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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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?

To look at it.

Why?

To bite your fingers off. Come on.

[She shakes her hand - an impatient gesture.]

[He scowls at her, but holds out his left hand. Bitten nails, calloused fingers-- but nothing too unusual.]

[She squeezes a bit at his knuckle, then lets him go.]

You weren't always that skinny.

[He scowls at her.]

I coulda just told you that.

That's pretty rapid and pretty recent, isn't it?

[She nods down to his hand.]

You been to the hospital?

No. And before we start arguin' on that, I ain't goin', so let's just not, yeah?

[Rather defiantly, he takes a bite of his ham sandwich.]

I'll gain it back inna few weeks.

[She sits back, shrugging.]

You drop a lot of weight in a short period of time, that can mean you're sick. I'm not going to harp at you, because I'm not my mother, but it wouldn't be a bad idea.

Yeah, but like I said, I chose not to eat, so we know that ain't it.

[And he finishes the sandwich; without really pausing, he moves on to the apple.]

So, Ms. Lawyer, how you likin' the city now that you've been here a few hours?

Oh, it's complete shit.

[She watches him eat, still frowning a bit. He'd spoken about choosing not to eat because people made him sick, sure, but that could just be an excuse for having lost his appetite - but he's going at this.]

You?

I dunno, I don't mind it that much.

[He savors the apple a bit, because it's sweet and juicy and good.]

Aside from the whole bein'-conscripted-inna-war bit.

[Man, look at that SAT word.]

Yeah, they can kiss my ass if they think I'm going to fight.

[She wrinkles her nose.]

I'll support things on the home front, sure, but they come to me and I'll stick them with the spear they gave me themselves.

You might wanna learn to use it. Just in case they really do come a-knockin'.

[She purses her lips, peevish.]

I didn't go to Harvard to end up dead at the point of some soldier's gun.

Yeah, okay, which is, again, why you oughta make sure you can defend yourself.

Except that I shouldn't have to. This isn't fucking revolutionary Quebec.

[But she's letting herself get bogged down. A moment later, she recovers her smile and says:]

Well, that's all getting us nowhere. How's the apple?

You picked a good one.

[He finishes it off happily, leaving a rather sparse core. Wiping his hands on a napkin, he nods at the cookie.]

You have it. I think I'll throw up if I eat it.

[She tilts her head to the side.]

Too much, or do you have some deep hatred of cookies?

Too sweet. Too much all at once.

[He winks at her, though, taking away the severity of that.]

Plus they won't be as good as me mam's cookies, so I'll just be disappointed.

[She shrugs.]

I just pocketed it from the table this morning. A chemist made them, though, you know. So...scientific.

[Still, distractedly, she reaches over and breaks off a piece and lifts it to her lips to munch on. She of the green smoothies and the treadmills normally wouldn't do this, but...Well, it's been a stressful day, as much as she pretends otherwise.]

You're better than my brother.

What, he pukes up his cookies too? Or don't he warn you first.