Rideshare

[Enid Geraint] It's . . . a time, when Emily's phone goes off with whatever ringtone she's assigned to random numbers she doesn't know. And likely not a very convenient one. Enid doesn't expect an immediate answer, and so if she doesn't get one, she hangs up and tries again.

[Emily Littleton] There are no convenient times anymore. Emily is getting ready to head out the door, either to the lab or to class or to wherever it is she goes to get away from all the madness and confusion of Awakened life.

"Emily," she says, and there's the faintest touch of removed in her voice. Handsfree, headset. Morning on the go. It's possible that the unfamiliar number is a student, coworker, or perhaps even a telemarketer.

[Enid Geraint] 'Collect call from: Enid,' says the mechanical voice, interrupted by the exhausted sounding younger girl speaking her name. 'Will you accept the charges?'

[Emily Littleton] "Yes," she said, clearly, and waited for the pause. Emily looked down at her handset, calculated the time offset to China. It made sense that Enid was exhausted. The local area code meant the other girl had only recently returned. The collect call was not worrisome in itself.

When the call connected, Emily's greeted her with a warm, "Welcome back! And Happy New Year."

[Enid Geraint] ".....not really," Enid says, once she's cleared her throat. "But I'm glad to be home. Um . . . I hate to be a pain, but would you mind picking us up at the airport? I . . . it's . . . Dad can't," she finally settles on, uncertain what else to say, and who it's okay to trust. Still, her mother's words echo in her head. Still, Uncle Dan's voice, known and loved, says 'for your own good'. Still, she can hear the sound of Uncle Steve falling, can picture the momentary flicker of grief that must have appeared on Aunt Pete's face. She can see the guns, hear them fired, smell the cordite.

"I need to go to . . . Ashley's, I think? Austin's here, too."

[Emily Littleton] She sets down her travel mug, on the counter in the kitchen. Emily's expression is thoughtful, but the housemates are not around to pick up on the moment of reflection.

"Sure thing. Midway or O'Hare?" she asked, assuming O'Hare. International flights almost always went through the larger airfield. There is a small pause here, waiting for an answer from Enid, and then Emily asks, "Is everything okay?"

Odd, finding herself on this end of that particular question.

[Enid Geraint] "It's . . . yeah, everything will be fine. A bit complicated right now, but things happen, I guess. I . . . um . . . I don't have much money, and I'm starving. Would it be terribly rude if I begged for a drivethrough stop on the way?"

Enid doesn't ask favors; this makes it painfully obvious that something's up - but it's early in the morning. They're on the phone. Enid is exhausted, distracted, and maybe Emily's still having her first cup of tea or coffee.

[Emily Littleton] "No, not terribly rude," Emily said, and she's moving again now. Keys in one hand, travel mug in the other, messenger bag slung across her body with her cellphone tucked into a little pocket made to handle just that device.

"You're probably tired of rice and tofu," she added, easily, to lighten the underlying tension evident in the exchange. Emily couldn't read the younger mage over the phone, but perhaps that was for the best. "I'm on my way. I'll see you shortly."

[Enid Geraint] "Thanks, Em."

And so she and Austin - who is partially healed, we'll assume, but not wholly so - make their way to the curb to wait. They have no luggage, and Enid looks like she's been wearing the same clothes for several days. Austin looks like he hijacked the nearest convenient shirt and put it on over jeans that have seen better days. Enid takes shotgun when they climb into the car, and this close, it becomes more clear that something's wrong, even aside from the oddity of the dirty clothes. She doesn't wait to be asked questions, doesn't want to talk about it.

"How's everyone? Ashley, Wharil, Kage?"

[Emily Littleton] She has to move things around in her car to make room for three adults and two suitcases, though Emily might not have bothered. Austin and Enid were not returning home with all of their things. The Orphan, still unsworn to any of the Traditions, navigates the morning traffic calmly. Something pleasant in the rock-pop spectrum plays quietly from her speakers once she's tired of the BBC Morning Edition on NPR.

Pulling up to the curbside (passenger loading and unloading only [no waiting]), Emily's struck by the oddity of this arrangment. Enid, looking less than put together, and her beau Austin, looking significantly worse for wear, are returning from many weeks' holiday without any luggage.

She climbs out of the car to let them in. "Did your bags get held up? Mine often get stuck in Heathrow," she asks, while they are standing beside the car. It's an offer of an easy lie, and it comes so readily, so effortlessly to Emily that Enid might reconsider that matter of whom she trusts.

Once inside the cabin of her compact, not recent-model-year car, Emily looked them over more carefully. It was difficult to miss the smell of medicines, mingled with sweat and grime, mingled with hours on an airplane. In these tight quarters, it was hard to miss much at all.

"Things here have been..." a little pause, a considered adjective as Emily moved the car out into the airport's exit traffic, "Tense."

Emily lets it sit there for a moment, then looks over at Enid. Tries to catch Austin's eyes in the reflection of the rear view mirror.

"Tell me what happened." She doesn't ask if something happened, because it clearly did. And Emily doesn't fool around with questions like Do you want to talk about it? Her voice is level (despite the early hour), and calm (despite their disheveled appearances), but that expression is knowing. She's been in this moment before, and its their guess whether she was asking or answering last time around.

... (*paused*) ...