ArchivedLogs:Bad Timing

Bad Timing
Dramatis Personae Hive, Melinda
In Absentia	2013-04-27 '
Location <NYC> Village Lofts - Rooftop - East Village
It tends to be windy, up here, but the presence of plastic table and folding chairs suggests that nevertheless building residents occasionally make their way out to this rooftop. With a good view of Tompkins Square Park less than a block away it's a good spot for city-watching. There's a railing around the edge, though it might be possible (if /unwise/) to climb over it to the narrow concrete ledges beyond and from there to the fire escape. Centrally, someone has broken down crates and constructed a small raised-bed garden up here, barren in winter but filled in three other seasons with a small assortment of herbs and vegetables. As the sun sets, Melinda is still on the roof, clutching a pack of cigarettes with no lighter, staring off into the fading light. She's wearing a red beret, with a blue korti over jeans with flip flops. She leans against the roof railing, looking uncomfortable, but calm. As the light fades, a chill creeps into the air. She is alone and seems to wish to be that way. As the sun sets, Hive is arriving on the roof. He has a wiiiide brimmed black stetson, the glittery silver cord around its crown suggesting it has been stolen from his more flamboyant downstairs neighbor. Save the Stetson he is drab. A brown hedgehogy t-shirt, faded jeans, thick work boots in place of his usual falling-apart sneakers. He has a cigarette between his lips, unlit. "Yo." That's all. He's lifting a cheap clear-plastic lighter to light his smoke. "Hey," Melinda remarks as she turns her head and takes in Hive's appearance. Given the last time they spoke, the greeting is cool or at the very least distracted. "Can I borrow your light?" She lifts the pack of cigarettes in her hand and waves them a little. She doesn't stare after the much desired tiny flame, but instead looks down at the park, frowning. She's upset and is trying not to make it about Hive. Seriously trying to keep it between herself and Shelby. Hive flicks the lighter, ambling towards Melinda to let her have its flame. "What's about you and Shelby?" He doesn't seem shy about nosing, today. "This have anything to do with Bastian?" "Only that he happened to be at the door when she stormed off," Melinda answers the second question first, grabbing a cigarette and holding it between her lips after, using the flame to light it. She is slow about it and unpracticed, but she gets it right eventually. After the first drag and subsequent clearing of her lungs, she looks at Hive again. "I told her that I kissed you." "Shelby stormed off wh -- ah." For a moment ah is the only answer Hive has for this. He takes a long pull of his cigarette, blowing the smoke off towards the garden. "Why." It's flat and bland and he's looking over across the roof out towards the nearby park, rather than at Mel. "Why?" Melinda asks, frustrated, looking at Hive before looking out at the park. "She deserves honesty, Hive. It's not like it was a secret. Dusk saw us. Things also get around pretty quickly and with this many people at the party, I didn't want her to hear it from someone else. That would have hurt her worse." Then she remembers to smoke. "I don't mean -- yes. Right," Hive says with a twitch of irritation, "she /does/ but it was a little bit of fucking kissing not a marriage proposal, it could've /waited/. You maybe stop to think that this /possibly/ wasn't the right /time/ to be bringing up drama? Dusk has more fucking /sense/ than shitting all over a party that was /supposed/ to make the twins happy to be back." Melinda looks hurt, jaw set tight, eyes blinking rapidly, deep inhalations through her nose to try and slow her shaking hands. She keeps quiet, for the most part, verbally, but her mind is spinning with retorts she does not offer. << Damn, how was I supposed to know? The way we talked before, she was trying to get over him and yeah it might have been awkward, but fuck, it wouldn't have been this bad, I would have just left, said my goodbyes and took off, leaving her surrounded by people that love her and me fine on my own. Why the fuck does everyone bring up marriage? Do they just think I'm some ridiculous, vapid whore who is just bouncing around from man to man trying to get someone to love me and save me from my miserable loneliness. >> "The timing could have been better," She admits. << but I don't know where the fuck the complication thing came up and that's what she was really pissed off about and god dammit, I gave her 'competition' too, by telling her I didn't want to be it. Fuck. I wasn't trying to ruin everyone's life and I wasn't thinking of the twins at that particular moment. I just wanted Shelby to know that someone would tell the truth to her. So fucking stupid. >> "Yes, it was fucking stupid," Hive agrees with this last part, anyway, voice a little sharper-edged. "And yeah, you sure as fuck weren't thinking about the twins and it doesn't /really/ seem like you were thinking much about /Shelby/, either, she's -- /Christ/, Mel, of all the shit she has to --" His fingers scrunch through his hair, habitually tracing a path along the side of his head. "Well, great. They've /all/ stormed off, anyway. You have /excellent/ fucking timing." He doesn't finish his cigarette, stubbing it out on the edge of the roof and tucking the rest of it behind his ear. Perhaps this is the end to this conversation, for him; he's turning back for the door inside already. << Dammit. >> Melinda just stays where she is, unable to move. She'd like to flee, but Hive is heading for the door and she can wait. Hive disappears back into the stairwell. It's a heavy door. He's really kind of too lazy for slamming it so he goes quietly. Melinda leaves fifteen minutes later, and goes straight home.