-- WHAT LIES BENEATH [Josh]

It was a sign of how comfortable Joshua was with Lark that he could leave her to her own devices in his home while he bustled about doing other things, making sure everything was in order before he truly settled down for the day. He'd invited her over with the sole intention of spending time with her today, no ulterior motives involved. It was not for something important. Now that Lark was switching alliances, they could take risks like this without glancing over their shoulders in paranoia. It was nice. His business around the house had nothing to do with chores, seeing as he had the maids to handle all of that for him. He smiled at one of them on his way downstairs. They did not often make conversations but he was easy enough on them and it was good pay. He lived in a mansion, after all, drove a shiny car. He could afford the staff. It was strange having the authority to boss around those who were older than he was but it was something he'd adapted easily to. "Hey Belle," he greeted his sister as he paused by her door, noting that she was playing video games. She returned with a, "Hey," but did not take her eyes off the screen, fingers working madly over the controls. He entered the room and sat down beside her on the bed, glancing at the screen. "Whatcha playin', sis?" She nudged the case with her toe in response, Left 4 Dead 2 emblazoned across it's cover. "Ah."

After a few minutes, she completed the level and gave a satisfied nod, turning her attention to Joshua. "Wanna play?" He was not very good at video games by any means and so he hesitated. "I suck." She rolled her eyes, handing him a controller. "I'm sure you're not that bad." He arched an eyebrow doubtfully but accepted it nonetheless. He noticed she was playing it on expert difficulty and so it did not surprise him when he died within the first thirty seconds of gameplay. "Josh, what the hell! I told you to watch out for the Jockey!" He blinked, shaking his head. "First of all, I don't know what that is. Second—" She shook her head in exasperation and cut him off. "That thing that was riding your ass, Josh. That is a Jockey. You need to watch your back!" He did not know what amused him more: 'riding your ass' or the fact that his sister was speaking as if she was an expert on the game. Which, considering she was playing on expert mode, she sort of was. "Point taken. Told you I sucked." She laughed and he finished the round with her despite many failed attempts. "Alright, sis, I gotta get back to Lark, 'kay?" She nodded. "You still suck."

"Yeah, I know."

He poked his head into the living room when Lark called his name, praising himself silently on his good timing. "Mm?" He strolled into the room and flopped down in one of the chairs by the fire, lighting said fire with a flick of his wrist. It roared to life and its heat started a slow spread through the room. "Sure thing, Lark, I'm up for anything." He had called her here to hang out, after all, and so he was definitely planning on doing something with her. He realised that he'd have been back down a lot sooner if he hadn't been side-tracked by his little sister and her video games. "Annabel roped me into a zombie-killing mission. In the event of an apocalypse, Lark, do not hand me a gun. I'll stick to being the medic." He grinned as he hinted at the fact that he'd gotten his ass kicked by the Horde as they poured in around the screen. "How about a game of tennis?" he suggested, standing up and flicking his wrist again. The fire went out and he left the room and started down the hall toward a door that led out back, though not the main way into the garden. "Nell's planning something with the garden, I don't want to disturb it," he said by way of explanation. He liked that his fiancée was living here with him. It was comforting. "I think she's at work. Maybe out with friends." Stepping out into the sunshine, stretching and loving the way it seeped into him, he said, "You play much tennis?"

He laughed, the mental image too amusing to resist. He did not believe in the end of the world or any apocalyptic theories but he did think he'd be more useful as a doctor than a fighter. Then again, who would need to use a gun when you had elemental powers? "You think zombies would quail under the heat of a blaze?" The molotovs in the game certainly suggested as much. If only he could pick up a controller and have an elemental at his command. "Now my hand hurts a bit. Button mashing is neither healthy nor a good idea." He rubbed at his thumb but did not sound as bothered as he looked. His fingers hurt a little from how hard he was pressing the controls but it would pass soon enough. He often wondered how people like his sister could sit in front of a television screen for hours and never complain of hand and wrist pains. It was a mystery to him. "Okay, awesome." He was surprised she agreed so quickly to his impromptu idea and then reminded himself it was Lark who'd suggested some outside fun anyway. In all the years he'd known her he'd never invited her over for a tennis match. They'd mostly messed around in the house and simply spent time with one another. He did not like to waste time but he did not see hanging around his friends as a waste of time at all. Even if all they did was sit around and talk, Joshua was comfortable.

"I'll give you a call when it's finished." He, too, was excited to see what magic his fiancée would work within the garden. It had been a part of his childhood under the green thumb of his mother and it would be a part of his adulthood under Nell's careful hand. He trusted her. "Same. It's been a pain only meeting up when one of us wants something." He'd never blamed Lark for only calling upon him in times of need and he was sure she'd not blamed him, either, but it had felt like they were forgetting the old times where their friendship had been light and easy. There was nothing simple about the alliances, nothing at all. The concept was easy enough but the inner workings were not so basic. "We can definitely hang out as a group some time. It'd be good for all of us." He was always glad when his friends were also friendly with Nell for it meant there was less awkwardness in the long run. They did not restrict each other's friendships (he didn't mind she was friends with Ethan, for example) but harmony was preferable.

"You haven't? Well, I can definitely show you the ropes." He was a decent teacher, actually, something that had come as a surprise to him. He was in the process of teaching his sister how to play and he'd taught her other things, too, things pertaining to her academics. She'd never pass without her older brother to guide her through things. She spent far too much time on video games. He loved her, though. "No need to worry about getting assaulted by the tennis balls. I'll only play hard if you do." His father could truly coax the violence of the sport out of him, hitting the balls back and forth like they were trying to murder the other. He was pretty relaxed when playing with most other people, provided the other party didn't take it too seriously. His competitive streak was brought out when other people made a point of acting tough. He grabbed his racket and tossed Lark one, too. "The way you hold the racket makes all the difference," he said. "Make sure you don't hold it too loosely or it'll just fly out of your hands but if you hold it too tight, your hand will cramp up. Try not to hit the ball at too awkward an angle or you might hurt your wrist." There was a lot of force behind the impact sometimes. "I'll go light to start us off so I don't think you'll have too much to worry about." Once they were both on their respective sides, Josh tossed the ball up and swatted it easily toward her.

Despite the brief falter when he'd mentioned their old meet-ups, Joshua thought that Lark looked to be in a better mood than usual these days. It cheered him up to see his best friend in such good spirits and he often wondered why she was in such a chipper mood. It wasn't like Lark was a miserable person but there was a difference between a neutral mood and a good one. "It's relatively easy to pick up on. Mastery is a different thing entirely. I've been playing for years." He was really good at tennis. It was like this one sport had strived hard to make up for all the others that he wasn't any good at. A lot of people looked down on tennis but he wasn't the type to give a shit what other people thought. "Good tactic. Getting cocky when you suck at something definitely isn't the best idea." His brother had always boasted and crowed about being better at something than he really was. Why was it a shock, then, when the real pros ended up kicking his ass? He never understood people who were overly confident in themselves. Sensible confidence was understandable but anything else made no sense to Josh.

He grinned at her, not offering any argument. It would not come as a shock to him if she missed or otherwise screwed up for the first little while. Tennis might not have been difficult to understand but no one was born knowing how to play. He'd had a combination of teachers in his opponents but he'd never actually asked for too much help beyond taking their tips into account, merely watching the styles of others and trying to figure out how to hold his wrist and position his racket. Going too short or too far when running for the ball was also a common occurrence. Tripping when running backward was possible. "Well, no. Give yourself a 'D'. At least you didn't miss." He grinned at her, teasing but friendly. There had been a time in their childhood when playful teasing had resulted in not-so-playful arguing and fighting but they'd both matured a lot since then. Josh had learned that fighting his friends was not always the best way to win an argument nor the best way of keeping friends. "For your first shot it wasn't that terrible, don't worry. Annabel missed a whole lot before she hit the ball the first time. Don't tell her I said that, mind." He smirked. His sister hated losing. No one liked it but she took it especially hard.

Lark asked for tips and he thought about a good way to word his answer before he voiced it. "Watch the ball," he said. "Underhand is best for when it's close to the ground or if you think it could do with a little more height. Overhand shots tend to propel it down instead of up. It can be a good way to get a point on your opponent if you hit it down over the net and they miss but you've got to be careful you don't lose too much height." Then the ball simply crashed into the net and back over to your own side, effectively counting the point against you. "Also, keep in mind that tennis isn't a stationary sport. Feel free to move around." It was common sense but he figured he would mention it nonetheless. It was not ping-pong ball, you couldn't stay stationary at one end of the court and simply hit the ball from there. He planned to go easy enough on Lark for now and not send her all over the court, mostly because it was unfair to do so. It was easier to learn when you didn't have to spend half your time trying to locate the damn ball in order to hit it. Picking up the tennis back, Josh backed up from the net and hit it over again.

He'd definitely had his moments with pride. It had been pride that drove him toward a lot of the fights and arguments he'd started over the years. He was not nearly as antagonistic these days but there had been a time when his pride caused many more problems. "A 'B'? Don't flatter yourself, now." He sounded cold and indifferent as he waved his hand dismissively but he was sure Lark would catch on. The summer sun was beating down on them but for now it was only a comfort, not much of a hindrance. He'd deliberately worn a short sleeve shirt in order to catch as much of the rays as he could. Though he was fair-skinned and did not tan well, he was not so pale that it was unattractive. He had colour to his skin, it simply wasn't dark colour. A faint trace of a tan on his arms could be seen if one drew close but it did not make much of a difference. It was a tad ironic if one considered how much time he spent in the sun but it did not bother Josh. "Oh, please. Fictional apocalypses—or would it be apocalypsi?—aside, I could kick her ass any day of the week." He would never touch his baby sister. Wouldn't let anyone else touch her, either, as several people had learned. He did not feel bad about breaking the boy's arm, only that he'd been expelled for it and had gotten a foul reputation for a while. He didn't have sympathy for anyone that picked on his little sister.

He kept an easy posture as he watched Lark test the racket and move around the court a little. His gray eyes watched the ball like a hawk might watch its prey, steady and unwavering except to blink. He wore an expression that might have been described as comically serious if this had not been Josh, who looked his most natural when he was staring with intensity. When she hit it with the racket it took only a moment for him to realise where it was going and so he took only a single step before he stopped and resumed his stance. "That would be my point. We'll not keep score, to be fair." Any ball that went out of bounds was an automatic point for the player on the other side of the court. There were other rules, too, but he was not aiming to overwhelm his best friend. He remembered when a man that played tennis at the country club had originally tried to show him the game he'd poured a bunch of advanced tennis knowledge into the boy's ears, things that meant nothing to him. He'd retained the words and slowly learned their meaning over time. "Yes, please don't throw your racket at me. I don't think Nell would be very pleased if I got a concussion." Hell, he wouldn't be very pleased with it either. Ouch. Concussions were bad news.

He stepped forward with a fluid ease and turned his wrist for an underhand swing of the racket, a soft sound as it connected preceding the ball's journey back across the net. He was normally calm when playing tennis and only took the serious shots and serves when he was angry or playing against someone that was trying their hardest to beat him down. He'd sprained his wrist once in a match against Donovan when he'd spiked the ball so hard that a recoil on the racket had twisted it back. He was not aiming to hurt Lark in any way so he was careful with the intensity of the game. They continued with their back-and-forth for a while and then he stopped for a drink of water, a light sheen of sweat beading his brow. It was intense outside in regards to heat and even as a Fire elemental he was feeling the effects of exertion. "We can break for a few so that we don't wear out too much." Because he was entirely comfortable with Lark as a friend and he wanted to be rid of his clothing before it was soaked in sweat, Joshua stripped off his shirt and tossed it over by the tennis bag that included his favourite rackets and two fresh tubes of tennis balls. It also had a towel, which he picked up and wiped his face with before replacing it. The scars were visible in the daylight, numerous and fierce, but he gave them no thought as he took another long swig of water. "Sure does make you thirsty."

He often took for granted how easily his friends responded to his often serious and dry sense of humour. Strangers got offended and sometimes even started an argument with him. They would never find out if he was joking or not because starting something with Josh usually ended in a fight with no further explanation. "Apocalypses. Sounds awkward, I think I prefer apocalypsi." In all honesty he did not care. It was only with his friends that Josh would joke around for the sake of conversation, for the sake of things not falling into that awkward silence that often accompanied a lot of his new friendships. Not any more. No, he was getting better with strangers. Much better. He figured it was the fact that the Earths tried to befriend you whether you wanted them or not. He'd had 'training'. "Not that it matters. We'll only see one." The apocalypse was supposed to be the thing that wiped out the Earth. He didn't believe in it. Superstition was not something he put much faith in. The world hadn't ended all the other times they said it was going to. "It's not just the heat. We don't want to wear ourselves out physically, either." Everyone had a limit. He figured he could go on quite a while longer but it was better to take short breaks to extend their stamina rather than running themselves into the ground and then deciding that it was time for a rest.

He used to pay a lot of attention to the scars and how others perceived them but his confidence had helped in getting over it. He was still sensitive to jokes about them but he was not afraid to leave the house and did not automatically assume that everyone was staring at his scar when they brought their gaze to his face. He didn't immediately pick up on what she was referring to as she started a hesitant question, furrowing his brow and looking quizzically at her. "What?" He was not hostile, merely curious as to what she wanted. It was only when she mentioned pain that it clicked. The scars. Oh. A flicker of discomfort, of unfriendliness, of uncertainty. His expression was, after that, unreadable. He was not used to people asking, at least not friends. Those close to him were usually close enough that they understood his secretive nature. However, Joshua respected Lark. He knew she had not asked to try and offend him. He was busy trying to formulate an answer when she quickly took it back. His lips twitched briefly and he shook his head. "Don't apologise. I forgot you'd never seen them." It was natural to feel curiosity toward something foreign and unfamiliar, especially when that something was marring the appearance of someone you loved as a friend. "They did hurt once but they don't now." Sometimes there were odd pains in his palm or face in the cold but they were brief and very bearable. Once something has changed, it's never the same. The same held true for the human body.

With Devin, he had hesitated because he did not want his best friend to judge him. Devin knew that the scars were from the gang but what he did not know was Joshua's own involvement in that gang had everything to do with it. "I got jumped," he said after a moment's pause, his tone simple and matter of fact. "Twice. Once last year, then a few years before that." There was the scar on his shoulder, too, thin and pale, but he did not say anything that would allow her to believe it was from a different incident. He didn't talk about that any more. The only one who knew was Devin, and now Nell. It wasn't that he didn't trust Lark—hell, he'd never have spoken about the scars if he didn't—it was that he didn't like to think about his brother. "I never really said anything 'cause... yeah, how do you bring that up, right?" He laughed softly. The sound was strained due to the tense nature of the situation but it was also meant to be reassuring. He was not angry. "You don't need to worry with me. If I don't want to answer something, I won't. It's not like I'll kill you for asking." He cast her a brief smile. He was glad that his friends respected his boundaries but he also didn't want them to think they did not have his trust. I would give my life for Lark, she deserves a little credit.

Lark seemed a little shocked to know that he'd been jumped, not that this was surprising. It wasn't every day that your friend admitted something like that to you. He nodded, though he did not want her to feel too concerned about him. Concern and protectiveness made him uncomfortable. Not only was he proud but he did not like to worry his friends. "I'm alright, though. It's in the past now." He left out the fact that he hadn't been alright at the time. That he'd nearly died both times, that the intent had been to kill. The gang hadn't been trying to rough him up and give him a warning about what happened to the people that crossed them. They were trying to take his life, to shut him up so that he couldn't say anything else that would put them in danger. "You really fucked with us, kid. We're just returning the favour." Kid. Huh. If they jumped him for a third time, would they make sure to sneer his name, to show him that they had the power of it now? They could find out where he lived if they were smart enough, find out where his baby sister and his fiancée lived with him. He took comfort in the fact that most of them were in jail. He took comfort in that the mansion had security. It's old news, now, but you asked. And he trusted Lark enough that she asked, and he would tell. Perhaps not about everything he'd ever gone through, no, but he trusted her more than most.

His gray gaze was thankful, soft as it met hers. "I'm glad you understand." If there was anything he hated, it was when people felt entitled to his secrets. When people treated his privacy like it should be compromised by their very presence in his life. Those people were not his friends, they were not his loved ones. You could not be a friend of Joshua Dale's if you were not prepared for him to keep his secrets. All the same, when Lark put forth another question, he did not immediately neglect to answer. He thought about it, about what it would meant to tell her. She might judge me. Would she really? He couldn't tell. She might. But he trusted her. "It's not that simple," he said. "My temper had nothing to do with it." That wasn't what she'd asked, of course, but he felt the need to tell her this much. He wasn't sure how to bring up the fact that he was in a gang. He didn't talk about it, after all. He'd told Nell after much hesitation and she'd understood, she'd accepted him for who and what he was, but she loved him. Lark's my best friend. I can trust her. "I got jumped because I was stupid. I fucked up." It was he who'd entered the gang to begin with. He could make the excuse that the police had backed him into a corner, sure, but if he'd stuck with his regular friends and never strayed down the wrong path then he would have been fine.

He knew that he was being vague and that it was probably frustrating. It was hard for him to talk about it. He gestured for Lark to come with him as he left the tennis court and wandered over to the gazebo in order to sit down. "Listen, Lark..." He paused, sighed, raked a hand through his hair. This was harder than he'd thought it was going to be. He was a confident person, he usually didn't give a damn about what people thought about him, their opinions, but Lark's mattered. "I was in a gang, alright? That's... they were the ones that jumped me. I got caught because of something they did and I sold them out, so they came after me." He said it slowly but with a blunt, matter-of-fact tone. If he had hesitated more than that, he wouldn't have said it. In a way, it felt good to know he didn't have to hide from Lark any more but there was the immediate recoil, the fear of judgement. He didn't look afraid but he sure as hell felt it. "I'm not going to make excuses for myself. Gangs are gangs, I was an idiot. But now you know why, at least." You asked, so I told you. What do you think about me now?

More than the questions, Lark's silence concerned him. The fact that she said nothing could mean that she had nothing to say, yes, but it could also mean that the words forming in her mind were negative ones. He knew that releasing his skeletons from the normally locked-and-bolted closet of his past was opening himself up for judgement but that did not make the judgement any easier to bear. His own expression was unreadable as he locked his gaze with hers, trying to gauge the silence enough to get an answer from it. I'm not who you thought I was. Does that change things between us? That was why he'd never told Devin. The Earth elemental was such a kind-hearted soul that Josh worried his history might scare him off. He was already skittish around him without the knowledge that his best friend had once ran with a bunch of thugs. "Not what you thought...?" He voiced it as a question, raising an eyebrow at her expectantly, frowning. He did not know what she'd thought but he was curious. What assumptions could be made about someone as scarred as he was? Physically scarred, at least. He did not think himself to be emotionally scarred, for that meant his mind was damaged and he hated to think about that. What if he became like his brother? No, he couldn't let that happen.

Breathing slowly, steadily, Joshua asked, "And what do you think now?" His gaze and voice were level, even, as immoveable and impassive as a rock wall. Joshua could always be counted on to remain steady and solid. Nothing gets out, no one gets in. That was practically his motto. Yet he'd let Nell in almost completely and now Lark was able to peer through a gap in the wall. It was trust that he gave to them. He believed that they wouldn't exploit his weaknesses. It was practically an honour among his friends for him to open up about anything personal. "I lied to you, Lark. I lied about a lot of things. I was already in the gang when I'd met you, but does that really change anything? Should I not have been honest?" His words were more of a challenge than an admission of guilt. Strangely enough, he didn't feel too guilty about it. They were my secrets to keep. Everyone had their dark sides. He didn't feel guilty but he did wonder if she expected him to. If she'd have wanted more from the boy that she'd called her best friend back when they were kids and quarrelled about as often as they spoke to each other.

He shook his head. "No, I didn't have to tell you." I owe nothing to no one. Those were words to live by. Debt was a crippling thing. It was the reason he hated to let people help him, one of the others alongside his pride at least. He hated being in anyone's debt. "You asked, though, and so I told you." That was how it worked with him. If you were really curious about something, you had to inquire. He never offered information unless he was in a really chatty mood and it wasn't at all personal. He was not an entirely unfriendly person but 'closed off' hardly began to describe him. Lark thanked him, and Josh blinked thoughtful gray eyes at her before he dipped his head in acknowledgement.