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Post by The Exodus on Mar 12, 2013 19:46:01 GMT -6
Santiago Ortiz
Reese’s punches seemed to grow in strength the more she practiced; her arm didn’t waiver. A small smile touched the ends of Santiago’s lips. It wasn’t enough – she had to learn so much more – but it was a start. A small comfort for them both.
"So, can I ask what has you suddenly so worried about me?" Reese asked quietly. “I mean, news articles like the ones you showed me happen every day.”
“I always worry about you,” Santiago said. There was nothing sudden about his concern and the suggestion that it took news articles to flare up his concern made a muscle in his cheek twitch. “Now seemed as good a time as any.”
Santiago picked up his coffee and started to walk towards the dining room to sit. But Reese’s voice at his back froze him.
“It's never bothered you this much before,” she said. “What happened?"
“I knew the girl in the obituary. Linnea Hepworth,” Santiago half-lied.
He’d met her a handful of times and she’d done some foolhardy things – flirting with him once, hanging around the catacombs, getting involved with an ex-Mafioso. But she’d seemed a good sort of girl. And Reese was a good girl, inadvertently doing more foolhardy things than Linnea Hepworth could ever have imagined doing. Chief among those foolhardy things was their friendship – something Santiago was more than mere accomplice to. He didn’t want to be cradling Reese as she died in some back alley warehouse. It was gut-wrenching, woefully cliché, and all too familiar. He’d held Reese in his arms while she was unconscious before. Twice now – once his fault as much as anyone else’s. The least he could do was arm her, if he couldn’t give her up.
And Santiago had tried to quit on her before. He wasn’t making that mistake again.
His shoulders slumped as he turned back around to face Reese.
“And I know her… well… I don’t know what he is to her exactly,” he continued with quiet rawness, mind alighting on Nikolai Tarasova. “This sh*t can happen to anyone, Reese. But I’ll be damned if it happens to you.”
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Mar 12, 2013 23:21:45 GMT -6
Reese Cordova
She could tell from the look on his face that her question had struck a nerve. He actually looked almost hurt and realized her words might have an unintended effect.
“I always worry about you,” he insisted. She wanted to tell him that she knew that. That she hadn't meant imply she thought his concern was completely out of the blue. But he spoke again before she could say anything. “Now seemed as good a time as any.” he told her as he turned to head to her dining room.
She tried to make amends, explaining that the news articles just hadn't seemed to bother him this much before. Something had happened that was getting under his skin and she was concerned. She wondered if maybe he was in some kind of trouble...the next logical step was wondering how she might be able to help if he was.
He didn't even turn as he spoke. “I knew the girl in the obituary. Linnea Hepworth,” he said quietly.
It suddenly made sense. Of course he was spurred into action. Someone he'd known had been killed. Things had gotten too close to home for him and he'd wanted to make sure she was taken care of. She watched him slowly turn back around to face her.
“And I know her… well… I don’t know what he is to her exactly,” he went on. “This sh*t can happen to anyone, Reese. But I’ll be damned if it happens to you.”
Her heart constricted at the pain that was in his voice. She wanted to tell him that would never happen to her, but she didn't know that. Heck, it had already happened to her once. The attack in the alley behind the Rouge had left her injured enough to miss rehearsals for a solid week. It could have been worse though. She was probably only alive thanks to Rachel's quick thinking and Santiago's medical skills. But she was seeing now just how much this really did bother him. Slowly she moved to stand in front of him, her hand coming to rest on his arm as she rubbed it in a comforting gesture.
"Hey...look at me. I'm fine," she assured him. "I plan on staying that way too because I intend to learn everything you have to teach me about self defense. It's going to be okay." She glanced away after a moment, looking sad. "I'm sorry about Linnea though. And tell her...friend that I'm sorry too."
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Post by The Exodus on Mar 13, 2013 19:13:00 GMT -6
Santiago Ortiz
Reese rubbed Santiago’s arm gently. He wasn’t one for hugs, so the gesture was one he appreciated more than a tight embrace. Santiago felt as though Reese was trying to comfort him through mourning – mourning that he had no right to experience, mourning for distant sadness and old sorrows he’d never spoken of – and Santiago looked at her when she told him to.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "I plan on staying that way too because I intend to learn everything you have to teach me about self-defense. It's going to be okay." She glanced away after a moment, looking sad. "I'm sorry about Linnea though. And tell her...friend that I'm sorry too."
“I didn’t know her well,” Santiago said quietly. “But I’ll pass your condolences to her ‘friend’.”
Santiago didn’t know how to say it, but in the last few weeks, Nikolai Tarasova had become a sort of friend. Not one he would take out for drinks or call for a chat, but an unlikely ally. A kindred spirit. And a weird, photographic negative of his own sh*tty choices.
Really, that was why this all got under Santiago’s skin. It hit too close to home; too close to Malaga’s shady docks. It was Tarasova’s fault Linnea Hepworth was dead, just as it was Santiago’s fault Gisele was dead. There were probably hundreds of women who’d been brutally and needlessly murdered, made victims by gang warfare. And at least several dozen were dead thanks to Santiago and his men. Reese didn’t need to be made into one more body in the Seine, one more corpse in the morgue.
Santiago reached up and rubbed the back of Reese’s hand.
“Let me know if you change your mind about gun lessons,” he told her. “Hand-to-hand combat’s not my strongest suit, but I can show you a couple tricks. Maybe get you with a proper sparring coach or something to show you better.”
His mind touched on Carmen for a moment and Tarasova, too. They were both built like street fighters. Carmen, Santiago knew, had been one for a time. And the glorious thing was they both owed him enough of a life debt to teach Reese and not go spilling their guts about Santiago’s affection for her.
Something to think about.
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Post by blueeyeddevil on Mar 13, 2013 21:55:49 GMT -6
Reese Cordova
She wasn't quite sure what she was really suppose to say here. Santiago had said he'd known Linnea, but not that they'd been friends. She wasn't sure if she was suppose to express condolences exactly. And apparently there was a man who was closer to the deceased girl but whose actual relationship was uncertain. She settled finally for expressing general sadness for a young life lost and asked Santiago if he might pass her regrets on to her friend, or boyfriend, whoever he was to her.
“I didn’t know her well,” Santiago explained. “But I’ll pass your condolences to her ‘friend’.”
She nodded in understanding and sincerely hoped that her words were at least comfort to the other man. She wasn't quite sure she expected the well wishes of a stranger would do the man any good, but it was better than nothing.
Santiago's hand covering her own brought her back to the present moment. “Let me know if you change your mind about gun lessons,” he told her. “Hand-to-hand combat’s not my strongest suit, but I can show you a couple tricks. Maybe get you with a proper sparring coach or something to show you better.”
For a moment she forgotten about that part of the conversation. She supposed a gun would be a little more realistic for her use. She couldn't see herself doing much damage to an attacker with her keys given the rather pathetic punches she was giving. The thought of a gun in her hand still made her nervous, but it would probably get better with practice. She was sure Santiago would be willing to work with her there.
She looked up at him gave a brave smile. "I'll...consider the gun. Just give me a little time to get use to the idea," she asked. Maybe after a little time to dwell on it, she wouldn't feel so panicky at the thought. "Until then..." she said, moving back to her kitchen. "Want some pancakes?"
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