01-23-2026, 05:03 AM
(This post was last modified: Today, 04:19 AM by Nika Raskov.)
A frown and the slight cant of her head stated she disagreed, and didn’t being here, reaching out, say the same? Actions…
Nika’s mouth went dry as Liv appeared to close herself off. Nika deserved it, naturally. What was the smile about when they met then? And the hug? Ah, Liv was just being polite. Of course. That made sense because Liv was raised properly. That’s why she was here at all instead of just hitting ‘block.’ Well, even if Nika hadn’t had the same kind of upbringing, she wasn’t one to run from her responsibilities. Even if it hurt and was uncomfortable. This situation was, after all, entirely Nika’s fault.
She indicated to the server she didn’t have an order and afforded herself a moment to sip the water on the table, dry mouth and all. A lump had also appeared in her throat which took two swallows to clear. Nika kept her eyes on Liv as the other woman avoided her gaze. She worried the water glass slowly around and around on the paper coaster. The race? Well races, there were four. Had they ever talked about…? Nika frowned dimples out briefly. No, it wasn’t a topic discussed beyond surface stuff. Really basic, single sentences. I manage a coffee cafe; I race motorbikes. So the question didn’t require specifics, right? Not like when they spoke about Liv’s art or architecture, history… “Uh, hmm.” No one really wanted to know the details unless they had a microphone or were a fan or part of the team. “Yeah, I can talk about it.” Clearly that question threw her. Qualifying, races and results, hell, what Nika had for breakfast and what socks she wore in the garage was all over 1000 channels, blogs, casts, billboards as soon as she stepped foot in a venue…but that was hardly fair and it was defensive and mean to boot.
“There was a big problem with our chassis…frame…and it took all of us working on it to fix in time.” It had nearly been a complete disaster. She shrugged. “But we got it sorted 11th hour and took home the points we needed.” The asshole motor journalist Annessa despised popped into her brain unbidden. ‘What does it feel like to be in a coma for eight days?’ The man was notorious for crafting his questions for shock value and ignoring conventional racing-journalistic propriety. To Liv Nika offered a casual shrug, “It all worked out in the end.”
The Long Island Iced Tea arrived. “What about you? How are classes and your studio coming along?” That damn lump was still in her throat and Nika took another small sip of her water in an attempt to dispel it.
Nika’s mouth went dry as Liv appeared to close herself off. Nika deserved it, naturally. What was the smile about when they met then? And the hug? Ah, Liv was just being polite. Of course. That made sense because Liv was raised properly. That’s why she was here at all instead of just hitting ‘block.’ Well, even if Nika hadn’t had the same kind of upbringing, she wasn’t one to run from her responsibilities. Even if it hurt and was uncomfortable. This situation was, after all, entirely Nika’s fault.
She indicated to the server she didn’t have an order and afforded herself a moment to sip the water on the table, dry mouth and all. A lump had also appeared in her throat which took two swallows to clear. Nika kept her eyes on Liv as the other woman avoided her gaze. She worried the water glass slowly around and around on the paper coaster. The race? Well races, there were four. Had they ever talked about…? Nika frowned dimples out briefly. No, it wasn’t a topic discussed beyond surface stuff. Really basic, single sentences. I manage a coffee cafe; I race motorbikes. So the question didn’t require specifics, right? Not like when they spoke about Liv’s art or architecture, history… “Uh, hmm.” No one really wanted to know the details unless they had a microphone or were a fan or part of the team. “Yeah, I can talk about it.” Clearly that question threw her. Qualifying, races and results, hell, what Nika had for breakfast and what socks she wore in the garage was all over 1000 channels, blogs, casts, billboards as soon as she stepped foot in a venue…but that was hardly fair and it was defensive and mean to boot.
“There was a big problem with our chassis…frame…and it took all of us working on it to fix in time.” It had nearly been a complete disaster. She shrugged. “But we got it sorted 11th hour and took home the points we needed.” The asshole motor journalist Annessa despised popped into her brain unbidden. ‘What does it feel like to be in a coma for eight days?’ The man was notorious for crafting his questions for shock value and ignoring conventional racing-journalistic propriety. To Liv Nika offered a casual shrug, “It all worked out in the end.”
The Long Island Iced Tea arrived. “What about you? How are classes and your studio coming along?” That damn lump was still in her throat and Nika took another small sip of her water in an attempt to dispel it.