Dogs? Dogs made Tristan nervous. Not afraid, nor did he hate them, but they simply made him feel uneasy. Perhaps this was because he never saw dogs much, if at all, in his childhood, and to be honest he really wasn't used to them. Thankfully this Rogue of hers didn't seem like a bloodthirsty guard-dog; the animal struck him more as a companion. He could deal with that. Besides, this dog could be something of an advantage. Lately Tristan saw a rise of women who owned dogs, because street thugs were less likely to bother one who walked alongside a loyal dog that may attack an unfamiliar and dangerous person. Yes, it would be good to have Rogue with them.

"Don't worry about it, it's alright. Mick...t-tries to tell me to be more...open. verbal. To talk things through when things are....going south. He says it's good to help clear the mind and get it out...but i'm still working on that. But um...it's fine if you do, it's probably good for you." Tristan disappeared back into the bedroom and came out a few moments later with a large, maroon-canvas duffle bag slung across his shoulder; in light blue embroidery read, TDNIX025WEST across the thick strap. The bag was large and apparently heavy, but he seemed well accustomed to carrying it, like a homeless man acquaints himself with the pull of his backpack. He also carried a messenger-bag made of the same heavy canvas in the same dark-maroon color, and it too bore TDNIX025WEST on its strap. That seemed to be all Tristan owned.

"C'mon," he said, gathering his room key. "Let's find a car." After checking out at the front desk, Tristan headed outside and scanned the street for a good mark; a decent car that would serve their purposes well. "Don't freak out," he told Aibhlinn. "Remember to trust me." After finding a Subaru Outback, he moved to the driver's side door and skillfully unlocked it with the careful use of a tennis ball with a hole pierced through it. The ball worked like an air pump, and when pressed against the lock and forcefully squeezed, the onrush of air forced the lock mechanism to pop open. Tristan opened the door and unlocked the rest of them before going and dumping his things in the back. "Get in," he told her as he already began hotwiring the vehicle. His fingers moved with trained skill, like he'd done this countless times before and in just a few seconds he had the engine roaring.

"I need directions to your house."

The ride back to her house was a rather quiet one. Aibhlinn's mind wasn't in the present anymore. She was trying to decide what she needed from her house. Her life was changing in front of her and there was nothing she could do about it. She sighed and got out of the car when they finally reached her small apartment. It had been a place she bought as a temporary home for herself while she got herself situated to learn the ropes of living by herself. She had been so young when she got the place. She smiled a little. The place had served her well over the years.

Aibhlinn hurried to the door and opened it up. She immediately heard the barking of her over excited boxer. The precious thing was three years old and all awkward puppy. Her fur was white and held the tints of the black spots on her skin. Her ears were pink as was her tummy. Aibhlinn laughed and hugged the dog as the creature licked at her excitedly; it's tail wagging a mile a minute.The dog jumped up a bit and Aibhlinn found herself against the wall.

"Oh Rogue! Calm down!" she laughed. She rubbed the dog's ear before she set about grabbing all the things she needed for her relocation. She set the luggage at the door before she went to the small container that held the dog food. She dragged that to the door as well. Then she put the leash on Rogue's collar and ushered her out the door. She got to the car and hesitated a moment. "Do you mind if she sits in the back seat? And could you help me grab the luggage?" she asked.

Tristan was thankful for the silence between the two of them during the car ride. He'd already talked so much today and frankly it was exhausting to always communicate with someone, someone he didn't really know. With Mick, it was different. Mick understood him, understood where he came from and why he did what he did, but most of all, he knew when to shut his mouth and when to keep talking. Tristan liked that about him. His perceptiveness was also something he hated, too, because he could hide nothing from his friend's sharp eyes. Often times he would walk in the door and Mick would already know what was on his mind and would sometimes press him about it even though he really didn't want to talk about it. Tristan knew why; Mick cared about him and even Tristan knew he had problems. Did he know how to fix them? Not really. But he sure had problems. As of late, Mick tried to work with his Reidanian friend, to be something of a--dare he say it--therapist, and that's what Tristan was doing just before he left to this side of Miami and ended up running into Aibhlinn.
Be more open with people, Trist. People like it when you are, and you'll find it's nice to get things off your chest, too, Mick would say. Even though Tristan had said very little of his personal life to Aibhlinn, the fact that he sat down with her and spoke to her, decided to stay with her, was a monumentally large step towards what Mick called 'healing'.

Tristan said not a word until they were actually inside Aibhlinn's home and he heard the excited barking of the white boxer named Rogue. The animal leapt on her owner, large paws pressing into her upper abdomen to better reach her face with her lapping tongue. Tristan noted the location of the animal's paws on Aibhlinn's body and subconsciously wrapped his arm around his stomach lest the dog come to greet him. Thankfully, Rogue seemed way more interested in her owner than him; of this, he was thankful.

Once Aibhlinn gathered her things, Tristan was quick to grab the luggage. "Yeah, its fine if she's in the back. As long as she doesn't, i dont know, bite my ear or something." Remembering Mick's words to be open, he went on further and in a much quieter voice, "I won't lie, dogs make me a little nervous. I haven't been around them much." There, that wasn't so hard, was it? In some way, he felt relieved that she now knew and understand him a little more, but at the same time the thought of giving away a 'weakness' made him the smallest bit anxious. What if she used that against him? This line of thinking was silly--even Tristan knew that. She needed his help; why would she strike against him?

Tristan loaded the things into the car, started up the engine, and waited for Aibhlinn to get inside before driving off towards the other side of town. His phone vibrated, the letters, MICK popping up on the screen with the picture of a man dressed in period clothing with a rustic sword in hand behind it.
"Ashland," he answered, sticking to his name-facade.
"On your way, i presume?"
"Affirmative. We'll need new plates--the car I'm driving isn't mine. It's an outback, i'd guess 2005."
"Right away sir," Mick answered, comically imitating a british butler. "Are you driving or is she?"
Tristan snorted. "Do i have to answer that?"
"You said you had a rough night, i figured you'd catch up on lost sleep on the way."
"You're joking. I thought you knew me, Mick."
"No, i'm serious! There's a lot to discuss when you get here and i need you with me."
"I am."
"Oh are you? How much sleep have you had in the past 36 hours? Mmm?"
Tristan hesitated. "That's not important."
"How many, Garrett?"
"Four," Tristan muttered. "It doesn't matter. I'm driving, I'm fine, and we'll be there soon."
"Do me a favor and don't crash because you fell asleep on the road? Okay?"
"Whatever, whatever. Joeada, don gyahus pinan." ((Trans: Goodbye, see you soon))
"Joeada, Garrett."

Both men hung up; tristan huffed a small sigh. Suddenly he began to dread the coming night and in the pit of his stomach he felt something would go awry. Go figure.

Aibhlinn sat back in car and listened to the conversation. She had to admit she was a little scared. For no real reason, she was here trusting a complete stranger she bumped into and spilled her drink over. How could she have told him that she was pregnant and now sitting in the back seat of his car? The guy could be a psychopath for all she knew! Rogue didn't seem to mind the guy. The silly dog tried to to lick him a couple of times while he was driving. All she knew was that she couldn't protect herself when the time came and she did need someone around. She just hoped she made the right decision in trusting this man.

When they finally reached her knew home, she got out of the car and helped her dog out as well and made sure the little thing didn't run off and get lost. She took out her phone and stared at it for a moment. She wanted to call her family and tell them she was going to be okay, but then they'd start asking question and demanding things and it would just get worse. But, if she didn't tell them, they'd start calling the police thinking she was kidnapped. She bit her lip and tapped the phone for a moment before she gave in. She at to at least tell them nothing was wrong. She'd call the home phone. Everyone was out today.

Aibhlinn dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear. When the answering machine came up, she left her messaged; "Hey everyone it is Aibhlinn. I just wanted to say that I'll be gone for a while. I need to take care of some things and just get out of dodge to get my head on straight. Don't call me, text me or anything. I am fine, I love you all, and I'll see you guys later. Bye." she hung up and then turned off her phone. At least that was taken care of. "All right, Mister," she said and turned her attention to Tristan, "lead the way please."

The two drove away from the typical Miami hubub and the chaos of downtown and a long ways down a few backroads along cliffsides that overlooked the ocean. Tristan drove until streetlights disappeared and the frequency of other cars passing them on the road lessened so that they hardly passed a soul on their way. Finally the blonde drove down a sharp hill that led to a gravel roadway and parked next to the cliff-face behind a small house that had no lawn, just a raised foundation on a sandy beach that extended a good fifty feet before it met the lapping water's edge. The next house was a ways down the beach and well out of earshot. The house they parked behind, Mick's house, was well kept and clean, painted blue with white trim. A car with a fitted cover over it sat behind the house next to a motorcycle, which was immaculate.

A dark haired man came outside holding a screwdriver and two license plates. Grinning, he said, "there you are, you little bas----. Didn't fall asleep at the wheel, I see?"
"For your information, Mick, I''m taller than you, in case you forgot. But I am a bas----. Good to see you. Again." Tristan smiled, the first honest, genuine smile since he met Aibhlinn. "Mick, Aibhlinn, Aibhlinn, Mick."
The shorter man bowed dramatically with a smile and said, "A pleasure to meet you, miss. Something to understand about me, I'm on your side. Heh, if I can stick with Garrett for so long and all his antics, I think you'll be fine." His grin was genuine and warm--it was quickly obvious why Tristan was friends with him. Something about his whole demeanor seemed like it could diffuse a bomb, but he was also the life of the party when in social situations. As he began changing out the license plates on the stolen subaru, he said, "Why don't you take your things inside? Bring the dog, too--I like dogs. I'll be in soon. Make yourselves at home!"

Tristan scooped up my bag and one of Aibhlinn's and brought them through the back door, into the spacious kitchen, down the hall and dumped her bag in the guest room. "I'll sleep in the living room," he said, lying through his teeth--he knew the chance of him actually sleeping were slim, but he figured he'd at least lie down on the couch with the tv on until the wee hours of the morning. Maybe tip back a mojito or two.
Tristan put his bag in the corner of the living room and immediately went to the kitchen again to raid the fridge--one of his favorite passtimes at Mick's house.

Aibhlinn smiled at Mick and gave him a nod in greeting. "Hello, Mick!" she smiled. He seemed like a charming man. Aibhlinn couldn't help but smile with him. Oddly, she felt safe with these two men. She rested her hand on her stomach and looked down a little. Soon, maybe too soon, her stomach would start rounding and growing as the little baby developed. The thought of a child growing inside of her both scared her and thrilled her. A life rested on her shoulders that wasn't hers. True she had her dog, but this was just... different. It was a baby. Her baby.

"Thanks Mick," she said and grabbed her second luggage; the lighter of the two since Tristan already grabbed the other one. She followed Tristan into the house with Rogue leaping about in front of her trying to get into the house faster. Her big black nose was already pressed against the floor sniffing and snorting at all the new scents that reached it. Then the silly little thing had to run to the pushes and start marking her territory. "Rogue!" she snapped and pulled the dog along. "You can do that later." Once inside, she let Rogue go and the silly thing started running around as if zapped by an electric charge. It was just so happy.

Aibhlinn went to the guest room and started to set up the room with her things and emptied her bags. Once everything was in its proper place, she came out of the room and looked over at her Rogue. The dog was laying against the wall with her legs up in the air. Aibhlinn chuckled a little before she went to one of the seats in the room and sat down across from Tristan. "So now what do we do?" she asked him.

It was quickly apparent that Mick was appreciative of Aibhlinn's reciprocation of his sociality--he wasn't used to such a courtesy with Tristan. Or rather, the blonde tended to relate to him in his own way. Mick knew this and understood Tristan's 'language' better than most--both his literal home-dialect and his mannerisms. Of this, Tristan was ever grateful. And while Mick loved the late-night conversations over mai-tais on his roof, he also loved talkative people, energetic and sociable people.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Miss," He said, still working on the license plates. "Like he said, the name's Mick Locke. Mi casa is su casa....er...something--however that goes," he said with an apologetic smile.

Tristan started making a sandwich out of ingredients from the fridge--everything from ham and pickles to mayonaise--as Aibhlinn took a seat and asked what the next step was. He didn't answer at first, mostly because he was trying to figure that out himself. Honestly, he hadn't thought that far ahead. Tristan just knew he had to get her to somewhere safe, and Mick's house was about the safest place he could think of. The man, in his younger years, caused quite the stir when he and two other partners pulled off a massive art heist some seven years ago. One partner passed from an unfortunate heart-failure, and the other took his share and retired in peace somewhere in Switzerland. Mick stayed in the states and moved to Florida on his own private section of beach, and since then he'd been avoiding the scrutiny of the law with amazing skill. No one knew how to stay hidden like Mick Locke.

Before Tristan could come up with an answer, Mick came back inside with the old plates and tossed them in the trash. He then took a seat next to Aibhlinn and smoothed his hair habitually with one hand. His brown eyes drifted to her stomach for just a moment before jumping back and forth between his two guests. "So, Garrett, you weren't kidding..."
"You think I'd joke about something like that, Mick?"
"No. I thought you were drunk. But gracious, here you both are...." Again, he looked to Aibhlinn's stomach. "Honestly, I never thought I'd live to see the day...It's hard to believe that you're...." he didn't dare speak the word out loud, like it was a fleeting moment that would escape him if he uttered it. "it's hard to believe it's true. But rest assured, I can think of no better place for you to be but here, and if anyone's good at protecting someone, it's Garrett, here. He's got more firearms than a rioter." Mick grinned, but the look Tristan gave him in return was biting. Wasn't that supposed to be a secret? Then again, it was probably wise that she at least know that much. She didn't need to know about his occupation, however.
Tristan shrugged it off. "You can never be too careful these days," was all he said. "But you could say I have some.....experience in protecting people. Not like a bodyguard....different but...." he trailed off. His wartime service was not something he really wanted to talk about.