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Well, this was not at all the place that door usually led to. Now he's been drugged before, once (it didn't end very well when he found out who'd done it) but he hadn't a lick of whiskey today so he knew it weren't that, and Nash considered himself a fairly well off man up there in the noggin. So as to how that cellar door lead here was something of a mystery, putting aside all that 'here' was.

Matter of fact was, though, he could waste his time trying to make a fuss or just roll with the punches. Either way, he figured it'd sort its self in time.

So that being said, "Which one'a you gonna handle my ma's wrath when I ain't home for dinner?"

He rolled a toothpick between his lips with a cheeky grin. Then, more seriously, "what makes a man irredeemable?

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Not every good story has to start with a bad decision, but most of the interesting ones do. There's no need to rush anything. She's not going anywhere.

He can watch her blushing all he likes, but after the initial wave of embarrassment from the scrutiny subsides, she'll be giving him one of her infamous eyebrow looks. This one is 'that look for when you're waiting for the joke to be funny'.

"Human and flawed, yeah." Being asked about her worst makes her smile fade. She looks down, sips her whiskey, and thinks about how to phrase it before deciding there's no sugar-coating what she did. Her eyes are sad when they lift to meet his again, sad and resigned to whatever judgement he passes. "I walked away from a friend when he needed me, and he died."

Nash let out an exhale at his failed attempt to lighten the mood. Suppose he should have figured that if Verity could tell when someone was lying they wouldn't answer a question like that lightly. He frowned a little, brows ebbed inward, and a hand instinctively found her shoulder.

"Hey," he tipped his head, "Shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry." A moment, he let his head fall. "How 'bout we start over? Since you live here, I'm about ready to head out. Wanna show me the sites?"

There's a jolt of surprise when he touches her, just an instant of tension before she releases a breath and relaxes. His touching is permitted. She'll even lean into it if his hand lingers.

"No, I'm sorry. I take things too literally." She'd make a mental note to work on that if she hadn't been drinking; not much chance she's going to remember right now. "No, I don't want to start over. I like you already, and it's not like another chance will go any better for me. But if you want to see the sights, sure. Magical, technological, artistic, natural? The walking around would take too long to see them all today if you're going to be home in time for dinner."

He thought she might be a little jumpy but was glad to see she didn't think of him as a complete threat. Then again, maybe she should. Well, enough of that for now. Nash waved like it was water under the bridge. Not like he's never had a few drunken evenings with friends or family that were nothing short of a rollar-coster ride themselves.

Nash thought a little, "well, how 'bout you pick and I'll work on an excuse to tell my Ma why I'm late?"

Not a threat, a surprise. One that's turning out nicely. Maybe she should be more careful about a lot of the friends she makes, but too late for that kind of discretion. This time, it's her turn to lean in, her lips curled in a mischievous little smile and an eyebrow arched. "You could always tell her you met a pretty girl."

Where to take him... that merits some thought. She wants something impressive but not overwhelming, not too far away, nothing that would require them to be sober (so the flying cars are out), and something he'll enjoy.

Ah ha. She perks up when she gets an idea. "You ever heard of an artist named Escher?"

Nash slipped off the stool with a chuckle. He wandered off for a moment to chat with the bartender but came back in less than a minute. Fingers grabbed his jacket and he nodded toward the door, "it'll all be, when will I meet her, is she gonna be around for longer than a week, blah blah blah."

"Who hasn't?"

It's very gentlemanly of him to pay, but she's still leaving a generous tip. She lives here and wants to be thought well of. "Oh, one of those? I'm sorry to hear it. I think my mom would have fainted if I'd ever told her I met someone."

She stands and picks up her jacket, draping it over her shoulders again as they head out. "On some worlds, he never became an artist or never got famous. There's a real working Escher staircase room not too far from here. We could go watch the slinkies. One of them has been going for 137 years."

"Well, I figure she's just worried her only boy ain't going to be making her pretty little grandchildren anytime soon," he chuckled and headed out with her. "God knows Ruby-Sue ain't gonna settle anytime soon neither."

A brow lofted when she talked about a real Escher staircase. Seemed to make sense though for a place like this. He shrugged and squinted once they were basked in normal light again then looked over toward her.

"Why not," a hand waved, "lead the way."

"You would make pretty children," she agrees. It seems like a safe enough answer while she's slightly distracted. Did her mom ever wonder about that? It had never come up between them. Too many things were never really talked about in her family. At least she can't pass it on. "Ruby-Sue is your sister? Older or younger?"

She turns and waits for him to fall into step with her before glancing up at him again. Her pace is slower this time; they both had more to drink than was strictly necessary, and she wants to keep an eye on him. Just in case. "Did you mean it? About my coming to visit your world?" If he's regretting the offer, now's the time to speak up or forever hold his peace.

He stopped for a moment to feed his habit and pick out another cigarette and then easily caught up with her, a chuckle answering her claim on him making pretty children. Hands shoved into his pocket after it's been lit and he nodded.

"S'right. Got one sister, one brother. I'm the oldest, Ruby's the youngest though you wouldn't know it. Hell, sometimes she's sharper than I am." It made him crack a smile and puff out some smoke, "then I never did brag about intelligence being a redeeming quality of mine."

He's fine, happy to stroll in the slower pace. Somehow even more relaxed. His eyes were distracted by this and that until she asked about his offer and he stopped with the very smallest of a wobble. "Sure I did."

Her nose wrinkles slightly when he lights the cigarette, but she'll just make sure she's upwind and not say anything. It's his cancer to risk.

"There's all different kinds of intelligence. Not everyone's good at the same things." People don't get to put themselves down around her. Not people she likes. There are probably worse ways she could be annoying.

She reaches out when he wobbles to put a hand on his arm. "I'd like that. I want to meet this clever sister of yours. And your brother...?"

He waved a little with his idle hand when she reached out for him, 'I'm okay, I'm okay,' the gesture said. Nash didn't actually think he was stupid. It was just his kind of humor, but she was adorable for caring enough to call him out on it and it got her another one of his smiles as they walked along.

"Family was all coming together this weekend for the holidays anyhow. What's one more?" A beat. "Billie's the quietest of us, that's my brother. We ain't too far apart in age. Figure he's got a lot on his mind. Just got married, started up a business down in Houston."

She is adorable, but she will never admit to it. She's mean and tough, don't people know that? How do people not understand that? (No, she doesn't understand how much she's changed.) But he's smiling, and that's good.

"A family party?" She smiles but hesitates because that could mean a lot of things. "I don't want to intrude on family time, but if it's the sort of party where friends are welcome, that would be nice." She hasn't been to too many holiday parties, but she's heard about all kinds. Fancy ones, potluck ones, ones where people get all dressed up, ones where people end up having wrestling matches in the back yard. There's too much uncertainty here for her. "Should I bring something? I'm a pretty good cook and if it's the kind of party where people bring things I'd be happy to."

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Our secret tour guide is my husband ;) He's funnier than I am.

SORRY work has been giving me a hernia - watch me skip over the money situation

Don't apologize! Not your fault. And if work's causing problems, def take care of yourself.

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