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Regan has decided that she likes it in Darrow. Yes, her parents and her brother aren't there, but neither of the creatures, and there's a chance, it seems, that her family could show up. So, that's promising, at least. And, really, it's not that bad. She doesn't have to worry about the sounds of her footsteps. She doesn't have to worry about the birds fluttering overhead — how loud are their songs? Are they chirping too loudly?

Darrow is a freeing place.

She's in the mall, because it's Saturday and that's where teenagers go on the weekends, right? She's got a jacket and scarf, and she's wearing long wool leggings under a skirt and tee shirt. Cute boots finish off the ensemble and she's got a headband keeping her mess of curls at bay.

She's not even sure what she's looking for, honestly. It's kind of nice to just be out of school and enjoying the weekend. She'd never thought she'd be missing free time after just a handful of days back in school, but there it is.

After a bit of wandering through different shops, she buys a smoothie to enjoy while she walks. There are a few shops she might go in when she's done. But for right now, she's just enjoying the crowd.

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Lisa would be fifteen this year.

When Frank saw the girl in the mall, his heart stopped for a second. Her hair's shorter than Lisa's had been, but she's also in lone with the teenager Lisa would be now, not the prepubescent she was when he lost her.

He shouldn't stare. He's an intimidating man without the intent on his face. But he can't help it, with that sort of aching similarity to his daughter.

She almost doesn't notice. If she hadn't been watching other people, maybe she wouldn't have. But she is, and she does. She freezes a little, just a heartbeat, but there's no missing it. She looks around, to make sure she's not mistaking it, but she's not. He's watching her.

She strides up to him, feeling emboldened by . . . something. Her smoothie, or the fact that they're surrounded by people, more likely.

"What," she demands. She doesn't bother pulling out her phone. She doesn't write it down. She signs it, maybe because she wants to unnerve him. 'Stare at me some more, Creep. I'm not scared of you.'

Frank was shaky, at best, with ASL. In Lisa's class, they had been teaching the kids because a couple of the students were hard of hearing; she'd prided herself on teaching Frank some whenever he was home, or they had video calls when he was in a permanent base. Beyond that, there were the standard signs used in the military, and some words that both he and Billy had picked up at one time or another so they could talk to each other without specifically being caught out.

When the girl approached, bold anger on her face, Frank didn't process that she was signing for a moment. He blinked and sat up a little bit.

"Sorry." He spoke and signed at the same time. It took him a second to think of how to say what he wanted, like picking up any language you'd put down long enough; he found it in the end. "You look like my daughter."

That . . . was not what Regan expected. Something else, maybe. She doesn't even know, anymore, because his answer and the fact that it's in ASL both throw her off. His gestures are blocky and unpracticed, but he's more or less fluent.

Then she thinks of Greta, and how much she looks like Mom, and she swallows.

"Do I look . . . just like her?" she asks. There's a definite hesitation, because she's a little afraid of his answer.

Frank was slow in following, but he understood. He shook his head. This girl was taller--but would Lisa have been this tall in a year or two?--and lighter skinned and obviously her hair was shorter. But she was just about the right age. He'd seen her smiling, looking at the shops, and he'd been heartsick about it.

"Different," he said, showing more of his lack of practice. "Close. I'm Frank."

"I'm Regan," she answers. "Is that why you were watching me?" It makes more sense now, even if it still makes her a little uncomfortable. But she can imagne how much she'd be staring if she saw Beau right now, walking through the mall with someone that wasn't Mom. So the anger sinks out of her shoulders and she takes a sip of her smoothie.

Frank nodded. Like any language, it was the act of speaking it that helped. He had gaps in what he knew, so he didn't think he could hold a very long conversation, but he'd figure that out when he got there.

"She's dead." It was a dark thing to mention, but he thought it further explained his rapt fascination with the girl, Regan.

Oh, God. That somehow makes it worse. Not only is she not here, in Darrow with him, but she was dead, back wherever home was for him. Regan swallows and offers an awkward "I'm sorry." She takes a step back, giving him a little space.

"And I'm sorry I got angry with you."

Frank shook his head. If anything, speaking the words let him focus on all the parts of Regan that were not like Lisa. It was a comfort in its own way. He appreciated her contrition, but it was unnecessary.

"I was..." He floundered, then laughed and smiled and fingerspelled, "creepy." Then he made an exaggerated face, glowering and stoic.

That earns a smile, and she huffs a laugh through her nose. "Yeah," she agrees. "You were, a little bit." There's no point in lying to him, or trying to make him feel better. He'd been kinda creepy, staring at her, and even if she can understand it, that doesn't make it less creepy.

Well, maybe it does a little bit.

"It's okay, though. I forgive you."

"Thank you," he says, one of the few signs that he knows well and fluidly, without thinking about it. He appreciated the forgiveness, small and teasing from a young teenager, because it was so totally unnecessary.

The next was a bit choppier, showing the thought to try and find the words he wanted. He'd have to get more practice if he wanted to hold a good conversation with the girl. But for now, it was an amalgamation of gestures and concrete words, and hoping the context was clear.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"It's Saturday," she replies. "I figured I'd wander the mall and maybe get some new things." She's only been here a couple weeks. There's plenty she's realizing she's missing out on — mostly clothes and books, but also... She looks at him, studying at first, then adds, "I'm looking for something to take up time with. Maybe I'll get an RC car and take it apart or something." She isn't sure why she says that. But maybe he'll have an idea for her, something a little more complex.

Frank took a second when she said it was Saturday, sort of blinking owlishly until he put together that it was. By then, he'd missed a little bit, and as with a couple of her other statements, he was lost.

"Slow down," he requested, back to more rudimentary, choppy movements. "Say again. Sorry."

She huffs a laugh, and repeats herself, a little slower to give him a chance to keep up. An RC car would be interesting, and she could figure out how it works, and maybe even how to make it better. Somehow. She doesn't even know at this point. Just anything to kill the time.

More slowly, with the sort of enunciation he would expect in a verbal speaker talking to a non-native learner, he was able to piece together the glosses and put context into everything. He smiled a little and nodded.

But he didn't really know the words for a response, so he held up a finger and rummaged in his pockets until he found his phone.

Sorry was the first thing he put, We've gone past what I know how to say. A model RC car or drone sounds like it could be neat. My kids both loved RC things. My wife and I got a lot of practice fixing them.

He handed the phone over so she could read.

Edited 2019-02-15 15:44 (UTC)

"Do you mind if I keep signing?" she asks. She doesn't want to assume. Maybe he can follow along, and if he can, she'd rather stick to what she knows.

If he can't, then she'll pull out her phone, too.

"I wasn't allowed to play with much at home after awhile. We couldn't make noises, and most RC things make plenty of noise. I miss playing with electronics, though. My dad and I used to make it a hobby together."

She doesn't know why she tells him that. Maybe because he'd been so honest about his kids, so she feels the need to reciprocate. But it's out, now, and if he's followed along, then, well. He can read between the lines or ask whatever questions he needs to.

Frank shook his head, because her signing was good for him trying to figure things out. She was, understandably, much more adept than Lisa who had just been picking it up. Frank didn't think that there was shorthand or dumbing down in ASL like there was in a lot of other languages. He just had to keep up.

Occasionally he would ask Say that again or Type that gloss for me, but he kept up for the most part.

Then, when she paused, he rather clumsily set his phone down and asked, "is your family okay? Back home?"

She bites her lip, realizing that she doesn't really know. She feels lost, for a moment, and fear grips her like she's back there, with the creatures hunting every sound she doesn't realize she's making. She hesitates, then finally answers.

"They were when I left," she says, even though it's not a particularly good answer, and even though it doesn't mean they are now.

He saw the look, the concern and unknowing, and he understood that immediately. He'd left New York knowing few things, and when he'd gotten memories from back home, it had solved some mysteries and added more complications. So he got it, he understood. Some of his knowledge had stayed with him; there was no need to burden Billy with certain things. All he knew was that time moved differently in Darrow; Shroedinger's equation made infinite, they were at once in and outside of the times they'd left.

First he apologized, and then he typed out quickly, Could I give you a hug? If she didn't want one from a veritable stranger, he would understand. But she looked like she needed one.

She shakes her head, but there's a small smile in her eyes. "No. That's kind of weird, right? Besides, I'm okay." It's a nice offer, though, and maybe, later, in the future, she'll take him up on it. Right now, though, he's just a random adult she met at the mall because he was staring at her.

On the outside, said just plainly like that, Regan starts to second guess this entire experience. But, really, Frank doesn't seem like that. So, he's either an incredibly good actor, or he's just a genuinely nice person.

Regan is lucky enough to have no reason to think the former, so she accepts the latter. But she still turns down the hug.

Frank nodded and gave her a bit of a smile. It was reasonable, and the offer had maybe been a little presumptive. But she was young, and sometimes young girls needed hugs. Now that the offer was passed, he felt comfortable just sitting for a moment, thinking about the layout of the mall.

As with the rest, he was clumsy and slow when he spoke. A few times he had to stop and really think about a word, and ended up finger-spelling it so that he didn't make an ass of himself--nothing worse than meaning to say one thing and saying something totally different. He did that enough with verbal languages.

"There's a toy shop on the other side of the mall," he said. "I've seen RC things in the window. Cars and trains and drones. All kinds."

She perks a little at that. "Thanks!" she says. "Sorry, for the misunderstanding, earlier. I should probably get going."

He nodded and smiled a little as she looked so bright. Then, on a bit of a thought, he said, "Would it be strange to give you my number? In case you need anything."

He was a father, after all, and even if she didn't want physical contact, sometimes a young teenage girl needed a father. Frank new, himself, that he would not say no to being allowed to dote the tiniest bit, if she'd let him. It had been years since he'd been able to look after someone.

"Maybe," she answers, with an almost comical shrug, "but I'll take it anyway." She pulls her phone out and opens a new contact entry, then hands it over for him to fill. Once it's back, she sends him a simple text wity a greeting and her name, so he has her number, too.

Frank put his number in, and when he got Regan's text, he put her in as well. It was strange to have contacts in his phone again--he hadn't since everything with his family--but it was also kind of nice.

He shouldn't keep her, if she wanted to adventure. He gave her a small smile. "Have a good day, Regan."

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