We Are Bulletproof

Minestrone
might be a good soup to save a soul...
It's
hearty

*everything about this is awkward*

Good thing you live near someone who is always packing soup
haha
My soup kitchen is always open, if you need a little pick-me-up too

We all have those days, don't we?

*not sure what to say to the first one*

I think salvation of the soul might be a lot to put on one soup...

Oh I
I made some the other day
It's the one thing I know how to make and I always like to have some in the fridge
For days when I need a little pick-me-up. :)

No of course not! Not at all!

And I suppose... it makes you feel good, so it soothes the soul? A chicken just doesn't... seem like the kind of thing you turn to for soul soothing purposes. Haha...

If you're not busy, I'll be over in about 15 min with the soup. :)
Are dumplings in the soup okay?

Well
yes...
I hope I'm not being too forward

It's chicken soup for the soul, not a whole chicken, right?
My mom used to make it for me when I was sick, and it always made me feel better. :)

I was told no pets, or we'll lose our deposit
..
You're not getting a pet, are you?

Oh! I'm so sorry
I guess it's flu season again isn't it?

Do
You want

Do you need someone to
Bring you some chicken or something?

Soup
chicken soup is what I meant, not just
A chicken

If you could make an appearance, that would be really really appreciated!

And... you said it was an emergency so... I thought...?

I'm not sure
Maybe around 11 am?

Is everything okay?

The superintendent will give a speech to the staff

Then he'll tour the school grounds and meet each department head

So...
We need you there

What is the problem?
If you can tell me a little more, I can help you better

I'm sorry, I don't want to give you a hard time but they really want all the staff on hand tomorrow

I'm so sorry...

Normally I'd let you off but you know the superintendent is coming tomorrow...

Can you come in for half the day? Just in the morning?

(I DID NOT SEE THIS! OTP OTP <3)

Is there an emergency? Is everything all right?

It might have seemed odd, a man like Brayden living in a glitzy glamorous (for Hazleton) kind of apartment. A beacon, brightly lit, Sunrise Apartments seemed more the type of building meant for high rollers and the wealthy elite. Brayden Smith was neither of those things. He was humble, quiet, retiring and unassuming, retreating from the spotlight of life to hide in the shadows.

But opposites, they say, attract.

He didn't know what drew him to this building in particular, at the heart of downtown Hazleton. New downtown, of course--old downtown had a flavor of its own but it was nowhere near as exciting. The nightlife here was about as good as it got for a small town. They had their clubs, their bars and a strip club that Bray passed by every day to and from work, furtively shooting glances at the racy blown-up pictures of half-nude male dancers.

He didn't have a car so he commuted. Thirty-two minutes each way (give or take a few). He caught the 110 in the morning at 7:12 am and came back home on the same numbered bus, stepping off at anywhere between 5:15 pm and 5:40 pm. The time it took to get home varied--even in a small town, somehow, there was rush hour traffic. He knew the bus driver by name and sight but rarely spoke to him, nodding mutely as he scrambled on and off.

Tonight, though, Bray broke his schedule. He was home late after spending too much time going over paperwork at the school. Even now he had a huge file folder stuffed to bursting with papers and forms under his arm, which he juggled with the takeout bag dangling from the same hand. The other hand was desperately clutching his messenger bag sliding off one shoulder, which had--you guessed it--more files inside. It was audit season, so Bray was looking forward to working through the night to finish all the paperwork before the school board superintendent of the county came to visit.

Outside, he saw some kids loitering by the front door. They had skateboards but only a few were zipping around. A couple of others were watching a video of some kind. Bray watched them with anxious eyes; he could take the back way, maybe, to avoid running into them. The group dispersed and got back onto their boards. Ah--they were watching some kind of tutorial, he'd bet. Yep. Some tried out the new trick; most failed and fell, stumbling, onto the pavement. Their laughter mingled in the cold night air.

Bray half-smiled to himself as he swerved to take the back entrance. He didn't want to disturb them by going through them to get to the front door. As he got to the back, though, there was already someone there wrestling with the door. Bray's steps slowed; anxiety built up again. The door looked stuck. Or maybe the stranger was trying to break in...

"Ahem." He coughed ever so softly to announce his presence. All he wanted was to get to his apartment. 1B. Ground floor, nothing fancy, not the penthouse, but it was all his. The woman at the door started and whirled around, a look of fright on her face. Bray smiled reassuringly, shyly at her. "Locked out?" The woman let out an exasperated sigh and launched into a story about leaving her keys at home and not realizing it, as Bray walked up to the door.

"I'll get it." He tilted his head to the side to trap the strap of his bag against his shoulder, while fumbling around in the bag for his keys. A few papers slipped out and as the woman helped him to retrieve them, he unlocked the door. With an awkward laugh he took the papers back, bade the woman good-night and shuffled down the hall towards his own apartment. Just as he entered, his phone went off and Bray just let everything drop to the ground--including the take-out bag. He stood there, semi-defeated, before grabbing his phone out of his pocket and raising an eyebrow at the name of the person who had texted him.

Jack Ripley. What a name. He was new to the psychology department; Bray had only seen him a few times when he went in to drop off forms and paperwork and such. But the few times he encountered Jack Ripley left an impression on him. A good impression. Bray's lips formed a smile of their own accord as he toed off his shoes and went inside to sit on the couch with his phone, leaving everything else at the door. He could pick them up later.