diademlogs | CLOSED ˖

( he had given her his number, and a big part of wanda refused to think that she would actually take him up on his offer to go check out the bowling alley. but a recent bulletin report about a murder taking place in the nashville bowling center piqued her interest... before reminding her of their conversation.

community, scott had said, and the word echoed in her mind for a while as she stared down at the screen of her phone, debating pressing the CALL button. ultimately, wanda sends him a text, instead, completely too aware that it's ridiculous how nervous the idea to call someone made her.

(her fear of rejection is real. it seems gentler, through text.) )

hey , it's wanda.
are you busy? i was thinking of bowling.

( that's exactly how a normal text message goes. right? right. )

Edited 2025-06-13 20:58 (UTC)

[ Scott's in the middle of fixing his bike with the bolts and screws he scavenged from the resort when he receives the text. This means he's not able to respond for a good 30 minutes, give or take. There are so many things to fix and once he gets going, it's easy for him to forget time, especially when he doesn't have classes to teach.

Once he finishes, though, he grabs a towel to wipe off his sweat, then his phone to look for possible bulletins. When he sees her message, Scott immediately types in a reply. ]

Hey, Wanda. Sorry for the late reply.
Not busy at the moment. See you at the bowling center in an hour?

Or would you like me to pick you up?

[ Because he needs time to clean himself off from some grime. And also check if his repairs are good enough for a test drive. ]

( the weather is muggy and insufferable, and hanging out on her own in the room she shares isn't very exciting (she's between jobs, currently, waiting for a spot to open back up), and maybe she's regretting not being into the idea of visiting the fancy resort with a pool. everyone she knows seems to be there. (whatever.) which is why she is currently wandering around one of the abandoned playgrounds, dressed up in a simple attire to ward off the heat, and heavy, black boots to stomp on the dry grass and climb up the slide without feeling hesitant about it. panorama is so busy, but also lonely, and it gives wanda space to think a lot, to be stuck in her thoughts.

it feels awful what feels like all the time, because she can only think about how, in sokovia, despite its streets burdened with the toil of war and abandoned buildings in the neighborhoods hit the worst by it, she was never alone.

so, distractions are welcome. jumping off the top of the playground structure, she walks directly towards a little toy piano tossed upside down alongside some other junk. she wasn't really sure what it was until she turned it upright. a light tap on a few of the keys shows her that it still works, despite the fact that its sound quality isn't the best, but—it'll do, as far as distractions go.

crouched down, pulling a strand of hair behind an ear, wanda's brow cinches in concentration as she tries remembering how to play a simple song. )

...twinkle, twinkle... ( she mutters, in tune with the notes, ) li—ttle... star...

Edited 2025-06-13 22:22 (UTC)

((from here))

I'm waiting for you to say 'okay boomer', and then I'll point out that I'm not a boomer, I'm gen x, and then you'll roll your eyes and explain that that only shows how old I am.

[There. That's a whole conversation he had in his head without her ever having to call him a boomer-

Since he got the door for her, it's only right to be a chivalrous gentleman and hop out and get the door for her again.] Maybe you should teach me Sokovian curses. As your way of paying me back for paying for dinner.

( wanda is certainly not about to admit that she's already at the place, having meandered her way here while waiting. so, she doesn't admit it. )

it's okay. i can make it there , i know where it is.
see you.

( it's a bit inexplicable why she is so stoic about texting, but it's a relatively new way for her to communicate with others that she will have to grow into, be less stiff about. scott will do what he needs to do in that hour; wanda will sit down by the front desk of the place, constantly repeating that she's waiting for someone while glancing toward the door every once in a while, otherwise focusing on playing snake on her phone. )

( wanda has a comment on the tip of her tongue, about how she isn't as young or 'hip' as his kids, but figures that huge part of him must really miss them, so she bites her tongue. )

Lucky for you, I don't talk like that. Weird that you had that answer ready.

( she watches him go, and just as she figures she'll open her door to head out, clint's got it for her.

wanda nods, stepping out, and waits for him.

eyebrows raise (yeah, she was hoping he would agree to paying for dinner, but she'll act somewhat surprised), and she shrugs. )

I can teach you more useful words than that. Maybe one or two curses, too.

See you.

[ It does take Scott an hour to reach the place. Between washing off the grime and sweat from his skin, and picking out clothes that aren't riddled with holes, he's had quite the preparation. Add to that was when his bike won't start during his initial try, and he had to tinker with it again slightly, before it successfully starts.

He's quick to enter the building once he had triumphantly parked his bike somewhere he knows it won't get stolen, and greets her with a friendly smile. ]

Hope you weren't waiting too long. Sorry about that.

[ He swiftly tells the front desk "for two please" before turning back to Wanda. ] So, did you end up applying? [ For the job they talked about when they first met, he means. ]

Kids are cruel and merciless in their mocking. [The flat response. because it's true, alas.]

Curses are always useful; that's why you get taught them first. [He can do humor. He can be lighthearted. Probably. He ushers them in, and it's a small joint, cozy if one is being generous, one of those places with some booths and tables but mostly single seating along the 'bar' as it were. They still manage to snag a booth. It's not crazy busy.] But I'm a quick learner. I can pick up any useful phrases you think I might need.

[He doesn't anticipate ever needing Sokovian, but that's not the point.]

( the joint is pretty nice, and wanda can smell the noodles and the greasy condiments, the spice in the air. once seated, they are brought glasses of water by the frazzled server, a plastic-covered menu dropped down between them with five different options of noodles.

her stomach grumbles a little, and she picks it up, skimming over the options. )

It's okay. Sokovian will be a dead language soon anyway.

( pessimistically, muttered, because the last time she got to speak it was with pietro and some friends back in novi grad. she thinks she'll go for the third option, the one with some amount of spice.

wanda turns the menu towards him.

she does definitely appreciate that clint wants to try, wants to have that bit of a connection with her beyond what they already have. she'll share words with him in the future. )

...aren't you angry about the Raft?

( this bounces around in her head, a lot, how angry she should or shouldn't be about it, even if clint seems to be some time past that. maybe talking about it will help her pull out of her own anger. )

( scott's arrival inadvertently makes her lose at snake, but instead of it being annoying, it's just another high score to try and reach later on. she hops off the stool, pickets her phone, and walks up to him.

she glances at the person at the front desk, hoping for no comment about how long she's actually been waiting, before saying, )

I had time. Don't worry.

( then proceeds to lean against the counter, waiting for scott to lead. his question sparks no real recognition of their previous conversation for a moment before it clicks in place. )

Oh, that—

( she's pretty pleased with her shift and the work she has to do. )

Yes— yeah, working at the register. Sometimes I have to stock shelves, but it's not that bad.

[She isn't wrong, it just feels wrong to say it. So he lets that sit, lets her decide what she's going to teach him, and examines the menu. Just...basic. Just whatever's easy and basic and the usual. He doesn't have to get fancy. He doesn't have to think too hard about it. He doesn't want to think too hard about much of anything, the things he can help, the things he can streamline.

Her question catches him off guard, though. Isn't he angry? Well--] I was angry. About all of us, about me, about you. At Tony. [And that had been the last he had spoken to the man before getting dragged back to the Compound to figure out time travel. Not the best way to leave things off.] I didn't used to hang onto my anger. [Didn't. Now he...does, but it's also less anger and more just the hollow pit of grief that comes lashing out at other people. People who deserve it, he hopes. It's not the same as the anger, he figures. But it does feel similar.]

Scott and I got offered deals. Because without the Ant-Man suit, he's just a guy. Me, I'm just a guy. We're guys with families. [He pushes through the way that makes his mouth go dry.] So we got cut deals. House arrest, ankle monitor and all. I got to spend a lot of quality time being at home. And that was years ago, now. Hard to be angry about it now. But I can understand why you'd be angry. It just happened to you. It's fresh. Hell, after how they bound you up, I don't think anyone would grudge you holding a grudge yourself.

[ The front desk staff took note of Scott's words and proceeds to check them in, brandishing a pair of shoes after shuffling a bit. While they do that, Scott continues his conversation with Wanda, amused that she almost forgot their first meeting's topic of conversation. ]

Good. I started my shifts, too. Mostly carrying heavy boxes. No big deal.

[ Sometimes, he also stock shelves if the person doing it doesn't come in. Once the shoes are ready, Scott takes both pairs and ushers Wanda inside. Of course, the establishment is playing country music. ]

I work night shifts, though, so I guess that's why I don't see you.

( falling into something resembling a routine, here, in panorama, hasn't proven to be too difficult for wanda. she owes it a lot to the sense of normalcy and security she gets from sanji (perhaps a reflection on how she'd lean heavily on her brother, at a time like this) and the kindness of others who find nothing familiar about her. it's easy to blend in in this city, to become one of many fluxdrifts, and wanda thinks she could get used to it.

part of her routine is to come in the evenings of every four days to the laundromat to do the bulk of her laundry. it's pretty empty at this specific time, and she relishes in the quiet, the droning of the machines as their drums spin with the wash cycle. wanda doesn't care to wait, sitting on one of the plastic, red chairs and flipping through one of the left-behind magazines. it's a new one every week, which makes her think of the connectivity of it all, of someone coming in some time before her, reading this very same magazine, leaving it behind for others; what a thrilling thought, despite how mundane it is.

she glances up when the door opens, another late-night laundromat user soaked by the fluorescent lights of the place. almost immediately her eyes return to the magazine before she does a double-take. she sits up, sets the magazine down on her lap, and looks at the man properly as he goes about to an empty machine.

wanda hasn't seen him since he helped her come into the city. sometimes, she rubs her hands together, and the warmth from the friction reminds her of how warm his hand felt when she needed an anchor. isn't it strange to miss someone you only met once?

—she stands suddenly, walking over to him, and leaning onto the top of the machine he's loading with his dirty laundry. )

Hey. Remember me?

( it's not the most polite opener for a conversation, but wanda feels comfortable about it, breaking into a small smile whenever amos does happen to glance at her. she's looking better than before—like she's actually rested, like she's been eating well, enough for a sense of humor to sprout openly from her. )

If you say 'no' I will be a little upset.

( a big city like this isn't without it's fair share of creeps and weirdos. wanda is fully aware of that—has been familiar with this kind of awareness most of her life. working the register at one of the many stores in panorama puts her at the forefront of many of these individuals' attentions, but she has the benefit of being able to implant an intrusive thought on them about fleeing should it ever become too much for her to handle.

but then there's that guy, the one she helped out from a certain wet death. she wonders if he thinks she hasn't noticed him? they've had far too much eye contact at this rate to play stupid.

at one point, he's the only one in, browsing the aisles. )

—are you going to buy anything?

( she cuts through the silence, some amount of annoyance in her voice. and, for good measure, she adds, )

I'm working right now.

[ Amos isn't expecting too many people in here, this time of night, but it also doesn't bother him to think he might run into someone. He is surprised to hear a familiar voice. There's a kind of brief warmth, though, at looking up and seeing her again. Enough that he responds with a small smile of his own. ]

Think I know the answer to this one. [ How about that; it's actually really easy, he finds, to pick up this thread with her like they only just parted ways, like barely any time passed. Not that it's been too long, but — he wasn't sure when he'd see her again like this, despite thinking he wanted her to be okay. Sometimes when he'd be parked at the motel for a night or two, catching sleep, he'd check around, see if he saw her moving through. If he ever caught a glimpse and she seemed — okay, then, maybe that would be nice. ]

You were in charge of the radio. Weren't bad. That one song — kinda stuck.

[ This is, more or less, just a thing to say. Whatever was playing, he sure didn't recognize it, though it wasn't bad background noise on that long stretch of road. What actually stuck more than the music or the messy noise, was Wanda herself. Her story. Her brother. The things she told him, things he knows were important to her. He's held it all close, even if he doesn't know how to talk about that, or to even define what that meant to him.

He doesn't have many clothes accumulated yet — just a small pile — but a few long sleeve shirts, a hoodie, and some socks, get stuffed into the machine before he shuts the door, taps the top of it, close to her forearm. ]

How're you feelin'?

[ She looks better. ]

( the resort was fun, until it started to feel like too many people were there. the parking lot was an outright mess and wanda is grateful that she didn't drive here, for she'd probably be more frustrated at having to be patient about getting her bike out than at the prospect of walking back to panorama. it'd take her... what, several hours? it didn't matter much, not with the sun setting, the heat diminishing alongside the setting sun. the horizon is an orange red, painting the streaks of clouds a warm pink, and there is wanda—a darkening silhouette walking down the path to the city in the distance.

(worse comes to worst, she can always fly back, but she'd need to put some distance between herself and others before she feels comfortable enough for that.)

a black car with a low floor goes past her, wanda barely paying it any mind. it stops some feet ahead of her, and it takes her a moment to realize...

wanda rolls her eyes, crossing her arms and tightening them in front of herself. purposely, she moves past the car, despite the open window, once she catches up to it, boots crunching the gravel with purpose as she walks on. )

Edited 2025-06-17 23:39 (UTC)

[ Look. Cassian is well aware of how this looks. A low car with a gigantic spoiler stopping for an attractive woman isn't exactly subtle. But he definitely doesn't mean it that way. And his best intent should be the takeaway here, right?

Unfortunately there is no beating any sort of allegations thrown at him. Because while he may not be leaning out the passenger side of his best friend's ride and he's not trying to holla at Wanda - he's still definitely leaning out the window of because he can't abide by her walking back into town.

...Even if she gives him a gigantic eye roll and a healthy dose of attitude. ]

Are you walking back to town?

[ And when it becomes clear she's just going to keep walking he'll slowly roll alongside her. ]

That's going to take hours. Days possibly with the fluxdrift.

( hoping that by walking past the open window she would completely avoid having to reply to his question (with an obvious answer), those hopes are completely thwarted as he starts to slowly drive alongside her, the slow roll of the car's wheels giving her crunching of gravel under her boots competition.

wanda glances at cassian, who seems all too comfortable with partially driving the car and leaning onto the passenger seat to talk to her. )

Do you think I don't know that?

( please, don't talk to her like she hasn't considered the consequences of her choices—

wanda persists, still walking on. )

No one said we're not allowed to walk back.

( wanda tilts her head at that, at the comment about the radio, the song sticking in his mind. if she were honest, it's not something she really remembers from that drive into the city. she didn't think she could consider a career as a dj, or whatever that would equate to. she does know that amos is jesting, but it's amusing to hear and consider, nonetheless.

eyebrows raise, though, in consideration at his words, at the ease of his reaction to her; awe in the way she had remembered him and how much of it now shapes itself to her seeing him now, in a different light (literally) and while feeling entirely like a different person, herself. )

I'm — feeling pretty okay.

( she shares a room with someone who has no qualms in looking after her, who cooks for her, and she's found some amount of purpose in this city. she draws her arms back, raising them at her sides, as if to present him with the fact that her fashion sense now consists of dark jeans that fit her and a loose (if not too-big-for-her) button-up shirt, and not the raft's uniform. )

Not a prisoner anymore.

( and her arms go down, crossing them around her middle, before admitting: )

I was having a hard time finding you.

[Are you insinuating he's a creep, Wanda, he might be offended a little. It's fair, though, since he has very deliberately waited out all potential eavesdroppers before bothering to say even hello. ...and then some.

She lasts long enough that they're alone before she loses her patience. He glances back over at her from where he'd been very seriously (not) considering the merchandise, rocks on his heels to turn to face her. Hands in the pockets of his jacket, hood up like a proper delinquent. And he looks...not at all contrite to be called out. Lifting a shoulder in a shrug.]

What? Are you gonna book me for loitering if I don't?

[Maybe he's just here for the ambiance. Or the company.]

[ She changed her clothes. Out of that prison uniform. Good. She's — adapting. She should get to make her own road here, her own path. Whatever that looks like, whatever it could be. ] Yeah, and you won't be.

[ A prisoner, that is. Probably not the thing to say when he doesn't know much about this whole world and how it works, exactly, but it also feels like a true enough thing. She's here, not a prisoner, won't be again. ]

You were looking for me?

[ In the way that she was a thought in his mind, he guesses he must have been a thought in hers. He's not sure why it — not surprises him, not exactly, it's...different, though. The Roci crew, they'd wonder about him, even try to find him, he thinks, after a while, but it makes sense because they're a crew.

But here, it's just — him. Not a thing he's used to these days — just him — but also not a thing he thinks about consciously changing either. ]

Been moving around a bit, haven't settled somewhere yet. [ He may park somewhere for a few nights, but he's yet to find a place he wanted to stay even more than a day or two. Probably should think about that soon, though. The jeep isn't exactly a cozy spot to sleep every night. Getting hooked up with a job, at least for now, will help with that. ] But you — you got a place?

[ He couldn't explain it exactly, not well, but she says she's feeling pretty okay, and he thinks for some reason that fact makes him feel okay, too. About her, about — how she's doing. Like when someone's holding their breath and they don't have to anymore.

He presses a few buttons, starts the machine up, leans his forearms against the other one beside it, just leaning in to talk, though he could probably just take a seat, he figures. ]

[ The look he gives her is positively flat which should be unsurprising to Wanda considering the nature of this place being so car dependent.

Despite the flat look there's no annoyance behind it. They haven't been doing this long enough for him to become exasperated with the stubbornness. Even if they had been, it's entirely possible that he'd find it endearing in some ways because most of the people in his life were. ]

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

[ And of course, completely unbeknownst to him, Wanda is one of the few (many) here that would be well-equipped to deal with whatever was out there. ]

How did you get here in the first place?

( wanda's reaction to his flat look and his further argument about this being a bad decision is to just shrug, keeping on, figuring that he'll find no reason to keep trying to convince her otherwise. what she doesn't expect is his insistence, and it—elates her, oddly enough, that he keeps asking and slowly rolling his car at her pace. )

My roommate gave me a ride.

( living that dignified life of sharing a room so that rent is cheaper that way and she can save up joolies to pay off her debt.

finally, she turns to him, crouching a little so that she can look inside through the window, still moving her feet so she can keep up with the car's pace, hands inside her shorts pockets. who follows who now?

the following she says after some thought— )

If you park your car and step out for a few minutes, I'll get in.

[ Leaving her behind should her insistence to keep walking keep up is definitely a possibility. One fixed nose (and accidental kiss and a well deserved punch) certainly didn't mean that they owed each other anything. But it would also be incredibly difficul to convince Cassian to just leave her like this when there were plenty of unknowns waiting out there.

A car didn't guarantee their safety, but it would at least allow them to get them back to safety faster. All of which is to say the option of hoisting her into the car isn't out of the realm of possibility either should something out here become inherently more dangerous.

News of a roommate is quietly noted but he doesn't comment otherwise on the living situation. It's perfectly acceptable way to survive here. Though to be honest, he was still living alone and had far too many trust issues to bother with that.

When she stops so does he, the soft hum of the engine the only thing filling the space. The silence doesn't bother him because it's clear she'll either have something incredibly cutting and witty to say, or she'll take him up on his offer. Apparently it's the latter. After a beat of regarding her himself he wordlessly shifts the car into park, cutting the engine and gets out of the car. ]

Does that mean your roommate left you behind? Or is it the other way around?

( when he does stop the car, wanda feels an ounce of satisfaction. another shrug, and she's spinning on her heels so that her back is to him, stepping back and leaning onto the car. from where she's standing, she's got a perfect view of the horizon, and the sun is just minutes from setting, anyway, and part of her doesn't want to miss it. )

I wanted to leave early, and I didn't want him to drop everything just because I had enough of the resort.

( it was as simple as that; wanda could never fault sanji, and he doesn't deserve criticism for not being aware of her actions.

wanda glances back, over her shoulder, at him— )

Sun's about to set.

( —and turns back, to witness said setting. )

CLOSED ˖

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cassian ⬡

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