Reconnoiter || Guns N Roses, David Bowie, Bon Jovi

Reconnoiter: Eight

"Oh, God no." I whispered, I swear I could see his eyes glisten with humour from the window.

He was just standing there, looking up at me with his hands shoved awkwardly in the pockets of his jeans. His hair seemed even brighter when cast against the red blazer he was wearing, with a simple white t-shirt underneath. He looked normal, and normalcy was flattering on him.

"Calliope, get down here," he demanded, but it sounded more like a request. I stood there, leaning against the windowsill with my mouth hanging open. "I... I..."

"Come on, Calliope. What else do you have to do? Is 'Sixteen Candles' on ABC?" He... was teasing me. It felt weird and good, strange and right. That doesn't mean I had any desire to go down there, but I saw I had no choice. I did know that I was going to give him a piece of my mind for showing up here like that, uninvited.

"I... I have to put some clothes on." I turned away from the window, my mind was numb and unable to function as I pulled out some clothes and threw them on hastily. I saw my badge on the dresser with the recording microphone, but I didn't put it on. I shoved my feet into my sneakers and returned to the window, looking down at him reluctantly. "What do you want?" I called, looking over my shoulder as if Cap would just appear out of nowhere.

"For you to come down here." He looked down at his shoes, before he muttered something that sounded like "Please."

I sighed, and then slid down the drainage pipe, landing on my feet a few yards away from him. I brushed myself off, and then turned my attention to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out for a few seconds. "Calliope, I want you to try to understand-"

"You know, you have a lot of balls coming here after what you did to me last night." I was done yelling, I didn't want to. I figured he could hear what I had to say just fine, even if I didn't raise my voice. I didn't feel like me when I did that, I felt out of control. He chuckled, "You used a figure of speech."

"Never mind that, I just... you're so confusing, and I don't think I can handle it anymore. You abuse me, and then you come back. You expect me to want to be around that, which I frankly don't understand. You called me a whole lot of names yesterday, you tore me down, yet here you are. Why are you here?"

The warm breeze blew a few strands of hair into his eyes, and he pushed them back under his baseball cap. "My truck is parked over there. I don't drive it often, because I don't go out for recreational purposes often. But it's over there, and... we're going to go get in it now."

Dumbfounded, I scoffed at him. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm telling- excuse me, asking you to." With that he turned and strode toward the end of the alley, jingling a set of keys in his hand. "What? Wait a second!"

"Come on, Calliope." There was a truck parked at the end of the alley, a black pickup propped up high with double sets of wheels on every side. It looked new, really new, and extremely expensive. He got in the driver's side, and I reluctantly followed, gripping the chrome doorhandle for a long time before I actually opened it.

It smelled good inside, like leather and cologne with a hint of tobacco. He was sitting there waiting for me, watching as I settled in. "Calliope, I'll explain if you let me. Just... I understand, alright? I need to explain." He leaned against the steering wheel for a moment, gazing up at me. "So... explain?"

"You... make me weak."

"Oh god." I groaned, placing my head in my hands. "No, just... let me finish, please." I quieted down, waiting.

"You make me weak, and... nobody can do that. Nobody but you. You were right when you said that it scares me, because it does. I'm scared shitless every time I look at you, and it's extremely uncomfortable. I just... I think about you at night, instead of my job, or my band. I think about the things you say, and they're... I just..." He sighed, letting his eyes fall closed for a minute. I was smiling a little bit, ready to tell him that it's all he needed to say, but he went on.