Treble Clef IPA // Roleplay With Eris

Baylee took another couple of bites to think about it. Although he knew his decision was already made for him by Mila. Berry better keep an eye on her.

"Alright, yeah, sure. Jus'….try to keep outta trouble. I don' feel like losing my job if I have to stab a fatass redneck for touching your butt," he said, frowning down at the plate in front of him. This really wasn't a good idea at all, but he just couldn't say no to her.

Mila didn't like that frown. Not at all. She had to think of something that would make hime smile and quick. Leaning a bit to her side, she gently knocked her shoulder into his bicep. "Jealous that you wouldn't get to touch it first?"

Baylee's face whipped up to meet her gaze, nostrils flaring just as his eyes flashed with something wild. But Mila hadn't moved an inch away and was grinning like the devil at him. Honestly, he was so damn easy to tease. It was almost mean of her, but as her heart gallopped in her chest, Mila realized that she loved it. Plopping her chin into her hand, stil grinning like Satan himself, she arched a brow waiting for him to respond.

"No, I just- standards and-," his face was pulled into a heavy scowl, the good mood he was in just moments ago completely ruined by her simple joke. It made him feel…weak. Like he had no control over his emotions. Well….he didn't now. Before, he was able to manage everything and roll it up into a general ball of dislike, but around her, everything was slipping through his fingers. It was like trying to catch a stream. "…..maybe a little?"

Mila blinked slowly, shock freezing her smile in place. She hadn't expected Baylee to admit it. Not for a second did she think that she would be the one struck dumb. Baylee was still scowling, and an inpressive one at that, but she knew it had nothing to do with her. Maybe her completely unfair teasing, but not her.

She cleared her throat, feeling that she was dangerously toeing the line of the boundary they'd just created. God she wanted to kiss him again. Mila pulled away sharply, taking her empty coffee cup to the sink. Baylee's gaze was like fire between her shoulder blades, as if he was forcing himself to not look any farther down. "I'll make sure to keep my little butt to myself then." Mila said airily.

"Thank you," he grumbled, setting his fork aside and standing up from his chair. "I'm gonna see if I can take a nap. I'll need a lot of energy tonight, so sleep typically helps that."

Two Hours Later.

He lied about the whole sleep thing. In reality, he just needed some time away from her. From that fucking perfect face, that evil smile, and those tempting eyes that dared him to make more contact than eye. But, he did get a couple of hours of sleep, so that was just an added bonus. He walked out his door and ran a hand over his hair, glancing around the hallway before walking into the living room.

Mila was tucked into the corner of the couch–which was also her bed–covered in what looked like every single blanket that Baylee owned and then some. She was fast asleep, one hand still holding open the book she had been reading, and a cup of tea still about half full on the table next to her.

Baylee approached quietly, half in his mind to not wake her up. She just looked so damn cozy, even though her hair was all over her face. He resisted the urge to tuck it behind her ear, instead reaching forward to gently shake her shoulder.

Mila groaned quietly as she came to, blinking at the afternoon light. "Baylee?" Came her soft croak, still half dazed. Her gaze focused on him as she rubbed away the last dregs of sleep. "Oh hey–I guess I fell asleep too…"

"You should eat now, if you plan on going," he said, pulling his phone out from his pocket and looking at the time. 3:45. He slept longer than he thought. "I go pretty early to get things cleaned up."

He walked into the kitchen and got himself an apple, chomping on it loudly as he tried to repress the urge to get a drink. Using alcohol like coffee became a habit of his, but now it felt embarrassing with another person in the home. Especially someone like Mila. So, he ate that apple down to its core in barely 5 minutes, picking the skin from between his teeth.

"Where the hell did you find the tea?" Baylee asked her, poking his head into the living room. "'Cause I know damn well I don't got any here."

"Oh it's mine–I brought it along with the coffee." Mila threw over her shoulder as she folded up the multitude of blankets. Some were three times the size of her and it was a little comical to watch her struggle with all the extra cloth.

Within a few mintues, she stepped into the kitchen with an armful of glossy boxes filled with loose leaf teas. "The dark orange duffle is full of non-perishable snacks and stuff–if you ever want something random. Sustience is important when you're in the middle of Oklahoma with zero rest stops for hours and hours." Mila explained with a shrug, although the discomfort in her eyes showed that it was not an experience she wanted to repeat.

There were about fifteen boxes, each a shiny color and most in languages neither of them could speak, but Mila set them all up nice and pretty next to the Brazilian coffee. Oddly, everything looked right at home in Baylee's kitchen, as if it had always been there. The colors were bright and lively in the baren whiteness of the space.

"Help yourself. There are some really good ones. Personally, I love fruity teas…" Mila voice rambled on as she got herself a snack, an apple just like Baylee. She wasn't sure if he was even paying attention, but it felt wildly comfortable to talk to him. Mila could see him from the corner of her eye, standing still and calm; could feel the heat of his gaze as she moved and spoke… Maybe Baylee was paying too much attention to her.

Mila loved it.

"Fuckin' tea," Baylee mumbled, turning around and reaching into a cabinet for a cup. "Not a fan of it unless it has "sweet" in front of it."

He set the cup on the counter and pulled out the gallon of milk. Maybe it would fill that hole in his stomach that the alcohol. After gulping down the full glass in barely a blink of an eye, he learned that it did not, in fact, fill it up. Letting out a loud sign, he put the gallon back into the fridge and dropped the glass into the sink.

"We'll be leavin' in an hour, so do whatever you gotta do before then," he said, turning back to Mila and frowning slightly. Why couldn't he take his eyes off of her? It's like he couldn't control his own body.

"I can make it sweet tea." Mila muttered with all the sass her tiny frame could muster. Which, surprisingly, was a lot. She even stuck her tongue out at him like a playful child. The singer just seemed so happy–content–to be exactly here she was, as if she were Baylee's own personal ball of sunshine bouncing around his kitchen.

Walking out of the kitchen, she threw a "I just gotta get dressed. Back in a sec!" over her shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom with a armful of clothes. Gentle sounds came from within, along with the unmistakable trilling notes of her voice rising and falling to a song Baylee couldn't make the words out of.

About twenty minutes later, Mila reemerged clad in her usual skin tight black jeans and oversized tshirt. Her hair was loosely braided over her shoulder and she'd even dashed a small amount of makeup on, making her eyes stand out that much more. She looked remarkably similar to the night she and Baylee had first spoken.

(thxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

"'Sweet tea'," he mumbled, suppressing an eye roll as she walked out of the kitchen.

He was putting together their dinner when she walked in a packet of Black Forest Han resting next to four pieces of bread and 3 slices of American cheese. A bottle of Jack Daniel's rested just behind the bread, the cap half-off like someone planned on taking another drink. Which Baylee did.

"Anything else you want on your sandwich?" he asked, looking over his shoulder for a moment to make eye contact. Did she look attractive? Fuck yeah. And that made him worry about how the night will go. "I got, like, lettuce an' mayo an' tomatoes and shit like that"

Mila leaned back against the counter, elbows propping her up as she crossed her legs at the knee. She tilted her head back, gaze landing on the bottle of Jack for a long moment, before flicking to the sandwhich Baylee was making. It looked damn good considering it was just a sandwhich. Or Mila was just hungry.

"Mustard?" She asked finally, looking up at her man–well no–just looking up at Baylee. Christ. Mila made an akward face, almost like she had bit her tongue and turned away quickly. Damn her stupid brain. This was certainly going to be difficult.

"I guess I'm not drinking tonight?" She asked as a distraction, scooping up the bottle of Jack and waving it before her. There was a slight note of mischief to her curiosity, teasing as much as she could about their new boundary. Mila wondered idly what he would do if she took a drink. But–she wasn't that mean.

"Please put it down." There was no humor in his voice as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of mustard. His drinking was a touchy subject, so her joke was not a welcome sound. "If you wanna drink at the bar, sure, go ahead. I can't stop you." He sprayed a wide circle onto the top piece of bread and slapped it down onto her sandwich, sliding each of them into their own separate baggies. There were chips in the back of the bar, so that was the only thing they would need to bring. Even though I hope you don't touch a drop, I can't stop you.

Baylee wasn't in the mood to be teased it seemed. Mila's smile slid from her face slowly, as if someone had dimmed the sunshine in her entire body. Something flashed in her expression for a moment. So quick it barely registered on her face, but the bottle tilted towards her lips. Baylee's gaze flashed up to meet her's and for a brief moment both their stubborn natures were at a stalemate.

Mila had pushed his buttons a lot lately hadn't she? Tested his limits…She was being mean… And she hated it. Hated a little bit of herself for being so goddamn stubborn. Baylee certainly did not deserve to be the outlet of her frustrations.

The bottle moved away from her mouth, rapping on the counter with a sharp crack. Dammit. The air in the room relaxed, as if it had been holding it's breath, waiting for one of them to call the bluff. But they were still staring at each other as Mila flciked the cap all the way on and tightened it. There. Let that put the cap on the stubborn little shit she was. "Ready to go?" She asked somewhat demurely, an apologetic smile gracing her features.

Baylee's facial expression didn't move a millimeter as he slipped both of the sandwich bags into a Wal-Mart bag. He gave it to Mila as he picked the truck's keys up off of the counter and walked towards the door. Didn't even bother to see if she was following him.

There wasn't much to steal in the home, since they both had their wallets, so he didn't bother locking the door before walking to the trunk and unlocking the doors. Did he slam the door harder than usual? Maybe. Was he mad? Yes. Her stubborn attitude now meant she would be at the bar all night. The one night that would be the least safe for her. On top of that, she insisted on pressing the limits of the rules that literally just made. Baylee didn't like getting played with. At all.

He kicked the truck into drive once Mila climbed in and buckled up, driving in complete silence. The radio stayed dormant, since he didn't turn it on. Her attempts to spark a conversation fell flat since he didn't even turn to look at her. Why wouldn't this night just end now?

She had a real knack for fucking things up. She really, really did. The tight, guilty ball of awful that had lodged itself in Mila's throat as they drove to the bar only continued to choke her as they stepped through the door of the bar. Joking about drinking, she was quickly learning, was not something to do around Baylee. Although, Mila wasn't exactly sure why… Baylee stormed ahead of her before she had a moment to use the minuscule courage she had built up to apologize.

Apologize for everything that is. She was a handful and boy did she know it.

"Trouble for y'guys?" Berry's voice came from her left side. He was already seated in his chair, cap pulled low over his eyes.

"I messed up big time–What's knew, am I right?" Mila scuffed her boot on the floor, watching Baylee through sad eyes as he started his work at the bar. "I just….keep saying the wrong things…" She mumbled out finally. Why was she talking to freely with Berry? No idea, but it seemed to help.

"He's damaged, boss." Berry's voice got very low, making sure she was the only person that could hear him. "Not quite right in the head, y'know? Ever since his father died he's been messed up. He used to come to my house sometimes to just box. I'd knock him on his ass and he'd just get right back up. Like he wanted me to hit 'em." He blinked a couple of times in surprise. He wasn't the type to ramble. "Anyways, don't take it personally. He'll apologize once he calms down."

Baylee was too busy making drinks to even care what they were talking about. Work typically kept his mind off of anything that would happen outside of the bar, but it wasn't working at all. He acted like a complete dick and he knew it, but anger got in the way of anything that wanted to come out of his mouth. So he just worked. And kept his eyes away from Mila.

Mila nodded slowly, taking in what Berry said. She still looked sad, her entire stature just tiny. The usual confidence that made her seem larger than life, reduced and quiet tonight. She hoped that Baylee would come around sooner rather than later, Mila had been looking forward to spending time with him. "I promised Baylee that I would be on my best behavior tonight. You think you can keep an eye on me?" A tiny shadow of her normal grin flashing across her cheeks.

Berry gave her a long look before nodding with his own smile and a shake of his head. Mila clapped him gently on the shoulder before heading over to the bar. She sat in her usual seat towards the far end of the bar, leaning her back against the little half wall that marked the end of the counter top. It was only a moment that she had settled in before a small group of people came up to her side. They scared half the jesus out of her, to be honest.

"Mila, right? You singin' for us tonight? It's some voice ya got, girl." The man in the front seemed to speak for them all. Friendly enough, they were all carrying half full glasses of dark liquid.

"Ah– Not tonight guys. I'm just hanging out with my friends. Later in the week though I'll be around." She smiled, running a hand through her hair. Having fans was something that she had never expected.

"That's too bad. Welp–we're sittin' over there if you need company. Have a good night, Mila." And with a tip of his hat the group dispersed. Huh. Mila smiled a bit to herself. That wasn't so bad.

"He-" a snicker. "Hey Ching Chong." A drunken man, leaning against the bar with a stupid grin on his face. Those words. Those fucking words.

“Hey, hey ChingChong.” An annoying, stuffy voice. Deep, but spoken in a tone that made it seem like a child's. Ricky.

Just ignore him and I’ll be fine. Words never affected me before, even if they were coming from a racist shitbag like Ricky. I looked down at my notes and began copying the words from the Smartboard installed on the wall onto the page.

“ChiiiiiiingChooooong,” Ricky sneered again, this time accompanied with a snarky laugh. The fuck does he want?

I turn around and realized what a bad mistake it was. He had his fingers pressed against the side of his eyelids and stretched them out, now only exposing a thin line of his eyes. “How is your daddy, Chingy Chong?” Ricky asked, even daring to use a mocking Asian accent.

Baylee reacted almost exactly the same way that he did in high school. An open hand slap that was so hard that it knocked the drunk on his ass. In a flash, he'd jumped over the counter man, he's been doing this a lot lately and was getting ready to stomp on the man's head. Both Mila and Berry reached him at the same time, Berry pulling him by the forearm and Mila using all of her weight to push him back.

"Say that shit again, jackass!" he shouted, face turning a deep read with anger. "I fucking dare you!"

"Baylee!" Mila cried, but her voice got drowned out by the force of Baylee's shout. He was towering over her, and despite her standing in the way and Berry holding him back, Baylee advanced another few steps closer to the drunk on the floor. Holy shit–what could she do? He was a big man–her tiny ass self wasn't even going to come close to stopping him. Mila wasn't even in his line of sight–and angry he was a force to be reckoned with.

"Baylee!" She tried again, voice cracking–damn was she scared? For a split second, those green eyes flashed down to her. Then his free arm came around Mila's waist and gently, but firmly, moved her to the side. "Bay–"

"–Hey! Step the fuck off, man!" One of the drunken buddies of the man on the ground had been gearing towards Baylee, Mila's words freezing him in place along with the finger she had pointed fiercely at him. Her words were sharp enough to cut steel, the blaze of her blue eyes deadly. That rage of her's coming out to protect her bartender, no questions asked.

Mila wiggled out of his grasp, coming to stand before him again. "Baylee…Hey–come on–Look at me…" Her hand came up, striking the center of his chest with her open palm and leaving it there. It wasn't hard enough to hurt. Just enough to get Baylee's attention. His heart was racing. Christ.

Baylee glanced down at Mila and finally stopped pressing against her attempts to push him back. Berry yanked him back aggressively, pushing him towards the door and away from the drunk guy still splayed out on the floor.

"Cool off, boss," the redhead said, "Take a breather." He turned to the entire bar as Baylee and Mila walked out of the front door and called, "Specialty drinks are done for the time bein'. And someone pick that jack-ass up."

The bartender looked ready to punch through a wall. Or a car. Anything, basically, except for Mila. He kept his back to the young woman, breathing so hard he was almost hyperventilating. His fists were clutched firmly on the bottom hem of his jacket and hi face was such a dangerous shade of red his head looked ready to explode.

Mila stood off to his side, wringing her hands in front of her. Her blues were locked on the man, ready to leap in front of him if he decided that he was heading in before cooling down. She wanted to hug him so bad. The way he was standing and breathing, it was like he was about to go into a full on panic mode. But would touching him just send him over the edge? Would he even want comfort from her?

Baylee's hands moved from their death grip on his jacket to press harshly against his temples. Slowly, to not startle him–although she had the impression he knew exactly where she was standing–Mila moved to stand before him again. "Baylee?" Soft, so so soft. Their eyes met for a second, before Baylee's gaze zipped away from her. He was in so much pain, the harsh set of his features almost frightening.

Screw it.

Moving quickly this time, Mila stepped right up to the bartender and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, her face pressed against his chest. It was okay if he didn't return the hug, but it was the only way she knew how to get through to him. "I've got you…It's okay." She whispered as she squeezed Baylee tight.

Baylee's arms hovered over her shoulders as he stared down at Mila with wide eyes. She was….hugging him. After he nearly killed a man with an open palm slap. Even Berry didn't touch him when he was mad like this. Yet….there she was, face buried in his chest and arms wrapped around him like he would die if she let go. It was…comforting. He could feel his anger slipping away, like she was a sponge that sucked all negative emotions out of his body by simply hugging him.

Slowly, the muscles in his torso loosened, like he was melting into her hug. His arms slowly lowered onto her shoulders and clutched her gently, like he was afraid of breaking her if he held her too tightly. Which he was. In that moment, she was the most precious thing in the world to her. She was willing to meet him head on at his worst, something not even his own family could do. He didn't want to do anything to ruin the moment.

"I……." Baylee's heartbeat slowed down considerably, but was still much faster than it should've been. "Sorry……jus'…….heard that too many times in my life."

"Don't you dare apologize." Mila said fiercely into the cloth of Baylee's shirt. Her arms tightened a bit more, as if she could squeeze him into her so she could protect him from the outside world. Baylee made a little oomph noise that was almost funny. Neither of them smiled though. This situation was just too much. "That asshole deserved to be slapped down into Hell and then some."

As Baylee made a sound of agreement in the back of this throat, Mila wished that he would hold her tighter. Wished that there was some way that she could convey to him that he could trust her with his pain. Sure they hadn't known each other for very long, but he had helped her, gave her a safe place to break entirely. Mila wanted nothing more than to share the same thing with Baylee.

Tilting her head up, Mila met his gaze. Those green eyes were burning, focused so fully on her that she wondered if he was even aware of the world around them. "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with all of this….alone…I've got you now. I promise." Her own eyes swam with unshead tears. God what was she promising?

Baylee didn't respond at first. Where had he heard those words before……..?……..Avi. The last time they spoke in person. How long ago was that? A year? No, longer. Two, maybe even three. But even she didn't say it with the same intensity as Mila. Even so…..Baylee questioned it, the same way he questioned everyone. Why the hell would a girl he met three days ago keep a promise his own sister couldn't? It wasn't like he was an easy person to be around. He pushed people away, drank himself unconscious whenever he wasn't working, and managed to get into fistfights every other week. What about him made her want to stick around?

"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, búp bê," he said softly, breaking out of the deathgrip she had around his waist and opened the front door to the bar. Loud music and excited chatter met his eardrums with aggression, drowning out anything she could've said to him as he slipped back inside.

I should go back out there.

Darker thoughts invaded his brain. No you shouldn't. You're a burden. Something that she should let go. She would be better off forgetting you and moving on.

Mila stared at Baylee's retreating back, and continued to stare at the closed door after he passed through it. You shouldn't keep promises you can't keep. He was right of course, who was she to make a promise like that? She, the whirlwind singer that hopped from town to town like it was going out of style. Baylee couldn't rely on her. But damn, did Mila want him to. Why the hell did she care so much….?

Scuffing her boots on the ground, Mila wrapped her arms tight around herself. She had walked out of the bar without her jacket and it was damn freezing outside now that Baylee wasn't holding her. Her gaze drifted around the parking lot–her car was miraculously unhurt and the tires had been swapped out. She'd have to thank Berry later.–her gaze caught on the setting sun and Mila had the sudden urge to hop in her car and just drive. All of this was overwhelming and heartbreaking, the type of nonsense that she usually bolted from at the first sign, but here Mila was, standing neck deep in a mess.

A mess sure, but Mila felt more herself, more alive than she had since god knows when. All because a bartender offered her a cord and smiled when she sang.

Fuck that. She wasn't running anymore. She would keep that promise she made Baylee.

Pushing through the door of the bar, Mila stopped by Berry's side. The red-headed bouncer was standing with his arms crossed, practically shooting daggers out of his eyes toward his friend on the other side of the bar. She mimicked his stance, peeking up at his impressive height from the corner of her eye. "Is he okay?" Mila wasn't sure that he had heard her soft question in the loudness of the bar, but she asked anyway.

"Yeah, he's fine. Baylee pulled that slap a bit, so he won't get more than a bruise and a pretty nasty hea-" the sharp elbow delivered to Berry's side told him what Mila actually meant. "Oh…." His eyes switched over to the bartender, who had a completely unreadable expression on his face. "To be honest, boss, I have no clue. He ain't ever acted like this before. All….confused. You have a hold on him like I've never seen before."

Baylee himself was working faster than he ever had before. The after-church drinkers were coming in for, believe it or not, their drinks and were demanding some of the most obscure cocktails that Baylee could make. For once, he was happy for them. They gave him an ample supply of distractions from Mila, who was standing next to Berry and talking in a low voice. About him, most likely, which excited and scared him at the same time. Excited because she decided to stay around, but terrified for the same reason.

"You should try to talk to him during his break," Berry continued. "Clear the air a bit, y'know?"

"Clear the air…" Mila mused, tugging on the tail of her braid. "I'm not sure what to say honestly. Any time I try to get close, he pulls back. You say I have this 'hold' over him, but I don't know–" Her full lips turned down in a frown, gaze flicking around the bar once before landing on the bartender again. Baylee was working furiously, almost pointedly not looking in their direction.

"I don't know if I'm good for him." There the words were out in the open. As soon as Mila said them, Berry looked down at her sharply, meeting her wide blue gaze in shock. She had dropped a major bomb and was about to drop another one. "But I want to be. I want to stay….you know?" Jesus why was she blushing now? She was facing Berry fully now, as if the poor guy had all of the answers. Sure, Mila had talked to Berry since the day she started–unlike Baylee, who had kinda just nodded at her every so often–but she wasn't sure why she was bearing her heart out to him now.

After a tense second, Berry and Mila looked away from each other awkwardly. Goddamn, since when was she an emotional mess?