Secret Handshake (Yumi)

[Mariposa Nazario]

Friday night was always a welcome end to the chaos that was working at the courthouse. Oh, Mariposa enjoyed her job well enough, particularly the aspects she knew helped the innocent and the underprivileged alike. She knew what it was to be profiled, and while she may have worked for the law she wasn't one to automatically assume they were in the right.

The past week had been a haze of paperwork, so much paperwork she felt as if she were drowning. Some of it she knew was helpful; some of it was merely busy work.

And yet it all had to get done.

Because of this she had gotten out of work later than she would have liked. Late, but triumphant, emerging victorious over all of her work for the week.

As celebration she decided to drop by Kali's on the way home. She'd only been in Pilot Ridge for a few weeks now, but already she knew all the hot spots. Not that this was difficult, she reflected, the words of her younger cousin springing to mind: Pilot Ridge is teeny.

She wasn't the only professional dropping by for a drink she noted, scanning the bar and seeing suits, suits and more suits. Unlike her striking red dress suit most were in blacks and greys, but they were still suits.

A few more casual customers were also hanging around, perhaps having jobs that allowed jeans and t-shirts or perhaps having gone home to change first.

She sidled up to the bar, choosing an empty stool and gesturing toward the dark-haired woman sitting beside it. "Is this seat ta--hey, Yumi!"

Her expression of mildly polite curiosity mingled with the weariness of a long day turned into a delighted smile as she recognized the other woman. "Thank God it's Friday, huh?"

[Yumi Murakami]

Glancing around the bar, Yumi had to admit that she felt a little guilty.

Everyone else was visibly exhausted from the week's efforts. Businessmen in nice suits slouched over the bar, lost in their own tired world. Women lounged about in various states of dress, no doubt pining (at least a little) for some chance encounter with a certain someone.

Aren't we all, thought Yumi.

Yumi, in contrast, felt more than a little at ease. Life at the library isn't so difficult once the semester's underway, at least compared to other times of the year. During the midterms and finals seasons all hell breaks loose as students frantically search the library for books to aid them in their research and last-minute test preparations. The rest of the time is quieter; more enjoyable. There's always some work to be done, of course, but nothing egregious. As a result, on this Friday she felt...not energetic, perhaps, but relaxed. Yes. Relaxed. It didn't hurt that she didn't have to wear any of those stupid respectable clothes, either, as seen by the lovely dark dress she sported this evening.

Pursing her lips, she raised her glass and shook it, ever so gently. The brown Manhattan inside trembled faintly from this motion. She took a sip, then another, closing her eyes in pleasure as the harsh but pleasurable taste assaulted her taste buds and the back of her throat. A slight fire leaped up in her chest. Yumi had always preferred the harder stuff, but a Manhattan was the perfect point between the harsh drink and the soft--all the savory aspects of whiskey with none of the face-clenching aftertaste.

"Hey, Yumi!"

Yumi swiveled on her seat only to come face-to-face with the new-in-town Mariposa Nazario. A genuine, pleased smile lit up Yumi's face as the Hispanic beauty took a seat beside her. "Hey there," returned Yumi as she raised her glass in greeting. The two of them had met briefly in similar stiuations--bars and clubs and such. The little that Yumi knew of the woman pleased her...though that might have had something to do with the fact that Yumi found the woman frighteningly, almost unbearably attractive.

Like many of the bar's other patrons, Mariposa looked more than a little exhausted, though she hid it well enough behind her smile. "Thank God it's Friday, huh?" she said to the younger woman, who responded with an emphatic "definitely."

Yumi raised her hand for the bartender. "Hey!" She jerked her thumb at Mariposa. "A drink for my friend here, if you please."

[Mariposa Nazario]

The greeting, genuinely delighted if not the quite enthusiastic, coupled with the call to the bartender, was enough of an answer to her unfinished question, and she smoothed her skirt lightly before sliding onto the stool beside the other woman.

"Hello, weekend!" She laughed, leaning one arm against the bar and glancing at the drink in Yumi's hand. Greeting the end of the work week with alcohol she could get behind, particularly after this week. She began tapping her feet against her stool, wishing she could slip off her heels. She enjoyed wearing them; in some ways wearing them was a sign of triumph because she'd managed to find heels in her size. But despite her stubborn desire to wear them as much as possible even she had to admit that by the end of an entire day spent in heels her feet were sore.

She flashed the younger woman a smile as the bartender returned with her drink. "Thanks." Her gratitude was directed at both the bartender and Yumi, "Definitely what I need after this week."

She let out a sigh of satisfaction before turning her attentions directly at the Goth woman. "So any grand plans for this weekend? Recuperating from a taxing week shelving books and telling teenagers not to text in the library?"

[Yumi Murakami]

"You can't text in the library?" said Yumi. "I should probably stop doing that, then."

She gave a quick grin and downed the last of the Manhattan. Of course she never texted in the library...where anyone could see her, at any rate.

"But seriously. It's been okay. Shit'll hit the fan come midterms but until then things just putter along and...hang on."

The bartender had wandered over once again. "Could I have a White Russian?" He nodded and began fixing her drink. Yumi gave a happy little sigh, then brought her hand up to cup her face as she leaned forward over the bar's polished, wooden surface. She smiled slyly as she gave a sidelong glance at the other woman.

"It's not recuperation as much as an understanding of how much I absolutely adore alcohol." She lowered her voice. "I still haven't gotten used to the idea of being able to go up and order my own drink...I spent so many years asking my older friends to buy me booze that ordering my own still feels kinda wrong. You know?"

She was talking too much, perhaps. Whatever. The drink was in her; the spirit of conversation needed to be sated.

"I actually got thrown out of here a couple of years ago. I was sitting...over there." She nodded to a currently-empty corner table. "The bartender caught me drinking the shot of Tequila my friend bought me and threatened to call the cops, since I couldn't produce my I.D."

Smarter people might have refrained from mentioning their problematic relationship with the law while in the company of a law clerk, but those people weren't Yumi.

[Mariposa Nazario]

"You can text in the library? That old bat at the public library has some serious explaining to do!" Mari shot back with a laugh. Of course, working at the library probably entailed a slightly different set of rules than patronizing one; it was one thing to send bored texts while at work and quite another to send bored texts while in someone else's domain.

She nodded sympathetically to the other woman's alcohol related tale, not at all bothered by the fact that she'd been in any trouble. Mariposa was no stranger to trouble with the police herself, given the transphobic and racist attitudes prevalent even in large, supposedly progressive cities like Boston and New York City. She'd been harassed for alleged solicitation (entirely untrue, but a not uncommon occurrence for her minority trans sisters) and being yelled at by a bar owner seemed slight in comparison.

In any event, she'd been in college not too long ago, and she'd had friends blatantly ignore age related drinking rules, and she hadn't always obeyed them, either, and so she wasn't one to judge. Not for that.

"Did they call the cops or did you leave quietly?" Since Yumi had only said they'd threatened to call she assumed the other woman had left, but she could be wrong.

"If it's that hard on you to order you're own I'll order your next one for you and sneak it to you." She offered jokingly. She would do it, too, but she also didn't expect that offer to get taken up.

[Yumi Murakami]

((Sorry that I didn't get back sooner...this week was absolutely nuts. I should be less busy from here on out.))

At the other woman's offer, Yumi stuck out her tongue and made a "pbbttthhh" sound. "Man, I don't need anyone to buy me shit. I'm 21 now. Legal and everything." She waved a hand dismissively. "I've managed to retain a clean record so far...except for when I got caught spray-painting a locker back in middle school. That was kinda bad."

It was at that moment that the bartender returned with her White Russian. She gave a friendly smile and took it. "Thanks dude!" Yumi offered cheerfully. The bartender gave her the kind of look belonging to professionals who are amused, in spite of themselves, and departed.

Yumi closed her eyes and sniffed at the drink, only to smile happily at the pleasant, chocolate-y aroma that wafted into her nostrils. "Kahlua's the best," she said, then took a sip. "You want a sip? I'm not sick or anything, promise."

[Mariposa Nazario]

((noooo problem. It's not like I just spent almost three weeks doing no posts. D: I am soooo sorry. But look, you're the first one I am replying to XD))


"My hat's off to you, then," Mariposa grinned, unable to be the least bit concerned by Yumi's confession. "There were a couple people's lockers I would've loved to spray paint, but I'm not that creative."

As well, she hadn't had nearly as much confidence as a teenager. The years had been kind in that regard.

At the offer to have a sip the older woman leaned closer to her smaller counterpart, sniffing at the aroma that was so delighting the other. "It is delicious. It should go in every beverage."

The remark about her health drew a bark of laughter before the tall Hispanic woman drew back. "I would like a sip, if you don't mind. My desire for Kahlua is too strong for me to doubt your word."

Not that she would have doubted Yumi, anyway; that she went out of her way to say she wasn't sick was good enough for Mari.