Cali Crew - Pigeons, Promises and an Apology

“Is Nikita back?” Nike asked, coming into the kitchen. Relief washed over her, followed by rage, she’d been worried sick. “You could have called!”

“And that’s your cue,” Nikita said, giving a hopeful glance towards Bishop.

"Way ahead of you. Already had the talk with her and told her about your imaginary gray hairs you named after her." Bishop assured. "We negotiated and she promised next time to send up a smoke signal. I think a text would be easier but you know … keeping my mind open to new things." He smiled.

Nike smiled back, wryly before moving her hands to her hips, standing akimbo.

Nikita dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, helping herself to an Oreo while getting lectured.

"What? Smoke signal not good?" Bishop said thoughtfully. "Can we agree on pigeons? Everyone loves pigeons."

“Pigeons shit all over things,” Nikita said, pointedly looking at Nike.

"Of course, they are pigeons. But, very reliable. World War 2? Pigeons. Game of Thrones used Crows. As if." Bishop snorted.

“I should have called, I know, you were worried sick,” Nikita said, helping herself to another Oreo. Milk was probably sour by now. “I meant to call, I just got distracted. I went to a rave, with Mathias and Cyd and Isaac. I didn’t drink, I took one red devil from Mathias and nothing else, and I didn’t come home with a tattoo.”

“You’re over 18,” Nike said nonchalantly, putting on a kettle for tea, coffee’s inferior cousin. "I can’t tell you not to get a tattoo or when to come home.”

Nikita looked at her warily, then over to Bishop. This was a trap, wasn’t it… it felt like a trap.

"But … we still worry and part of being all adult ish is, you know, tossing a pigeon in our direction. Cuz we worry. Right? Next time you'll drunk text us, we'll laugh, drink coffee in the morning and help hold your hair back while you work through a bad hangover." Bishop prompted. "Via pigeon. So Nike can see how reliable they are."

“Next time, Nikita promised. “I just needed to blow off a little steam. I wasn’t thinking. And I know you worry. I appreciate that you worry. Honest. How’s Nikka?”

“Still holed up in her room.” Nike replied tersely, but Nikita knew it wouldn’t last, it never does. “I think you owe her an apology.”