2025-06-07 - Unhelpful Doodles

It's that time of night that is either way too late or way too early on a Saturday Night/Sunday Morning. It's dark. The lights from the street lamps pool, leading one either toward the various apartment complexes along North Main or south toward Central Square and the shops and ferry. Along the sidewalk, there are some scribbled messages in sidewalk chalk that will likely wash away with the next good raid and get worn away by footsteps over them, but for now they stand out in bright colors.

"LERNIN' THIS WAY ---->" the first message says, pointing toward the elementary school that is very clearly visible across the street. Another message merely says "ROCK -->" and points, in fact, to a large rock. There are several others.

And in the light of one of the lamps is crouched Jaime Kelly, a thick piece of bright red sidewalk chalk in one hand and chalky fingers, writing yet another less-than-helpful message in the middle of the road that just says "WATER" in great big letters and points in every direction.

Summer. Sucks.

Diana's feet hurt as she hobbles toward her apartment in flip-flops, her work heels in hand. It'd been another day of pulling double shifts, but at least tomorrow was her day off, her first in over a week. Sure, the money was great, but God damn if she wasn't questioning her choices.

The brightly colored chalk on the sidewalk causes the sleepy brunette's brow to quirk. She was tired, but... what was that all about? Would it hurt to check? Chances were that whatever it was, wasn't happening right now... but what if... hmm. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back (and would ensure she slept tonight instead of wondering.)

Her steps stalled when she saw a crouched figure under the streetlamps. As her eyes adjusted, recognition washed across her face on who... but what on earth was he doing? "Are you a midnight vigilante or something?"

A few people have wandered past Jaime's doodlings -- either coming or going from their various late night activities. So he doesn't look up immediately at the sound of flip flops until he hears the voice. Looking up from his latest doodle after putting the final arrow pointing southwest on it, he straightens up a little and flashes a grin. "Oh, shit. I need a corndog warning sign around here somewhere." It's clear that he's taking a moment to decide just where to put this random piece of advice. But then he grins and shrugs his shoulders. "Nah, had a few over at Lucky's and was bored and got inspired."

"Har, har," Di rolls her eyes. "Hilarious. Maybe you have a job in entertainment, after all." He doesn't, as evident by the unamused look on her face.

She takes a step forward so she can better see what he's currently doodling on the sidewalk. "Got inspired to do... what... exactly?" She asks. "Point out the obvious?" Like the rock and the school, she's assuming the first sign was alluding to. "Where did you even get chalk at this time?"

Jaime chuckles as she gives him that unamused look, "You don't want to save others from a dire fate?" He glances down and shrugs his shoulders, "Yes?" Then he looks back up at her and says, "To doodle random shit on the sidewalk. And I'm not much of an artist." So random messages it was. When she asks where he got the chalk, he chuckles. "At home. Though Tarjay probably has some, too. Wasn't going to buy any special for this though."

"I'll kick you," she warns, though her tone suggests she might be too tired to do little more than nudge. Di shrugs, "I don't know. You're managed to spell everything right and the arrow is pointing in the right direction. If you really want to test your abilities, I'll sit for a portrait." Sit. Sitting sounded nice. Di plopped down beside him.

"You play with chalk enough to warrant the purchase? I would have just pinched it from one of the break rooms." She was sure one of the ones associated with kids activities had some. "But don't tell management."

"Challenge accepted," Jaime says when she says she'll sit for a portrait and plops down on the sidewalk next to him. He then studies her for several long moments, considering, looking very serious about it before a grin spreads over his features. He did warn that he's not much of an artist.

Then, he begins to draw. "I'm in construction. We use it for marking lines and stuff. Temporary marks that wipe off or wash off easy. Better than spray paint if you don't intend to chop it down or paint over it." Then he glances over and says, "Do I look like a snitch?"

Di watches him carefully, noting his features as they stretch into an amused grin that leaves her uneasy. "All the more reason I'm surprised you didn't just take it... I'd guess your construction office lacks color options, though," she reasons as she cranes her neck to try and sneak a peak at his masterpiece.

When he asks if he looks like a snitch, her eyes flick back to him, and she shakes her head. "No, you look like trouble, actually."

"Who says I didn't?" Jaime asks as he very carefully concentrates on the uh, well, it's definitely taking some liberties. There are definitely flip flops on that stick figure's feet. And she has Diana's hair. but those are the only two distinguishing features that would help identify who this mostly-stick-person actually is. When he said he could not draw, he really meant it. Still, he takes very great care with the hair atop the round head with a straight line for an unamused-look mouth and slightly downward-angled brows. "Good trouble or bad trouble?" he inquires idly as he glances up to compare his drawing once more. "Definitely not winning any awards, but I think I captured the vibe." He is so going to get smacked.

Di sits back, fishes a flask out of her bag, takes a swig, and then offers it to him. She had managed to sneak a drink before leaving the bar, but sobriety was knocking, and she wasn't answering.

"Bad trouble," she answers without missing a beat. "Without a doubt," she laughs. "That grin alone is bad news." Sure, he'd saved her life, but she could see under the surface. "You have an energy about you that makes me think you are the type of guy moms warn their daughters about," she teases. Ok, maybe Jamie wasn't quite that guy, but definitely bad trouble. "Does that mean I can look?"

Jaime reaches out and takes the flask, lifting it to her in a little toast and then takes a swig from it before handing it back. He may have started out his artistic endeavors a bit drunk, but that was wearing off a bit back and a little refresher doesn't hurt.

He laughs when she says bad trouble, but he doesn't argue it either way. "Likely," he says with a little shrug of his shoulders before resting his elbows on his knees where he's crouched by the drawing. "Yep. It's done. For better or worse," he laughs.

"It's scary that you agree," she laughs. "And what about me?" Di takes the flask back and takes another swig of tequila. "Am I good or bad trouble?" She asks while putting the little silver cap back on the flask.

Diana shifts her weight and cranes her neck. Her jaw falls open and she looks at him, no, glares at him. "I do not look like that!" She laughs as she delivers a smack to his bicep. "You are horrible!" She takes another look and gasps as she takes in the details. "Absolutely horrible! My eyebrows do not point down like that!"

"Why's that?" Jaime laughs. "Figured that was sort of a right of passage when you don't come from money -- people making assumptions, warning off their precious children from your bad influences. You haven't lived til at least one daddy's glared at you from behind a porch door at curfew."

Then he studies her thoughtfully and says, "Good trouble." And then he takes that smack he knew was coming and says, "I told you I was NOT an artist! Why do you think I just wrote stuff and drew circles around things!" Though he does add, "You might wanna check a mirror because with that glare? I'm thinking I shoulda made'm point a little more sharp." He is very definitely kidding but he is also braced for impact.

She doesn't answer his question, maybe because she doesn't have a good answer, or maybe because what he says next sounds exactly like what her father would do- if they had a porch. "You say that like it was a frequent occurrence. Have a thing for girls with strict daddies?" She asks, more to stir the pot than anything else.

"You don't draw me like I'm good trouble," Di huffs as she steals the chalk out of his hand, not about to let him add to his abomination of a portrait. "I only glare like that around you. You make it very difficult to smile."

"Frequent enough to be a trend, not frequent enough to be a kink," Jaime answers both questions at once as he has his chalk stolen away so that he can no longer create horrifying attempts at 'art' on the poor sidewalk. "I don't draw anything good at all, so at least I'm consistent!" He dusts his hands off on his jeans, leaving them with chalk all over the sides of his thighs now that he's been relieved of his drawing implement. "You didn't have such a hard time smiling last time," he points out, and then a little more seriously, "Rough night?"

His answer is annoying in the sense that it draws a reluctant smile from the illusionist, signaling that maybe he is at least somewhat amusing. She shifts her body so that he can't see what she's drawing on the sidewalk, glancing at him intermittently. "Shut up," she quips, locking her smile away again when he points out the obvious.

"Long. Doubles, again," she tells him. "Haven't had a day off in... a minute," she settles on. "I'm sleeping all day tomorrow. Only moving for food and to fluff my pillows."

Jaime catches that little reluctant smile but does not gloat over it. Instead he just sits back down on the ground cross-legged and looks out across the street. One good thing about the island is that the danger of being run over by anything particularly large or fast moving is pretty low. And most people just walk unless they need to move something heavy. There are a couple of people down the way heading home from Lucky's in the opposite direction, some off-key singing accompanying their journey.

He glances over at her, but doesn't make any attempt to see what it is that he's drawing for the moment. "Sounds like a great plan. May do the same. I've got a couple days off before I'm expected back on site. Gotta wait for another crew to finish something before we can go back in." He probably means he and Joey.

It isn't long before Di moves aside, revealing a halfway decent portrait of Jamie with an overly wide smile and devil horns peeking out from his thick mane of hair. "Pretty good likeness," she smirks, honestly surprised she was able to do even that much. It isn't a masterpiece but an improvement from his insulting stick figure and Jamie without question.

"If I could stand being around you for more than an hour, I'd suggest we spend the time off together," Di says, though the way her smirk clings to her lips may suggest that being around Jamie isn't that bad. Maybe she just likes giving him a little hell for one reason or another.

When Diana moves, Jaime leans over to take a look at the sketch and both brows go up before he nods appreciatively. "Not bad, not bad. I like how you captured my devilish charm there." Stroking his chin lightly he says, "I wonder if I could do a partial transformation like that.." He can't. "Who knows. Maybe if I'm especially good, or especially bad, the island will give them to me. What do you think?" He flashes her a grin.

Then he laughs and says, "I get it, I get it. Moderation." He holds up both hands, palms out, his fingers very red-stained from all the chalk on his right hand. Maybe it's because he just rolls with it, taking whatever it is that she decides to throw at him.

Diana can't help herself. Her smile widens, and as it does, little horns grow on Jamie's head and even a forked tail to match. "Yeah, it's an improvement." Diana fishes into her bag to find her compact mirror, which she hands over to him so he can see for himself. "I'll submit a request to HR," she jokes.

Jaime, of course, cannot see the horns on his head, nor does he notice the tail. That is, until she hands over the mirror so he can take a look at his new illusory appendages. He gives a couple of thoughtful nods and then says, "Not bad. Not bad. I'd be alright with the horns. I think the tail would make pants inconvenient. Plus the potential for getting caught in heavy machinery. Maybe just the horns." You know, while they're making requests. He hands her mirror back over toward her then and says, "Anyway, if you get bored and want company in no more than one hour increments, hit me up."

"I'll let them know that tails are a safety concern, but I can't make any promises," Di winks as she drops her compact back into her tote bag and wipes her chalky hands on her leggings. "Are you dismissing me?" She asks with an amused quirk to her brows. It is nearly 3 AM. Even with the extra booze she'd supplied, it'd only been enough for each of them to have a few sips, and bed would be calling when her second wind faded.

Jaime gives the beset serious nod he can to that. "Definitely not OSHA approved." Though when she asks if he's dismissing her, he laughs and shakes his head, "Nope. You're welcome to share this patch of sidewalk as long as you like, though I do not plan to sleep out here, as comfy as that rock looks like it might be as a pillow." It does not at all look comfy. "I do also have the added bonus that I could just turn into a raccoon and sleep under a bush if I wanted to."

"So you do have a tail!" Diana gasps and throws the little piece of chalk at his chest for withholding that very important piece of information. "Do your supervisors know?" She asks, and then gives into a yawn. Di turns her silvery gaze toward her apartment complex. "I long for my bed too," she admits. "But getting there is another story entirely. I'm not sure I can force my feet to carry me another step." She'd already given up on her heels, and while the flip flops were more comfortable, the damage was already done.

"I don't have a tail while I'm working," Jaime points out as he takes a piece of chalk to the chest, reaching up to catch it as it leaves a little bit of a red smudge on his shirt. He tucks it into his jeans pocket and then slowly pulls himself up. "Come on. I'll get you home." He offers out his non-chalky hand to help her up.

"Not even once?" She asks. "Not a single racoon joy ride on the digger thingy?"

Di groans. Moving. "Do we have to?" She asks but is already reaching out her hand to let him pull her up onto her tired feet. They ache, and she can feel the sores that have formed over the countless hours she'd put in that week. "Maybe that grassy patch over there isn't so bad," she suggests, dreading the walk.

"Can't reach the pedals," Jaime says with a sad little shake of his head.

He helps her up to her feet and then says, "We can do this one of two ways. Piggyback, or I can just pick you up. Lady's choice." Because he's not going to just manhandle her without consent. "I did go running along the rollercoaster track though with a couple of folks as an Ibex once, though. That was pretty cool."

"They make levers," she (probably falsely) assumes.

When given the option, she raises her arms, not about to argue with the man, even if she's skeptical of his ability to carry her rather long frame all the way to Fox Run. Bridal style it would be... until his arms inevitably gave out. "Always the hero. First corn dogs, now my feet."

Jaime's used to hauling quite a bit around on his job, and it's unlikely that he'll tire out before he gets her to Fox Run since they're already outside of Fox Run and Silver Brook on the street. It's not a particularly long walk to either of their apartments from here. "Gotta mix it up a bit. Trouble one day, hero the next. Keeps'm guessing," he says as he scoops her up and then says, "You're gonna have to tell me where I'm going, though." Because he has no idea where she lives. "Unless you're coming back with me."

"Never let them see your next move," she agrees as her arms wrap around his shoulder and her legs drape over his arms, flip-flops dangling precariously. "You have to take a girl to dinner before bringing her to bed, Jamie," she tsks. "Not that I mind cuddling," Diana yawns again. "Fox Run 404. Is this door to door service?"

"Damn, is that where I've been messing that up?" Jaime asks as he begins heading toward Fox Run once he has a destination. "Learn something new every day," he proclaims as they make their way up the walk and turn toward the building. "Technically, I think this is sidewalk to door service," he considers but then shrugs his shoulder. "But sure, we can call it that."

"Semantics," Di dismisses as she lets her eyes close for a moment, just listening to the sound of his breathing and the pat of his shoes against the concrete. "I should probably be nicer to you," she admits, her voice breathy as she toes the line of sleepy delusion. "But I like that you can take it. I think it's fun," she explains. "I don't actually dislike you... I like you a lot."

He's quiet as well for a bit, just watching where they're going so he doesn't trip and drop her in a shrub or something. He laughs a little when she says she should be nicer to him. "Now what'd be the fun in that?" he asks, clearly not having taken any offense at all. But when she admits that she doesn't actually dislike him he says, "I kinda had a feeling. But those eyebrows are very convincing." Glancing over at her he says, "But yeah, I like you too," with a little less teasing and a little more sincerity. "But.. you are going to have to do me a favor."

"My eyebrows are perfect," she tells him before he can ask her for a favor. "And you misrepresented them in that abomination you call art," she would not forgive him for that, not yet. "But I'm glad that you like me too, and that watching me choke on a corndog didn't put you off forever."

"Do you need me to get the door?" She asks, craning her neck to see what kind of gymnastics she'd need to do in his arms to manage because she wasn't about to let him put her down before they reached door 401.

Jaime laughs and says, "I did not say they weren't perfect! I said they were convincing." Nor did he say that he could draw them! "Listen, a valuable lesson was learned that day. And that lesson is that corn dogs are dangerous and are best avoided." As they get nearer to the door of the building though, he chuckles and nods. "Yeah, if you can just give that handle a yank over there... I think we can make it in." Otherwise he's going to have to put her down. The elevator buttons he can get with his elbow or a pinky. The front door's a bit trickier without help.

"Well, yours are goofy," she counters. "Too expressive... and you smile a lot," though that seemed more like an observation than an outright criticism. He did seem to smile more than others in her experience.

Di twists and reaches, pulling the front door open with some effort. Once they're through, she'll shift and settle again.

"I'll try to keep my expressive eyebrows under control," he says with amusement as she manages to get the door open and he's careful to maneuver not to smack her into the door on one side or into the wall on the other as they navigate through. "Team effort," he says as they head across the lobby toward the elevator. "Alright.. almost there," he mentions as he reaches out and manages to push the button with one finger.

"We make an excellent team," she decides as he crosses the lobby toward the elevator. Are your arms starting to give out?" Di presses the button inside the elevator with a pointed toe. He will be free of her soon. Apartment 401 was blissfully close to the elevator, which was a blessing and a curse.

"Not yet," Jaime says with a shake of his head. "We weren't that far away." Perhaps if it had been one of the buildings further north, but he seems fine as they take the elevator slowly up to the fourth floor. And true to his word, he carries her all the way to the door of her apartment before he sets her down on her feet once more. "Looks like this is your stop," he says before straightening up again.

Diana's feet find the ground, but her arms stay wrapped up around Jamie's shoulders, if only for a little bit longer. "Next time, I'm making you carry me home all the way from the park," she says, and before she lets her arms drop, she brushes her lips against his cheek. "Thanks for saving me a second time."

Jaime lets his arm linger around her waist as they stand outside her door. At that declaration he says, "Next time I'll just turn into a horse and you can ride me back. It'll be faster." He gives her a little squeeze as she kisses his cheek and draws her in just a little closer for a moment, and then lets her go as her arms drop, returning the kiss to her temple. "Any time," he says. "So just checking, that order of operations is dinner first, right?" he asks with a flash of a smile, and then takes a step back toward the elevator.

"Nah, I want to see how long it takes for you to surrender. Sidewalk to door wasn't long enough." She teases, closing her eyes when his lips meet her temple. "Dinner first," she confirms. "Night, Jaime."

"Cruel," he says, "Fine. Endurance challenge it is." And with a grin, Jaime pushes the elevator button and steps back inside, giving her a little salute. "Night, Diana. Sweet dreams."