exsilium | (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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

That's stupid.

[She says that at once, leaning back in her chair - and then waves her hand, clarifying - ]

The drinking to sleep. Not the you paying for coffee. Though that's a little stupid as well, given that you should be saving up for your own place if you hate roommates so much. You want to sleep, don't drink. It'll help you pass out initially, sure, but it'll make you wake up again after those first few hours. You'll not be getting REM sleep, and you'll be waking up from every dream you have.

[She lifts her gaze and raises her eyebrows - ]

And therefore remembering every last one. You want to sleep, there are pills you can take. You'll be drowsy in the morning, but they'll get you to sleep and keep you there. A hell of a lot better than alcohol.

[He glares at her, irritated more by that smug little tone than her words (which are, in fact, useful).]

Then maybe I'll find some tomorrow. But til I can, alcohol's all I got, and it's better'n nothin'.

Actually, it's worse than nothing.

[She tilts her head to the side.]

You're scared of something. Something with your housing situation. Not your roommates; you hadn't met them yet when you made that broadcast. Being trapped?

Gonna analyze me? And here I thought you were a lawyer.

I dabble.

[Probingly:]

What is it you fear? I'd have thought prison, except for your soft spot for lawyers. A strange weakness in a man of your proclivities, with your family's situation.

Mm. Funny, ain't it? I'm a walkin' contradiction.

[He smiles almost mockingly as he says that.]

Ms. Lawyer, I'm sorry to disappoint, but you don't get to know me secrets. Not unless you wanna give up yours.

[She lifts her eyebrows and smiles crookedly.]

Mine? That's sweet that you think I'm so interesting, but my only secret is that my final year of law school I told Reginald Fitzwilliam that a pot brownie was a regular brownie, and he failed his drug test and I got the job he was supposed to have.

[That never actually happened. Fuck Reginald Fitzwilliam, though.]

You didn't sleep out on the streets when you were a child. You said you were part of a boarding house.

[He rolls his eyes. In his experience, everyone has secrets. They're not always earth-shattering, no, but-- well, everyone does. Her brother who died; Jack would be willing to bet she doesn't tell everyone that. But he's too out of it to think too much on it, and so simply begins playing with the condensation on the side of his glsas.]

I did both. Sometimes I couldn't afford no boardin' house.