It was amazing how Jack could even miss the man in the first place. Andrew was a tall, well put together man who Jack had gotten to know from the casino. He had a presence about him that Jack could only hope to have one day. “Oh, Andrew, hey,” he sputtered out, bending down to pick up his things that had dropped around them. “I’m late. Really late. I just.. sort of slept in. But, uh, you don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to have you go out of your way or anything.”

His manner has Andrew offering a quiet help of collecting Jack’s things, but his knees ache underneath him and he feels his back burdened with hours of drive-bys squinting in alleyways he wish he would never find his child in. He relates his apology, then, by insisting that Jack hitch with him. Andrew rounds the casinos every other day; it is no stretch to help out a friend. He calls out insistence of such and walks to the parking lot. Andrew slides unto the scorching leather and grimaces; shouts for Jack to mind it. He rolls the windows down to let the Nevada heat out of the leather and tunes in to Easy Rock FM. “Come on, saves you the fare and time!”

there was no doubt the older gentleman was one of the more mysterious guests of the motel. he was different. he was well traveled. he was always well put together he wasn’t like many of the guests who came through the starlite, nadia had been intrigued by how he ended up in a place like this since he arrived. a small sigh escapes her lips as the children run off, she couldn’t be too upset about it. in all honestly, it reminded her of her own son when he was that age, it seemed like it was just yesterday. nadia offers him a polite smile, surprised by the gesture of the ten dollar bill. “ they’re really something else, ” she comments. she takes the bill, “ thank you mr. xavier.  is there anything i can help you with this evening? ”

A comfortable huff settles between his lips, the origin of a laugh. He extends the shared familiarity that blooms in him and props his elbow on the counter, leaning heavily and watching out for the two adventurous children. He agrees with her with a smile, kids really are something else and he tries very hard not to imagine if his child, whom he has never met, ever tried to sneak sweets out of pretty receptionists’ candy bowls. “Actually, yeah,” he answers after acknowledging her thanks and telling her that it’s nothing; because really, it isn’t -- but this is: “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m trying to find someone. Do you think you can help me with your logs?” He bites his lower lip into a guilty smile. The burden of the night weighs him and guides him to pull out a ripped photo of a woman and slides it discreetly to Nadia: brunette with dropping eyes smile into the distance -- his torment.

     Cade wants to shout back, wants to get this guy out of his face so he can try and get himself some cash tonight, at least enough to tide him over for a couple days of meals before he gets his paycheck from the diner, but he just wont leave him alone. Cade thinks his aggression is well founded, he doesn’t need some creep prying into his personal life, but… there’s something about the eyes in the older man that says he really is concerned. Compassion is a look Cade hasn’t seen in a long time, so long ago that it seems almost foreign to him.

      The question is phrased… oddly ( but then again this is Vegas, there’s nothing here that isn’t odd ) but there’s that compassion again, tinged with a dark look that Cade can’t quite pick out just now, and suddenly his sense of fight or flight abades. He watches the other for just a moment longer before opening his mouth, wanting to make sure that his instincts aren’t lettng him down and he’s not about to get murdered in some dingy back alley thousands of miles from home.

     “For the same reason everyone is,” Cade says, finally, “Need the cash to get by – to make sure I at least get one warm meal today that isn’t just left over fries. To make sure I can pay to keep a roof over my head when my rent is due.”

A long black limousine speeds through the emptying street and breaks the chorus of tension. A drunk teen on the sunroof shouts as it passes by and spills alcohol on the roof with her laughter. The humming of the engine drowns out the words spoken and the thoughts blazed in the heat of argument. Andrew takes a step back and practices patience he has perfect through military composure and sucking teeth in rage.

     Cade tries his best not to be offended, his baby face has gotten him far on some nights, but the obvious disinterested look in the mans eye as Cade lets his eyes wander tells him that’s not gonna be the case tonight. The flash of guilt and pain that hits him at the word parents is easy to cover with exaggerated annoyance anyway.

     “I’m twenty five,” Cade says with a roll of his eyes, adding a couple extra years to his life span with a bitter hint to his voice. It’s a bid to stop the judgemental eyes piercing him so goddamn hard and, christ, Cade can’t believe how unlucky he’s been lately. First his phone broke, eating up all the extra savings he had to fix it, then an entire week passed with less than mediocre tips, and now a night with no pulls is turning into a lecture from a greying man who thinks he knows better.

     “Listen, okay. I don’t need your lectures,” He says, the smile from earlier vanished as he desperately tries to think of a way to leave this conversation without getting in harms way. “So unless you’re gonna pay me to listen to you preach about my poor life decisions, I’d appreciate it if you left.”

The sea crashes into a cliff, it foams as it resides and comes back with unabated fury; but he is no longer in the sea and so he contains it.. Andrew wants to argue with himself that these kids are informal in formality and mask ignorance with insolence; yet he finds his frown deepening, so close to baring teeth. He’s been here before - Subic, Guam, Okinawa; he has been here before and no longer wants to be. ”Look here, kid, I --. “  His argument is half-formed, wanting to spill from his lips. 

People had passed her all day and not one had said a word to her, not that she minded. People in America seemed to like to keep to themselves more often than not, and in that moment she didn’t much care about the lack of conversation. It allowed her mind to clear and her skin to adjust naturally to the heat that was sweltering even in the shade. It was the scent of take out that caught her attention even more the familiar gentleman lowered down to join her at her side, lips lighting up in a soft and tired smile which grew at the sight of the food, her stomach spoke for her and she took it with a nod of thank you.

Mister Iver was a perfect gentleman, something she very much appreciated and she was not upset at the imposition he’d made at sitting down beside her. If anything she was thankful for it. Good company was always enjoyed. Unwrapping, her burger, she turned her attention to what he was showing her, only grinning her understanding before she took a bird like bite of her own. She never chomped into anything, it was unsightly. Smoothing the wrapper down in her lap to catch anything that might fall, her brows rose as she watched the grease and condiments fall onto his shirt.

Giving him a playful roll of her eyes, the small woman dug in her bag at her side, pulling out a tissue and a Tide pen. Motioning with her hands in question of his permission for her to enter his personal space, before she reached over and used the pen to clear up the messes after a soft blotting with the napkin. Sliding the pen back into her bag she gave him a bright smile at the fact that she’d saved his shirt, and then returned to her meal.

Evolet’s handwriting is neat and looping from where he is seated, fitting of a slow song. He swallows the bitterness of the toiling all day with another bite, another patch of dribble of on his shirt. In his curious state of surprise, he lets Evolet take care of his messes for him -- a complete first and gestured by a stranger. He thanks her with conspiratory smile, promising that he will ruin her progress. Ah, but he knows better -- he takes a thin napkin from the paper bag and eats with what finesse one can when having a cheeseburger with a slice of pineapple on it. He looks at Evolet, and then he watches the clouds.

» @andrewxiver

     Yet another day without any decent tips meant yet another night out on The Strip. Cade wished people could just learn to tip properly so he wouldn’t have to spend the cold evenings in just a t-shirt and jeans, but apparently people never change. His luck hadn’t struck out yet either. It was almost midnight already, and not a single car had pulled up on the curb to even sample the goods – christ, maybe tonight would be his first night without a meal in a while, maybe he should just quit smoking so he could afford to keep some savings.

     He was just lighting up yet another cigarette, hoping the soft glow of the tobacco would somehow keep him warm, when a man came walking down the street. Middle aged and alone, eyes soft and mouth drawn thin… Cade was rarely one to stereotype people, but this guy definitely fell into the pool of ‘usual clientele’, so he might as well push and try his luck.

     “Hey mister,” Cade said, a sly smile on his features as the other walked by, “You looking for a bit of fun for tonight?”

God walks through the crowd of tourists and their flashing cameras, smiles intrepidly while humming to Bee Gee’s Staying Alive of all things. The tourists take pictures of fountains, street signs, of passersby and  subpar Elvis impersonators. Andrew is blindsided by a flash on his left and he winces just so, enough for god to laugh at him and call him a pussy. Out in the sea, he could see a single candle flicker in the dark 20 miles out; here in the strip he’s lucky if he sees the ground. He barely strides through the sidewalk with god’s deceiving words -- turn here, turn there -- but there is a RIM-67 going of in his ear and he would rather trust god than simulated war. Another has gone without finding his salvation.

“I just have a question. Is it normal to people here to find fish in their doors?”  She said in a serious tone, staring at the receptionist in front of her. It was her first day at the motel and something weird like that was happening. Cora wouldn’t have minded if she didn’t thought it might be a threat against her, the girl would have just picked up the fish and threw it away in some dump. But Mark was still around and he always liked playing games. “I wanna talk to the manager.”

if there was anything to be known about nadia benson, it was the fact that she had an incurable sweet tooth. wherever she went, she was sure to have candy with her and that included work. it wasn’t uncommon to find a a small bowl of sweets next to her for her entire shift and by the end it would be completely empty. nadia wasn’t exactly the type to share either. the moment she sees a hand reaching for a piece she warns the offender, “ those aren’t complimentary. ”

He stalks through the lobby with his pressed pants and unimpressed frown. Daylight sheds through orange, blue, and violet; his bones shed in exhaustion with them. He passes through the front desk and nods in amicable recognition at the lady behind it. Just then, he hears her speak and quickly looks back, an apology forming on his lips. -- and then he sees two kids crouching low behind the desk, and a hand outreaching for a bowl of sweets. He wants to berate them for their intrepid ill-manners, but then fondness floods him. We were all young once.  He crosses the distance and watch as the kids run off, leans on the front desk, and pulls out a ten-dollar bill from his sports jacket. Alexander Hamilton frowns where the bill is crumpled as he passes it to the lady. “Kids, huh?” 

It felt as if days off were rare these days, for not only did she work full time, but she took as many extra shifts as possible. If they were ever going to get another place, a home, she needed to save as much as possible. Exhaustion, though, seemed to be her constant companion. Taking care of her father was like a job all on it’s own sometimes, and she couldn’t help but feel as if sleep was an elusive, mystical thing.

Her father lost to a coma like sleep that came with the amount of alcohol he’d taken in that morning, Evolet had cleaned him up and gotten him into bed before retreating into the sun. Well… to the shade. Her pale skin was unused to such powerful rays and the small young woman burned easily. Still, the dry heat was pleasant and even the writing of her pen in her journal stalled as she got lost in day dreams of days past. Of a past that felt like it had been an entirely different life.

The asphalt melts with the heat; and so has his dreams. Andrew pulls up the parking lot of the motel -- his hands grip tight the leather of his steering wheel, and he imagines that behind them, he has made half-moons with his nails. He breathes; or at least he tries to - with the heat thick in his nose, fogging his vision with blurred assurance. His car now smells of processed beef patties and grease anyway, with a fastfood takeout sitting on the backseat. No Dalai Lama meditation room there.