Wheelsy AU ~ Hollywood Nights

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The airport was crowded an d bustling with tourists, the sunlight outside pooling through the plate glass windows like honey. Starla didn't mind the wait. Security meant she could meet him off the plane, but she could stake out the baggage claim where he was suppose to come out!

She was dressed simply in a blue sundress and sandals, nothing fancy, that was for late tonight at the premier. For now she was just a country girl waiting for a country boy and hoping he hadn't managed to get himself lost in the bowels of the airport.

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"People have to be real sometimes Bill, you know that." Maybe deep inside but he knew. "Else you burn out and lose track of what's truly good and moral in the world." He'd erase himself while he was chasing what others expected.

"You're important to, and a person I'd like to know."

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"Maybe I'm burnt out already." Not that he felt his moral scale had been tilted, but he had doubts now about where he was all that in touch with himself.

Taking a drink, he swallowed slowly and let her words settle.

"What did you want t'know?"

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"Do you feel burnt out then?" She asked, curious. "It is a risk, A vacation perhaps? Did you even rest after the attack on Wheelsy or throw yourself back into work?" She set her spike aside and leaned forward again, watching him.

As for the other..."Anything you'd like to tell. I'm your friend Bill, not your interrogator."

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"I feel it sometimes. Stretched thin, I guess."

Maybe he was overworked, but he was needed. And he liked his job, really, he did.

"The town was a wreck, I couldn't just-- " he shook his head. "I put her back together, an' then I made sure she was runnin' well after."

And then he kept going from there.

"Besides, what the hell would I do on vacation? Putter around an' empty house? Get a taste of what retirement's gonna be like?"

She wasn't interrogating him, which was good. She also wasn't some therapist, which was better.

"I think we've had some good talks. I mean... well, I think I've talked t'you more than I have anyone else in a long time."

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"I think you do need a vacation then," she nodded. "Someplace NOT Wheelsy for a while. Maybe a beach, or a different set of mountains with slightly different fishing. Don't tell me you couldn't fish for a week peacefully." Or watch football if there was a week of football?

"Does that make me easy to talk to then?"

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"I guess I could do that." His reply was noncommittal enough to suggest that he didn't think now would be the best time.

After today, a week away from Wheelsy and the Job would probably just be a week of more boozing and too much time spent on 'what if?' thoughts.

"Yeah, I guess. Y'are, an' maybe part of it is that third party stuff you're always talkin' about, but you're also... I dunno. Nice about it."

He didn't feel pressured with her, and he always felt like she was actually listening.

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She hadn't meant now, not tonight certainly, and she hadn't really meant alone. She didn't trust him alone right now...

"You guess then. Hmmm, I'll have to research vacation spots then. And make a swimsuit." DOOOOOOOM!

"You're worth listening to Bill. You've a lot to say sometimes, and you listen when I speak too."

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"Charleston has a nice beach," he said over his cup. "Been there a couple times."

He knew he was probably the only person on the planet who had to be dragged into a vacation, but he'd try and get behind the idea.

"I didn't realize how quiet the house was until you started stayin' with me. I shoot the shit with a lotta people, but I didn't have anyone t'really talk to anymore."

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"Right, the first place to research: Charleston." She flexed her fingers like she was typing, though didn't turn toward the computer just yet.

And no, he wasn't the only person the planet, but seeing as how this wasn't Clarice's planet...and it wasn't currently in peril...it seemed as good a time as any to kidnap him?

"It's easy for places you stay in a long time to trick you like that." Clarice chuckled softly. "It's like a shell sometimes, a long term home, safe and snug as a turtle's shell. In your case it's a little too roomy sometimes." Really too much house for one person. "But I say it's about right now."

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"Yeah, I got it awhile back." With the hope in mind that maybe someday he'd have someone to share it with.

"Thought I was bein' smart at the time; gettin' a place then, so I wouldn't have t'live with a mortgage hangin' over me the rest of my life."

Growing up, house payments could be awful. A roof always came before other things, sometimes even groceries.

He gave an unamused chuckle, and shook his head.

"Hell, I'm almost halfway done payin' it off."

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"And I'm grateful you had the room." Wish granted, Bill, you were sharing a house. "Can you imagine me on the charity of the church or something? Or Doc trying to pass me as his niece hiding in the country?" Could he really, really see it?

"Huh..." she peered upward at the precinct roof, then glanced out the window towards the Sheriff's house. "How much does a house actually cost?"

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"Not really." He could maybe see the doc taking some of what she does in stride, but not the church.

"A lot." The cup was getting empty again, so he tried to pace himself with smaller sips. "Got myself into a thirty year mortgage, so I measure it mostly in time, not dollars. S'easier that way."

Sort of.

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"Precisely. Grateful, very, for the room." Sooo much. "And towels. You have awesome towels. And your bed sheets ain't bad either..." She had a list of little things she was grateful for!

"...you signed thirty years of your life for a house?" There...had to be an easier way. Bank robbery came to mind. It would even be 'Just' if it were an evil bank!

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"Didn't know my linens were so popular. M'glad you like 'em."

Her tone and question made him look at her and frown.

Yep, time to pour again; he topped off what was left in the cup.

"I signed away thirty years of my life on a dream."

He took his shot, which was more two big gulps, and sneered as the whiskey burned.

"More like a delusion, but whatever."

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"A home is never a delusion, Bill. I just...never realized how rooted people were." She knew about people, in houses, raising families and such but to sign for years?! That was just...

She'd never had a house.

Home was people in her mind.

And oh...yeah...she was throwing a stick through her portal. This one didn't open another portal, no, this one impacted Bill's whiskey bottle and made the whole thing shimmer pink before disappearing. Target porting was fun?

"Anyway, back to your linens. Who made the quilt on my bed? It's awesome!"

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"Not he house, I meant-- " he frowned and shook his head. "Never mind. But it ain't like I got a bad deal. Thirty years is pretty standard, I'd have more paid on it, but I was busy payin' off my mom's house, first."

He heard the 'tink' when her stick hit his bottle, and yanked his hand back before the whiskey disappeared.

"Hey!"

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"You were speeding up again," she answered blandly to his 'Hey!'. He'd find the bottle, safe and sound, in the drawer of the hotel dresser but that involved looking now didn't it?

"I don't get the house thing. Shouldn't you make enough as sheriff of a whole town to not have to do things for thirty years? I...money is weird."

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He shot a glare at her, but it didn't last long. Pulling his beer close, he nursed that instead.

"I'm a sheriff of a small town. Cops don't get paid as much as people assume in the first place, small town doesn't compare to city pay."

Usually. Some small towns did better than some large cities, but that was dependent on who was living there. The farmers and hicks who made up most of Wheelsy didn't have the per capita to afford an expensive force.

"Not that I'm doin' bad. I live comfortably; spent a lot of time doin' the opposite, so I can say I'm happy with what I'm gettin'."

Looking at her, he tilted his head.

"Why? What's a house cost where you're from?"

[noteasytobepink]

Beer was just a touch weaker than the whiskey so she was going to let that slide for now. Yep. As long as he wasn't chugging it like a frat boy anyway.

"That's idiotic. Protectors should be maintained, not devalued. Yes, it's a service, but a necessary one." She'd...always had some illusions about real crime fighters (as opposed to vigilantes) in real worlds. They were so very important. Why didn't people see that?

"Huh? Oh. The power to hold it or the willingness to kowtow to the strong ones willing to grant it. Needless to say the rebellion moved around a lot."

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He lifted his hand in a 'what can you do?' gesture.

"S'just the way it is."

Hearing how her world handled housing, he shook his head.

"You come from a pretty fucked up place, y'know that?"

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"Yes, you tell me all the time," she deadpanned. Because, well, really. She knew okay? "It was run by a self styled god, it couldn't help being fucked up. I seem to have turned out okay though so I try not to knock it too hard."

Besides..."In most worlds it's not unusual for people to have some form of fealty going on with their houses. Someone owns land and allows others to live there under certain conditions right? That's just a mild version of what my world was like."

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"Yeah, well I'd take a thirty year mortgage over all of that."

He definitely got the better deal.

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"Sure sure, rub in it." She stuck her tongue out at him. "I never convince anyone to come to my old reality. I suck as a tour agent." And how!

"What happens if you want to move?"

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He wrinkled his nose at her in return.

"Person would have t'be pretty crazy to. But y'got other worlds t'visit, right?"

Maybe one of those wouldn't be so bad.

Tilting his head at her, he gave her a genuinely confused look.

"Why would I want to?"

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"Because a lot changes in thirty years? You're not the same person now as you were yesterday, much less waaay back when you bought the house. It might happen you know?" She shrugged.

"And I get to visit other worlds, true, but I don't get to stay, and my powers don't work to hop me between dimensions without the Tallus."