[Dane Wayland]

jesus christ, don't be kind to me,
don't feed me, i will come back

Mattie flinched at his touch and Dane thought he saw the desire to pull away shadow briefly across her face. Though, a moment later, she was chuckling, smiling, and winking. Hmm. He didn't know what to think and couldn't suss out her aim. Was she pretending, too? For what purpose? He was a lone man, drunk in a bar near last call. Why would she take him home if not to have him touch her? Wasn't that what people did? Wasn't she just being nice to him, learning about him, just so she could think back the next morning and say he hadn't been a total stranger?

He was used to girls — at least the "good" ones like her — playing those games; talking just enough so they could smother their shame once he was gone. He was willing to allow them that comfort and could nod along, make up stories, and chat amicably until they'd sated that need for connection. But they'd always known what they really wanted, what they were doing, as they did it — talking and laughing with every intention of ending the night sweaty and spent in his arms. They just needed to convince themselves first that there had been some lengthy build-up to justify it.

But Mattie, with her stiffening and flinching even as she flirted and invited — what game was she trying to play if not the obvious one? Was she just playing hard to get and required a little more convincing? Or was she stringing him along with no intentions of sleeping with him? Perhaps he was truly just a poor, battered puppy to be coddled and cooed over and nothing more. It was a game of guessing and contradictions that was growing long-winded and he wasn't sure for how much longer he would be willing to participate.

As if to further loosen his inclination to pretend, Mattie phished for questions about her name. He felt his mask loosen marginally in the smallest of tugs to his mouth, lips daring to tip into the start of a frown.

Inwardly, he rolled his eyes — he didn't care that much about her name, why should he? It was something her parents had chosen, presumably to be unique and quirky (perhaps hoping their daughter would stand out among her peers). And even if it had some silly reason, had been picked with an enormous amount of thought and care, or held some sort of sentimental value, it still had very little to do with the person themselves. His parents could have named him after his sweet grandmother and he still would have ended up the same worthless prick he was. It didn't mean anything.

Outwardly, Dane only quirked a brow and grinned, concealing his lapse in friendliness with a chuckle. He looped his arm in hers. "Sure, let's go. You can tell me about your name on the way."

He let her settle the tab — she'd insisted, after all, and now he wasn't so certain that protesting the matter would win him any points in the end. A part of him suspected he'd end the night being shoved back out onto a sidewalk, curled up alone on a couch, or asleep in the back of a taxi. But he hadn't given up hope completely. He was willing to give it... just a little more time.

@mattis
I'm aware Dane didn't actually do much here so let me know if you need more lmao. Feel free to have them leave, drive off, whatever. Or just dump this pig boy in the street, Mattis, come on, we both know he's a worthless slut~
♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

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[Deleted]

Mattie could tell dane was growing sick of their conversation - if not for anything else than feeling his emotions jump from playful to curious, followed by annoyance - but yet he looped his arms through hers, and they began the walk back across the street.

mattie smirked as they approached her bmw and she hit the fob to unlock it, "i'm named after satan," she paused, swinging open the driver side door, "i mean, technically my mother. so i'm a junior...but in reality, satan." she was sure the obvious disdain on her face told the story of how mattis senior ranked on her list - mattie one hundred percent, completely, despised her mother. 

the one person who was meant to keep their child safe, warm, and feeling their best had abandoned her at a young age. her father she had forgiven - ambrose had seen the error in his ways of casting his daughter out of the family, and eventually accepted her and her gifts. her mother, however, had always considered mattie to be a freak, an outsider, and never even attempted to mend their relationship.

she hopped into the driver's side, waiting for dane to get in. she put the keys in the ignition, and started the SUV, which roared to life. once he had hopped in beside her in the passenger seat, mattie re-directed her attention to dane and offered, "heated seat?" her fancy vehicle came equipped with just about any bell or whistle you could think of - heated seats, auto start, touch screen radio, back up camera, and more. though mattie refused to use most of the gadgets - how could she when there were suffering children, barely eating, in africa. she had only accepted the graduation gift in the first place because it came from her father, and she hadn't wanted to ruin their sensitive - yet mending - relationship. 

Dane Wayland

[Dane Wayland]

jesus christ, don't be kind to me,
don't feed me, i will come back

The fresh, crisp air, and its startling contrast from the cozy, warm atmosphere of the bar, once more made Dane abruptly aware of how drunk he was. Not drunk enough to stumble as he was led across the street, but drunk enough that the thought of stumbling and being dragged along made him smile ruefully. Longingly. He tipped his face into the cold, breathing it deep into his lungs, and smiled faintly at the dull, answering ache in his ribs. Leaving the bar (in which they'd lingered for too long with too few drinks to carry him happily through the conversation) washed away his budding irritations, filling him instead with a soft appreciation for how the night had begun and how it might end.

He hummed thoughtfully as Mattie began explaining the reason behind her name and he watched her curiously as she slipped to the opposite side of her vehicle. As much as he didn't care about the reasons and whys behind anyone's name, the mention of her mother — in such an obviously negative way — made him chortle a small, private laugh as he pulled open the passenger door and climbed into the passenger seat. He could relate. He hated his father and spoke of him in much the same way. It would have been terribly laughable if he — or more likely, Dino — had been named after the man. It was something Antonio would do, with how fervently he wished his sons to be just like him. How hard he worked to mould them into little clones of himself. But Dane couldn't fathom being beckoned with the same syllables as his father, not when he so often dripped the man's name with venom and loathing. Antonio would like it even less, he imagined. Regretted the association when it became clear his sons didn't deserve it.

Dane pulled the seatbelt across his chest as he settled, knowing full well that her car — being newer and fancy — would beep incessantly if he didn't. He fiddled for a moment with the buttons she pointed out for the heated seats but finally waved it off with a shake of his head. "Why the hate for Mama Mattis?" He asked flippantly, cracking his window so he could maintain the chipper influence of fresh air. Perhaps it would lessen the possibility of him growing stuffy once more. "And why not just use a different name if you hate her so much?" He frowned at her seriously then smiled with a then decided lack of gravity. "I have lots of names myself. Maybe Dane is one I plucked from a hat just for you."

@mattis
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[Deleted]

she felt the tug of a smirk on the corners of her lips. why the hate for mama mattis? a 'b-grade' mother at best, mattis senior had disowned mattie for her gifts, unaccepting of a 'freak' for a daughter. but then - once it suited her and her best interests, of course - she was like a kitten to milk when she realized being on mattie's good side could mean a 'family franchise', which meant more money for her. "she's much distasteful," she paused, watching dane fumble through the buttons, and futilely giving up. she through the car into drive and accelerated, "my mother practically disowned me until it best served her." 

mattie had always wondered if her somewhat self imposed exile due to her mother's disdain toward her had contributed to her personality - it had to have, she supposed. maybe her fierce love and compassion came from knowing what it was like not to have it from someone that meant most to you. she chuckled, making the turns and weaves through traffic as she headed towards westhook and her home. "I suppose that answers your previous question - certainly a no, I do not have my own eye to watch out for me. I suppose I picked up watching out for myself by now, though." she she a playful glance over to him. "I'm guessing you're in quite the same boat - no offense?" 

Dane Wayland

[Dane Wayland]

jesus christ, don't be kind to me,
don't feed me, i will come back

Mattie shifted the vehicle into drive, pulled out into the street, and Dane contented himself with glancing out his passenger window, watching the buildings and cars pass and tipping his head so that the wind flirted with the bangs beginning to loosen from the hold of product and scatter across his forehead. Her answer to his question about her mother was cursory and he briefly wondered — since she had basically forced the subject in the first place — if she desired to speak more on it. Perhaps she wanted him to needle. To show interest and coax for something deeper and more telling. Maybe that was why she brought men home. To be talked with, heard, and unraveled in a much different way than he wanted.

As it was, he only snorted softly to himself. He'd love to be disowned by his father. Cast aside, freed, and no longer cared about. Antonio didn't care about him, hadn't for a very, very long time, but kept him leashed and muzzled at his side like a dog that still merited the occasional use. An entertaining beast that he didn't love but couldn't bring himself to release. Perhaps because Dane could be a convenient pawn at times; fodder on the front lines, trusted enough to be unrelenting when the task suited him. That was a bit generous — more simply (and more likely) it was because he couldn't be trusted to go unwatched. He was a dog known to bite, to turn on the hand that held his lead; it was safer to put him down than let him go. Or maybe he just brought his father too much satisfaction when it came time to reel him in and beat him down for misbehaving.

Mattie didn't offer more and Dane didn't ask. Instead, she reiterated how she didn't have anyone watching over her, then turned that sentiment on him like a gentle accusation.

His lids fluttered over his eyes and he felt an unbidden tug in his chest. This again. Implying he was by himself. Looking only after himself. Getting beaten up and tossed from bars with no one to catch him before he struck the ground. Again, she wasn't wrong. He didn't hate her for prodding it again but he also didn't want to blatantly admit she was right. To invite that prickly, pacing beast into his heart where it wasn't wanted.

"No, actually. I can't relate. My mother's a saint." He angled toward her and cracked a proud grin, making it clear he knew full-well that wasn't what she meant. "Much like you though, she has terrible taste in men." He laughed, curling his fingers in his palm and pressing his nails bitingly into his flesh. His mother was undoubtedly the reason Antonio hadn't rid of him already. What she saw in his father, what she saw in him, was unfathomable. How she could love them and not be sick — or the least bit tainted — was a wonder.

"What of your father? Did he have a terrible taste in women? Or was he like your mother?"

@mattis
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[Deleted]

lots of fake in this space

CAN YOU MAKE IT STOP?

She rolled her eyes at his suggestion - he'd mentioned a few times during their conversation how his mother would seem to show up any other woman, and was made of nothing less than sugar and daisies. She chuckled softly a bit, turning it into a snort when Dane inquired about Ambrose.

That was an interesting relationship. Now a days her father was filled with the utmost pride and love for his dearest (and only) child, but that had not always been the case. At first, when Mattie learned of her gifts, Ambrose had been fully consumed by Mattis Sr. - he had even tried to have her committed, as he thought she was making her abilities up. It wasn't until she was older that Ambrose saw the good Mattie could - and wanted - to do, that he had reached out and made make shift amends. Her mother had endured it, but the two still barely spoke - enough to entertain Ambrose, but nothing further.

She took a right turn, nearing her neighborhood. "Hmm, my father? He's alright. He's taken a more involved approach since I graduated medical school," she wanted so badly to make him ill to the sound of her mother's name, dive into how truly terrible of taste her father had, but she thought of how it would make herself look - grudgingly unhappy. Perhaps that wasn't completely wrong. Instead, she scoffed at his previous notion that she had her own questionable taste, "And I suppose he's got about the same taste I do, according to you." She shot a playful wink and smirk at him as she more fiercely accelerated. 

Dane Wayland

[Dane Wayland]

jesus christ, don't be kind to me,
don't feed me, i will come back

Mattie snorted at his question, parroting it back to him. Dane wondered if she did so to give herself a moment to consider her answer. To think of the relationship she had with her father. He understood too well how little words meant when it came to defining such things. And he almost snorted himself when the answer she came to was 'alright'. He'd probably say the same thing if she asked about his father. It was easier than being honest. Than trying to make someone understand what existed only between two people. Sometimes there was no point in attempting. And what was he expected to do with the information, anyway?

"That's good," Dane mused quietly. "An alright father isn't so bad. And one shitty parent is better than two shitty parents." His eye traveled from the road beside them to the reflection of himself in the passenger's side mirror. He blinked, studying the blood lingering in the creases of his nose and the angry swelling to his cheek. He supposed it was good for him, too, that her taste was terrible. Like her father's and his mother's. That they could love unlovable things. In Dane's case, even if it was just in the night. In beds he could know for only a dark couple of hours, rarely lingering long enough to see them colored differently by day. His lips parted and he considered adding some sort of additional quip to highlight the sentiment; something dressed in tease and presented as a joke. But it was a joke he felt he'd exhausted too much already. It had lost its appeal. Would just sound pathetic at this point. If he kept bringing it up, she might get wise. Slow before they reached her house and leave him in the street as she'd found him. He let his lips press together and drew his gaze from the mirror and back out the window.

They left the busy streets of Los Eurosia's main hub behind; descended into the calmer, quieter neighborhood that Dane recognized as West Hook. Neat houses with manicured yards. He wasn't used to it — most women he found in bars, who liked him enough to use him, towed him to shitty apartments. Into dirty bathrooms or to the backs of cars. People like Mattie — seemingly with their lives together — didn't tend to take the bait. Rarely felt like tolerating him. Were never hurting for (better) company or desperate enough to scrape him from the floor when he wasn't pretending. When he hadn't made himself out to be someone he wasn't.

"How long have you lived here?" He asked, mostly to fill the silence, and swiveled to look at her. "Not West Hook, but Los Eurosia? Did you go to medical school here, or... somewhere else?"

@mattis
♩ ♪ ♫ ♬

bruh, i am like 12hrs past my bedtime rn,
if this is an incoherent mess and i need to fix
it tomorrow or you need more to work with,
just like.... lemme know ;v; 

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[Deleted]

lots of fake in this space

CAN YOU MAKE IT STOP?

As she found her way up the weaving streets of West Hook, making a final right into her driveway, Mattie tapped the black button on her sun visor. The garage door rolled open with a roar. She smirked once more, "I suppose that's right. Alright is better than nothing," she pulled the car into the garage, unlatching her seatbelt, shifting into park, and killing the ignition. "Though, in a wild dream, one might wish for two good parents. I guess that's a fantasy though."

Mattie opened her door and threw out her feet, "Well, are you coming?" His next question brought back many memories - and emotions. She'd ventured to Los Eurosia for medical school, but also to get as far away from her parents as possible. She often wondered if she would have even chosen to be a doctor without her "legacy" attached.  As they approached the door that led to her home, she swiftly unlocked it, "I've been here since medical school, yes. I was born in Seattle, so I think the warm weather was appealing." 

She knew by now that Dane was clever enough to detect even the smallest of sarcasm in her voice - not that she was trying to hide it anymore. Clearly the weather rouse had been a fib - though she had to admit it was nice to leave the dreary rains of Washington behind. "What about yourself? Are you a native? Or is it more comparison to a bird that never spread it's wings?" She made her way to her cabinet, pulling out two wine glasses and a darkened bottle of red. 

Dane Wayland

[Dane Wayland]

jesus christ, don't be kind to me,
don't feed me, i will come back

Dane could hear the smirk in her voice as she agreed, conceding that an okay father wasn't the worst thing. When she added that having two good parents was little more than a wild fantasy, he couldn't help the crooked grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth. He cocked his head in a half-nod, voicing his agreement with only an amused snort.

In no time at all, she was pulling into a drive, idling for a moment as she waited for her garage door to open. Then she was stepping from her vehicle and he followed suit. Some instinctual part of him, even while half-sloshed and with other things on his mind, had been nurtured all his life to make observations, and he found himself doing so as he took a superficial look around.

A garage opener in her vehicle. Not wise. All it took was breaking into her car to break into her house. If done carefully, most people wouldn't even notice the opener was missing until they got home. If done extra carefully, the opener could be returned before they noticed at all. West Hook was a comfortable neighborhood, though. As lawless as Los Eurosia sometimes seemed — where he currently resided offering the worst of the worst — it still had nothing on Riverside; the Guild's breeding grounds and where Dane had grown up. At least she locked the door from her house into the garage — a lot of people didn't.

He stepped inside after her, clicking the door softly closed and locking it back behind him. She explained that she'd been born elsewhere, relocating for the warm weather — a lie, made obvious by the sarcasm in her voice — and he clucked knowingly as he followed her into the kitchen, glancing about her house as they went. There wasn't much to comment on. It was far nicer than anything he was used to being brought back to, even if it wasn't particularly special in some way, and reminded him vaguely of his own home. Not the drab, colorless place he had now, but his mother's house and where he'd grown up. Cozy and welcoming. A place you actually came home to instead of a place where you went to crash.

Mattie turned the question back to him while procuring two glasses and a bottle of wine, which he regarded fancifully with a raised brow. Things didn't typically go well when he mixed his drinks — he already had a bellyful of dark liquor and beer; red wine on top of it all would mean more pain tomorrow — but after giving the bottle a quick examination, he dipped his head with satisfaction. "Mm. I take back what I said about bad taste."

He leaned a hip against the counter, settling his weight comfortably and crossing his ankles while he watched her curiously. Consideringly. Wondering again just what level of honest he wanted to be. A bird that never spread its wings? Dane had spread his wings. But saying so implied a certain freedom that he'd never truly been allowed. He could go where he wanted, sure. For the most part. But he was more like a tagged bird. Perhaps a homing pigeon. Wings not quite clipped but close enough. "I'm from California but not from Los Eurosia. I'm just here for work. They tell me where to go, I go there and call it home for a bit until they tell me to go somewhere else." He shrugged.

When one glass had been filled with the wine, Dane pulled it to him and lifted it to his lips, draining it swiftly with his eyes still trained upon her face, watching for reaction. Would she be amused? Chafed? She'd already brought him home. Seen him, certainly far from his worst, but still in a rather unfavorable light. Now he was almost tempted to see how much she was willing to indulge. What irked her. What would be too much. He lowered the glass with a satisfied smack and pushed it back beside the one she'd yet to fill so she could fill both.

"But enough with the boring questions." He'd certainly felt like he'd done his due diligence. Asked enough about her. Answered enough about himself. She had already dined him — or attempted to — and was currently wining him, after all. "Have you decided yet, how you intend to end the night?" A slow, curling smile threatened at his mouth. "Do the strays you like to bring home get to sleep in your bed?"

@mattis
♩ ♪ ♫ ♬
he's so fckin classy ::teardrop::

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