#the prequel to ias 35 40 and 44 i guess

[jelzorz]

64.

Altogether, it's been a pretty shit day.

Rayla scowls at the email from the courier with perhaps a bit more menace than should be appropriate, but decent pointe shoes cost an arm and a leg these days, and finding out that hers have been delivered to the wrong address isn't helping. Her current shoes don't have the support anymore, and she's left rehearsal almost unable to walk one too many times. The idea that she'd have to go again tonight in her old pair isn't appealing in the least.

She's halfway through an angry email about it when the doorbell rings.

It's four in the afternoon. She'd spent most of her work day chasing up after this BS in between making coffee and deciphering Nyx's terrible handwriting, and she'd hoped for a cup of tea in silence, at least, before she had to trek out to the studio for another of Runaan's (rather too aggressive) rehearsals but the world seems to hate her today, and she snarls and climbs out of the kitchen stool. It's probably the landlord, she thinks. It wouldn't be the first time someone's complained about the (apparently too loud) classical music spilling from her window (which is the dumbest complaint she's ever heard, frankly—she needs to get to know her music and it's not like she's playing shitty punk rock at nine in the evening like other people in this apartment building), and she steels herself procrastinates her way across the hall—

But it's not the landlord who's come to call, and the man in the doorway grins sheepishly at her as he holds up a package.

"Uh—hey!" he greets, awkward, earnest, and much friendlier than average occupant of this building. He shakes his hair out of his eyes—bright and green and honest—and clears his throat. "Sorry to bother you. Is there a Rayla who lives here?"

Rayla stares at him. "That would be me," she says stupidly. She eyes the package in his hand.

"I think this was delivered to the wrong place," he says, holding it out to her. "I'm definitely no ballet dancer."

Rayla wrinkles her nose. "What, did you snoop through it or something?"

"What? No!" The man stares at his shoes, cheeks tinged pink. "I just—uh—I recognise the company that makes them. My—uh—my brother buys his character shoes from them." He pauses uncomfortably and fiddles with his fingers. "Sorry," he adds hastily. "I didn't mean to make it sound weird. I just... the posties make mistakes and this neighbourhood isn't great so..."

In spite of herself, Rayla breathes a chuckle. Her mood lifts, just a little, and she offers the gentleman in her doorway a grateful smile as she takes the package. "Sorry," she murmurs. "It's been a long day."

"I get that," he says, lips twitching. "Glad I could get your new shoes to you though."

"Yeah. That's... Thanks." Rayla's smile widens into something a little more genuine. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," says the man. "I'll—uh—go now, I guess? It was nice meeting you." And he waves, and steps back, and Rayla wonders if maybe she's been a bit too grumpy to him—he certainly didn't have to go to the trouble of making sure she got her package, and honestly, most people wouldn't have—

She clears her throat. "I didn't get your name," she says before she has the chance to think about it.

The man pauses. He turns. He smiles. "Callum," he says. "I'm... just upstairs. In—in 40."

And Rayla grins at him and taps her fingers against the plastic packaging of her parcel. "Nice to meet you, Callum."

He chuckles. "I'll see you around?"

And maybe it's just been a while since Rayla's met someone worth 'seeing around', but she nods and leans against the doorway. "Yeah," she says. "You will."

#rayllum #in anticipation #SBC #the prequel to ias 35 40 and 44 i guess?