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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 8:50:05 GMT

her counter play is brilliant and easily just as infuriating. fernando takes a page from her playbook - he allows the comment to settled unanswered. there's no witty retort, no resistance, just a casual silence that ends with the ding of the elevator.

"haha, you're so funny," the sarcasm in his voice is dripping. enough to settle the time it takes for fernando to reach his condo, the far off unit in the east corner. "cila, i'm home." the sound of the door lock clicks and fernando doesn't even have to reach for his key card. the light flicker on, dim, and the television brings a noticeable ambiance to the otherwise desolate room. the chatter of the evening news is all the company he needs on most nights.

the room is well furnished - obviously not by him - and matches the theme of any modern bachelor pad. simple, modern, yet practical with multiple flat screen televisions mounted onto the wall.

the kecleon and ditto finally fade into view, scourging around the place - they finally feel at home.

Isra Nightingale

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:08:17 GMT

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"At least I'm funnier than you." she retorts like a child and doesn't realize until after. Too late to go back she sticks to her following and watching. Th situation at the door is interesting and Isra takes note of it. She's not surprised by it really. It seems fitting for him.

It is at this point she comes to a realization that makes her hesitant. "I assume you no longer need me then?" she has escorted him home as asked, after all.

But the woman is suddenly wary of the time, realizing she hasn't paid it enough attention after getting to the bar.

FERNANDO SILPH

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:20:47 GMT

"you're welcome to make yourself at home."

that's the last word he get out before he slumps completely, throwing himself face first into a sofa and allowing the seat's cushion to smother him. a minor mumbling can be hear but the television is overbearing. a lazy hand reaches for his belt and he taps one of his pokeballs. mimikyu joins the fray and disappears into the wood flooring.

fernando turns his head away from the cushion, enough to breathe, enough to call out.

"you have somewhere to be, isra?"

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:28:16 GMT

[attr="class","isratalk"]

She takes the chance, but only after hearing what sounds like something she needs to see. The sight of his face first into his sofa is worth it. It makes her giggle even if only because it seems so unlike him. Then again just about everything about this encounter has seemed unlike him.

His question is the only thing that keeps her from getting distracted peering around. Not that there is much to see, it is almost unsettling. The emptiness of it. "Depends." she almost doesn't want to finish the sentence. "Haven't been paying attention to the time."

Isra can't help but stare at how many screens there are, she's not sure why they bother her so much.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:36:24 GMT

"let's be real." it's a struggle to reach for the remote. three of them lay on the coffee table between him and the screens plastered on the wall and fernando inches his hand toward the middle one - the biggest one. after an agonizing push against the frame of the sofa, he manages to clasp his hand on it and reels it back. a few click later and the rest of the screens turn on to life. none of them have sound but the images that appear show that they don't need to.

silph co. stock is on one screen with a history of the day's highs and lows. another show the processing power of something. it's hard to tell from the information on the screen. it's in terms that should be unfamiliar to her, or anyone for that matter. only silph employee may be able to piece together the information. the rest of the screens are jumbled between a playlist of music, a rerun of several high profile pokemon battles, and another news broadcast from a different channel.

"you don't have much of a night ahead of you, do you?"

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:43:49 GMT

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She raises a brow, watching him as she steps further in. She finds herself setting her heels beside the couch. Despite her hesitation her curiosity gets the best of her and once he turns on the screens she can't help glancing over what they show. It doesn't matter if she understands, they make up another piece of the puzzle surrounding her.

"It's not the night that's the problem." it's obvious on her face she doesn't want to say the rest but says it anyway. "It's dawn." she looks back at him before moving to sit on tee arm of the couch, she'll budge him out of the way a bit if she has to.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 9:49:25 GMT

what an elusive answer. fernando takes the bait again, snapping it up as he scoots down. he can feel her body push against the couch, hearing the sound of fabric against leather, and reclines to the opposite side of the couch. begrudgingly, he pulls himself into sitting up right. his eyes dart straight for the battle, until he realizes it's an older one. he's seen it before, many time in fact, and knows exactly how it'll end.

"what happens at dawn?"

a scrunching sound can be heard from the bedroom. the constant squeak seems reminiscent of a shaking bed. fernando pays it no mind but the sound is pronounced, repeated, steady.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:00:56 GMT

[attr="class","isratalk"]

While the sound garners a raised eyebrow Isra is otherwise unphased. It's probably one of the least disturbing things she's encountered in the last few months. She's still more interested in what she can only assume is Fernando's night ritual.

Of course he asks, because in a way she had hoped he would. Because she should have answered this question awhile ago.

"I'm allergic to the sun. UV waves specifically." she almost spouts the medical term at him out of habit because it wards off people she doesn't want to deal with. But she has to admit, it may soon become pertinent this be known.

"That's why I'm a graveyard worker, best remedy- only real remedy is to avoid the sun." suffice to say, if she stays too late without her messenger bag in tow, she has no way home without exposure of some kind.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:05:33 GMT

now that's an eyebrow raiser. if only he believed her. it's an odd lie but fernando fancies it as another one of her quips. his face remains static, apathetic to her plight, but his words continue to pry. "really?" his tone is more curious then anything. surely, such a condition exists but it's his first time encountering it.

"would explain the parasol."

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:11:29 GMT

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She laughs of all things, looking over at him she doesn't blame him. It's so odd and unusual even for her. It's a rare problem but it happens, much to her dismay. "Yes. It's very real, and sadly the variant I have is genetic." It's a troublesome thing.

"You don't believe me do you?" she knows what she expects, but asks anyway.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:18:05 GMT

fernando's eyes narrow as he decides whether or not he believes her. ultimately, he comes to an answer.

his slouching eventually starts to straighten up until he's maintaining a proper posture on the sofa. another click of the remote turns off the battle and has it move to channel surfing.

"i do. enough so not to contest it. unfortunate to hear that but you know what they say."

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:25:49 GMT

[attr="class","isratalk"]

She is surprised, but accepts it. "Not really but it doesn't matter. I live with it, it just limits things."

Isra smooths her dress over her knees to keep her from drawing her legs up to her chest and getting comfortable. "I assume this is what you do with yourself when you get home then?" she asks, both to fill the space and out of genuine curiosity if this is it. It doesn't surprise her much.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:31:59 GMT

"at first. just to check in on things. might watch something if there's anything interesting on."

the constant squeaking of the bedroom finally gets on his last nerves. groaning, he picks himself off the sofa and starts for it. "i'm just tired today. everyday, actually, but today moreso then usual." a quick detour to the kitchen ends up with him at the fridge. he pulls out an unopened water bottle and is quick to unscrew it, gulping down the water with a earnest thirst. so much for all that alcohol.

"ahhh." a sigh of satisfaction before he screws the cap back on. "what i do at night highly varies. meetings, going out, nothing. all depends. i have to stay flexible." fernando continues his long await journey to investigate the source of the noise.

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POSTED ON Feb 14, 2019 10:40:05 GMT

[attr="class","isratalk"]

"That's what you get for being a workaholic." she blurts out, staying put on the couch for now. She can understand it though. There are some things that you are better of doing yourself, or must do yourself. When they options are limited what else do you do?

She's not entirely sure she wants to follow him for his trek towards the noise, instead opting to lean in the direction he goes and watch from afar for the moment. She has no way of knowing for certain what he's got going on in his condo. For all she knows he's secretly a sex trafficker and she's not safe there at all.

"Wait, if you're so tired why invite me along instead of just... sleeping?" she has to ask.

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