Some Bridges Burn

    Maeve was still dying to know what his sketches looked like, sighing and hopping back up to her feet once Marshall had. She then tipped her head to the side, eyeing his sketchbook some more. Maybe she could just snatch it... But, Marshall was much, much bigger than her so she probably shouldn't. Nothing too brash, Maeve dear.

    "Sure, you can walk me home," Maeve decided, nodding. She then swiveled on her heels, beginning to walk in the direction of her home, hands clasped behind her back and her feet swinging a little bit with each step because why not. "I'm so thirsty!" She commented. "I usually bring a water bottle with me when I jog, you know, like a smart person, but this time I plum forgot one," Maeve said, sighing heavily. "Dehydration is a real issue, you know," She added as if he didn't already know that.

    "You know what else I forgot? I forgot my nice shoes. I put on these ones. These aren't my nice running shoes," They still looked nice, brand new even, but she didn't seem to think they were nice enough. "I have three pairs of running shoes. One of the pairs is awesome, the second one is this pair, they're okay, and the third pair are my muddy-running-shoes. I wear those when it's raining but I still want to run," She explained.

    Matching her pace Marshall lumbered along after her. He was curious where she lived, being so chipper and all. So long as it wasn't in the North. Marshall wasn't entirely fond of rich kids. While Maeve was nothing short of enthusiastic, she had yet to prove herself snobby. Still, Marshall took a little less kindly to those suffering from financial abundance.

    As Maeve prattled on about dehydration and her water bottle, Marshall nodded along like he actually cared. With four younger siblings he had much experience with young chatterbox but Maeve...well she was quite something. A few times he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, like as where they were headed perhaps. However, he always ended up closing it, drifting in and out of her monologue.

    Casting a glance at her shoes, he fought the urge to scoff. She had three pairs of running shoes? "Brag about it why don't you?" He muttered, slowing his pace as they drew nearer to city traffic. He had three pairs of shoes total! She was definitely a rich kid. Great. "Where did you say you lived again?" 

    "Brag? About my shoes? I thought I was complaining," Maeve said with a smile, still totally pleasant. "Did I say where I lived?" She paused to think before shrugging. "Maybe I did, I say lot's of stuff," What an understatement. "Well, Marshall, we're going to Sunnybrae," She said with a nod. Nope, not the North, and no, Maeve was not a rich kid. She worked hard for her money. She had worked very hard in order to buy herself her good running sneakers, disappointed in herself for not taking advantage of the fact that she had them at the moment.

    "Specifically, the community housing," She specified in case he wanted details. "My dad and I live there," Maeve nodded, picking up her pace ever so slightly after she mentioned her father. "He's probably wondering where I am..." Maeve sighed, finally becoming quiet for once, realizing she'd been out for much longer than she'd anticipated. She suddenly came to a halt, glancing around before changing direction so she was moving in the correct direction rather than just back into the city.

    Complaining? Well, whatever. Marshall hadn't meant for her to hear the underhanded comment anyway. Lucky for him she didn't take offence. He'd had enough of girls and their sudden crabbiness for the year. Traipsing alongside her, he made no attempt to answer her questions. She hadn't said where she lived, but Marshall often asked questions in such a way it left the recipient er bewildered or confused.

    "The South?" He questioned as she spoke. He hadn't asked for her entire life story, or who she lived with. But Marshall didn't complain, absorbing the information as he followed her change of direction. He became conscious of his need to shorten his strides so he didn't leave her behind. For him, the walk was somehow leisurely, his pace set between a slow wander and a moderate walk. "Do you want to call him on my phone?" He offered a few minutes later. Parents could worry, especially at times like these. And noting her sudden silence, Marshall wondered if she was worrying too.

    Maeve nodded, stopping and clasping her hands in front of her. "Yes, we should call him, please," She didn't look so happy now, nibbling on her lower lip, her gaze wandering about anxiously. "He'll be worried, really worried, I've been out for far too long," Maeve took a quick but loud breath, whimpering ever so slightly.

    She was now standing on her toes, not because she wanted to be tall, Marshall had that covered. Maeve was just too fidgety to stand calmly on her feet. She was just short of bouncing about with anxiety, wishing he'd be quick about making this phone call.

    Was it the mention of her father that made her seem all...deflated? Tucking his sketchbook beneath his arm, Marshall came to a slow stop. At this rate, he might as well just drive her home. They were closer to his house anyway. With a sullen look in that said direction, Marshall fished out his phone handing it over. "Here. Let him know you're safe," he mumbled in almost a begrudging manner. He would get her home safely of course, and Marshall wasn't too concerned they would run into any trouble now that they were away from the bridge. But still, the longer they loitered, the longer it would take him to get back home. His own family would be worried too and that annoyed him, not having to escort Maeve.

    Lucky for her there was no passcode on his phone, and Marshall didn't appear too concerned with leaving his device in the hands of a minor. It's not like there was anything illegal on there. First impressions aside, Marshall was a rather decent kid. He kept his nudes somewhere else..Just kidding xD.

    "Thank you," Maeve said with a smile, taking the phone and entering her father's phone number. She wouldn't snoop around on Marshall's phone, it wasn't any of her business what he liked to do on it. Besides, it would be rude, especially with him standing directly in front of her. The phone rang a few times before her father picked up.

    "Hi, daddy, it's me," Maeve said, smiling gingerly. "Hey, so, I'm with my new friend Marshall and I'm on my way home, so don't worry okay? I just wanted to make sure you knew I was alright. I left my phone on the counter in case you haven't already tried calling it," She said, to which there was a murmured reply. Maeve glanced at Marshall before turning away from him and whispering into the phone. "No, daddy, I'm fine, no.. No... Okay, yes... Well you can't just tell me not to! No, have you been-No, dad, drink some water or something," She hissed before mumbling a goodbye, hanging up, and turning back to Marshall, offering him back his phone with a clearly forced smile on her face. "Let's go!"

    New friend Marshall? "That's funny, cause that's my name." he muttered quietly to himself. When between their interaction on the bridge to now had they become friends? He was just dropping her off at home, doing her a favor. They weren't best friends all of a sudden. But Marshall, who never spent any time defining the scope of his relationships with other people didn't say a word. What was he supposed to do, interrupt her on the phone? Best her father think she was out with a friend, even if it was a new one.

    As she spoke on the phone, Marshall turned away to admire the scenery. He kept a lookout for trouble though he was already convinced there was none to be had. With his back turned, the change in Maeve's demeanor went unnoticed, though he listened to her voice drop to a hushed whisper. What now? Was she getting in trouble or something? It wasn't his business, but he hoped her father had something to say about wandering off with strangers. Not that Marshall would ever hurt her, but after hearing her reassurance, Marshall wondered if she'd make friends with just about anyone.


    When the phone call came to an end, he accepted the device. "Alright, let's get you home." he murmured quietly, pretending he hadn't noticed her change in attitude. Keeping a brisk pace, Marshall set off in the direction of Sunnybrae.

    Well she wasn't about to tell her father that she met a guy near the bridge and he was walking her home. He'd be upset with her for trying to make friends with strangers... Again. Clearly, this was not the first time that this had occurred. Apparently she hadn't had to tell him though. She was silent now that they were walking again, having to walk rather quickly to keep up with Marshall. Maeve didn't look all that happy anymore, but she didn't explain, and she assumed Marshall wouldn't ask.

    Maeve was not looking forwards to getting home. Not because she'd be in trouble, that was going to be what it was going to be, but because her father hadn't sounded terribly sober. He had spells where he drank rather excessively around this time of year. With good reason, the anniversary of his wife's death was approaching. She didn't want to be home for that. But, she figured she'd have to at least check on him, make sure he wasn't passed out or something. So, she did her best to keep Marshall's pace.

    When she offered no further comment, Marshall continued to watch her from the corner of his gaze. Did she really get in that much trouble? She didn't look terribly upset, but her silence seemed almost...unnatural. He didn't like to pry into things. It wasn't his business and frankly he liked to tell himself he didn't really care. But...still. Muttering to himself a few moments, Marshall cast her a squinted glance. "You okay?" He didn't expect much of a reply. Well, nothing other than the typical female automated response 'I'm fine'.

    Already his mind was whirling with the possibilities of what might be wrong. The most obvious were she was in trouble, nothing else made quite as much sense. After all, she'd been rather eager to get home until a few moments ago. Or maybe she had a load of chores or something...although she wouldn't have forgotten that.

    Maeve glanced his direction a few times as if thinking over her reply. "Well... I mean... You wouldn't want to know. I just met you and it's a little personal so..." She shrugged, respecting that he probably didn't care to hear about her mother died in a horrible accident and that her father drank to soothe the loss when the anniversary of her death came around.

    Maeve was quiet again, folding her arm across her torso, her gaze falling to the ground in front of her. She glanced at her own shoes as she walked, trying to distract herself with thoughts about how she ought to be using her good sneakers. She was thankful that Marshall asked if she was okay, that was nice of him, but most people who asked Maeve that didn't really want to know the answer or figured they could tune her out like they did most of the time and only asked to make her feel appreciated. She knew people didn't listen to most of what she said, but it didn't really bother her much... Clearly.

    It was personal? Okay. And Marshall, who was the King of all doofuses simply accepted that. He wouldn't go pouring out his own secrets to a stranger. If something personal was bothering her, Marshall would never expect her to do the same. He wouldn't press for an answer, even if it made her feel better. It was personal, and like she said, they'd just met. "I understand." He murmured, falling silent once more. Falling into a rather contemplative silence, Marshall let her be. His gaze followed the traffic as it moved in the opposite direction, only speaking up when they neared Sunnybrae.

    "What street did you say you lived on again? He snuck a glance in Maeve's direction, hoping her condition had improved. Not pushing it was a good thing, right?

    Her condition hadn't really improved, in fact, she was becoming more anxious the closer to her house they got. "Street? Oh, Walnut Ave," She said with a nod, not looking up as she spoke. Maeve was becoming slower and slower, her feet dragging a tiny bit. "I can get the rest of the way there, you don't have to walk me if you don't want to," She offered after a moment.

    Maeve was a tiny bit worried that if her dad was as drunk as he sounded on the phone that he'd be breaking things or being loud and she wouldn't want Marshall to see any of that. So, she could get herself the rest of the way home since it was just over a few blocks. Why not? She didn't think there'd be any danger in the family neighborhood that Sunnybrae was.

Sunnybrae was a very safe neighborhood from what he knew. Walnut Avenue couldn't be too far from here, and Maeve wasn't likely to run into any trouble between here and her driveway, right? But still, he had said he would walk her home, so he would, just to make sure she got there alright. Wouldn't want her father blowing things out of proportion if she showed up alone after all. "It's not much further," he pointed out thoughtfully. "I'll see you to the edge of your driveway." Or at least until her house was in sight.

It would save him time just leaving her here. But assuming even the innermost parts of the city were one hundred percent danger-free was bound to get someone in trouble. Considering how quickly she made friends, Marshall wouldn't put it past her to befriend a Reaper. Well...his own best friend was a Reaper, wasn't he? That's only temporary Marshall reminded himself with a scowl. He'd almost forgotten about Maeve as his thoughts took a rather dark route. What if it wasn't temporary though?

    Ugh. Did he have to walk her all of the way to her driveway? He was only being nice... So she nodded, continuing along. Her gaze fell again, back to her feet, where they remained for the remainder of the walk. She was trying to occupy herself with scheduling matters, planning out the rest of her evening and then the next morning.

    Before they even made it to her street Maeve could hear her father shouting for her. Yeah, he was drunk. "Thank you but look, I can just walk myself the rest of the way home. It was nice to meet you, Marshall! Thanks again!" Maeve called before promptly taking off, sprinting towards her house and hoping that Marshall wouldn't follow her.

    "Daddy? Daddy, please, come inside," Maeve said upon approaching her house and her father, who was swaying about in the front yard, a half-empty bottle of liquor in his grip. "The neighbors will talk, dad," She said in a hushed tone, attempting to take him by the hand and pull him along. He was not in the mood to be touched, yanking away from his daughter.

    "Where have you been?" Maeve's father growled, grasping her by the wrist. "And where's this friend of yours, hm? What have... What have I told you about talking to... To random people?!" He snapped aggressively. "I told you not to! Not to talk to random... Random people!" He exclaimed. He then released her wrist. "Especially... Especially because of how you are," He snarled. Clearly this was not going terribly well, and Maeve was trying so hard to just get him inside or to be quiet. He couldn't keep talking like this, especially outside, he had to hush up so that nobody reported him or Maeve, especially Maeve, who had to keep her unique abilities a secret. Now, her father, who was the only other person who knew about Maeve's gift, was going to let the whole neighborhood know about it.