The City of Nowhere (Unowned)

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↘↘↘ Atlas did his best to drive safely, but he wasn't all that used to driving without his helmet on. Being without it, in addition to having Mocha holding onto him as he drove through the streets was distracting enough. It was somewhat difficult to keep his mind focused, but at least he made sure that she was protected by offering the helmet to her. Had he gotten injured, he would just have to hope that the doctor on board would be able to do something because he doubted his wounds would recover while he was sane. "We're almost there!" He shouted back, making sure he could be heard through her helmet; they had gotten into the city just a while ago, and while they would pass a few odd scenes and buildings along the way Atlas soon found his way to an alleyway besides one of the nicer looking buildings in the town. He took a moment to take his keys out of the ignition, letting Mocha know that she could let go now before he managed to get off the bike. Crumpled up against the wall was a dirty tarp that Atlas reached for, using it to cover his bike before pocketing his keys. "It's not the greatest hiding spot, but it discourages a few people. Mostly the drunks who wouldn't pay anything that isn't apparent a second thought." Atlas remarked with a small grin, making sure it was covered before turning towards Mocha. "We can take the helmet inside, feel free to keep it on if you'd like to hide your face a little longer. It helps with the.. Rowdier of neighbors." Atlas went on, hoping to god someone didn't cause any trouble. While the helmet would hide her face, there was no hiding her gender; and some of the denizens of nowhere.. Were just the kind of people to fret about that. Then again, this place did have a large amount of sane individuals as well.


↘↘↘ Atlas made his way around the corner and towards the front of the old apartment building, guiding Mocha towards the stairs. He stopped on the fourth floor, easing the door open and holding it to let her pass before making his way towards his apartment and unlocking the door. "I just bought a few things, so you have a bit of a choice towards what you want to eat. Let me know what you're in the mood for and I'll see if I can make it okay?" Atlas offered, letting her inside before he closed the door; "Don't think to much about me locking the door behind you, if it makes you feel better you can hold the keys." Atlas jested, but he did lock it afterwards. He didn't trust others enough to leave his door unlocked. The apartment was sparsely furnished, a large couch and a simple rug rested alone on one side of the main room; while a tiled kitchen sat opposite it. There was no real dining table, but there was a coffee table atop the rug and beside the couch; a small hallway split off into two doors, suggesting that the restroom and bedroom were separate.

↘↘↘ Despite his best attempts at trying not to think over the way she was acting to much, Atlas just couldn't help himself. Starting with the way she talked about her thighs as she was climbing the stairs, and now that she jested about kicking his ass before tripping on herself; landing in one of the most.. Provocative positions. His eyes were transfixed, standing almost dumbfounded as she started to sit up. "I'd have no trouble believing you if you weren't falling down like that so quickly." Atlas remarked, "But you're right. Maybe I shouldn't trust you with the keys right now, I'll make sure not to bring out any more alcohol it looks like you've had enough." He spoke with a bit of humor in his voice, holding back actual laughter as he made his way to the kitchen. He had to start cooking soon, otherwise that image of her fall would just stick with him.. Shaking his head lightly to clear his mind, he listened in as Mocha fumbled with her words. Home? He tried to catch her eye at that, trying his best not to think to far into it; she wasn't asking him for a place to call home, was she?


↘↘↘ As she mentioned the kind of food she wanted instead his pace quickened up, opening a cabinet he managed to pull a pan out from beneath his counter; setting it on an oven stove that miraculously still worked. Some parts of nowhere still had a few utilities, as long as their guested paid for it. "Latin, huh? Not my specialty but I can do it. I can't make any traditional meals, but I can easily make the common foods. I'll start with quesadillas, just because their simple and I know I have everything for that." Atlas remarked, lighting the stove before moving over to his fridge and pulling out a few things. The first was a bag of tortillas, followed by what seemed like a plastic container of butter, and then an assortment of things. Tomatoes, chicken, cheese, and what looked like two bell peppers. He started by letting the tortilla simmer with butter slathered over it, quickly adding ingredient by ingredient on top of it so everything can cook together; he had to move quickly to get it all done well, and so he did. His thoughts soon settling as food took priority, his base instinct of hunger being satiated with the creation. His Killer Gene could always seem to be tricked, as long as he managed to find suitable instincts to follow. Survival was a good one, hunger just went with it.

↘↘↘ As Mocha kept making drunken and exhausted exclamations from behind the safety of the couch Atlas could only smirk, looking up every now and again to glance in her direction. Her attire remained shifted to a different color, he found it curious but he wasn't all that sure how she would manage describing it in her current state. "You're welcome. It's not often I make anyone else anything to eat without being paid for it, or just because it may keep me from being murdered." Atlas remarked, smiling softly; that was just the best choice back at the cathedral. He liked to cook, and people tended to dislike biting the hand that feeds them. However, if there were people willing to do so he'd imagine they would come from such groups.


↘↘↘ "Coconuts?" He repeated, a bit confused by the sudden request. "I'm afraid not, those are the large bowling ball like fruits right? The ones covered in hair and with a hard shell?" He went on, Atlas may be a cook but there were a few things he hadn't worked with before. Coconuts being one of them. "It's an odd commodity, hard to find around here now that distant tradings a bit rare. But I bet you could find one, if you looked in the right places." Atlas continued; mulling it over as he finished cooking the first quesadilla. He took but a moment to pull a plate out of another cabinet, setting it on the counter in front of Mocha now that she had made the move to come near the kitchen. Growing them as a child? He was quite sure that those were tropical... But just like the ocean shore, if a criminal wanted something, they tended to get it. She may have just been a child to a supercriminal crazy enough to have palm trees in their yard. Putting the thought aside, Atlas moved the finished product off the pan so that it may settle on the plate in front of Mocha. Atlas turned off the oven's flame and moved to put away the ingredients, while also retrieving a knife to start cutting the quesadilla in eighths. Smaller sizes, better for her to eat while she looked so tired and acted incredibly intoxicated. It was almost a bit comical. "Guests get first bite." Atlas said as he finished, wiping his hands and setting the cutlery on the side of the plate; moving to wash his hands again as he waited for her to eat.





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↘↘↘ Atlas stood still as she spoke of her father, listening intently as he rested his elbows on the counter and leaned in a bit. Apparently her family did have some kind of coconut orchard... That, was odd. But it wasn't the weirdest thing that has happened around here. If she were to tell him that her father happened to be responsible for the slutty seashore, he wouldn't even be all that surprised at this point. He laughed a bit at her story about the dog, finding a moment of composure to respond. "Serves you right for trying to fight a rabid animal off with a piece of fruit." Atlas joked, trying to imagine the scene itself. At least it seemed like the situation didn't end too badly.


↘↘↘ The scene ended however as Mocha reached for a piece and began to eat, her over exaggerated compliments making him laugh a bit; he had just began to eat one himself as she talked about his food conquering her mouth and finishing inside her. He couldn't help himself; he burst out laughing, covering his mouth for a second as he tried to swallow his food. Did she even hear herself any more?? Before he could even think of a coherent reply however, she managed to fall over. "Mocha?" He asked, worry in his voice as he set his piece down and walked around the corner; seeing her on the floor as she mentioned that she was okay. "Sure you are, but just in case let's keep you sitting down alright?" Atlas went on, kneeling down beside her and reaching beneath her; putting his arms behind her back and in the crook beneath her knees. He lifted her upwards bridal style and managed to bring her over to the couch before setting her down. "Please don't fall off while I get the plate.." He joked, offering a small smile as he sat her down; taking a moment to see if she was steady before going back to the counter. Did she actually drink that much? The thought continued to bug him for a while, but he soon returned to the couch and set the plate down on the coffee table beside her. "I hope you don't mind me sitting down here as well, if you'd like to remain sprawled out on the couch feel free to lay your legs over my lap. Otherwise will you be okay sitting up?" Atlas inquired, joking a bit; but he truly planned to sit down, and didn't mind if she wanted her legs to rest over him as he did.

↘↘↘ Atlas laughed at her attempt at justifying her fight with the dog, but otherwise snickered slightly; trying to hold back his humor as she tried to compare a coconut to an actual nut. Well, that and a pair of which that he was carrying. He'd rather not think about the similarities between what he had, and what she was thinking of as far as a coconut was considered. "What did you think you saw?" He asked, raising an eyebrow as she mentioned it. She was right in the end, he was quite sure that she was drunk; but her explanation about not having anything to eat beforehand and how it may affect how she'd be affected by the alcohol so easily was sound. Unfortunately, it took longer for eating to bring any sobriety if it was brought about after she had already started drinking. "I do think you're drunk, and that you haven't eaten in a while. But now I'm curious as to what point you were going to make." Atlas went on, thinking about how she stopped mid sentence.


↘↘↘ As Mocha joked about feeling like a pig he laughed a bit, but quickly started eating the piece he left on the plate before hand; grabbing another as he finished with that one. "Fine, as long as it helps you feel a bit better. I can make more if you're hungry, but I like to think of it as a game; I put everything back because if we do need more I plan on making something different. Small meals each time, typically for one person so we'll have to share but it could be fun. That is, if you're still hungry enough for such a thing. Just resting and letting your drunken state may be a better alternative." Atlas went on, eating in between speech. "After all, you stopped talking earlier; I don't typically like to pry but I'm curious as to what you had to say about you seeming drunk."

↘↘↘ Atlas had begun to settle down over time, getting a bit more comfortable as time went on. As she thanked him he nodded, doing something quite similar as she asked to make sure that it was okay to make more food if need be. For a while he sat there just thinking things over, now that he had begun eating his mind was freed up to contemplate exactly what was happening. He had a death worshiper in his home, and he was cooking for her. Voluntarily. The thought was odd when he focused on it, but as he took a breath to settle his nerves he began to let it go. He was enjoying her company, he had to stop thinking back to that.. But he knew he couldn't outright forget it.


↘↘↘ His mind was brought out of it's reverie as Mocha began to change position, lying on her back and digging her toes under his calf made him smirk; turning to face her as he finished his slice of food. His eyes were transfixed on her as she lay there, but as she began to talk about what she saw and lead in to a question about family Atlas's eyes dilated. He sighed at that moment, closing his eyes for a moment as he mulled it over. "Yeah. I do. I haven't seen them in a long time though, all my memories of them are of when I was young. Did your vision have something to do with your family?" Atlas inquired, eager to change the focus back to her. He didn't like the memories he had of his family. The earlier ones were fine, peaceful, but then again; it all leads up to the ones that still haunt him. What kind of man wants to remember that he killed the majority of his family?

↘↘↘ As Mocha started to fidget a bit under his gaze he couldn't help but smirk a little bit, feeling her toes flex as well. Thankfully she went on and didn't pry into his own family; but managed to speak a little about her memories, or lack thereof. "I guess if you look at it that way.. It is nice to have them." Atlas agreed, smiling softly; he didn't need to say anything more to give away just how horrible a few of those memories were.


↘↘↘ As her contemplation of her memory started to become personal, Atlas paid her his full attention. Thinking it over for himself, all he could conclude was that she must have been through some kind of trauma.. Memory loss didn't typically happen for no apparent reason. Especially to this extent. "As long as it's helping you in some way I guess." Atlas jested for a second, trying to stay in a good humor despite the mood now. "But I don't think having you drink any more would be helpful. Who knows what you might see or end up doing next." He went on, taking the last slice of what was left of the food and taking a bite out of it.