#[ also - nnoitra DOES manage to make out the message when he's less sleepy xD ]

[despairforme]

It was going on day - well, night three of crappy, rainy weather accompanied by a drastic drop into freezing temperatures. Earlier it had been warm enough that her work shirt and jeans were causing Roxy to sweat, but now, she was shivering, soaked to the bone from both the sweat and rain as she tredged forward through the elements. At least if it's gonna be this cold, snow, don't rain. She cast a bitter glare at the clouds above, as if the weather could hear her thoughts or cared even if it could.

A helpless, plain white business envelope shoved into an otherwise empty plastic bag crinkled against the interior of Roxanne's shirt as she gripped it tightly to her chest. A very late, last addition to Nnoitra's birthday present, or an early Christmas present, whichever worked better. On the exterior of the envelope bore a large N accompanied by the black haired, eye patch wearing stick figure, signed with a calligraphied R. She figured she'd used up all her luck for the next month - no, the next year - just getting the envelope's contents, she wasn't taking her chances of having anyone notice it and being mugged on her way to give it to him. She crept down dark alleyways, past piles of broken glass and carelessly discarded cans as she gingerly made her way across town. Thankfully it was a short walk, and being past midnight, no one in their right mind would be out in this weather at this time willingly. Nobody in their right mind, she repeated to herself with a hint of amusement.

"O-Okay bub," She chattered, voice barely above a whisper as she approached the now somewhat familiar door. "I worked my ass off for these, and I'm gonna lose what's left of my tits to this cold, so you better fuckin' like this."

Hunching over the bag gripped tightly to her sternum, she carefully unzipped through layers of coats and jackets before finally reaching the original shirt she'd been wearing and removing the itchy plastic bag from against her skin. With almost too firm of a grasp, she took hold of the envelope, inspecting it carefully to be sure it was still well sealed shut and dry, then gingerly wedged it into the doorframe as high up as she could reach. That was about eye height for him, right?

"F-fuck me, I hate winter." She muttered to herself as she hurriedly zipped back up her numerous jackets. "S-see ya around, I hope," She spoke up towards the direction of the door, as if it would respond to her. "It would be n-nice to catch up here soon. It's been way too long, I know, but I hope that you're-..."

Roxanne's train of thought suddenly came to a dead halt. The Nnoitra she remembered would usually scoff at her well wishings, no matter how genuine or not. Wishes were for kids, she nagged herself, and they sure as hell weren't kids anymore. Tucking her head to her chest as she shivered harshly, Roxanne instead buried her reddened nose in the front collars of her jackets as she felt the cold biting at her face.

"...Come see me at work." She continued with a sniffle and pulled her arms in from her sleeves, pinning them against her torso for warmth. "You can have all the cheap cheeseburgers you can eat and management can cry about it. I don't care enough about that job to fight them on it."

Roxanne turned away from the door, then paused for a moment to glance over her shoulder at the helpless envelope. It would be fine, right? Who the hell would notice it? It was damn near 3 in the morning, nobody was out... But what if someone did steal it? Or it blew away or got ruined by the rain? Then what? No good deed ever went unpunished in some way with her, but she couldn't stay here and watch it. Hypothermia doesn't seem like a fun way to die, she reminded herself. Looking around the empty stoop, then at the abandoned, flooded streets, she hesitated, glanced back at the envelope, then seemed to finally make up her mind as she exhaled a puff of steam and turned and jumped off the stoop, headed for home at last.

People could really suck, she told herself to get her attention off of her freezing extremities, but nobody ever has gotten anywhere by letting themselves sit around and pout about the unfairness of it all.

...

It was a small miracle the envelope made it overnight without getting so much as a droplet of water on it. Once opened, it contained two things: A piece of scrap paper with some scribblings on it, and tickets of some sort. The scrap of paper had one string of info on it; "McB's, M-F, 2-10 PM", and a drawing of the same fast food logo that had been on the previous bag she'd left him. That had to be where she worked, it seemed.

The tickets seemed to be to some sort of five day weekend music festival just a few towns over, a rock and metal based one it seemed based on the name. The "VIP" punched at the bottom was sure to imply something, but it couldn't be ascertained just what exactly from the vague abbreviations on the back of the ticket stubs. No doubt these had to have been expensive, and there were four of them.

...

Elsewhere, the cold mist of the morning was overtaken by the first few rays of sunlight as Roxanne lie practically comatose to the world, buried deep in a nest of blankets and pillows like a bear in hibernation. A deer stood just outside of her small yellow tent, helping itself to Roxanne's unattended box of wheaties as she blissfully snoozed the day away.

(@gildedgriffon)/(@serpent-of-feathers)

His hands were pink, borderline red from the cold. He'd lost feeling in them a couple of minutes ago. He would've kept them stuffed in his pockets, but he got paranoid as hell when he walked around without his hands at the ready. Especially at night. Especially through the shady part of town. Nnoitra had decided on a short-cut ( or rather, the rain had decided that for him ), which took him through some alleys that you'd best be prepared for a confrontation if you ventured into. There was ONE good thing about the weather ( and the fact that it was past 3 at night ) - there was nobody out. The only people Nnoitra passed were some tragic looking homeless people. Not that they should be underestimated. Who ever said a homeless dude couldn't try to shaft you? He shivered.

This was late for him to be going back home ( Ikkaku's place, was that really ' home '? ), even for him. His fight was always the main event of the evening, and saved for last. Normally it would be around midnight, maybe a little later. It would always be over quickly, simply because nobody stood a chance. Tonight's fight had gone smoothly. It wasn't HIS fault that he was walking home so late. Nah. There had been staffing issues at the bar. The new guy hadn't turned up, or - he HAD turned up, but he'd turned up in hospital, like some fucking jackass. Nnoitra didn't give a shit about that. There was nobody else who could step in, and so HE had been asked to man the bar. It was the last thing in the world he wanted, but at the same time... Grimmjow had worked there. Walked the steps behind the counter. Touched the glasses and bottles. Somehow, that had made Nnoitra unable to say no. He missed him. Missed him so much he thought it would fucking kill him any day. Pathetic, wasn't it?

In any case, he'd reluctantly accepted filling in for the night. He knew jack-shit about bar tending. That hadn't been a problem. The bar had been FILLED with people who were there just to talk to him. His ' fans ' or whatever. People who came every night only to watch him fight. Nnoitra liked that people admired him. However, after two hours of intense attention... He could say that he'd had MORE than enough. At least nobody cared that he was unable to mix up drinks. He wouldn't say it had been a BAD experience, but certainly exhausting. And he'd been unable to think about anything other than Grimmjow the whole time. To complete the night - he now had to walk home in the coldest rain in history. He felt pretty gloomy.

He might not be lucky with the weather, but at least he didn't get fucking JUMPED on his way home. He got back safely ( though drenched to the bone and freezing ). With numb fingers, he fished his ( Ikkaku's ) keys out of his pocket, struggling to unlock the door. Then he spotted something ON the door. It looked like someone had tried to push some paper in through the gap between the door and the doorframe. It looked like an envelope. For fuck's sake, didn't the mail-man know there was a fucking MAIL BOX right over there? Annoyed, Nnoitra yanked the envelope free. He assumed it was for Ikkaku - it wasn't. When he realized this, his annoyance immediately switched to curiosity. He RARELY got mail.

Back in his room, Nnoitra shook his head like a wet dog, his long hair splashing a little bit of water everywhere ( including his bed - he did not think that through ). His fingers were stiff from the cold, but he was too impatient to wait. He flopped down onto the bed, the mattress bouncing gently from the added weight. Nnoitra opened the letter.

It was probably because of his birthday present, that he quickly realized who this letter was from. The stick figure, the writing - this was from Roxanne. Nnoitra looked at the letters written on the scrap piece of paper. His tired brain TRIED to comprehend. WHY did she have to write in coded messages? The cogs in his head were struggling to turn. In the end, he really was too tired to even understand what the letters meant. He'd give it another try tomorrow ( or ask Ikkaku, who, unlike himself, was not fucking retarded ). He moved onto the other content in the envelope. Tickets. SEVERAL tickets. They were for a music festival in a neighboring city that Nnoitra had never been to. It was hard to miss the VIP-stamp on them. Even if he was tired ( and depressed as fuck ), he had to admit this intrigued him. Being a VIP on a music festival... He liked the thought of that. He had no idea what he'd do with four of them though... One was for Roxanne herself, of course, since she had gotten the tickets in the first place. Who else could he bring though? Nnoitra lay back in bed, still fully clothes in his wet pants and hoodie. Tomorrow... He was going to figure out the mysterious message... Yeah, tomorrow. / @serpent-of-feathers , @xx-gold-n-sunshine-xx .