@vdova ; video

[waytodie]

[Her hair is in two messy twin braids. Her eyes are glassy. The sharp-eyed might notice she's probably, definitely drunk. The less-so might just assume she's overly tired. Her tongue presses into her cheek as she considers how to start this one, but in the end she just rips the bandaid off quickly: ]

So, tell me, how is it that you handle grief?

[She probably won't be elaborating on why she's asking, unless she has a certain level of familiarity with you, but you can try. People closest to her probably already know what this is really about: Her sister is gone. From Moorecroft. From Etraya. From the top side of the dirt. Gone and back to dead, and Yelena is spiraling.]

Comments

[decohere]

come alone.
[she doesn't expect otherwise. it's not like it's an actual clandestine meeting to exchange secret intel. but caution makes her comfortable. especially when dealing with a situation she's not overly experienced with.]

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[waytodie]

Yelena laughs at the last text she received. "Oh, you are so funny, Solnyshka," she mutters to herself as she wanders out of the compound and heads toward the train-car diner in what is essentially "downtown" in the city of Etraya.

She shoves her hands in her pockets and goes at an easy pace. It isn't a far walk from the compound and she's trying to think of exactly why this meeting is even happening. Doesn't she realize, she could have given her any name at all, and Yelena would have taken it at face-value?

Even if she wanted to keep her true name to herself, which Yelena can understand to a certain extent, one paranoid person to another, but... this is really rather elaborate for that, isn't it? So, Yelena assumes, she must be giving her, her real name. And that... feels significant, coming from someone that has been more guarded than just about anyone else here.

"Why me?" Yelena questions curiously under her breath, tugging the diner door open and going to seat herself at a booth- the one that gives the best vantage point view of the place, naturally.

[decohere]

Was Ava already there waiting for her, or arrived shortly after? It's up to Yelena to guess, as the woman quietly fades into view in the seat across from her at the booth.

She's wearing the same plain grey clothes that Yelena met her in. Clean, but showing signs of wear. Her hands are clasped in front of her upon the table, thumbs poking through holes in the sleeve cuffs where there's obvious signs of fraying from where she's worried at the fabric.

And she looks exhausted, dark circles under her intense and evaluating gaze, evident of her lack of sleep. Her posture is slightly hunched, but she keeps her head up, trying to exude confidence despite it all. Not wanting to give away just how uncomfortable she is, in public.

"What's best on the menu?" She hasn't really been eating all that well either.

[waytodie]

Despite all her training, even Yelena can get spooked from time to time. Especially when people materialize from nowhere right in front of her. She doesn't jump out of her skin like some people might, but there's a tension suddenly in every muscle and she points an accusatory finger at her. "Don't do that! That is so annoying!" Or she just hates being caught off-guard. That could definitely be it.

She notices several things she makes no comment on, like how exhausted she looks and how she seems to be living in the same clothes all the time. One of Yelena's first tasks for herself on arriving here, and realizing she couldn't leave, was getting some outfits from Roxx, she can't help wondering if there is something... sentimental about this sweater of hers. Or if it just speaks more to her mental state than anything.

None of these thoughts display in any manner on her features at all, though. "Depends on what you want, I guess, I think they do breakfast all day, and I feel like you can never have breakfast food at the wrong time of day," she nods a little, flopping her menu open on the table to browse the options.

[decohere]

Ava's used to a whole range of frightened reactions at her sudden appearance, from screaming to trying to shoot at her. But being called annoying? That's new. Ava sinks back just slightly against the seat, glances down at the menu instead of responding.

She's not sure what she wants. She's been trying hard not to want much of anything, despite it being freely available. "Toast, I guess," she decides, pushing the menu away because the amount of options are far too overwhelming. And she at least knows she likes toast.

Unwrapping her cutlery with a tug at the edge of the cloth napkin, the fork and knife clatter against the table, and Ava settles the napkin into her lap. Total normal restaurant behavior, she's nailing this.

She wants to ask how Yelena is holding up, since the loss of her sister. But she's not so sure she wants to open up a subject that she's not emotionally prepared to respond to. It was a lot easier over text. She doesn't look like she's cried recently, or else she's very good at hiding it. So maybe that's a good indicator. "Ava."

[waytodie]

"Just toast?" she glances up from the menu she's still looking over to the woman across the table from her. "No bacon? Eggs? Come on," she gently knocks her ankle against the other woman's from under the table, "live a little!"

She turns back to the menu, trying to decide between pancakes or stuffed French toast, both look so good right now. She pauses again with a slight pinch of her brow and tilts her head a little. She didn't expect to get to the point so quickly in their meeting, but she can appreciate someone true to their word, and without mincing so many words about it.

She smiles a little and closes the menu, setting it aside and extending a hand across the table, "Nice to finally meet you, Ava. My name is Yelena." Even if she knew that already, it felt rude not to offer it officially in return, anyway.

[decohere]

The kick connects because she doesn't anticipate it, but Ava's leg instantly flickers away from the contact. She doesn't say anything, but the 'don't touch me' is clearly spelled out across her stressed expression. Not enough to be angry, not enough to retaliate because she knows no harm was meant. But it's a boundary she wants established.

"With marmalade," Ava adds, to move past the tension. See, she's living.

Giving her name early at least ensures that the rest of this interaction isn't hinging upon it. If they continue to eat together it's purely by choice. She swallows, looking at the offered hand. It's a polite gesture, a social norm she's aware of but usually does not end up on the receiving end of. But at least unlike the playful foot bump it's something she's been given the option to accept. So she does, hesitantly, with a hand that seems to tremble despite how steady she tries to keep it. She doesn't feel quite all there.

"Some people call me Ghost. A bit cliched, if you ask me." But fitting.