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.

Comments

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"Sorry, sorry, Morph has totally poisoned my mind when it comes to coffee service." And giving Bill coffee probably didn't involve the French Maid costume either...

"So guys aren't usually allowed to cheerlead? And girls can't normally play?" SEXISM! "I may have to play now."

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Bill arched an eyebrow at her, then decided he probably didn't want to know.

"There are guy cheerleaders, sometimes. An' no, girls don't normally play, though I've heard of a couple female kickers on some teams."

Shaking his head at her, he gave her a wry smile as he took a drink.

"You don't even like football." He had already given up on teaching her the game, or converting her into a fan.

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"Well, good to know they aren't barred at least." She liked equality in most things!

"And no, I don't like watching it, or the stupid rules, but games are always a lot more fun to play than watch and I do have a very competitive streak."

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Bill nodded, not about to say how girls probably couldn't fill any of the other positions on the team. He knew better than to start that argument.

"If you're gonna play, than it's gonna have t'be by the rules," he pointed out.

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He would obviously be surprised at some of the girls she knew. Sasquatch for example.

"Informal games tend toward informal rules Bill! I can get the ball from point A to point B, or guard the person that is, it's all a matter of 'Hey, run that way when I give you the ball don't get smooshed' right? Who needs more rules?" And yes, she may be offering this topic up as a means of distraction.

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"There are still rules, but maybe you wouldn't do too bad at a flag football game. I'll just have t'teach you how to count Mississippi's, an' catch a football."

Because there weren't too many running plays in flag football really.

And she had picked a good distraction topic.

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"I may be a world newby, Bill, but I know there's only two Mississippi's. The river and the state." Yes, well, more distraction meant less drinking which made Clarice a happy girl. She was PROBABLY joking?

"And catching a football can't be that hard. It's a ball. It's not spiky. Ergo, easy." Challenge, Bill. She CHALLENGES you.

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Bill shook his head at her, and his expression said she so needed to be educated.

"Mississippi's are a way of countin'. A quarterback in flag football doesn't usually have protection, so in order to rush him y'have t give a count. By sayin' Mississippi after every number you count slower, an' give the guy a better chance t'get the ball off. Of course, the defender still tries to count as fast as possible, but as long as he says the Mississippi he's playin' fair."

It was keeping his attention off of his beer, so her plan was working perfectly.

"Hate t'say it, but a lot of girls can't catch. Lot of guys, too. An' when you gotta do it runnin', with a defender, while keepin' in bounds, it makes it that much harder. Luckily, you don't get hit in flag football, so that'll help some."

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"Most haven't caught a lot of things, some of it very delicate, on the fly, in a free fire zone, and with one hand throwing spikes." Clarice listed with a grin. Your football, Bill, is not likely to phase her! At least once she figured out the shape!

"And you could have just said timing counts instead of Mississippi's! That would have made perfect sense. Mr. Creed liked to space his counts with Liz Taylor's, especially if it was a tricky explosion he was timing." She never got it but hey.

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"Yeah, well most folks don't come from crazy town," Bill replied with a shrug. "But since you got the experience, I guess we can skip the lessons an' get you into a game."

Leaning back in his chair, he lifted his beer and shook his head.

"It isn't about timin', you still wanna count as fast as you can. It's the word that makes the difference. You can also count 'one thousands' if you wanted, one-one thousand, two-one thousand an' such, but I don't think you'd get away with Liz Taylors."

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"I will need an introduction to a football so I"m trying to catch the proper ball." She pointed out cheerfully. "And some clue about what makes it flag football instead since apparently I can't tackle people. Is vaulting still okay?" She was going to end up in time out SO MUCH.

And grin the entire time.

"And that hardly seems fair, Mr. Rules Man, being allowed to garble and speed up a count."

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"Flag football everyone has flags on their belt, and instead of tackling them you pull the person who has the ball's flag. You can run, jump, an' dive how ever you want as long as you keep in bounds."

No time out or penalty box in football, with too many penalties she'd just end up a benchwarmer.


"Not garble, you gotta say the word, but there's just no rule about sayin' it fast. It's not like some other sports, like basketball where you can't even touch a guy without gettin' called, or golf where you have to be all quiet while he's doing whatever."

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Eh, well, there went her dreams of beating on the sides of a box and growling menacingly at people? Yes, she may have watched hockey once, by accident, when a world slide slid them into the rafters.

She hadn't understood the squid part at all.

ANYWAY.

"Run jump AND dive any way I want. You're too good to me Bill. Too good." He hadn't seen her out jumping around in his back forty had he? "And hands only to take flags or pencils allowed?" Perfectly logical question in her mind!

"Word thing is still weird. So who do I have to actually count for before taking their flag?"

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"There is no sharp objects or stabbin' of any kind." He replied, eying her.

"An' it's only the quarterback you have t'count for, an' only when he's passing. If he makes a run for it you can go for his flag."

Draining the last of his beer, Bill set the can down and yawned.

"Pretty sure teleportin' is cheatin', too, so don't get any ideas on that."

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"I wasn't going to stab anyone Bill!" Please, some faith! "I can just take a fly off your ear with a stick, easy. Flags are a lot bigger and less mobile than that." See? PURE INTENTIONS!

"And I promised not to teleport without your permission, emergency situations aside. I won't break that for a game Bill." No love. No love at all. And..huh, mild nosebleed. Kleenex time.

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"I just wanted t'make that clear, you're a bit on the violent side sometimes, what with the kung-fu, an' wantin' to hit folks."

He was about to comment on the teleporting when he noticed her bleeding.

"Hey, y'alright?"

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"Hey, have I ever actually injured anyone on your watch Bill, or just talked about it as viable options?" Clarice defended with a wince and more dabbing at her nose. "Yeah, fine. Strain. You're a long way away Bill, that's a lot of distance to bridge and hold, even if I"m not dragging people across it." It took energy.

Stamina.

Whatever.

nothing, no power, was ever free.

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"Well then let it go," he said, concerned now.

"I don't want you t'hurt yourself or nothin'."

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"I'm not hurting myself!' She lifted the tissue so she could stick her tongue out at him. "I'll just sleep hard tonight. The nosebleed is cause I haven't held anything this long in a while. I'm out of shape." For her, the girl who was out running and training at OH GOD o'clock every morning to say that? Well, she must believe it.

"I'll let it drop in a little bit. I like talking to you." And she worried!

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"You're bleedin'." Which meant even if she wasn't hurting something was wrong.

"That's why they invented the telephone. Not that I don't like talkin' to you, but I don't want you over doin' it."

"Besides," he added, "you're gonna bleed all over my desk."

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A part of her was sorely tempted to take the tissue away and lean forward so she was bleeding properly on the desk...and it probably showed in the speculative look at the poor piece of furniture. "Fine fine fine. Worry wart." She picked up the phone and hit redial...so she could see him pick it up before she closed the portal.

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He saw the way she was looking at the desk, and knew what she was probably thinking.

"I always worry 'bout the people I care about."

With an eye roll at the measure she was taking, he picked up his phone.

"You think I wasn't gonna answer?"

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"I think you'd have contemplated it." She laughed through the phone and the portal both before letting the hole in reality close with a fizzle. "And your desk is safe. Won't bleed on it, promise."

Or, well...

"Barring paper cuts and medical emergencies that has the whole precinct in chaos." Best to hedge the bleeding promises! "Still...sorry to worry you Bill. I didn't realize I was in that 'cared about enough to fret' category." She...really still saw herself as an unexpected roommate and a growing friend. Not someone to slap 'cares about' on.

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"As long as you're doin' all you can t'keep the amount of blood that gets onto my desk to a minimum I'm happy."

He watched the portal wink out, then got up and went back to the bed.

"Well... you're frettin' about me," he pointed out. The least he could do was keep things mutual.

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"If I'm bleeding a lot I'll try to keep it to Allen's desk." THAT she could do! Because, really, who'd notice on Allen's desk?

Hmm. Ah. Yeah. Thingy. "I'm used to worrying about people Bill." Thingy? Stuff. "Especially people who don't worry about themselves."