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The convenience store is mostly empty on this Sunday afternoon, cashiers bored and the soft sound of the hopelessly generic in-store music driving them insane slowly. Mearc is in the battery aisle, trying to figure out what the best option for his camera would be. That does place him in view of the front door, because the batteries are visible from the registers so they can make sure no one steals them.
It's unusual to see Sturm out this early in the day, but not even she is immune to the lure of the local convenience store's readily accessible combination of bandages, Flamin' Hot Cheetos and Java Monster.
She ducks her head as she crosses the threshold - careful not to dent anything with her horns. She stalks off towards the refrigerated items section, seeking the most important of her quarry first.
... but she does a double-take when she passes the battery aisle. "Oh. Hey," comes her low growl.
Mearc glances up when addressed, his Vantablack eyes lingering on Sturm for a moment before he smiles. "Hey, yourself. You, uh...Sturm, right? Haven't really seen you since the other day."
"Yep." She's wearing a scowl - probably on account of being uncomfortable with recognition... even though she initiated this meeting. "Me- uhh." She clears her throat awkwardly. "Mearc, right? This your usual convenience spot...?"
"Walking distance from my home. Uh, you?" He sets the batteries he was looking back onto the display, turning to face her, giving her his full attention.
"Something like that, yeah." her teeth click together when she closes her mouth, and her jaw clentches. Her posture is unchanging, though. Always there, towering over everything in spite of her hunched shoulders. "There's probably a closer one, but this is on the way to my old man's place."
He nods a couple times. "Right. How've you been since...the other night? You're, uh, pretty impressive. I mean, very impressive. I mean...you, uh...fight good."
"I know. You run away pretty good, too." The corner of her mouth twitches ever-so-slightly. Seems like that's maybe someone's version of trying to make a joke. "It's been... complicated, though. Met a lot of people recently. Met some of them pretty hard, even. Y'know how it goes." Beat. "You?"
"I wouldn't have been much use in the fight. My plan was to get the other guy out and then we could get out. Retribution could come later; the problem at hand wasn't that." His freckles shift from an even mix of red and green to much more green. "Besides. You didn't need me."
And then he pauses, giving her a more-thorough once-over look. "How hard did you meet them? Are you, uh, alright?"
Looking more closely, it's not hard to notice the caked blood droplets on her white tanktop - or the cuts and bruises that definitely weren't there a few days ago - and the cut and bruised knuckles.
"It was a pretty rigorous conversation, but we decided to table the rest for later." She grunts - and there's that little hint of humor tugging at the corner of her scowl again.
"Ah. But are you alright?" And he gives her a bit of a pointed little look, but it has about all the actual strength of a pie to the face. All smoke, no substance.
There's a second or two of silence, and she looks as though she might just grunt in response but Mearc's look seems to do the trick. "...Not really, but that's why you visit someplace that has bandages and hot coffee two feet apart from one another, right?"
That seems like the kind of thing well adjusted person would say in this situation. Yep.
"Mm, not that the coffee in your hand is hot. If it was a Mountain Dew, I'd guess you were settling into an evening of gaming for escapism." He gestures to the Java Monster and the Cheetos. "But that doesn't seem quite right. What are you getting up to, tonight, Sturm?"
"Yeah, well..." She doesn't try to defend it. "Gonna break into my Dad's old place and steal back my shit," Sturm says this all matter of factly - one might not even be sure she was serious. "Figured I'd go equipped for the occasion like a teenager, since it's been about that long since I last saw it."
Mearc nods quietly. "Do you expect him to be home? If not, uh. I can get you in without breaking the door down, if that would help. Call it an apology for 'running away', and a chance to let you see what I'm actually good at."
"Nah. He's been dead for years. Younger brother owns the place now, but he just let's the thing fucking rot." Storm qurks an eyebrow when they volunteer to accompany her. She fixes them with her sullen gaze - trying to figure out what exactly they get out of it. "Enhhhh. Fuck it, yeah. Let's go."
"Cheers." He gestures for her to lead the way toward the registers, leaving his quest for batteries aside completely.
It isn't a long walk from the Rite Aid to Sturm's old neighborhood - and she still knows the way as if she'd just walked it yesterday. By and large, it's pretty quiet out this way - the houses are small, and the families that still live out this way seem to be more interested in keeping to themselves than prying into why this unfamiliar pair might be heading this way.
The old house has definitely seen better days, but it's still standing, at least. Sturm groans when it comes into view. She crushes the now-empty can of Java Monster in her hand, and tosses it into a neighbor's trash on the way up to her old driveway. "So this is the fuckin' place..."
Mearc nods, reaching into the side pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out a small black case. "No alarm systems, when you last lived here?"
"Nah; this ol' place's alarm system was me - with a fuckin' Louisville Slugger and a .38 Special." She holds out her arms. "... and I ain't been here since my mom died, so I don't think we're gonna run into anything besides locked doors and dustmites."
Mearc takes a moment to glance quietly around the front door and nearby windows, checking to see if things are as he expects, before he selects lockpicks. "Stand behind me to block sightlines from the neighbors, please?"
Sturm - who has never known anything other than being an obstacle - obliges, blocking the much smaller changeling from the view line of a nearby window that doesn't quite have it's curtains fully drawn.
It doesn't take him long to work at the lock--to be honest, he just uses a comb pick and a tension wrench rather than bothering with a hook, and the rhythmic motion of his hand is deft, swiftly defeating the rusty old lock. "Alright, your house now." He opens the door and steps inside, holding it open for Sturm with a bit of a smirk.
All seems fine and dandy here. Barely touched at all!
"Fuckin' dandy," Sturm reaches down and gives Mearc a gentle little hair-mussing. Far more gentle than you'd think her capable of. Physical contact, boy howdy!
Nothing but silence and a lingering feeling of maybe being watched? But that's probably just Old Abandoned House Vibes.
Probably.
At the hair mussing, Mearc sort of startles, his freckles shifting redder, the green fading back. "Um. You're welcome. So, what are we taking? I can help with carrying, some. Probably not as much as you."
"Comic books. Someone I know is getting into them, and I wanna lend them mine. Dad always said they were a fuckin' waste, but he couldn't stop me from buying the shit with my own money..." Sturm ducks as she enters the building - her scowl growing even deeper now that she's inside. "Creepy fuckin' place."
"Not as bad as some of the places I've broken into. Just...empty. Without heart." He steps inside quietly, glancing around.
There seems to be slightly less dust than one might expect in some places.
"You can say that again," the giant grumbles. She heads towards the back of the old shotgun house, purposefully not touching anything until she's got a pair of black leather gloves on. She turns into what was probably her room - and it looks practically untouched. The walls have yellowed, heavy-weight fight promotional posters, and images of torn metal album covers pinned to them.
Sturm looks sheepish - or perhaps vulnerable - about being in her old room.
Oddly enough, the door had been partially cracked open when Sturm had gotten to it.
There's still that faint feeling of being watched, but nothing else seems out of ordinary.... except there's a faint breeze coming from the slightly open window. Hmm.
Mearc is oblivious to signs of disturbance, too busy concentrating on Sturm's emotional state, perhaps. He remains near her, close enough that she could touch him without making direct contact. "So you were always into fighting stuff? I don't recognize any of these names--tell me about them?"
If the invisible whoever is close enough by to hear Mearc's voice, it's likely they might recognize it. The Chicago rhythm of speech, rather than the Philly one, you know?
Indeed, as Mearc gets closer and steps into the room, there's a faint sound from within the closet - as if something or someone shuffled inside of it (likely due to surprise).
(It was surprise.)
"Yes. Well, okay sorta." Sturm shrugs, walking over to the dresser. She opens it up, rifling thru the old clothes. She pulls something out - a wadded up t-shirt - and shoves it into a pocket. "People loved those old fighters - still do, probably. At first I didn't, but I was trying to force it so I'd have something to talk about with my old man, and-"
She trails off, looking towards the closet. "You hear somethin'? 'Sides me, I mean?"
Mearc nods, moving toward the closet. "I heard something. Racoon or something hiding in there, maybe."
Gently, he reaches out for the closet door and throws it open all at once, looking to see what had shuffled.
"........................................................" a familiar pair of moon-blue eyes blinks up at mearc.
........
"....... hi."
they don't seem scared, for what it's worth. not of mearc at least.
Sturm growls, taking very purposeful step towards the closet - her fists are clenched, and there's a gleaming brass bar atop her knuckles.
Mearc holds up an arm to stop Sturm, but his gaze lingers on the void in the closet, and his tone of voice is not mad. Just disappointed. "Of all the abandoned houses in town, you had to pick this one, today? Bad timing, alright?"
that's a punch to the gut. andy practically flinches and looks down. "didn't realize you'd be coming here. thought it was good-and-abandoned-for-good. i.... can leave?"
Sturm's jaw is so tightly wound that you can hear her teeth grind against one another. When she realizes how old the person she's threatening seems, she unclenches her fists, letting the brass knuckles fall back into her coat pocket with her other spoils. With a long sigh, the tension and anger bleeds out of her until all that's left is her perpetual scowl. "I don't care what you do as long as you get off of my comics."
She gestures to a yellowed cardboard box that's settled in the back of the closet behind Andy - but almost underneath their feet.
Mearc shakes his head at Andy. "You're not leaving without giving me a hug, kiddo. Sorry, that's the rules. You know that as well as I do."
andy peaks back at the box sheepishly, stepping away from it. the box is thankfully untouched and definitely not stepped on, nor is it open.
at the demand of a hug, they perk up - galaxies within swirling back into a soft starry light of happy before hopping up to give Mearc a hug.
"hi," they repeat, though the greeting is also meant for Sturm now, too.
"Hey." Sturm looks uncomfortable with what she's done, backing away from the closet towards dresser. She leans on the old piece of furniture - which groans when she puts her weight onto it. "I take it you two know one another."
"Sturm, I'd like you to meet Andromeda Derby, they and them pronouns, formerly of the Winter Court of Chicago's Orchard Field Freehold. Andy, that's Sturm. She's as dangerous as she looks, but uses it for good things." This said as he gives the void a solid hug before letting go.
they plop down without a sound and look up at sturm curiously. it's amusing to an outside observer perhaps, this 18-year-old barely reaching 5'1" compared to the giantess that is Sturm. they offer a small hand to shake.
"sorry i almost stood on your comics. the house looked interesting and i was curious."
"Hey." She says in exactly the same grumbled inflection, trying not to disappoint Mearc by dispelling the illusion of exactly what she uses her strength for. She takes the offered hand - and she dwarfs the smol void up-close, even though she's currently trying to seem smaller. "It's all good, Kid. Any other night, you'd have probably been fine to squat here - or whatever."
"Andy's been a friend of mine for...over four years now? With all that implies." You know, about escaping Arcadia in their mid-teens. "But they're kinda like an oversized kitten, looking for a place to take a nap, half the time."
"really?" they light up a bit more at the offer, then pout at Mearc, "you don't need to call me out like this, Mearc......"
"Yeah, really... but don't anybody see you coming and going. Don't want anybody calling the pigs - or worse, my brother." Sturm attempts to sidle around the reconnecting friends so she can squeeze into the closet. It's a tight fit, but at least she can stand up.
She returns a few seconds later with a box of comics. "... should we maybe take this someplace else? This place makes me fuckin' nervous."
"Anywhere you two think is alright. I think it's worth you getting to know one another as Winters. Are there any parks nearby?"
"i passed one on the way here. thick trees, twenty minute walk away?" they look at Sturm for confirmation, being that they probably know the area better than they do.
She grumbles, setting the comics down on the bed when she realizes she'll have to head back this way anyway. "Well. It's in the opposite direction of where I'm going - and I didn't bring my truck to out these in - but yeah; there should be one out that way." Beat. "What the fuck am I going to do at a park?"
"Hang out and talk with us. Because you're both pretty alright people. Or something." He shakes his head. "We can leave the door unlocked when we leave, in case either of you want to come back. Though..."
He glances at the slightly open window, then at Andy, raising an eyebrow.
andy gives mearc a very innocent why-are-you-looking-at-me-i-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about look.
.....
then they crack a lil smile. "doors are for chumps." blep.
Sturm looks at the window almost-longingly. It's been a long time since she was small enough to climb out - or into a window. That may have even been the last one, probably.
"Yeah, I can do that... but just let me go out the front. Lock up after me, and then you two can go out the window - and Andromeda can climb back in for my shit on the way back."
"Fair trade for letting them hang out here." He nods. "Solid plan."
"i can do that yes."
they're already at the window, pushing it up enough to be able to slip out of when ready.
Sturm snorts a little laugh at Andy's antics, but then turns to head back out towards the front of the house.
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