Kind of a jerk.

Ian Lai

When Ian left the lake, it was clear that he didn't intend for anyone to follow him. And Sera, with her awareness as fine-tuned as it was, would not have missed that. It wasn't an amiable departure. It was a retreat.

Kalen let him go. Reluctantly, perhaps, but in this he didn't push. It was probably the right thing to do, in his case.

Sera, though? Sera followed. Perhaps not right away. Perhaps she gave him enough time to leave the sandy perimeter of the beach and make his way across the grass, or perhaps her pursuit followed right on his heels. Either way, Ian didn't turn around. Either because he didn't notice her or because he chose not to react. When he reached the parking lot, he paused long enough to brush the sand off his feet and slide them back into his shoes.

Serafíne

Not right away.

Ian has time to cross the parking lot, to wipe the sand from his feet, to slip his feet back into his shoes. Has time to catch a glimpse of her in his peripheral vision. The wild blond hair caught in the wind, her hands rising, winding about the crown of her head as she tries to contain it, wraps an elastic around the bulk of it with a practiced hand and pulls it into a ponytail that she starts to braid as she walks.

This, too, is practiced.

Sera is kicking her heels against the sand and then against the asphalt and she is smiling at the way her dark boots shed the sand and that smile is fading, eclipsed by something else as Ian comes into view in the parking lot.

And she could perhaps simply be leaving, right? Finding her way back to wherever the hell it is she lives when she isn't cutting a line through stranger's lives, except for the way her hidden gaze fixes on him and the way the sunglasses remain slanted toward him and the way she shifts her course, weaving through the parked cars all gleaming chrome in the sun to shadow him.

"Going home?"

Ian Lai

He could lie to her. One might rightly suspect that lying (or at least obfuscating the truth) was an easy thing for him. A practiced thing. If Sera saw past his mask, it was not because it was poorly crafted, but because sometimes Sera saw things that no one else could see. He kept his motivations close to his chest, Ian did. That was hardly a surprise, given his character.

But right now, in this moment, he did not lie.

"Not yet."

But he was going somewhere.

Ian turned to regard Sera fully, as though trying to determine why she was there. There was a faint edge of hostility to the hard set of his jaw. It wasn't the same flirtatious energy she was used to finding in him. It didn't register in his voice (which was soft and neutral,) but his body language spoke to a kind of lurking volatility.

"Did you need something?"

Serafíne

Somewhere between the beach and here, Sera has zipped her hoodie up half-way. It is short but longer than her skirt so that the band around the bottom frames her thighs. Sera is not tall enough to be precisely long-limbed, but still somehow they way she is made, the way she is put together, doesn't she look it? So, long bare legs, that hoodie half-way zipped, the chain of some ridiculously expensive bag slung cross-body to bisect her breasts in their red and plaid bustier. Her fucking combat boots with her twee fucking daisies threaded into the laces.

Tattooed hands tucked loosely into the kangaroo-style pockets of her hoodie.

Sunglasses still covering her eyes.

No hostility in her and no fear, either. Sera is fearless in her way and does not seem to mind the lurking volatility, the hard set of Ian's jaw. Oh, oh no. Her eyes are steady on him, and there is a supple sort of tenderness to the curve of her mouth as she keeps ambling over the parking lot.

Does she need something?

"Yeah. A ride. Do you mind?"

Ian Lai

[Per+Subterfuge: Do you really just need a ride? Specifically trying to get an angle on her motivation and intentions]

Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 10) ( success x 2 )

Serafíne

Some part of Sera welcomes that hostility. That edge. Lifts her face into it, see. She is watching Ian and she is aware of Ian and she is concerned about Ian. So: does she really just need a ride?

No. The request is multilayered.

But she does need a ride.

Ian Lai

A few seconds of silence. And then?

"Ask Kalen. I've got things to do."

The dismissal implied by those words was fairly evident. Whatever she wanted from him. Whatever she wanted to offer him. He wasn't interested.

When he resumed his gait, there was a purposeful pace to it, striding across the parking lot toward the black Audi sport's car that was parked at the far end (and which Sera may or may not recognize as Ian's from the times he'd driven out to the chantry.)

Maybe Sera would follow him, but if not, then he would get into his car and leave.

Serafíne

She does follow him. God, look at her, unspooling like a errant little satellite behind him, still with her hands in the front pockets of her hoodie, her arms close to her body, elbows tight against her flanks. The braid she was creating as she climbed up from the beach is already starting to come undone. Half-way across the lot, Sera reaches up to take the glasses off, folding them without thought and tucking them away in the vee defined by her half-zipped hoodie. Squinting against the dying rays of the setting sun.

Not quite as purposeful as Ian's pace, nor as long, nor as sure, but the whole time, he may well feel her dark eyes on his back, somewhere in the middle of his spine.

And so: she does follow him, but her heart feels strange in her chest - that curt dismissal, god she breathes that in the same way she does everything else. Inhales it and feels it lodge beneath her bones, coil itself around the base of her spine. Circles behind the Audi but doesn't touch it, and does not address Ian unless he addresses her. Doesn't try to slip into the car itself, but instead climbs into the Camry parked beside it. Sits her ass on the trunk, her feet on the bumper, to watch him pull away.

Mouth seamed. Eyes pensive. Looking more than a little bit lost.

It is, after all, that time of the year.