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A BROWN PAPER BAG swings back and forth at Judy's side as she exits the sandwich shop to begin her journey home. It's almost dark, but just light enough for her to see where she's going.
Her stomach gurgles, and she honestly can't wait to get home and sink her teeth into a filthy grilled cheese. In fact, the thought gives her butterflies.
She passes several people on her way, waving hello to them, because everyone knows everyone on this side of the island. Hence why she wasn't worried about going out at this time by herself. She knows she has two very hungry boys back at the Chateau, so she figured she'd surprise them, given that the power's out and she can't exactly cook them anything to eat.
Not that she's a chef. Sometimes it would just be macaroni cheese from a box, or cheap frozen pizzas. But on good days, after a good wage, she would bang out a spaghetti bolognaise. Her father's recipe. Everybody loves that.
A car horn honks, and Judy almost jumps out of her skin. Halting in her tracks, she cautiously turns around to see a black and blue truck has pulled up beside her. Before her brain can jump to the conclusion of her possibly being abducted off the street or something, the driver's door swings open, and they step out.
"Rafe?" Her eyebrows collapse. What on earth is he doing on the Cut?
A pair of black ray-bans sit on his head, keeping the dark blond hair out of his face. He's got that shit-eating smile on his face, and he juggles a set of car keys effortlessly between his hands.
They close the proximity between them, stopping once they're face to face.
"What's going on?" She questions.
"Can't I just be in the area and casually bump into you?" He hums. She sends him a knowing look, and he chuckles. "I wanted to drop something off, but I wasn't sure where you lived."
"So... you stalked the streets until you found me?"
"Pretty much."
"Whatever. So, what did you wanna give me?" Judy crosses one foot over the other, looping the paper bag over her wrist so she can fold her arms.
Rafe stuffs his hand into the back pocket of his trousers, swapping the car keys for something small and familiar. Her iPod.
