exsilium | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[Jack appears on the network. It looks as if he isn't aware he's being filmed at first; he glances around him nervously, his eyes darting from place to place.]

So-- right. You guys don't got no newsies, yeah? But I'm grown outta that business anyway, so I figure, I'll do somethin' else anyway.

[And now he focuses on the camera. His eyes are a little sunken in; his cheekbones jut out sharply from his face. The entire effect is unpleasant; he looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in quite some time. Carefully, each movement deliberate, he takes a cigarette out of his pocket; his gaze focuses on that as he speaks.]

I draw pictures. Real good, if I do say so myself. Do paints, too. You want your picture done? You want your wall painted? Maybe you're in theater, you want some sets done, or maybe you want somebody to put a, a, a mural on your wall. If it's somethin' to do with art, I can do it. I don't give a damn what it is. I'll paint you and your stupid girlfriend if you want, 's long as you pay me. Name's Jack Kelly.

[He nods sharply, once, and lights up the cigarette.]

An' in personal business, a couple thin's: this gun's good an' all, but I'm in the knives business, meself. Anybody sellin' any good blades? I don't mean no stores, all right, I ain't lookin' for no directions to no weapons shops. I'm talkin' about the good stuff, the stuff you get on the streets. I don't got much money yet, but like I said, I got a few skills I can exchange.

An' speakin' o' them: I hear I got some roommates. Miss, uh, Galadriel and some guy named Guy? Well, I ain't gonna be in at all. Not for sleepin', anyway. So don't trouble yourself with that, when you don't see me come in.

[A deliberate pause. He exhales a lungful of smoke and watches it drift upwards before adding:]

Asano Rin. I got a bone to pick with you, and I think you know why.

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Guess I'll be in your debt, then.

I'm surprised. You don't seem like the sort who would want to be in anyone's debt.

Good to know I can still keep you on your toes. Be safe, Ms. Lawyer.

Good man. Learning quick. You too, Mr. Newsboy. Call me if you need anything.

Yeah, you too.

[A beat. A little strangely, a little more seriously:]

Don't get in trouble with that mouth o' yours. All right?

[She tilts her head slightly to the side.]

You think there's a risk of that?

Yeah. And I don't mean it as no insult, all right, so don't take it that way. Just-- be careful o' what you say and who you say it to.

[She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.]

Why are you telling me?

[Defensively:]

Because you got a smart mouth and I'm tellin' you, now remember it.

[She searches his expression, then leans back. Seriously:]

I'm not messing with you. I really just want to know why you care. I heard you asking that other one why he cares about you, so I'm sending it back to you.

[His mouth twitches as he struggles to find an acceptable answer. Finally:]

I got a soft spot for lawyers, let's just say that.

[She searches his expression for irony, but doesn't find any. Surprising.]

Okay.

Don't worry about me. I know what danger is and I know what it looks like. I know I don't look it, but I've known my fair share of lawbreakers, and not always in a professional capacity, and I've seen what gets people killed.

[A pause, and then:]

You drink?

[He huffs a laugh, surprised and pleased both by her answer and the change in topic.]

Yeah. Though I ain't in a while. Why?

Offering to buy you a drink.

[He hesitates for just a second.]

Tonight. In a few hours. There's a tavern not too far from the apartments. I'll meet you there.

Let's make it a little more exact. Seven o'clock.

Eight. I'll see you then.

See you then.

[He nods once, uncertainly, before clicking off the tablet.

--and he is there, at eight, looking a little less worse for the wear. Still kind of gross, his clothes all filthy and his countenance tense and suspicious (even if he's in the corner of the tavern, glaring out at the patrons)-- but at least he looks a bit less greasy. There's more color in his cheeks, too.]

[She shows up four minutes after eight, tapping her way in on high-heels, a bag in her hand. She drops it in front of him; it contains a ham sandwich, an apple, and a cookie. Completely without preamble, she says - ]

And I forgot to mention, I'm feeding you, too. Eat it subtly; I don't think we're supposed to have food in here.

[He raises an eyebrow at the feast, but-- a little surprisingly-- goes for it. The sandwich first, and he eyes it before taking a small bite.]

The cookie was a sweet touch.

Well, I'm a sweet lady.

[The sarcasm is light, without any real bite.]

I'm just channeling my mother. I can't fatten you up with kaymak, so a bit of butter in the pastry will have to do.

What's that?

[It's a good ham sandwich; he forgot how good ham sandwiches could be. He takes another bite, larger-- and a third, too hasty in his hunger.]

Kaymak? [She laughs.] It's the bane of your existence if you're a teenage girl trying to get slim. It's a little more than butter but a little less than cheese. Can I have your hand? [She holds hers out to him.]

. . . why?