Lunches

Jason nods a little to Katie, knowing that this was something that couldn't be, and shouldn't be kept a secret. "Yeah... I'll tell everybody. I just want to let it sink in first. Get my head on straight. No use in starting out on the wrong foot."

As Katie comes around to rub his shoulders, for the first time in a long time, he relaxes, leaning back against her. There was so much turmoil going on inside of him. So much confusion. So much pain and anger he had yet to let go of. But right now... for just a few moments... there was some relief.

Grinning at her comment, Jason swivels around to pull Katie into his lap and lean his forehead against hers, looking he in the eye. Humor danced.

"You, take orders from me? That'd be the day." He laughs softly. "You telling me what to do is more like it."

Knowing there was probably a smart remark coming, he gives her a quick kiss instead to keep her silent.

Jason Stevenson, Elite Chief. Kinda has a nice ring to it, don't you think?

Pulling back, he sighs, though a strange determination has formed, with an edge that one might sense as pride... perhaps a haughty pride though. "Austin thinks I can't handle this - otherwise he wouldn't have just thrown it at me like this. But I'll show him... I can do more than he thinks I can... I'm stronger than he thinks I am... I'm not the same little boy anymore. I should take advantage of this development, not let it scare me."

He nods to seal his decision. "Now, as for you..." Jason stands up, letting Katie slide off his lap. "How would you like to be the first to have lunch with the chief, hmm?"


Rocky slips into the Chinese restaurant and is greeted by a waitress. He's just about ready to go to a new table, when he spots Jess. A smile comes, and he tells the waitress he's with somebody.

Arriving at the table, Rocky slides in across from Jess and takes off his baseball cap, running a hand through his hair. "You're pretty and punctual," he teases. "That makes a good combination, but makes me look bad."

Interrupted, he orders a glass of water to drink, then looks back to Jess. "So after almost getting attacked by a dog, cut off by a stupid driver, stuck behind a slow-moving vehicle and got yelled at because someone thought their package should have arrived sooner... I think I'm ready for lunch."

His eyes dance teasingly. "How about you?"


Scott approaches Hope's desk, a small packet of pictures clutched tightly in his hands. He'd been a few minutes late for his appointment after his stop with Rick had taken longer than he'd thought it would. Being allowed to simply go into Hope's office instead of waiting, he'd been hesitant, but had gone in bravely, unsure what this session would bring.

Clearing his throat, he stands awkwardly for a moment, reaching up to push his glasses up farther on his nose. At least today he could see things a little better with his one eye.

"Hi," he greets quietly. His eyes don't settle on Hope's face. "I, um... took some pictures like... like you wanted.

Opening up the envelope, he pulls out several pictures and set them down on her desk. That had been his sole purpose for coming again. He'd set out with a goal, accomplished it, and now was presenting it to Hope. He wasn't sure what she really wanted from them, so he simply remains quiet.

Retreating, he sinks down onto the edge a chair, folding his hands in his lap and keeping his eyes busy with studying the floor or walls.

The pictures had been taken with black and white film. The first appeared to be either a sunset or a sunrise, light just barely peeking up above the horizon. Long shadows were drawn from the trees, darkening the scene.

Another picture illustrated a young woman, some would recognize as Misty. Her back turned, she walked away from the camera, her hair blowing in the wind, her own shadow going before her.

Another snapshot was simply of a closed door. It was dark, but light was shining from underneath the door, spreading a soft glow to the foot of the picture.

The next photo was one of a small window, appearing to be one up high near the ceiling - a short one, signaling that it might be from a basement. Bars kept the panes safe from being opened. The room was dark, while light awaited outside, beyond reach.

After that, was the image of a rose. It sat alone on someone's desk, brought into clear focus while the background remained blurred. Its petals were soft, almost reflecting the light, standing out as a beautiful portrait of the delicate strength it represented.

A picture of an empty parking lot came next. It evoked the feeling of emptiness, a lonely scene as a leaf blew past the barren ground.

Next was a photo that one might have trouble figuring out. But soon it would become clear that it was a shot of a tree, from the angle of one lying on their back and looking up through the branches that created a gnarled web, the sun just barely peeking through the tangled limbs.

Last was the picture of a broken mirror. The shattered, angled fragments revealed the weary photographer in pieces, multiplied by each slice of glass, but never seen in whole.

Scott fidgets in his seat. He hadn't thought a whole lot about the pictures he'd taken, but was a little leery of someone dissecting them. He was a might leery about being here again at all, though this time he hadn't balked as much, proving he really did want to try, even if he was scared.


Axel sighs a little and leans back in his seat at the pizza place. He glanced at his watch. It was a little later than he normally ate, but he'd hung out at the shop for a while longer this morning before finally venturing out to the small restaurant. The smell of pepperoni and tomato sauce wafted through the air. He'd had enough to eat already though. Several slices had been plenty, and now he was just passing the time.

Taking another sip of water, he waits, unsure if he should stay any longer or not. There was a feeling of disappointment that he was trying to shove aside. He'd already rolled his eyes at himself over it, because it was his own fault. He'd made an assumption that he shouldn't have, and had taken a statement for granted. He should have called first. And he certainly shouldn't have assumed he was so important that the casual remark hadn't been any more than that - a casual remark.

"Maybe tomorrow I can see a double rainbow at lunch. I heard that pizza place down the road is not too bad."

Oh well. His mistake. It wasn't the first time. He didn't like it that it bothered him though - it shouldn't. There was no reason for it to when it was his own silly fault for assuming things.

Standing, he grabs the bill to go pay. Next it was a quick walk back to the shop. He'd be getting his car at about two o'clock, so he at least needed to be back for that.


Clint works in the engine of a car, growing more and more frustrated with a part that he couldn't take out. His wrench slips and his hand gets jammed in a small space, sending pain through his fingers.

Letting out a wail, he withdraws quickly, his tool clattering to the floor. Muttering under his breath, he wipes the sweat from his brow. He was so tired... he couldn't concentrate on anything. He had a splitting headache and all he wanted to do was go crawl into bed. The lack of sleep was getting to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Signing, Clint heads for the office to wash the welt on his hand that had started to bleed. Stepping inside, he's surprised to see Wendy. He hadn't seen or heard her come in. Of course... he was so tired, he wasn't paying that much attention to anything at the moment.

Just standing a moment, he watches her quietly, his shoulders dropping slightly. He knew she hadn't been feeling well. He knew she was scared without her mom around. It was all his fault.

He wipes the small amount of blood off onto his jeans and ambles up behind Wendy, setting his hands on her shoulders to give her a gentle massage. "Hey you," he greets quietly. He leans down to give the top of her head a kiss. "Can I do anything for you?"