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[recoined]

	you've reached kimberly — you really should have texted me. who leaves a voicemail anymore? audio | text | video | snapchat | action
kimberly hart.

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action;

[killertrack]

[ The thing is, Baby himself is still getting used to the Challenger. It's not like he's been driving it for ages before agreeing to come to Cadelle, but he's more than willing to test out its limits - especially with someone like Kimberly in the passenger seat.

Because, so far? She's been fun, and in recent memory, Baby hasn't got to have much of that. It's time to get back into the habit.

He pulls up in front of the Gamma building, the car purring under his hands and feet, and rolls down the passenger window, music blasting out. In honor of Kimberly, he's got a female hip-hop artists playlist playing, and he taps the beat of the the current song against the steering wheel as he looks out, over the rim of his sunglasses. ]

Your chariot awaits. [ He grins as he leans to open the door. ]

[recoined]

( her third floor apartment is a great place to scope the roads below. or, more specifically, her front-facing window is the perfect place to lean out of, to catch sight of that slick red challenger as it pulls up, all muscle and promise in each shining line of the hood and doors.

as the car rolls into view, kimberly pulls her jacket snug around her waist. she could, in theory, opt to use the stairs. she could. but the excitement humming through her veins calls for a more dramatic approach. one like swan diving out of her window into a tucked roll, coming to her feet with a graceful landing earned from years of practice just as the car comes to a stop in front of her building. perfect timing, really, and... is that ciara?

she can't quite help the broad grin that curves across her face in recognition, or the way her body instinctively shifts to the beat, rocking back and forth on her feet for a few of those well-named one two steps. if she's dancing her way from the lawn to the car, hands lifting to rock over her head, to brush her hair up and over, she can't be held responsible. he did choose the music, and any good dancer knows you don't turn down a good beat. )

Hey, Baby, ( a swipe of her tongue over her bottom lip as she slides in the passenger set, another flash of a grin, and she's closing the door behind her. baby sounds like both a name and a tease, somehow. ) I like your jams.

action; saturday niiiiiite

[killertrack]

[ For all intents and purposes, Baby is dressed to kill. That is, if you discount the apron is wearing on top of his outfit, but he's not going to get waffle batter all over his shirt right now, okay, he's working for something, here. He wants to impress, with his food making skills but also the fact that he can, actually, dress up a bit.

And he's dressed up the apartment, too - the table is made for two, and there are flowers and a couple of candles that he got at the same time as he got his brand new waffle-maker, which didn't come standard with the apartment - a travesty, if you ask him.

He's spent the afternoon making sure his batter was up to snuff. Joe would have given him tips and pointers, but Joe isn't here, so Baby's working a little blind, but he's pretty sure he's got to the perfect batter, and the chicken is ready to be deep-fried, and the sauce is warm and sweet and ready.

All he needs, now, is for Kimberly to show up. ]

[recoined]

( she spends an inordinate amount of time that afternoon cycling through her closet, changing into outfit after outfit, and annoying clary to the point of thrown pillows with inquiries on her opinion. really, it doesn't matter what she wears. kimberly's at least sixty percent certain she could show up in a literal burlap sack and baby wouldn't bat an eye, but she wants to look nice. hence the disaster zone formerly known as her bedroom.

at ten to eight, clary practically shoves her out of the apartment, promises that whatever she's wearing — short-cuffed black boots, a soft black dress, and a jean jacket with sleeves rolled up — will be fine, just go. so she goes. she's not really given much choice in the matter, but kimberly goes. thankfully, the residential buildings in the welcome complex are fairly close together, so it's barely past eight by the time she buzzes in through the lobby.

she's on the list. three times over, by now, at least. the security guard looks bemused to see her, but thankfully doesn't make any overt commentary; instead, he opts to wave her in the direction of the now-familiar stairs leading up to the first residential floor. it's a little like deja vu as she stands in front of the doors. baby's door, the eastern unit, stands opposite of robbie's with his silver mechanic's kickplate; it's cater-cornered from dean's, too, and a room that she's pretty sure is still vacant. never let it be said that kimberly hart doesn't have a Type.

a few raps on the door signal her arrival, along with a called out, ) Hello?

( text )

[foreshock]

( Beep beep. )

hey there, girlie girl.
get down to mahogany in twenty minutes and the next one of these i buy will have your name on it.

[recoined]

you're lucky
my social calendar's got a hole just your size in it

save me a seat?

( text | backdated. )

[creatio]

um.
who's the hottie with the cool car??
i need details, kimberly!

[recoined]

you mean this guy?

[ attachment: one (1) sneakily taken photo ]

action; morning before the festival

[killertrack]

[ Baby's fallen into a routine easily. When he's got to open B-Sides, he swings by Wake & Bake and grabs some breakfast, eats in the car on the way. And the morning he doesn't have to open, he makes himself breakfast, usually enough for Robbie to have some, too.

Waffles one morning, pancakes the next, sometimes just eggs, bacon when they have any. Simple stuff, only slightly better than cereal, really. And this morning, it's an omelette with chorizo and cheese, bursting to the seams with flavor, the smells mixing perfectly with that of coffee, making the kitchen Baby's favorite room in the whole apartment right now.

What he doesn't expect as he's dancing to the Black Eyed Peas, poking at the omelette, is to turn around and find himself face to face with Kimberly, wearing what looks like one of Robbie's shirts. At least, it'd make sense. Well. Yeah. ]

Oh. Hi. [ He guesses this... was bound to happen. ] Would you like some food?

[recoined]

( she's not much of a morning person, to be totally honest. usually, if she does spend the night, she sleeps in until later in the day, until she absolutely has to get a move on towards the gym or back home for a change of clothes. he's told her to make herself comfortable, and she's tried to; she's started to get in the habit of leaving things in the drawer robbie's left for her — nothing that she'd miss, really, just a few sets of work-out clothes and a pair of trusty pink nikes, and a set of slim fit jeggings and a few shirts for those rare moments they actually decide to leave the apartment on a whim.

wearing his shirt to sleep in is mostly out of laziness, but maybe a little bit too because she knows he likes the way the hem of the baseball tee curves just low enough to not be totally indecent. and, admittedly, it's pretty comfortable.

she'd have preferred to sleep in this morning too, but he'd left early, crawling out of bed and muttering something about unlocking the garage for some earlybird customer with an appointment, and she hadn't been able to fall back asleep afterwards. so here she was, staring into the fridge in the kitchen with a blank expression, trying to work up the motivation to actually feed herself.

which, all things being equal, makes baby's offer really enticing. even if things are a little awkward between them at the moment. )

Hey.

( she smiles, a tight curve of her mouth that's more polite than genuine, but there's no meanness or malice behind it. just tiredness and uncertainty, as if she's not sure if he really wants her to be there. )

It's really — you don't have to, I mean. I can go. If that's... you know? Like, I can just. ( ugh. why are words so difficult. ) If this is too weird for you, I can... you know, go back upstairs.

( because as convenient as bolting out the garage door towards her scooter may sound, she really would need to shower and change first. )

▸i just want to fly

[acuerdo]

[while he hadn't gone so far as to actually tell her what they were doing, still wanting the bulk of it to be a surprise, robbie had at least listened to the feedback given during their first date. he didn't want to cause her any unnecessary panic about what to wear or if it would be appropriate for their activity: a picnic, with an extra twist (the surprise yet to be revealed) which involved needing to wear something warm.

he picked her up, this time bearing a box of chocolates — a highly regarded brand recommended by the nice old lady who lived down the street from him — as his gift for this date. at half past 11. just in time for a late morning drive through the outskirts of town, across and over winding roads with the promise that he'd let her drive them back — if only for a little bit — later that day. they drive and drive and drive until at last robbie parks them in the lot of a park well outside the city limits.

standing just outside the charger, robbie beams right at kim. he's happier than he can ever recall and is particularly excited about what he's chosen for them to do before they eat that carefully packed picnic basket.]

So, I know I didn't tell you exactly what we're doing aside from the picnic, but I hope you're not afraid of heights, or I may have made a bad choice for our date.

[it's at this point he chooses to point to the sky, where a few hot air balloons have already taken to the air, floating like brightly colored pillows against the blue sky. further down the path there's a nearly fully inflated balloon waiting for them board. robbie grabs their picnic basket from the trunk, along with a soft blanket and slips his hand in hers.]

[recoined]

( of all the proper dates that kimberly's been on — an admittedly short list, but still worth considering — this one feels special, in a way she can't quite define. there's nothing fussy about it, no suit jacket keeping his shoulder stiff or newly pressed dress at hand; it's just the two of them and the cool fall breeze, and the allure of the open road and a picnic basket.

he promises to surprise her this time, and the chocolates certainly do just that, the small box so daintily wrapped to protect what's sure to be something delicious hidden inside. she's tempted to open them right away and sample one, but he convinces her to leave them for the time being, tucking them away for safe keeping inside the basket to be explored a little later.

she's content to simply enjoy the road; it's comfortable in the front seat, leaned up against his side, her head resting on his shoulder. the countryside goes by in a blur, the green hue of the grass muted by fallen leaves in tawny reds and oranges, a visual distraction that keeps her well occupied until the ride abruptly ends in what looks like any other park.

except for the balloons. those are, admittedly, a little different. )

I'm not, don't worry. ( and it's with that said that kimberly sneaks a glance in his direction, fingers tangling together with a soft squeeze. she's not afraid of heights, that much is true, but the thrill of doing something entirely new still applies. ) You didn't have to go all out like this, you know.

( for me, unsaid. you didn't have to do all this just for me. )

text;

[obdurates]

so how bad do you want to get your ass kicked at bowling?
will the offer be extra enticing if I have them put up the bumpers?

[recoined]

( jace, you know it's weird to spy on people, right? )

just because the place is called lucky lanes doesn't mean you're somehow magically going to be good at bowling
i'm pretty sure rental shoes don't usually match your dramatic wardrobe choices

[acuerdo]

[he knows they haven't discussed what they are or exclusivity or anything of the sort, but it's hard to ignore the buzz about town about the ball that's happening in about a week, and he really doesn't want to wait lest someone else ask her first. god. how high school

it may not be the kind of dancing he's used to, but robbie knows who his favorite dance partner is.]

hey babe. you busy next friday?

[recoined]

( does she know what's next friday? of course she does. she's a teenage girl, after all, and her phone's practically glued to her hand. the incoming message may not be quite straight to the point, but it still earns a smile all the same. )

friday? there's a kickboxing class i'm considering

( a white lie. )

but my social calendar's pretty free, if you had something else in mind

[creatio]

( attached. )

i need it.

[recoined]

where did you find that???
because you absolutely need it
and we NEED to go out for halloween

i refuse to spend the evening at home listening to your cat yowl all night again

misdial what

[puppypower]

so do you have to get naked every time?
wait that sounds weird i just meant cant you just half change instead?

craughs

[recoined]

well, not every time
sometimes it can be kind of fun if you're in a hurry

( why is she the sex guru on speed dial? who scrawled her phone number in a bathroom wall? )

▸ SPECIAL DELIVERY!

[cuddlemods]

One morning, you'll awaken to find that an envelope addressed to you, adorned with the Official Seal of the City of Cadelle, has been slipped underneath your door. Inside, there's a note, which reads:

AN OFFICIAL NOTICE FROM CITY HALL:

On behalf of the city of Cadelle, we would like to thank you for your dedication to our mission of lighting up our city and our lives through the power of good deeds! ↑ and acts of physical intimacy!!! xoxo, Flora & Cornelius As a token of our gratitude, the city administration is pleased to extend to you your promised piece of the Energem, which may be redeemed in your home world upon your return. For assistance in arranging your return trip, or for alternative options should you wish to remain in the city a while longer, please visit the Volunteer Coordinator Office in City Hall. Thank you for your contributions. - Mayor Drake PLEASE NOTE: The office is open between 10:00 AM and 4:00 PM daily, with a two hour lunch break between 12:00 PM and 2:00 PM. Please do take care to arrive no less than 30 minutes prior to scheduled closures. You wouldn't like us when we're hangry.

ho ho ho - merry giftmas!

[kelvins]

[mick attacks kim's door with a staple gun, leaving this iou for all to see. at least it's not an arrow through her door, right?.]

[acuerdo]

did you stay warm during the blizzard?

[recoined]

( what. an. idiot. if it didn't straight up hurt to laugh, she might have just lost it. instead, kimberly sends a selfie that showcases her recovering-from-being-nearly-frozen-to-death state, bundled up under all the covers clary had smothered her with the second she'd stumbled back in through the door. )

no

text

[theladyofwinterfell]

I need advice on whether or not I went on a date.

[recoined]

( sansa. how do you not know if you've been on a date? )

i feel like if you can ask the question, you probably were
were other people there with you?

backdated

[acuerdo]

[he's polled the network, phoned a friend, and by the time that valentine's day actually rolls around, robbie feels prepared enough to actually pull off a special something. and what's the best way to start a day filled with love?

why, breakfast of course.

despite his loathing for the bright beams of light that signal the coming of morning, robbie rises early, leaving kimberly to continue to slumber while he heads into town to pick up a few necessary items from his favorite bakery and the grocer down the road from the garage. the last stop is to the florist to grab an order he'd placed the week before: just a few white lilies in a slim vase. he speeds his way back and checks in on her and sighs in relief that she hasn't roused just yet. her continued sleeping means he's able to continue his surprise, the first of many on this special day.

he scrambles a few eggs and places them on a plate with croissant and three slices of bacon. the plate is then loaded on a tray which holds a berry and yogurt parfait and a cup of juice. the final touch is the flowers. very very carefully, he brings the plate back to his room, where kimberly is only just now beginning to stir. he sets the tray on his dresser and heads to her side, pressing a kiss to her forehead. he offers a kind, warm smile to her sleepy blinking.]

Hey sleepyhead. Happy Valentine's Day.

[recoined]

( honestly? she'd kind of thought maybe he'd forgotten. she'd gone out of her way to buy a new dress, something classy and black and even longer than she'd usually wear, too, just for the occasion. she'd suffered through the ridiculousness that was the interior of good vibrations, too, just to purchase the slim black box that was tucked in her own top drawer, just to offer a surprise. but still, even as the day had loomed, they hadn't talked about valentine's day. or winemaker's day, here.

so, in all fairness, kimberly just assumed maybe he had forgotten. or that, maybe, robbie reyes wasn't much of a fan of valentine's day.

she could live with that. things were pretty good between them. did they really need to have a grand celebration or a fancy dinner just to reiterate the fact that they happened to like each other a lot? or maybe happened to feel even more than that, if she's being particularly honest with herself.

but whether she's feeling honest or not, her internal monologue is interrupted by rustling in the doorway, the clinking of dishes on top of a tray, the soft press of his lips to her skin as her lashes flutter, eyes slowly opening to take in the morning light. )

Hey, baby... ( a lazy smile quickly gives way to a yawn, and kimberly presses a hand to her mouth, the other stretching up above her head for a moment before settling down on top of the bed. ) S'early, isn't it? What are you doing up?

( she hasn't quite caught sight of the breakfast bounty waiting for her on top of the dresser. )

Gonna come back to bed?

text

[theladyofwinterfell]

Kimberly, Baby wants to do something with his mouth but he says it isn't kissing. What is this. He won't tell me.

[recoined]

( ... baby, please. )

do you want him to get under your skirt?