Ripley took a deep breath, cold night air filling her lungs. She was feeling good, and that was all that mattered right now.
Not the cops that could come by at any second. Not the corpses in the basement. Not the Japanese man wailing about his tortured best friend. Not the stoic, silent type beside her refusing to spill his likely terrible, horrible past.
All that mattered was that her head felt funny, and that meant life was good.
Her eyes darted between Al and Jaeger, and then Cruz and Darragh. The exchanges between the two pairs were strikingly similar, yet touchingly different. Al, sat on the car hood, simply said words, likely devoid of meaning, and Jaeger, splayed across some tires, dismissed them like an annoyed older brother. He stared up at the night sky, matching angles with his knife and with one eye closed. which was infinitely more interesting. Meanwhile, Darragh and Cruz were sat on the ground, across from each other. It seemed that Darragh had promised Cruz pizza, and now the former didn't want to pay for it. The parley between Cruz and Darragh was filled with jabs, jokes, and romantic undertones -- they really did act like an old married couple, and who could guess why.
Then there was Isaac. The original loner. Many days, it seemed like a competition between her and him to see who could act more aloof. And most days, he won.
Ripley hadn't told him much about her past, but that was only because he'd never asked. The basic principle of immortals avoiding each other always stood, but in Isaac she saw a man who was at least halfway-trustworthy, which was more than she could say of many, many people she'd known. Isaac clearly had strong morals, but what was interesting was that he never really applied them, as his life -- at least from her perspective -- seemed to be an monotonous and endless string of work days, lonely meals, watching movies, and brooding.
In a way, Ripley was scared of becoming like him. So jaded to the point that nothing pleased her anymore. So done with everything so as to cut everyone off. Ripley really, really didn't want to be like that. But how many more betrayals could one take before they broke?
Isaac was leaned against a fence and staring down at his hands, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands. Ripley could pester him some more, but it would likely lead to nothing. As she knew well, sometimes the only thing that could crack a case was time.
And she had all the time in the world. She stared into the distance as her vision reduced to a slideshow, losing touch with the physical world and diving deep into her mental one.
--
A hand waved in front of her face before snapping, and Ripley blinked, returning to the real world (mostly). Cruz was standing beside her, and he was looking sort of exasperated.
She yawned, reaching up and putting an arm around his shoulder. "You good, big man?"
He made a face. "I was gonna ask you the same."
Ripley waved a hand. "Oh, you know me. I'm in my better place right now. If we don't see heaven, this is the next best thing."
Cruz pressed his lips together. "Right, right."
There was clearly something itching him. And naturally, it would fall to Ripley, in all her grace and benevolence, to be the one to hear it. "What's with you?"
"Other than a dear promise being broken, and thus my heart?" He stuck out a tongue at Darragh, who was wholly distracted as he played Angry Birds on his phone. "I'm not feeling safe about Junpei's whole outburst down there."
Ripley's expression soured, and she knew her mood would be next. "Elaborate."
"I feel like he's about to do something... rash. And I couldn't blame him. I... if someone did something like that to Darragh..." he trailed off, his expression hard and distant. "I'd fuck shit up. No holds barred."
