distractly | CC: INBOX.

( there's something to treasure about being outdoors in a place like cadelle, untouched by the bustling city she'd come from, but equipped with the same whispering trees, city grounds that held no story yet other than the one she would make for it herself. and she supposes this is where it begins: in the passenger seat of a car with a boy; far too sweet, far too promising to truly nurture her in the end. that's how it always went, wasn't it?

even with those eyes of his hidden behind black glint of sunglasses, she knows that smile by now only characteristic to plush lips has reached them. that he holds it there just the same, and it causes the tiniest flight within her stomach. surely it couldn't be only for her-- surely she wouldn't fall under such naive thoughts at the mere notion of a man taking her on so foreign a date. )

A few days ago, actually. But I've had family here a little longer. ( clary and jace— two of the only things, she believed, would keep her together in the decision to part from her brother. it seems there should be some sort of startle that comes from her in the way he navigates those roads, some dusted with various passerbys, others surrounded only by the pines, but like the earnest warmth he carries, as so is the immediate calm, one that he shares unto her.

in fact, she has to will herself to keep from taking him in too intently- that slight pout to his mouth, the freckle tucked just beneath it. ) And you, Baby? What's your story?

[ There is something to be said about being in a car, for Baby. This kind of control he has never been able to find anywhere else; that he craved from a very young age. The knowledge that, right now, his life is in his own hands, his own choice.

Cadelle, too, is his own choice, but in a very different way. A wish made at the very dire of times, when the idea of seeing Debbie in any kind of trouble because of his own decisions wasn't something he could deal with.

What's your story, Isabelle asks, and there's a part of him that wants to tell her everything, see her expression change from this kind, soft look to - what would it be? Disgust? He has no clue. He leans his shoulders back into the driver's seat, and pushes the car's acceleration, weaving their way between two cars to get towards the highway. ]

I've only been here a week, myself. Grew up in Atlanta, lived there my whole life. Where're you from?

( amber hues avert to the two cars he stealthily sneaks between, and it's clear that there's not so much of a second thought to all of this for him as much as it is second nature. she's curious to many things about baby, primarily why he was here, but what takes precedence is his love for the drive— given it's just about all she's learned of him so far. what others were passionate about, what fed their very bones is what izzy was interested in, and it seems as if she's given her very own insight to just that, right here and now with him. )

Mm, never been. I'm from Brooklyn myself, all I've ever known is the city. ( of course, there's idris, the myriad of other places she's portaled to, but she'd never resided there long enough for it to unthread her city roots. still, when it comes to the classic 'city girl' stereotype, she wonders if she fits that bill to any degree, given her life wasn't exactly what one would call average. )

How are you liking it? Compared to home.

[ To anyone paying attention to him as he drives, it's obvious that a bucket seat is where he belongs. Every move is precise, but not planned far out in advance; he just follows the road and the traffic, slaloming between cars like he's not doing 80 in a 40 zone, completely, utterly in control. ]

I'd show you around. [ He grins, keeping his eyes on the road. ] I've never been to New York. Never got to travel much, money was tight. [ Especially after his parents' death.

If she was to ask him, he'd tell her, how she doesn't fit any stereotype he can think of. But then again, neither does he. ]

Cadelle's nice. Traffic's a lot easier to handle than back home. [ He grins at that, just as he overtakes another car, the car purring under them. ] And I get to be... free.

[ No last job, no debt to repay, no Doc. ] Like a clean slate.

[ He says the words like he means he needed it, and really; he does. He still wakes up with nightmares, but there are no ghosts chasing him, here. ]

How has it been for you?

( she supposes it'd been a foolish question— everyone that'd come to cadelle had left their home for one reason or another in order to mend something, take something else back; maybe he'd come for someone back. it's difficult to reason what's her place to intrude and what isn't, everyone's got their own triggers, their own personal means for being thrown to a city that, though she's hoping for the former, may or may not pay off. )

I understand that. I've traveled, but... more on ~~missions~~ business. Not with enough leisure to really enjoy it. ( those grins of his— lips in their natural purse before all of a sudden they're curving upward, and it's as if all of his features succumb to it. edge of eyes crinkling, nose lifting; she finds it subtly attempting to mirror itself against her own. she lets it.

she yearns to look at cadelle that way, a means of starting over, gaining back everything that'd been lost- all of those innocent lives, but instead she's greeted with a noose of pressure. responsibility. duty is in the name.

a lithe shrug, chewing at her lips and playing fingers together in her lap. )

Different. ( for a moment, it's the only response she finds, drawing lower brim inward with her tongue. ) I mean, everyone seems to be enjoying it. The parties, the bars... I guess it's just more difficult for me to see it as a vacation, you know? Like losing focus could be too detrimental. ( open and honest, a raw despairity to her words— but the last thing she wants is to put a damper on their night, so she quickly changes to a warmer tone. glance over at him with a countering smile of her own. )

Looks like I'm getting better at it, though. ( i mean, she's here, isn't she? )

[ He has to wonder what she does, back home, for her to be this determined, this focused. It's fascinating, and a little intimidating, and Baby actually agrees - he doesn't want to lose sight of why he is here; keep loved ones, back home, safe. Keep himself safe. Redemption, but not caged. ]

I don't see it as a vacation, either. I'm here for a reason, you know?

[ Hand on the gearshift, he takes the ramp off to the highway, the mountains ahead of them looming large and imposing, haloed by the sun, slowly setting. The road starts to incline, and Baby pushes the car even further, even though it's not necessary. The road is now mostly empty, and it's all too tempting to speed up. ]

But relaxing a little might be good. I'm definitely going to find a job. [ Or three, as it turns out. ] But I'm also going to try and enjoy myself. And enjoy the company offered to me.

[ He gives her a look then, his smile soft. She looks tense, in a way, shoulders straight like she expects something to jump out at her, even from the comfort and safety of the car. In a way, she looks like she doesn't in this world, a softer world than she's used to. He can't help himself when he asks, then, voice gentle and eyes still on her: ]

Feel free to not answer, but if it's okay... why did you come here?

( there's something about the mountains that reminds her of idris, it's woodsy calling, the amount of green and striking blues cast about making it difficult not to allow it's trembling calm to seep inside of her. but maybe it's the fact that it does remind her, that if she's not thinking of back home she's facing the guilt of falling to distraction. )

I don't mind. ( while she's normally the type to keep things close to her chest, she doesn't feel as if she needs to keep those guards seamlessly built in his company. like if, perhaps, she let them slip, he wouldn't be prying eyes or invasive, if anything a gentle touch. a means of assuring her for once, for now, she was safe.

it wasn't as if she didn't need it, someone to talk to, some way to relieve the incessant murmurs at the back of her mind chiding her for letting a gaze linger on his mouth, marveling at those smiles; the knife held in taunting to the base of her spine of the fact that her brother was still back at the institute, running everything on his own. )

Back in Brooklyn, there was... ( slow breath is taken, finding some means of arranging her words to dictate the story in a way he'd understand. revealing everything she came from, everything she was all at once was too much. sometimes simplicity was necessary. ) - an attack. A war, really. People against people. The organization I'm part of, we did everything we could to try and mediate it, to try and set some sort of peace— we tried stopping it when that didn't work, but... we failed.

( the slightest furrow of her brow, letting gaze absorb into the blurred peaks of the mountains surrounding them, how the sky's harmoniously colors are met harshly with dark grey. ) A lot of lives were lost. Too many lives, people that were innocent. That wanted nothing more than to live on the same grounds as one another, you know?

It shouldn't have happened. ( and thats why she's here. for the chance that maybe she could take it back, even if it wasn't done by her own hand. )

[ As she talks, and explains, Baby stays silent, respectful. It's a big thing, it's a selfless reason, and for a second, wonders if he could sign up to help her out, save lives instead of just save himself.

His reasons to be in Cadelle are selfish, self-involved. Isabelle's are anything but, and he looks at her then with a brand new look in his eyes, even more amazed than he was before. It's not just beauty, but it's also inwards, radiating outwards, making her even more breathtaking.

Just like Debbie, way too good for him. ]

Do you feel responsible?

[ It's barely above a whisper, a true question, without judgment or his own opinions tainting it. He has no idea how he could even form an opinion on her situation with the limited knowledge he has, and he wouldn't want to. But he knows that he's here because he's responsible for putting Debbie in the middle of his issues, and it's the least he can do. Maybe Izzy feels similarly. ]

I'm so sorry it happened. But your home, and these people - they're lucky to have you.

( it wasn't the only thing she'd thought of in terms of a wish— lingering ever closer to the vital plush of her heart was her little brother, max. tempting, it was, to wish for the ability to take back what'd happened to him, sebastian cornering him in that office too soon after she'd left him alone, after she'd finally stripped down her guard at the thought of allowing him to make his first steps into the field.

but max, she knows he's strong. maybe even more so than her, and she's capable of recognizing that such a wish would in fact primarily be selfish, for herself. to take away that guilt she feels for leaving him on his own, for not jutting her chin up higher in refusal for him to start so early.

do you feel responsible? —a question she faces daily. )

Part of me does, yeah.

( it may not have been her own hand that'd triggered life to that soul sword, but it was her family's, it was the result of not doing enough, at large one of her biggest demons. the downworlders, max, everything valentine's done. she should have done more, and maybe here, she can. )

You don't really ever get the option to bring someone, let alone hundreds of people, back. I couldn't not take it. ( even if it meant leaving alec behind, leaving max behind again. )

[ He swallows hard, thinking about it. He could have wished to bring Darling abd Buddy back - to allow them to live the life they wanted to, to not be responsible for their deaths. Or all these people that got hurt because of Doc. He could have wished for these things; they still feel selfish.

What he's thinking and feeling must show on his face; he can tell his smile has turned, and he drives even faster now, trying to cover the noise of his heartbeat in his own ears. ]

You're - a better person than most. A better person than me.

[ He would not deserve someone like her, selfless and self-sacrificing, even if his wish was different. He was still a criminal, he's still let someone control him for most of his life, because it was the easiest choice to make. Safe. ]

( despite how easily she falls under the landslide of it all, the constant reminder of why she'd come to cadelle the reason it'd been any bit difficult to talk herself into that car with him, it's not enough to suppress her sense of empathy. it reverberates, something others knew of her readily, something her mother had even claimed was a weakness. passion, caring more for others than she does herself.

and so once more gaze drifts to him, and immediately all of that guilt, all of that sorrow falls to a hushed static. that downturn of his lips— it doesn't fit him, naturally so bubbly and warm and open. )

Hey. ( a furrow of brows, reaching over with a hand that's only hesitant the moment before it touches him to settle across his forearm, his knuckles gripped white to the shift amidst the console. ) We've all got things we want to make up for. That's why we're here, no?

( a last score of her thumb, meant to sooth, before she's bringing touch back to her own lap. ) I wouldn't have come tonight if that were true.

( and yeah, maybe she doesn't know, hasn't learned enough about him to make that sort of claim, but that iron trust raveled within her gut for him, it didn't mean nothing. )

[ Her touch feels good; leads him to relax a tiny bit, by increments. He's still feeling like she is a much better person than he is, a lot less self-involved, but he is here to make up for it. To keep other people safe. ]

Yes. Yeah, that's why we're here.

[ They're steadily climbing, now, the road curving up along the mountain. They'll be at the overlook soon enough, able to stop, enjoy the sunset. Maybe allow him to think of something else than all the wrongs he's done, all the people he's hurt, all the money he's taken. ]

Don't you want to know what my wish is?

( it isn't difficult for her to assess that his own wish may not be as easily told, and while she hadn't intended on opening up about exactly why she'd come to the city, not at least to anyone other than clary or jace, he'd nestled himself an exception. she's still trying to decipher it, what it is about him that makes him so different, holds him out above the rest, enables him that ability to let her relax; but for right now, she doesn't want to question it. she just wants to feel it. )

Of course.

( it's quieter, up here. nothing but the music on his dash and the hum of the road, engine doubling over the sound anytime he switches gears. her features have softened once more, lying her head back against the rest, temple just as it's edge as she takes him in. ) When you're comfortable telling me.

I'm all ears.

[ He takes a deep breath, amazed by her response - by the lack of urgency, the willingness to wait for him. He's not used to that, and, right now, that's what he feels like sharing. He chuckles, bringing a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it for a second. ]

I've not had that kind of kindness shown to me much. The willingness to wait until I'm ready.

[ He taps his fingers on the wheel, taking a right towards the overlook. ]

I was working for someone that was pretty bad. He didn't take no for an answer.

( she has a feeling that whatever he's done, whatever he may have been a part of, it's not something he pays for lightly; there was no worse prison than the mind, take it from her. she wouldn't be upset if he preferred to wait it out, tell her after they've spent a bit more time with one another, but she's by no means disappointed when he begins, however small of steps he may need to take in order to get there.

every bit of her demeanor is patient, from the tiny tilt at the corner of her lips at his admittance to the way her body language itself doesn't prod nor rush him. it troubles her, even as little as she knows of him, to see him so trapped within himself. it's evident, then, that perhaps she wasn't the only one who needed this little evening retreat.

a moments pause, after his words, drawing plusher lip of the two in beneath her teeth. she doesn't want to interrupt or offer much from the sidelines, though part of her aches again to reach for him. she refrains. )

[ When she doesn't say anything, Baby find himself at a loss for words, for a moment. So he lets it pass - drives them to the overlook and parks when they reach it, the engine ticking as it cools once he's turned it off. They sit in silence for a short while, and then he turns towards Isabelle, biting the inside of his lip before talking again. ]

I could tell you it was all circumstances, and they didn't help. But I made some choices. They weren't good ones. I'm no hero, and I understand if you'd prefer just turning back.

[ He wouldn't blame her, or anyone. He believes himself to not be a terrible person, to have been pushed to his limits, but. He's also let a lot happen to him without flinching. ]

( she hopes she's hasn't unsettled him, by remaining quiet. it wasn't in any sort of fear for what might tumble past his lips; izzy's cared for others who might've done worse, there's no telling. what mattered to her was another's intentions, whether their hearts were good, and she doesn't doubt the purity that radiates, even aside his guilt.

he's struggling, and she wishes there was something she could do to make it easier for him, to assure him that she'd be there regardless of what was said. no man who deserved her to turn a cold shoulder would find their tongue this tangled, be anywhere near this worried that it might, in fact, push her away. she's entertained an addiction, she's been weak, she knows how it feels to be threatened. )

We've made it this far, haven't we? ( she won't make him continue, not unless he's ready for it, unless he's truly okay to let it out. ) Look, Baby... if you want to wait, it's okay. Really. What you've been through seems a lot bigger than what you've done.

Whether it's now, or later, I'm here.

[ He takes a deep breath, looking out the windshield to see the setting sun, everything cold and orange and glittering ahead of them, gorgeous. Like Izzy herself; another thing Baby maybe doesn't deserve, but will take anyway.

He nods, biting his lip again. ]

I'll get there. I want to tell - [ you, he thinks. ] - someone. It's just. There's a lot.

[ He undoes his seatbelt and opens his door, unfolding himself from behind the wheel and stretching out in front of the sun, before turning back to the car, looking at Izzy from behind his sunglasses. ]

Sunset's not waiting, though.

( —and it certainly wasn't. beaming, citrus hues begin to paint themselves about the building tops amongst the city, from way up here petite and clustered together, far quieter than it was tangled within. she takes a moment, drawing the site of him standing there lean against the gleaming hood of his car to her memory, before a moment later she's slipping out the passenger side.

the breeze instantly takes to flirting with her hair, tossing it about her temples while she crosses arms to her chest. comfortably, she finds herself at his side, and gentle she takes rest to his shoulder, looking out at the view cast before them. a slow breath inward. )

It seems just like anywhere else from up here, doesn't it? ( like cadelle were anything normal, anything they were used to. perhaps thats where the peace deviated from. )

Yeah.

[ He breathes, taking in the view and the fresher air, higher up as they are right now. He should be spending more time looking out than he is doing, his eyes drawn back to Isabelle constantly; the hair whipping around her face, the serene look settled on her features - did he just see her shiver? ]

Are you cold?

( she's well aware of baby's gaze often straying to her side profile, but she's struck by the miniature city cast before them, like figurines of a place far too good to be true. a city who's energy thrived upon intimacy? a means of credits to earn a second chance, something the two of them both wanted, even if for entirely separate reasons. it's then it hits her, softly through quite noticeably at the center of her chest that, at the moment, there's no one she'd rather be atop that mountain with than him.

a tiny shrug of a single shoulder. ) Only a little. It feels good, actually. ( but yes, baby, she's not any bit disinterested in the idea of taking your jacket. a slow breath inward, as if she could exhale everything she's kept pent up, everything that's forbidden her from just this— quiet, and peace. )

I think this is the first time I've felt comfortable here, in Cadelle.

[ He's got music in his ears, but he doesn't need it. It strikes him, suddenly, the quiet. There's no ringing, or it's so faint he can barely make it out; just like when he met Debbie. Someone that enraptured him enough to make him entirely forget about his disability. Made him forget he needed music, because her voice was just that. ]

Well, if it gets uncomfortable, let me know.

[ He does have an extra jumper, and a blanket in the backseat of the Challenger. Not that he imagined getting to cuddle under a soft throw with Isabelle, but. You never know.

He smiles when she speaks next, pride and contentment blooming in his chest. ]

Yeah? Good. [ With the toe of his sneaker, he digs a little in the gravel underfoot. ] I thought I wouldn't fit in, here. Wouldn't find friends. I'm not very good at the whole - making friends thing.

CC: INBOX.

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