that you have no brol...er, umbrella. Really bucketing down out there.”

Darci looked rather pathetic, actually, standing there and looking out at the sheets of rain, standing with her feet right up against the wall to keep them getting wet. At all. It was WAS being paranoid and according to just about everyone it was an irrational fear.

No, Darci always argued, it wasn't - if it was an irrational fear then all these bad things related to water wouldn't keep on happening to her.

Aw... crap. Why did it have to be rain?

And then, as she was standing there and considering that really, life kind of sucked a lot right now, someone came out the door and almost hit her opening an umbrella. To be perfectly honest, she was kind of surprised that they didn't, given her luck. And the water. Ooooh man, why did it have to be raining?

And then guy-who-had-SOMEHOW-managed-not-to-hit-her started talking to her. Darci looked over, trying to focus on him and not the rain just a few feet away. Sounded like a plan. Yes. It worked pretty well too, as he was fairly cute (if shorter than her, but everyone was shorter than her unless they were tall). And had an accent, which was adorable. He had a hesitant yet somewhat hopeful attitude and looked so forlorn, like the last puppy in one of those cardboard boxes in a parking lot with a 'Free to a Good Home' sign.

"I-no," she said, slightly shamefaced. "I walked and I'm not waiting for a ride, no." There were people who drove in New York other than the cabbies and the tourists? Really? All right, so that was an exaggeration - she knew people who drove.

A few.

Once in a while.

Her, however? Nope, gas too expensive, streets too crowded, too easy and too healthy to walk. Besides, walking the worst that she could do was probably sprain her ankle unless it was a really bad day. "And... erm... yea. Yea it is." Her mouth twisted very unhappily.

Fax fidgeted with his umbrella as he listened to her response. Good God, she really seemed troubled about something...the rain, most likely. He couldn’t claim to have been too thrilled himself about traipsing through puddles all the way back to his flat, with rain blowing sideways and his glasses steaming up. And he HAD an umbrella.

Inwardly, he squirmed. He couldn’t in good conscience leave this girl to make her way home in this rain...but simultaneously, he could hardly imagine himself, a complete stranger, offering to accompany her to God-knows-where...not because he wasn’t willing, no, but because he worried that she might misinterpret his chivalrous gesture (or, hell, rejection just might have been an issue). Outwardly, it was apparent that he’d already made his decision. He smiled --in a rather diffident fashion-- and gestured with the open umbrella toward the cascade beyond the awning. “Where to?  It doesn’t seem that it’ll let up anytime soon. I don’t mind walking you.”

He sounded MUCH more casual than he felt.

Oh... dear. "I- ah-" Darci stammered. She looked at the rain. She looked back at the umbrella. She looked at the rain again. The wind and the rain. Hm, maybe she should just wait. And then she looked back at this nice guy again, with his umbrella and this gallant offer to walk her to he-didn't-even-know-where so that she wouldn't have to get wet. As wet. If it had been guaranteed that she wouldn't get wet at all, she would have taken him up on his offer in a heartbeat, but she would. She knew she would. She looked back at the rain again. "Um...." And then, suddenly, she realized what this must look like to him. Like she thought he was a stalker or something, probably. "Oh!" She swung back around to face him.

"I... I dunno if I can. It's just... it's raining. Really raining and- I really don't like the rain. Or water. Or being wet. In any way." She didn't like saying that she was aquaphobic most of the time because it was just such a stupidly bizarre fear to have. Arachnophobia? Oh, you mention arachnophobia and people just made sympathetic noises and avoided talking about spiders around you - or, if they were jerks, stuffed rubber ones in your locker. Aquaphobia, on the other hand? Most people didn't even believe her, and usually they laughed at her.

Dangit.

"I... um...." Darci said, peering out at the rain again. "I'mjustaquaphobicsoIdon'twannagetwetandmaybeIshouldjuststayhereyouknow." If he could even understand that. She was blushing.