peace_inthe_violence

She nodded, "Alright. I'm going to check on the volunteer, see if I can tell what it is yet, make sure the ferals haven't left any more presents, and I'll be in. Half hour, maybe."

It was closer to 45 minutes, because she'd found that the volunteer plant was, in fact, a pumpkin, and had one fruit on it, which meant she'd had to find a couple of stakes and some bed-liner fabric to make a hammock for it so that it wasn't resting all of its growing weight on the dirt right away.

Even once she'd washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she hesitated before asking: "Anything I can do to help?"

In 45 minutes, Nicky had blanched and peeled the tomatoes, piling the peels up in the coffee filter from that morning so the whole thing could go out to the compost heap. He'd roughly chopped the tomatoes and had them and just enough water to keep them from scorching in a stock pot on the back burner of the stove. The beans and herbs were in a collider in the sink and he was in the middle of ripping up a bunch of basil and adding it to the pot when she came back in.

"I just finished getting everything in to stew, but you can take that out to the compost pile if you want." He nodded towards the coffee and the tomato peels, then set to work stripping a couple twigs of rosemary. By the time she got back, he was washing the board and his knife to be put on the drain board.

"Thank you, sorellina. Do you want to do this here or upstairs? I'm alright with either." Some people didn't like sharing something as intimate as doing their hair. It was a valid question. "Whichever way you decide, I'll need your comb and your leave-in since I'm assuming you don't want a full wash day."

She nodded, gathering the pile for the compost heap, unsurprised to find that Buckshot had returned even in the brief absence, stalking a wall-lizard that was clinging to one of the planters. Her only warning to the cat was: "You'll regret that." Before heading back inside.

"Definitely not a full-wash kind of day." She replied, "And here's fine." Mostly because her mom had always done her braids at the kitchen table, and she figured that edge of familiarity in the unfamiliar might help her relax a little, "I'll be right back." She was still thankful that Andy had managed to keep her duffel even with having to switch cars before making it to the plane that had brought them here in the first place, because it meant that she still had her own kit and hadn't had to try and find replacements yet.

She dropped into a chair, sliding the jar labeled 'hair butter' in sharpie -the original label having peeled off at some point- and the comb over, "Let's see what you can do."

While she'd been upstairs, Nicky had finished wiping down the counters and had thoroughly washed his hands. He was still drying them off when she came back, and he looped the towel through one of his belt loops so that it would be handy for later.

"Do you have an idea of what you want? It has been a long while since I've done anything overly complicated, but I'm willing to try if you're willing to be patient with me."

As he spoke, he was untying the scarf and unwrapping it, taking great care not to let any wayward curls snag in the fabric. Once her hair was free, he let her scalp relax for a moment while he set the scarf on the table and unscrewed the top of that jar. He dipped his forefinger into it, then rubbed it against his thumb, testing it's thickness with a satisfied nod. He scooped up a decent amount, smoothing it over both palms before he started to work it into her curls with his fingers first so that he didn't snag too much.

"Patient I can do." She replied, "But simple's fine, just something to keep it out of my face for a couple days." Her brow creased a little, "I usually go one on each side instead of one down the middle, makes sleeping on it easier."

She was a little surprised, even still, to find that he did -apparently- know what he was doing, because if she'd been about to say anything else, it didn't happen once his fingers were in her hair, just making a garbled little noise like a kitten picked up by the scruff of the neck.

He hummed a little in response to her words, unwilling to ask who in their right mind thought it would be comfortable to sleep with one big braid down the middle. With hair as thick as hers, she wouldn't be able to sleep any way other than on her side.

While he was perfectly happy with that, he also had someone behind him to lean against when he needed to shift his weight.

He worked the hair butter through her curls, smiling a little at her small, contented sound. Good. He'd hoped that she would enjoy this. He worked slowly and carefully, fingers obviously learning her particular hair as he worked. Joe's hair wasn't quite as tightly curled, after all. Nor was it as long, anymore.

Eventually he reached out to grab her comb, using the edge to make a straight part and working her hair into two bundles. By that point he was more confident and he started humming softly as he nimbly wove her hair into two braids. But not just a simple braid, either. No, he kept the braids tight to her scalp and followed the edge of her hairline so that it would be mostly flat and perfectly comfortable to sleep in.

Nile, for her part, could sleep anywhere, just as long as the surface was somewhere between 'slight incline' and 'fully horizontal' and not made entirely of wasps or something like it. But that just came part and parcel with being a Marine, or so she'd come to believe, so the braid placement didn't really matter, but she was used to sleeping on her back and had every intention of doing so again when she was getting more than a couple hours of sleep at a time.

It was entirely possible that she could doze off right then and there, and the only reason she wasn't was in case he had any other questions, though the silence was one that spoke of experience and practice more than anything, and she appreciated it, murmuring a quiet: "Thanks for this." Even before he'd finished.

Once his fingers remembered the rhythm of the braiding, it wasn't really that difficult and as muscle memory returned, so did speed. He was as efficient with Nile's hair as he had been storming into Merrick's compound to collect their stolen family. This brought a smile to his lips, however. Merrick had only gotten contempt.

He didn't glance up from her hair when she spoke, halfway through her second braid. If he stopped his rhythm, he'd have to go back and start all over again because no one had the ability to pick up a braid that had been stopped. That was a power that didn't exist as far as Nicky was concerned.

"You are very welcome. I enjoy it, actually. I was a little sad when Joe had me cut his hair so short.

"You should try his leave-in. It's similar consistency and you're running dangerously close to being low."

"Yeah, haven't had a chance to restock." Something she was fairly sure would change, and soon, "I'll have to ask, though, could be we use the same brand." A little shrug, careful not to move too much, not wanting to disrupt his flow, "Even if it isn't, might still be the same ingredients."

Where Joe wasn't too picky about ingredients he was about the consistency, and Nile was far pickier about ingredients than she should probably have been, if only because it had been years of trial and error before she'd found a product she liked. Or, rather, two that she combined herself in a two-to-one ratio.

He snorted, a small amused sound that was so toothache inducing that anyone else in the house would have immediately recognized it as a sound meant wholly for one person. "He's been stocking up on the same brand since it first came out and worked well for him."

He finished off her second braid, securing it with a band so it wouldn't unravel. It wasn't perfect, but for braiding while it was dry, it certainly wasn't bad. He stepped back, wiping his hands off with the towel at his waist before he moved around to drop into the chair opposite her.

"I can trim it if you need me to, as well. I'm not a stylist by any means, but I can keep the split ends at bay. Next time I go upstairs, I'll grab his bottle so you can see it."

"Singlehandedly keeping the company in business. Got it." She agreed, though toying with the end of one of those braids she added: "I can usually handle those myself."

A soft snort and a shake of her head followed, "But I can usually take care of the rest of it all myself too. So thank you, I might take you up on that. This is good work. Got to admit I'm a little surprised."

"We can all handle things ourselves, Nile. I didn't offer because I didn't think you could do it. I offered because I wanted to." He shrugged one shoulder. "I enjoy taking care of my family."

And when it came down to it, that was what he always did. Andy was the backbone of their little group, but Nicky was the heart. He made sure everyone ate and had options to drink. He kept the place tidy, making sure that everyone's little odds and ends were either returned to them or placed somewhere easy for them to find. Even with the upkeep of the house, it was a way to make sure that everyone was comfortable and taken care of.

"Surprised?"

She inclined her head in an easy acquiescence to the explanation, she'd felt like that was the case, but hadn't been completely sure.

She just nodded at the question, "Yeah, you know what you're doing and it shows. Where'd you even learn?" Though, before he could actually answer, realization struck and she answered herself with: "Oh. Joe's hair used to be longer, didn't it?"

He chuckled a little, nodding. "It was. Over the years, he has had many styles and lengths. I learned relatively early how to care for his hair. Your curls are tighter and need a little more oil, but the over all process is the same."

He shrugged again, that little smile still firmly in place.

"It would be better wet, but it will do for now. You can keep the scarf for days that you don't feel like doing it, but I do not mind. It is actually nice. Joe's hair hasn't been that long in a long while. I have missed it."

See, Nile. He hadn't offered purely for her sake.

And there was the actual smile, a crooked, wry little thing that probably would have been properly amused under the right circumstances, "So it's not totally altruistic, got it."

Another nod, toying with the end of one of the braids, "We get you some good instruction sheets for crowns and patterns and everything, I think we can work something out. Wouldn't want those skills to get too rusty." That and she'd always hated trying to do the whole thing herself, which was why when she had to it usually ended up just rolled in a scarf for a few days.

He laughed, probably not the first she'd heard but certainly the first she'd caused. It didn't last long, but the wide smile remained and there may or may not have been the softest of snorts at the end of it.

"Of course. I may have to watch you do it a few times to get it proper, but I'm willing to put in the time if you are. Maybe I will be lucky and Joe will be jealous of my fingers in your hair, eh?" He perked one brow in something that could almost be considered 'flirtatious'. He didn't really mean it and that would be obvious to anyone else in their little family, but after a moment he reached out to lightly touch the back of her hand. "I am kidding, sorellina."

He just wanted to be sure she knew that.

That got him a small smile, honestly it was the eyebrow more than the statement on its own and she nodded at the clarification, but gave a little shrug, "Hey, the two of you are really stupidly obviously in love, and if playing with my hair gets you laid? We'll put that one in the 'reasons for' column."

The smile twitched up just a little broader, Nicky, she'd found, was easy to tease back, which would have surprised her a few weeks before, when she was mostly trying not to just snap at everyone, "So in the reasons for we've got, you know what you're doing but need the practice, we've got sometimes I don't want to do it myself, and we've also got might get you laid. In the reasons against column there's... uh..." She scratched behind her ear briefly, "Don't always have the time? Maybe?"

"Oh! Not jealous like that, cara." He grinned, shaking his head a little. "More like maybe he'll grow his own hair back out so that I can do his hair again, too." It was an understandable mistake to make, especially with his misuse of words, but it was still amusing.

"I..actually cannot remember the last time Joe was 'properly' jealous over someone else. Manet, maybe? Or was he the one who insulted my nose?" He tilted his head, looking like he was trying to honestly remember something. After a moment, he huffed out a breath and looked back at Nile.

"I can't remember. Either way, it sounds like we have far more reasons 'for' doing this more often than we have reasons to not. Do you mind if I ask what your wash cycle is? Purely so I can plan time accordingly. It really is easier to make things neat while it's wet."

She made a quiet sound, acquiescence if not agreement at the correction, apparently unbothered by it, "Still going to put that in the 'for' column.
Longer hair would suit him I think."

She tilted her head from side to side at the actual question, "Every three days, give or take," Because sometimes there was reason to wash sooner, and she was fairly sure that would become more common soon enough, but there was something else to catch her attention at the moment: "But back up," It had taken her a moment to actually process the name that had been tossed out as casually as anything, "Manet the painter? Surprised Nymph? Who really doesn't look that surprised at all if you ask me?"

Three days. He could work with every three days. Especially since he wasn't doing much more with Joe's hair than washing it. And he really doubted that she would ever let him help with that part, so really it was perfect.

He got up from the table and headed over the sink to wash his hands. The question about Manet made him glance back over his shoulder, brow arched a little as he nodded.

"Sì. Joe knew him through his work."

Edited 2020-09-28 00:54 (UTC)

She just shook her head, eyes widening for a moment before she closed them so she could pinch the bridge of her nose, "Manet, Édouard Manet, the painter, whose art I saw at the MoMa on a field trip, and you just toss out the fact that you knew him and he might have insulted your nose like he's Steve the next door neighbor. I'm going to need, just, just give me a minute."

Part of it was theatrical put-on, but part of it was genuinely reeling, however briefly, from the historical whiplash.

He chuckled softly, turning off the faucet when he could no longer feel any oil between his fingers. He dried his hands on a fresh towel, and took the buttered one over to the doorway between the kitchen and their laundry. There was already a load going, so he set it aside for later.

"I didn't know him particularly well. You'd have to ask Joe if you want details about him. I met him a couple of times...and I'm fairly certain that he was the one who insulted my nose." He made a face, reaching up to run a finger along the slope of his admittedly rather Roman nose. "I'm aware of how large it is, I didn't need the verbal reminder."

Still, he smirked and headed to the fridge to pull out a gallon sized jar of what looked like milk to set on the counter while he knelt to find the pot that he wanted.

She shook her head, eyes still closed for the moment, kneading up her brow instead of just pinching the bridge of her nose, something reaching a boiling point even as she rattled off: "I don't have anything to ask, I want to know why he named that one a startled nymph when she don't look startled at all and really just looks like my moms when someone interrupts her reading for the third time in twenty minutes."

She realized belatedly the pitch she'd reached by the end and took a deep breath, adding, "But I don't think Joe would have that information."

Her voice got louder and louder as she went and Nicky blinked as he stood up, the stock pot and it's lid in separate hands. She looked upset and he set the tools aside in favor of walking back over and sitting back down in the chair he'd left.

He opened his mouth to say that Joe might actually know the answer to that, depending on when it was painted...but after a moment he just closed his mouth and instead reached out to lightly touch her arm.

"I am sorry, sorellina. I am not sure what I said to bring this to the surface, but I do understand that this must be a very hard thing to hold in your mind."

"I think it was less the what and more the how." She had managed to settle a little, at least, you just said it, like maybe it happened last week and not a damn century and a half ago."

She shook her head, drawing herself up a little once she did so, as if physically moving away from being overwhelmed, "I'll get used to it, I will, that one just caught me by surprise, I wasn't prepared for that."

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