Yes, I Am Crazy, [Nyarai]

[Brody Adelard]

Brody wasn't failing to realize how crazy he was making himself seem as he walked up to the door of Nyarai's legitimately humble abode, but he didn't seem to care much. His strides were decidedly long and his posture upright as he approached, and he maintained a facade of confidence as he came to stand before her door and gave it a good knock.

She was almost definitely home at this hour of the evening, if not about to arrive there. He had been careful to make sure he didn't waste time traveling to an empty house, after all. So, he was very comfortable as he stepped back and crossed his arms, preparing for that beautiful moment when she would open her door and slam it in his face.

Oh, Nyarai . . . so precious. What a lovely surprise this would be.

[Nyarai Khartuul]

She knew it was him.

The moment he knocked—the moment the pattern rapped on her door—she knew. And then she wondered how she knew. It wasn’t anything special. Just a feeling. Intuition. A woman’s gift for picking up on the little things. Something like that.

She straightened from the spot she was bent over the little stove and pushed her hair back over a shoulder. Steam rose from a pot of water she’d been boiling, and with the addition of tea leaves and dried jasmine, her home was suddenly awash with smells that reminded her of a home far away, in a distant, unreachable place. For a second she closed her eyes and breathed in.

Then she opened her eyes and marched down to the door.

She stopped there, on the other side of the door. She wasn’t sure why she fixed herself, but she did. She fixed the cut of her blouse, eased it down to bare the tops of her dark shoulders. She fixed her hair, tousled it. She even licked her lips, sending moisture glistening all over them.

Then—and only then—she opened the door.

Her eyes were dark, unreadable as she regarded him. “Brody,” she said, coolly.

[Brody Adelard]

Brody's brows slowly crept upward as he looked at her, waiting for something that wasn't about to happen.

"I think we're going to have to try this again," he said. "See, you're supposed to open the door, glare at me like I'm the embodiment of a plague, then shut your door in my face with surprising force." He paused, forgetting the next step in the plan. Narrowing his eyes and putting on his thinking face, he added, "Then I'm supposed to convince you to open the door again and talk to me by being strikingly handsome and . . . possibly annoying."

Translation: "Hello. Thank you for not hitting me."

[Nyarai Khartuul]

And there he was, standing around with that smile on his face.

She weathered the onslaught of utter nonsense well enough, but when he was done, she found herself staring at him. Did he really plan things to go in such a way? Was that why he was here, so she could slam the door in his face?

She looked at him, swept her gaze over the smooth jawline and that smile. Every time she saw him, it was the weight of his smile that distracted her. It carried its own gravity. Magnets. His smile was an annoying magnet, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

Well, aside from impatient--a feeling that took hold quickly enough.

“I don’t have time to do all that,” she hissed, tearing her gaze away from him and looking back at the steam rising over the pot. With a roll of her eyes, she fixed her gaze on him and stepped away from the door.

“Well?" She said, impatient. "Are you coming in, or am I really slamming this door in your face?"

[Brody Adelard]

Smug. He looked totally and completely smug, and he didn't care one bit as he said, "I guess I don't mind coming in," and strolled right on into the place. "If you insist."

He was practically begging for trouble, he supposed, but being a boyish idiot was an easy thing to be. It was even a harmless thing to be, in a way . . . when the husbands of beautiful women weren't able to catch him and try to dismember him. Since Nyarai was very much unmarried, as far as Brody knew, he didn't even have to worry about those potential consequences. So, he was only risking her being mean, and that wasn't usually so bad at all. If it was, he surely would have given up on her a while ago . . . 'cause she was almost always mean.

After making sure that the door was shut firmly behind himself, Brody crossed his arms and asked, "What's in the pot, my good lady?"

[Nyarai Khartuul]

As if to mimic his movements, Nyarai folded her arms across her chest too, her fingers reaching into the fabric of her cloth and clenching tightly. She felt nervous, she realized. There was a sudden rush of electricity through her and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to control it.

The fact that he was standing right there wasn't helping.

Trying to act nonchalant, but not quite meeting his gaze, she forced out a word. "Tea," she said, seemingly staring at his throat.

Maybe letting him in was a bad idea.

[Brody Adelard]

"Ah, what a delightful coincidence," he responded jovially, taking a few steps away from the door and looking around. He very deliberately ignored how uncomfortable she appeared to be as he explained, "I love tea." Coming to a halt, he eyed her mischievously and asked, "Aren't you going to say something nasty and demand to know what I'm doing here?"

Maybe she was sick or something. This lack of maliciousness was very unlike her, though the fact that she wasn't being pleasant prevented it from being alarming.

[Nyarai Khartuul]

She stiffened at that.

"I'm not always nasty," she protested, her dark eyes narrowing in impotent irritation. True, she couldn't stand him, but that didn't mean she was...bad to him. Was she? And why did he notice these things anyway?

Breathing through her nose, she looked away from him, not bothering to even ask him if he wanted the tea he so loved.

[Brody Adelard]

She seemed to almost sort of maybe believe that. Brody had to smile a little more enthusiastically as a result. She wasn't always horrifically nasty, but she was almost always expressing how irritated he made her. There were moments at which he would have sworn she was hinting at fondness or at least some vague sort of preference that he not be killed in a horrible fire, but those moments were few and far between.

"Alright, I will say you are only usually nasty," he said melodramatically with a roll of his eyes. "I might say you're almost endearing when you aren't being nasty, even."

"For the record, I'm only here to say hello. Maybe to make you mad for my own entertainment . . . perhaps have a good chat . . ."

[Nyarai Khartuul]

Endearing?

She was suspicious of him and she didn't know why. There was something about him that unsettled her. That, and how easy he made things seem. Life, loss, exile. Easy. Nothing seemed to shake him. It was all taken in stride.

It was unnatural, and that was why she didn't trust it.

Also, what about that woman he was always with? Evelyn. It made no sense.

"When have we ever had a good chat?" she demanded, unfolding her arms so that she could run a hand through her hair. Was it too late to kick him out? would it be too rude--even for her?

[Brody Adelard]

Brody unfolded his arms for a moment to lift a finger in a very Eureka! sort of way. "Precisely!" he said. "And that is why I'm here. . . in part. Sort of." He paused, crossing his arms properly again. "I actually came to talk to you about me- surprising, I know- so don't worry so much about the invasive, personal questions. It's sort of business-related," he explained.

His tone remained aggravatingly chipper, despite the seriousness of the things on his mind.

"The thing is, I'm in a bit of trouble, and I think that trouble might be getting around town. . ."

[Nyarai Khartuul]

She stared at him.

"So you came here!?"

Of all the stupid, pig-headed, stupid things to do. He came here, to her. The last thing she wanted was his troubles following her. She had enough of her own already. Enough for this lifetime. Enough for the next one.

Staring daggers at him, she found herself clenching her hands.

[Brody Adelard]

"There's the lovely lady I know," Brody said affectionately. "Don't worry, though. I would never intentionally put you in harm's way. This visit shouldn't bring you much trouble."

He paused, considering that for a moment before adding, "Though I do suggest that if anyone asks you about me, you refuse to answer any questions. That shouldn't be difficult for you. . . if you'd be so kind as to inform me about who's interrogating people about me as well, that would be fantastic."

[Nyarai Khartuul]

She rolled her pretty eyes. "I should never have let you in," she muttered.

[Brody Adelard]

"Hence my surprise when you didn't even try to make me feel horrifically unwelcome," Brody said quietly in response, leaning toward her just a bit with a sly smile on his face. "I might say you were even nice for a moment there. Better watch that. Someone might take it the wrong way and harass you because of my tendency to cause trouble."

He actually meant that, in a way. If people were going to start hunting him here- or even just asking questions about him here- it would be in Nyarai's best interest not to appear too friendly with him.

Realizing that he didn't need to tell her to be mean to him all the time, he added, "You can be nice to me privately, of course. I'm referring more to public displays of tolerance."