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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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.

[A little smile.]

You're a better eater. He's eighteen and we still pretty much have to make airplane noises at him. I swear, mealtimes are like watching newsreels of the suffragettes in the 1820s.

[He snorts (though he doesn't get that reference) and shakes his head.]

Idiot. Let him not eat, then, what's the harm? He'd learn to appreciate the food sooner or later.

[A little laugh; she leans back.]

You seem to not be understanding what being a big sister is.

I was a big brother once; I know plenty. But they eat sooner or later, when they're hungry.

And you're quite underestimating Mehrdad.

[He grins a little.]

What's the other one's name? Sonya, Mehrdad, and--?

And Omaid.

[And just for a moment, her smile falters, and she looks away. A moment later, she takes in a breath and sits up.]

What about you?

I grew up in a lodgin' house fulla newsies, and I took care o' most o' em. So you might say I had about fifty brothers, and all o' them kinda bratty. But they'd eat, so there you go.

[Her smile's still not a hundred percent happy, but she's in a stupidly sentimental mood, so she asks the question she has no business asking.]

Where was your mother then?

Dead.

[He shrugs.]

But we had our landlord, and he was nicer'n most, so.

And your father? Dead as well?

In prison.

[He raises an eyebrow.]

Most people say I'm sorry, you know, even if they ain't.

[She raises her eyebrows in return.]

You want me to?

Not if you're gonna be a snot about it.

[She shrugs.]

I'm not being snotty. I'm asking. If you want me to say "I'm sorry," I'll say it.