He didn’t take a seat, nor did he answer. Concern grew over her face, obviously so. She didn’t hide the fact that she was also slightly confused. When he finally spoke, she looked up at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Trouble? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

There was a lump in her throat. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him, or the fact that since he had been there, she wasn’t so lonely. True she had Keep, but it wasn’t the same. “If you’re talking about earlier, it’s no big deal. Really, I’m not worried about it at all. It didn’t bother me either.” She was rambling, she knew she was, but she had to find the right words to make him stay. Where else did he have to go?

Roaming around out here in the desert wasn’t exactly the ideal place for anyone. She knew the moment he would leave she would worry that he wouldn’t survive. It was like that with all the “strays” she brought home, only this one was different... “Please stay...” It was more of a plea then anything else. Desperate, pathetic, however it came across to him, she didn’t care.

Still he stared into his drink. Every part of his body burned to have the whiskey, but he restrained himself. It was all temporary, though. Recheov was going to drink it. Then, later, he was going to have more. It was all just a matter of time. It was all inevitable.

"Nah, not 'bout earlier," Recheov shook his head. He suddenly felt more tempted than ever before to down the entire contents of his glass. "oI'm just trouble is all. An' not the good koinda trouble that you just wanna 'ave 'roun' for a 'ole long toime, y'know?"

He felt a bit bad for saying all that once Kali pleaded that he stay with her. But why? The whole concept confounded him. What good did someone like her find in him? A womanizer, an alcoholic, a man with no ambition in life--what use was he to anyone? Some, perhaps. The right person, maybe. Otherwise, Recheov was little more than a blight on any society, and he fully acknowledged this fact.

"Wot sets me 'part from other strays?" Recheov asked. Perhaps he was just being cynical, but he sincerely felt that way. "We're all the same lot. Did bad shit. Ain't got the care to repent. Wanderers 'cause of it. Nothin' else in the worl' worth stickin' 'roun' for."

She looked child-like as she sat there, staring up at him. She listened to what he had to say, thought on it, until he finished.

Truth was, she was hurt. Had she not been kind, caring, and compassionate toward him? It wasn’t that he ever came across ungrateful, or even rude, but his last comment cut through her deeply. She wasn’t one to hide her emotions, any emotion. People were given them for a reason, and hiding them just didn’t seem like the proper reason to have them.

“No, I suppose I don’t know.” She swallowed hard and took a deep breath as that lump grew and felt like it was traveling up her throat. “ I guess I never felt like I connected with anyone else, not like this. I suppose I coulda been wrong though. See, your company- friendship was enough to make me want to have you around. I guess I hoped mine would do the same for you. It also seems I was wrong about that, too.”

She stood and pulled her tank down around her waist. “Dinner is on the stove, and it’s ready to eat whenever you’re hungry.” Her voice was small as she continued. “There’s half a bottle of whisky on the counter along with a bowl and spoon. Help yourself... Please excuse me.”

She turned abruptly, tears filling her eyes but daring not to spill onto her mocha cheeks. As she reached her bedroom door she paused for a moment, but did not turn to look at him. “Do me the courtesy of not creeping away in the middle of the night. Please?” She didn’t give him time to answer before she disappeared into her bedroom, closing the door halfway. She wasn’t trying to hide from him, or run from the issue at hand, she simply wasn’t sure how to handle herself. Never had she had an issue with anyone leaving.....so......what did make him different?

Recheov hadn't a word to say to Kali by the time she left for her room. He didn't look Kali's until the door to her bedroom was half shut and he couldn't hear her anymore.

"Friends?" He asked aloud--but not to Kali. No, she was in her bedroom. He hadn't the will to reach out to the woman right now. Recheov looked up, but looked down soon after, half-grinned sadly, and whispered, "Y'don't want me as a friend, babe. Last friends oI 'ad, oI nearly . . ."

Rechoev shook his head quickly and drowned the memory with a gulp of whiskey. He tipped his head back and took it all down without further concern. By the time he stood straight again, he realized all too late that he was dry. Recheov watched the ice, alone and melting without the warmth of alcohol, and decided it best to remedy the situation. He turned to the kitchen, poured himself another glass, one which was soon gone just like the last. By the time he took to the couch with a fresh glass in hand, Recheov had consumed over half the bottle.

In the vaguest sense of a stupor, he sipped at the newly filled glass and dropped bottom first into the sofa. It wasn't long before this one was gone, and Recheov was laying down, eyes shut, and mind off. One of his last thoughts of the evening, however, was of Kali: Guess I'll talk to her in the morning. Apologize or summat.

Not even her soft bed offered her any solace at the moment. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt the was she was feeling now. Yet, she couldn’t shake his words from her mind, about what made him different. Something about him reached out to her. She wasn’t sure if it was of her own doing, or his, or just something that was destined to be. It just....happened.

She buried her face in her pillow and allowed the tears to flow freely. She half expected to wake up in the morning and find her apartment empty, Recheov gone, along with the bottle of whisky. It was that single thought that kept her from a good nights sleep. The whole night was a daze, really. Awake for awhile, asleep the next minute. She wasn’t even sure when morning came, but when it did, she lay in her bed, listening to anything that might tell her he didn’t bail out in the night.

It was gonna be a hot day, the apartment was already smoldering. She tossed her blanket off of her and rolled to her side, peeking out that half cracked opened door. Her eyes burned and felt puffy. She was sure she looked like a horrible mess. She inhaled deeply, it was choppy from the night of crying, and she coughed loudly... "Damn...." Her hands met her face and she rubbed her eyes and down her cheeks, laying there still not ready to go out in the living room.

A smell would be the one of the first things Kali could notice once her mind was clear. It wasn't a terribly unpleasant smell, either. It wasn't quite perfect, either, but it wasn't at all something to scoff at. Food. Having lived her entire life in Xexoria, Kali might even be able to figure out what it was just by the smell of it. It was called Falafel, a mostly vegetarian dish comprised of chickpea beans rolled in onions, assorted peppers, and tomatoes, marinated in a sweet yet tangy spice to hold together well, and set within a pita-bread sandwich that looked something like a salad disaster.

Were Kali to leave her room, she would find just that: a Falafel sandwich set upon the counter waiting for her. It was still warm. The make wasn't perfect--it wasn't Keep's food or anything, but there was a common Xexorian phrase out there that said "there's no such thing as a bad Falafel, only a not as good Falafel."

Lastly, of course, Kali might find Recheov seated upon the sofa. He had the second sandwich in his hands and was currently eating without much concern. He was something of a loud and messy eater, and if Kali didn't make herself known, he probably wouldn't even notice her.

At last she sat up and scooted to the end of her bed, with a stretch she took in a deep breath, then stopped. Falafel? The smell was wonderful to her, being one of her favorite dishes. Keeper always made it for her on special occasions, since he didn’t like it much himself.

Pulling the door open her eyes landed on Recheov as he sat on the sofa eating. A flood of relief hit her at once when she saw him, knowing at least he didn’t leave, yet anyways. As she walked through the leaving room toward the kitchen she glanced over at him. “Mornin.” She forced a smile as walked on through to the kitchen.

A tall glass of ice cold water was her first priority. It’s what she did every morning really. As she filled the glass she turned around and leaned on the counter, noticing the Falafel on the counter. She smiled to herself, grabbed a fork and picked at it for a minute. It looked good, really good actually, and when she finally took a bite, she was impressed at the flavor as well.

Taking her water and Falafel, she took a seat at her small table, curling her legs up underneath her. She would eat alone, and in silence, least for now. All she could do was replay the last nights events in her head. However unpleasant they were. She knew it wasn’t the end of it.

He looked up from his sandwich when he heard Kali walking by. He gave her a half glance from the one eye he always kept visible, before looking back down to his sandwich and taking a bite from it. Kali was soon upon the sofa and greeting him in a halfhearted way. It was obvious; really, Kali made good on her internal drive to let her feelings be known at all times. Even Recheov, currently in a state between drunk and belligerent (but great at not showing it), could see through her.

"Mornin'," Recheov replied.

He was silent for a moment. If Kali looked his way, she might see that he was matted in sweat. He was a dirty, dusty, sweaty mess, almost like he'd been out in the desert doing manual labor or something.

"Thought y'moight get 'ungry," Recheov broke the silence. Kali, after all, hadn't eaten last night. Well, neither had he, but he had his fill last night with liquor, and already had a glass by his feet. "Told a guy down th'road that oI'd work f'food. An' 'ere we go."

The sun peeked through the curtains just right that it landed on Recheov. It was a beautiful sight to behold in her mind. Smudges of dirt on his face and arms, the sand shimmering from time to time. Fork still in hand she sat and stared at him. That was until his voice caught her attention and she snapped back out of her dream like state.

“Oh?” She sat confused for a moment, wonder what would make him feel inclined to do so. “Well.....thank you.” The confusion was apparent in her voice but she continued on anyway. “Ya know, I have food here, you didn’t have to do that.”

Taking another big bite of her food, she didn’t let her eyes waiver from him. Did he go out and work for this food for her? The corners of her lips perked slightly. Perhaps she was reading more into then need be, maybe not. She tapped her fingernails on the table top as she chewed. “Wait, so...did you do this for me?” Screw it. She was tired of playin the guessing game, tired of wondering what he was wondering.

"No sweat," Recheov said to Kali's thanks.

The irony was biting. Recheov was currently the exact opposite of "no sweat." He was matted in sweat, dirt, and sand. He was a mess. But being a mess never bothered him in all the years he'd been alive, and it wasn't going to start bothering him today. The work called for heavy lifting, and he was a strong enough guy to pull it off.

Recheov didn't regard the question with too much thought at all. All he did was nod his head and between chewing, reply to Kali, "Yup."

Truth be told, it wasn't actually that much of a big deal to him. In fact, if Recheov made any comment to himself about the idea of making amends for being a bit rude the night before, it was that this was not nearly enough. The fact of the matter, though, was that he hadn't the slightest idea what "enough" would've been, so this was just going to have to work for now.

No sweat? She knew better. She knew how harsh work out there was. He had to be parched, she knew he more then likely hadn’t drank any water. And with his confirmation that he had done it for her, a larger then normal smile came across her face.

Leaving her food abandoned on the table, she moved into the small living area and took a seat next to him. She stared at the floor for a moment as she curled her feet up underneath herself. Placing a hand on his arm, she finally looked up at him and let out a small nervous laugh.

“I uh....I may have been out of line.” She smiled and nodded to her own words. “But I want you to understand that, I like having you here, despite what you may or may not have done in your lifetime.” She rubbed his arm lightly. “Our pasts make us who we are. The good and the bad. Even the parts we may or may not regret. They are our pasts, our roads that bring us along in life. Do not be ashamed of that Recheov.”

She pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap along with the other. “I believe everyone you meet, you meet for a reason. That those people can very well be building blocks in your road toward the future. That....that fate does not entwine the paths of two people for no reason at all.” There was passion behind her voice as she spoke. And while she knew he was not the most wholesome person, there was something special about him.

“No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel, even if you say nothing at all. Hopefully, this does not sound freakishly odd to you....it’s just how I feel.” She wanted to hide now, embarrassed, but she felt better getting that all off her chest. And so she sat beside him, silent now, thinking on the words she said, things she maybe should have said, wondering if he was going to excuse himself right on out the door thinking she was some kind of weirdo.

Recheov was quiet as Kali spoke. By the middle of her speech, he even stopped eating. He'd set the sandwich in its paper wrap onto the floor and retrieved his liquor. He sat quietly, always threatening to himself to take a drink and maybe slam the whole glass down for himself, but he decided against it each time. It was always tempting, though, and for one reason:

Kali was completely right. About everything. About the past and present and how important it was to know, understand, and accept the past as an explanation for the present, and the present as an explanation for the future. It was almost inspiring. But that was it. That was the real kicker. Nearly feeling inspired by this woman almost made Recheov feel the urge to vomit. It had nothing to do with Kali--no. Kali was a great lady. It had less to do with Kali and more to do with what Kali was in a more general sense, and how little Recheov felt he deserved inspiration or kind words from people like her.

"Kali . . . 'fore you say any more good 'bout me," Recheov started; he paused, stared at the floor, and let out a deep sigh, "Shouldn' y'wan' to know the bad? Bein' a badguy--'ell, that's the only reason oI'm ou' 'ere. 'Cause oI was a badguy an' nothin' but. There's just a select few guys oI ever treated roigh'."

Finally, he took a drink. It was a sip, but it was enough. The burn of whiskey after working in the overbearing sun was more than enough to instill some liquid courage in a man.

"'Cause, oI mean, you're roight. 'Bout everything. S'jus' . . ."

Recheov swished the glass. He watched the ice clink about whilst melting and diluting the warm liquor.

"It feels wrong, is all. Bein' alive an' real an' hearin' all this good an' inspirin' stuff . . . jus' 'cause oI'm a prick an' someone pitied me."

She let him have his say. While she didn’t agree with him, she wouldn’t argue with his feelings. However, her heart broke for him, many times over.

A small smile stole her features for a moment. “I don’t pity you.” She looked into his eyes, brushing a few stray hairs from his face. “I did not build your road. I do not have to live with your mistakes. I do not have to chose to run from them, or learn from them. You do.”

She ran her hand over her hair and down her own cheek. “You could have killed me the first night we met. Taken what you wanted from me, and my home, and been on your way. You could have, played nice, got a hot meal and a bath, and stole away into the night. Yet, here you are, still. You have been more a gentleman, then a pure breed gentleman with me Recheov. And when you felt bad for hurting my feelings, you went out into the desert, worked your ass off, and brought home food, for me.”

He smelled of sweat and earth. She closed her eyes for a moment and basked in it. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hug him tight to her body, but...she didn’t. “That does not sound like the behavior of a prick in my book Recheov. You have been a good friend thus far, and frankly, I’m not ready to let that go yet.” She didn’t care if she sounded selfish, she felt as though he needed to hear these things. “I’ll never judge you for the life you have lived. I only ask the same in return.”

When Kali moved her hand to brush the hair out of his face, Recheov caught her hand in his 'fore she could push the bangs away from the right side of his face. He always kept his hair there, always had his bangs long and over the right side of his face. He never let people see that eye. When he caught her hand, though, Recheov wasn't rough with Kali at all. His hands were sweaty and calloused, but his grip was gentle; just authoritative enough to suggest he didn't want her to see that side of his face. That no one needed to see that side of his face.

He was perfectly fine with scars, though. He was even missing a few teeth and had no problems giving a toothy grin. Aesthetics were far from Recheov's concern. His reasons had to lie elsewhere.

"You caught me at a good time, is all," Recheov replied as he gently released Kali's hand.

Recheov set his arm back down upon his knee and leaned forward. He lifted his other hand to bring his whiskey to his lips and took a sip.

"Y'coul' say oI'm in a weir' place roigh' now," he reasoned casually--so casual that it couldn't be anything less than the truth, "Loike a state of moral relapse. 'Ell, if I even had morals to relapse to in th'firs' place . . ."

She didn’t press the matter of his face. In fact, it wasn’t even the reason she had reached out to him to begin with. She could respect that for reasons of his own he kept it covered, she just wanted to touch him. She shook her head to herself at his words. “You can say what you wish, but you aren’t going to convince me any different then I think already.”

She could be stubborn, too. She leaned into him and thought for a moment before speaking. “Didja ever think maybe you’re right where you’re suppose to be? Right where you need to be in your life, and for a reason?” She left it at that. She wasn’t sure how educated he was, but she knew damn good and well he was by no means ignorant.

Patting his thigh, she stood up in front of him. “How about we finish eating, you clean up and we just hang out around here for awhile. Keep hired some new girl and said I could pretty much come and go as I please. Frankly, I’m in the mood to laze around the house today.” She smiled and shook her head yes to him, hoping he would agree to a day inside with her.