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Even Eleanor couldn't help the smile and the laugh that followed by his statement. She had hit him with her shoe.
"I hit you with my shoe." She repeated.
A sigh fell from her then as she lifted her head. Her gaze drew towards the closed door they'd taken the kitten through. "Sorry about that." The word 'sorry' felt odd against her lips, but there was no doubt she meant it.
In many ways, she could relate to the kitten. Naturally, she'd never been thrown and abandoned in a dumpster, but it reminded her of home. Long before Bellefonte had become her reality. Besides, she couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that anyone would throw such a precious little thing away. From the clarity of the image, it couldn't have been there for more than a few hours; All she had to do was remember the man's face.
The trio reached the vet's office and they took the kitten off of her hands immediately. They were guided to a waiting room and being told they'd let them know when they had news. Any news.
Sitting in one of the chairs with her legs pulled up against her, the brunette closed her eyes as she rested her chin against her knees. She felt exhausted - not only because of the fight, but because the way her power always seemed to drain her energy.
As soon as her feet landed back on the snow covered ground, she made a beeline for her bag. Though she heard his words, they fell on deaf ears. With one still holding the small, frail kitten to her chest, she used the other to rummage through the contents of the bag, pulling out a sweater. She wrapped the sweater around the kitten. Hopefully that'd keep it warm.
She moved to collect her shoes. She put them on and hoisted her bag over her shoulder. "Yeah, okay." She didn't even wait to see if he was following before she rounded the corner, stopping as she reached the end of the alleyway, eyes darting between the two possible directions to take. Which direction had he gestured towards again?
His words was entirely lost on the entranced brunette. She couldn't hear, nor see anything past her psychometric vision. It was a curse most of the times, though, if luck was on her side, it wouldn't be too late.
"No, no, no, no." She said frantically, dropping the shoe she was still holding. She made her way towards the dumpster, completely ignoring the fact that she was running barefoot over the snow covered concrete floor of the alley way. Once she reached her destination, she pushed the lid open. Brown eyes darted over the contents within, ignoring the smell of garbage.
With her small stature and short, 5'3 height, she couldn't reach inside. Instead, she placed both of her hands on the rim of the container and hoisted herself inside. She felt around for the cardboard box and once she finally found it, pulled it close. She fell silent for a moment, listening.
The whimpers were weak, but there. A sigh of relief fell from her lips as she opened the lid, revealing a kitten, dirty and small. Leaning her back against the dumpster, she lifted the kitten out of the box and held it to her chest.
The pleased feeling lasted for only but a moment. Once he turned, the brunette's eyes narrowed defensively. She'd always been volatile, her actions often speaking volumes. She'd never been good with words, which often came back to bite her in the ass. Like right now. He was as pissed as she'd ever seen him before and yet, she was too stubborn to back down.
She straightened, the hand still holding the shoe lowered, while she reached her other hand out to flatten out on the wall while she supported her weight long enough to put the shoe on. "Oh yeah, here comes the fucking excuses." She barely managed to roll her eyes before, she felt the slight pull of her power. "Don't you ever have-" Her eyes went blank, body freezing as her hand splayed out over the concrete wall beside her.
Images flashed before her eyes. Erratic and in no particular order. Blinking lights, cars honking, the constant noise of people talking on the phone and cars speeding by. A hooded figure walked down the very same alley way she'd been standing only seconds before, a cardboard box in his hands. A noise, feeble and whining came from the box. He walked further into the darkness of the alley, looking around as if expecting someone to be following him. His elbow brushed against the wall she was holding, eyes darting back and forth. She could see his face clearly now; He was neither old, nor young. Mid-thirties, perhaps, though his thick beard had started to gray, or maybe it was dirt. She couldn't tell.
He opened one of the garbage containers at the end of the alley way and threw the box inside. He shut it and ran off.
As she was sucked back to the presence, Eleanor inhaled sharply, hand clutching to the fabric on her chest. Immediately, she turned towards the container.
If anything, he was the one being stubborn. He was the one being childish. She narrowed her eyes at him as he walked away. He walked away. She'd be damned if she allowed him to have the last word. Reaching down, slender fingers curled around one of her flat shoes. And then, without thinking, she hurled it at him.
"At least I didn't leave."
She grabbed at her other flat shoe, lifting her arm in the air to throw that at him, too.
"What?" Her expression changed from annoyance to blank confusion in an instance. Never, during any of their encounters, had she ever experienced him giving up that easily - or at all. And for once, Eleanor had absolutely nothing to say. No quick remark, no witty insult or even something that could even be considered remotely insulting.
"That's it?" She asked, more so to herself than to him. He wasn't putting up more of a fight? "O-okay, then." Blinking, her free hand came up to scratch the back of her neck awkwardly. "What the fuck." The voice came out in a breath, barely audible.
"You're following me even after I told you I didn't want to talk. What do you call that?" She countered back. She was acting like a child and she knew it. She wasn't about to admit to it, of course, but she knew. "I have nothing to say." She had plenty, of course. She always had something to say. It rarely was what Taylor seemingly wanted to hear, though.
Fingers curled around the handle of her bag, knuckles turning white. Even after all this time he still made her blood boil. It was ridiculous and unwarranted. She knew that too. There was plenty of insults rolling on her tongue. Plenty of things she could have said in an attempt to push him away - or piss him off. Instead, she just stared at him.
She rolled her eyes. It felt natural at this point, as if it happened by instinct. She tossed a glance his way before shaking her head. "I don't care." Still, she stopped. The bag dropped to the ground and she turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest.
"You can't just come back and expect me to drop everything to listen to you spiel about your life." She raised her eyebrows at him. Irony hit her then as her eyes dropped to her bag. She quickly picked it back up again, as if it hadn't already ruined the point she'd been trying to make.
He was far too stubborn to give up. She knew that. She knew that by heart and yet, giving in felt like an impossible task. Perhaps it was her pride getting in the way. She could have been reasonable and let him talk and maybe it would have been over with.
Reason wasn't something that came easy to the brunette, though.
"You're annoying, that's what's wrong with it." She stepped to the side, entering a small alley way; her private shortcut. She rarely, if ever, saw anyone else using it. It was rather nice. Or rather, it would have been nice had she not been followed.
She stared at him, eyes narrowed. A wise man would have left her alone a long time ago. Of course, most people that ever met Taylor would never claim him to be very wise. And that clearly hadn't changed over time. "Well, I don't." She fired back.
It probably would have been easier if he'd just stayed away, like she'd thought he would. She'd never expected to see him again, and she'd come to terms with that. She'd gone on about her life, and she assumed he had too. It would have been better, of course, if things could have just stayed that way.
The moment he drew towards her, she swirled around. Couldn't he just leave well enough alone? She was doing just fine at keeping her distance and here he was stomping all over like a damn ogre. Pulling the bag closer to her side, she started down in the opposite direction.
But of course, her walking away didn't stop him. It never had, so why did she think it would work now?
Again, the brunette swirled, this time stopping. "Could you not?" She hissed at him. It was like being stalked by an annoying puppy so desperate for attention it'd go through flames to get it. She might have exaggerated a bit, of course.
She's just finished yet another dance rehearsal; it seemed like the brunette had little else going for her lately. Though, then again, they were practicing for a show coming up. That generally meant having to practice morning 'til evening. It was a good thing too, that she studied dance at the academy and could use the hours she spent in rehearsal instead of actual class.
Some classes, anywho.
Stepping through the doors and into the chill January air, Eleanor hoisted her bag over her shoulder. Her entire body ached. A group of the girls she rehearsed with barged through the doors, loud laughter filling the cool night air which made more than one head turn in their direction. It had the brunette rolling her eyes.
Turning to the side, she was immediately stopped in her tracks. Brown eyes landed upon the face she'd sworn she'd avoid with all her might. He was standing with a group of people she could only assumed he worked with and since luck was never on her side, the sound of the bubbling laughter had attracted the group's attention, too.
"Oh, you've gotta be fucking shitting me." She breathed.
She didn't look at him even as he told her to sit tight. She did, however, look up at the mirror as he moved away. Her day really couldn't possibly get any worse at this point. She could only hope that this would move by quickly and that she wouldn't be too late for her rehearsal.
Drumming her fingers against the steering wheel as she waited, Eleanor was a little tempted to just start the car and leave. Of course, even she knew that would be stupid. Still, it was tempting. Leaning back against the seat as Taylor returned, the brunette pursed her lips. "Mmhm." She grabbed the licence and the registration, putting them both where they belonged.
And then there was a ticket. She might have said something had it not been for the sticky note distracting her. Looking at it, she looked up at the familiar face, an eyebrow arched. She then crumbled the note and stuck her head out of the window, looking towards the other officers. "Is it against regulations for him to give me personal notes, telling me to meet him privately?" She called out. Quickly, her gaze returned to the familiar face she knew all too well; A sugar sweet smile on her lips.
She didn't think about it at first. It took a moment for the accent, and the voice, to register. She hadn't heard it in a long time, after all. "I'm sure you're about to tell me." There was no malice in the voice, apart from a faint trace of annoyance. It wasn't necessarily directed at him, though. She was late, after all. Then the pull of familiarity finally reached her and she jerked her head to the side, brown eyes narrowing.
He worked for the law enforcement now? The thought almost made her laugh out loud. Almost.
With a sigh, she turned her gaze forward again. She was so not dealing with this right now.
