http://hero-jack.livejournal.com/ (
hero-jack.livejournal.com) wrote in
milliways_bar2006-07-11 08:04 pm
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Uh, this isn't the closet that he was just locked up in.
It's so much better. This place has beer. Which is what he needs, after that dream and Michael's craziness.
Which is what he goes to the bar to get. Mmm.
It's so much better. This place has beer. Which is what he needs, after that dream and Michael's craziness.
Which is what he goes to the bar to get. Mmm.
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He's kinda cute in a 'nothing like Roiben and way too old for her' way.
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His beer. No touchy!
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"Heavy drinker?" She quirks an eyebrow, spinning the stool partway round. Wheee!
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He hates it when people do that.
"Only when I'm here."
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"Then you won't mind if I have it?" The grin, slightly impish, brightens.
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Which is why he drinks more and pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and sticks it in his mouth.
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Kaye stares longingly at the cigarette, the corners of her mouth turning downwards.
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Ahhhhhhh. Calmination.
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It's easy when you know how.
"Those'll kill you." Her fingers twitch and she sucks in her lower lip, eyes never leaving the lighter and it's target.
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"So they tell me." He takes a deep breath, lighting it, and blowing the smoke out.
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But even from her perch she can smell the poison, it makes her throat close up and she coughs a little.
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He really is.
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"It's ok." She taps the Bar gently and a mug of black coffee appears.
"I used to smoke, myself. Just...different now."
Beat.
"You from Earth?"
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Jack's life inna nut.
"Yeah, I am. Massachusetts. You?"
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"New Jersey. What you got against this place?" Her eyes skim over the Bar, narrowing at points.
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He shrugs. "Nothing against this place. Better than the island."
He does glance around. And he does know she's not there. Doesn't stop him from hoping. he really is sorry
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Kaye wraps her hands around the mug, keep them warm. She never really wanted the beer anyway. She always has to try her luck.
"Lost your best friend? Got an eating disorder? Died? Enquiring minds want to know?"
She's bold. Encouraged by the coffee heating her veins and the boredom.
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She snorts. Amused by something she doesn't choose to share with him, then quiets; mood changing as rapidly as the wind.
"I lost my best friend too. It sucks."
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"I win."
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It seems wrong somehow to use this to win a game and guilt gnaws at her belly, so she quickly adds:
"My boyfriend forgot I existed."
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"Ok...you win. You get to keep the beer." She fumbles in her pocket, finally extracting a silver zippo-lighter.
"Wanna see a trick?" Her cheeks warmed. Honestly, she doesn't know what to do. When you're so fucked-up yourself, fixing anyone else is impossible. So Kaye falls back on half-quiet stares and things she knows how to do.
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The lighter carefully balanced on her fingers she flicked it over and under each digit, fast enough to be a silver blur, shimmering in the dull light. From her pinky it went right back to the beginning, where she snapped it open one-handed, the flame sparking up.
Except, Kaye's learned some new tricks since that day in the diner and if Jack looks carefully at the flame it might appear to be someone dancing. Glamour is kickass.
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Awe. That's the sound in his voice.
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The flame changes again, two people dancing now. A remnant of some long forgotten fairytale, Kaye watches them twist and turn.
It's ironic. They burn each other even as they embrace.
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It makes him turn away.
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She yelps, snatching her hand back and the lighter clatters to the bartop, an ordinary object again.
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The girl who expects to play with fire and not get burned. The girl who peers at him with odd eyes.
We are both broken. Me, by nature. You by circumstance. Strange thoughts swirl in her head. Her fingers smarted.
She holds out her hand.
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Kaye says, broken out of her reverie by the sharp assault of chemicals and medicine drifting to her nose
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It's not disapproving, just a mention and she wiggles her fingers, wincing at the jolt of pain.
"I'm Kaye." No profession, no nothing, just Kaye. She fluffs at her unusually, natural blonde hair, pushing it out of her face.
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Kaye puts out her hand to him, briefly shaking his. What Jack probably won't realise until later is that this distraction is exactly what's needed for a rifle through his pockets.
"Later." Then she's gone, shaking her head at how easy that was. A good distance away, she looks at her spoils.
Huh... Well, that was unexpected.
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He gets up a while later, his pockets feeling lighter. He doesn't stick his hand in the pocket till he was back in the hatch's gun closet.
"Fuck."