of course you wouldn't know that you were so a-glow

[forthsofar]

Before they--so reluctantly--went their separate ways, returning as best they could to the familiar patterns and places of their life before the snow and goblins and all they'd suffered, Nick had pressed a key to his apartment into her hand. She'd been confused, and pleased, and a little uncertain, but she hadn't tried to give it back. Charlie and Sabrina, of course, already had ones of their own; in a way, perhaps it made sense for her to have one too.

After everything.

She'd put it, silver and shining, on her keyring and tried not to think too much of it. If nothing else, it was sure to come in handy the next time some absurd peril descended upon the city--or, as was the case today, if her knock to his front door went unanswered. Huffing a soft sigh, she put the bag with the now-clean clothes she'd borrowed from him on the ground and dug through her purse.

"Nick? Are you home?" she calls as she pushes the door open, looking around at the empty living room. "I know I should've texted, but I had to come over here anyway to look in on someone's cat on the third floor, so..." She can hear music coming from somewhere deeper in the apartment; still holding the bag of clothes, Rosie wanders towards it.

Comments

[forthsofar]

To her great surprise and appreciation, there isn't any of the teasing she'd expected, just a thoughtful answer to her question. As curious as she always is about everything--and all the more so, when it comes to things she'd never have encountered back in Oxford--she'd happily listen, fascinated, to anything Nick wanted to tell her about his life back in Greendale.

His mention of dancing and drinking makes her think of the last time she'd gone out with Sabrina and Charlie, the thrill of showing her fake ID at the door and praying that it'd hold up under the bouncer's brief scrutiny. She'd come to love those nights, full of wild possibility and a little bit of scandal, all of it like nothing she'd ever had at home.

"What, like a...witch club?" she asks, smiling brightly. "That sounds fantastic. Much more fun than speeches or weird stuff, anyway."

[awickedtime]

"Exactly like a witch club," says Nick, his smile echoing hers. "Called The Grey Room. Some nights, he only admits Warlocks, although he always seemed to make an exception for Sabrina." No part of Nick was ever surprised by that, either. "It was...Yeah. It could be pretty fantastic."

[forthsofar]

"He'd better," Rosie murmurs, though it's not hard to imagine Sabrina simply ignoring any stricture meant to keep her out--of the Grey Room or anywhere else. It's one of the things she admires most about her.

She does roll her eyes a little at the idea of a warlocks only night. Though she doubts they'd be anything like the sort of clientele who'd attend one--not just because they were mortal, but because they were so very uninteresting--something about it makes her think of her brother and his pack of friends and the way they'd thundered through the house on their way to the parks for football, leaving half-empty glasses on the kitchen table and streaks of mud on the carpet in their wake for Rosie and her mother to clean up. Everything was always so different for boys.

"Have Sabrina and Charlie taken you out to any of the clubs here?" she asks. "Not that there'd been a lot of time, between when you arrived and...the snow and everything else."

They're safe now, she knows that, but even the thought of the last few weeks sends a chill down her spine. She takes another sip of her drink.

[awickedtime]

He shakes his head, stretching out his legs so that he can nudge her thigh with one of his bare feet.

"We haven't been out like that, yet," he says. "Are you inviting me to go dancing, Wilson?"

[forthsofar]

Rosie blushes again at that, and at the gentle nudge of his foot against her. "I was simply asking if you'd been dancing," she points out, fixing him with a slightly pointed look--one that dissolves after a moment into an easy grin. "Not that we shouldn't all go out one night. I'd like that."

[awickedtime]

"I'd like that too," says Nick, with a nod. He stretches his back, tilting his head back to catch the sun on his face. "How's the boyfriend?"

[forthsofar]

"He's doing well." As reluctant as Rosie had been to leave the security of Nick's apartment, reuniting with David had been more of a relief than she'd anticipated. "He stayed safe, during the...with everything. Stuck at home and bored, but it seems no goblins, thank goodness."

She looks down and away, frowning slightly. "I haven't known what to tell him. About what happened to me. He assumed I'd gotten sick because of the cold, laryngitis or something, and I haven't corrected him." Her stomach twists with uncertainty, the sense that she shouldn't be burdening someone she barely knows--no matter how deeply she trusts him--with her worries. "Is that awful?"

[awickedtime]

Nick think about that for a moment, and then shakes his head.

"I don't think so," he says. "It's something that you went through, you and Charlie, the others, and he wasn't...in it with you? It makes sense to want to keep the two things separate in your head."

[forthsofar]

Somehow, he tells her exactly what she'd been thinking--or maybe just what she wanted to hear. It's not unlike how she's felt about Anterwold, though her experiences there were far less traumatic than anything she'd endured within the cold stone walls of the mountain castle. But that, like this, was a strange and unexplainable event; something she'd never be able to discuss with anyone back home.

"It does make sense," she agrees, looking back at him with a grateful smile. "Even if it does feel like keeping a secret. But I don't know that he'd understand anyway, he's..." Rosie shrugs. "The people here who've been in Darrow their whole lives, rather than coming from elsewhere like you or I, they're always a little odd about the weird things that happen."

[awickedtime]

"From what I've heard, they're never as wrapped up in it as the people who came here new," he says. "So maybe it's worth not having the conversation with him? Just let yourself move on."

[forthsofar]

"Maybe," she echoes, before finishing her drink. "It'd take an awful lot of explaining."

Something about it--the idea of moving on, of not trusting him the same way she trusts Sabrina or Charlie or even Nick--still gnaws at her, but she shelves it away as best as she can. The day is too nice to ruin further with her awkwardness and concerns.

[awickedtime]

Nick knows all about that. He's not sure that he'll ever share the truth of everything that happened at home with anyone who isn't Sabrina; not the whole mess of it, anyway. Sometimes, it's easier to just pretend that bodies can be wipe clean.

"Do you want another drink, or..."

[forthsofar]

He doesn't push further, and she's grateful for it. Rosie gives the question a moment's consideration, then shakes her head. "Thank you, but no," she says, a little reluctantly. "This has been awfully nice, but I should...I can let you get back to what you were doing."

She flushes a little pink again at that, at what's actually meant beneath the vagueness and near-euphemism, but lets it stand.

[awickedtime]

"Oh, because it was really, really important," says Nick, with a broad grin. "Surely it's me who's wasting your time here, Rosie. I didn't have any real plan for the day. Just sunning myself. I love being this warm."

[forthsofar]

"It is lovely out today," she agrees. "And warm, after..." Rosie trails off, trusting him to know what she means without her needing to mention it and bring back the memory of last month's cold and dark and fear.

"You're not wasting my time at all, Nick," she says instead. "I always like spending time with you. And Sabrina and Charlie, all of you."

[awickedtime]

"Funny how it works out, isn't it?" he says, getting up and taking her glass, padding into the relative cool of the apartment. "How important people can end up without you even noticing sometimes."

[forthsofar]

"It is," she agrees, something about the statement making her blush again. "And how quickly."

She watches him go inside, lingering out in the sun for another minute or two before pushing herself to her feet and reentering the apartment.